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Disquisitions 2% * /?
ON
THE ANTIPAPAL SPIRIT
WHICH PRODUCED
THE REFORMATION:
ITS SECRET INFLUENCE
ON THE LITERATURE OF EUROPE IN GENERAL,
AND OF ITALY IN PARTICULAR.
BY
GABRIELE ROSSETTI,
PROFESSOR OF ITALIAN LITERATURE IN KING's college.
T R A N S L A T E D F R O M T H E IT A LIAN
BY
MISS CAROLINE WARD.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.
LONDON :
SMITH, ELDER & CO., CORNHILL,
BOOKSELLERS TO THEIR MAJESTIE8.
cºmmºnºme
1834.
LONDON :
PRINTED BY STEWART AND CO.,
OLD BAILEYe
D E D I C A TI O N. :
TO THE REV. H. F. CARY.
IN presenting the following pages to the learned
translator of Dante, I cannot conceal from myself how
very unlikely it is that I have succeeded in rendering
them at all worthy of his acceptance as an English
work. This indeed arises not more from my own in-
adequacy to the task, than from the many difficulties
I have had to encounter; for within the range of
modern literature, there are perhaps few works which
offer so many impediments in the way of a translator
as this one on which I have ventured.
In compliance with the expressed wishes of many
friends, I have endeavoured, as far as possible, to
make it an exclusively English work. The mi-
nute researches, however, with which the original
abounds, depend so much on expressions, nay, some-
times even on words, which are met with in the Italian
iv. DEDICATION.
classic authors, and which, when transposed into
another language, lose much, if not all, of their effect,
that in some cases, I have judged it impossible to dis-
pense with the insertion of quotations in the original
language.
As a recompense for the disadvantages under which
a translation unavoidedly labours, I am enabled to
present to your notice a great many important addi-
tional proofs, in support of the principal argument,
which have never yet been published. For these,
which are inserted in different parts of the work, as
well as for the whole of the sixth chapter, which was
not prin.eu in the original, because the commentary
of Dante's anonymous interpreter had not, at the
period of its publication, seen the light, I am indebted
to the generous courtesy of the author, who, in addi-
tion to many acts of kindness which have materially
assisted the progress of the work, has permitted me to
select from his manuscripts any thing which I might
consider likely to increase the value of the present
translation.
If some critics, whose opinions differ from those
of the author have been unnecessarily violent in their
manifestations of dissent, there are, at least as many
who, struck by the force of concurring evidences, con-
sider him entitled to the honour of having discovered
secrets, which for ages, were buried in the mystic
pages of his country's brightest ornaments. Without
DEDICATION. V
venturing to pronounce any decided opinion on the
merits of a subject at once so difficult and so impor-
tant, I lay this work before the tribunal of English
opinion; and where can either author or translator hope
to obtain a more impartial judgment?
You will perceive, that wherever the Divine Comedy
is quoted, I have not scrupled to avail myself of your
permission to make use of your translation, without
which I feel that my undertaking would have been a
hopeless one. My obligations on that score being too
numerous for repetition, I must here content myself
with one general acknowledgment of them, and con-
clude with sincere regret that, the task of intro-
ducing a work of so much interest to the English
public has not devolved on one of more talent and
experience, and that these pages so little merit the
honour of being accepted by the high literary authority
to whom they are now respectfully dedicated by
THE TRANSLATOR.
Bedford Square,
June 23, 1834.
TO
CHARLES LYELL, Esq.
SIR,
OUR common affection for the literature of Italy
first united us in the bonds of a mutual friendship;
the same feelinghas since strengthened that friendship;
and I am now at liberty to proclaim my sentiments to
the world, by presenting to you the fruits of the
researches to which I was tempted by my own incli-
nation, and encouraged by your kindness.
I have wandered through the vast field of my
country’s literature, and have explored the many
gardens which adorn it. I saw that they were redolent,
not only of flowers delightful to the eye, but of sweet
and nutritious fruits. I discovered that treasures
beyond all price were buried under the enchanted
ground whereon I was treading, and I beheld the
muses there, presiding over all that is most recondite
in philosophy, mysterious in politics, and inaccessible
in mystic theology. Ardently did I pursue the paths
of those jealous guardians, and when at last I suc-
ceeded in gaining possession of their sacred deposit,
I considered that the conquest was to be ascribed as
well to your valued advice as to my own constant
labour. w"
To you therefore, I offer the jewels I have newly
set; they are yours by right; and you will take the
place of the muses, and guard them as carefully.
viii TO CHARLES LYELL, ESQ.
If your approval taught me to value them, while
they were yet unpolished, much more precious will
they be in my eyes now that I have succeeded in
arranging, and displaying them in a favourable light.
No other merit can I claim, than that of drawing them
from obscurity, and using my best endeavour to unite
them by a connecting link, while you were giving me
courage to prosecute my researches by shewing me
their intrinsic worth.
The kindness with which you accepted my first
abridged essay, deprives me of all fear for the fate of
the present volume, whose value is doubly enhanced
by the introduction of a name so known and respected
as yours.
Should the importance of the subject attract the
world’s attention, and that name be associated with
mine, through countries and times far remote from us,
my want of talent will soon be discovered, and in
lieu of that, I can only plead a hearty desire to render
the offering I now make as little unworthy of your
acceptance as possible.
You have been a witness of my labours; I now
entreat the exercise of that clearness of judgment and
sincerity of heart, which must be equally valuable to
me, whether you approve or condemn.
And in the mean while, accept this public testimony
of homage and respect, dictated by the private feelings
of him who is proud to call himself
Your most obliged servant,
And respectful friend,
GABRIELE RossETTI.
P. R. E. F. A. C. E.
-
I AM aware that the arrangement of the following work
will be censured by many as faulty; and, whatever may
be its merits, such undoubtedly is, in some degree, the
case; but, while I candidly confess this, I justify myself
by pointing out the causes which have produced it.
The first defect which will be noticed is, the multitude
of quotations and authorities with which almost every
page is interspersed. I have brought forward these
numerous testimonials, because I foresaw that some of
my fundamental arguments would be received with sus-
picion by many of my readers; and, as they form the
very basis of my literary edifice, I was under the neces-
sity of calling a great number of witnesses to their
support.
The second fault I have committed is that of repeating
the same things in different parts of the volume. This
trespass of excess, which has arisen from the first, is in
itself a vice in composition, but the nature of my subject
has rendered it almost unavoidable. My desire to con-
vince my readers that the opinions I have advanced,
although at first sight they may appear the dreams of a
X PREFACE.
diseased mind, are in reality true and unquestionable,
has led me, perhaps, to be too immoderate in my use
of documents and authorities (although I might have
greatly multiplied them); but every fresh confirmation
of the same truth is, as it were, a new truth, because
each corroborating proof shows the question in a different
light.
Some will charge me with a third fault, diametrically
opposite to the preceding ones, viz. a parsimony of rea-
sons, rather than a superfluity, because, in many places,
I have made assertions which I have left for a subsequent
argument to confirm. This has been done with the view
of carrying on the course of my observations, uninter-
rupted by the insertion of proofs which are afterwards
fully established. The reader will do me no more than
justice, therefore, by suspending his final decision until
he sees whether the promises I hold out of a satisfactory
conclusion to all my theories, be or be not fulfilled.
I shall be accused of a fourth error in having inter-
mixed passages from various languages, Latin, English
and French, with an Italian disquisition. The same de-
sire I before expressed, of strengthening my facts with
unquestionable evidence, has induced me to prefer
quoting the words in the language in which they were
originally written, in order that no suspicion of any al-
teration in their meaning may be imputed to me; and
my readers will not quarrel with me for supposing them
learned enough to draw the truth from its genuine
sources. To this may be added the impossibility of
translating those passages literally, much of whose force
consists in the disposition and sound of the words; their
value in another language would be either weakened or
IPREFACE, xi
destroyed. When, however, I could convey their sense
by an Italian version, I have done so, putting the
original (when the passage is of importance) into a
In Ote.
The fifth fault will probably be called a literary in-
subordination. It is true that my opinion differs essen-
tially from the commonly received one concerning the
celebrated works of antiquity; but those who prefer the
judgment, which is the result of examination, to that
which is founded on the opinion of others, will compen-
sate me by their approval. Either the results of my
analysis will be unanswerable, or they will meet with a
complete refutation; — in the first case, I shall have
. corrected mistaken opinions; in the last, I shall be my-
self set right ; and I shall welcome conviction most
gladly.
The sixth defect has arisen entirely from the nature of
my subject. So various and complicated were the ideas
to be explained, and the proofs to be collected, that at
one time I almost despaired of being able to trace con-
vincingly with my pen all that my mind felt so clearly.
It is because I saw the whole extent of the difficulty,
that I have studied how best to arrange the contents of
the work. I would fain have dispensed altogether with
notes, or finding that impossible, I would at least have
inserted but a very small number; but I found that the
subject imperiously required a great many. In order,
therefore, to interrupt, as little as possible, the course of
ideas, I have divided them into two classes; those which
are more nearly connected with the text, are placed at the
bottom of the page; the others, which form a sort of
appendix to them, will be found at the end of the vo-
xii PREFACE.
lume; and to these the reader will find a reference in
the part of the argument to which they relate.
I should do my work an injustice, were I to say that I
consider its merits effaced by these spots on its surface.
They have fallen there from necessity; but they will not,
I trust, be found to cover it entirely.
The freedom with which I have spoken of the Church
of Rome, and her bishops, will be looked upon as an
offence by many; and, by a few, as a fault which out-
weighs all the others. But those, who are not carried
away too far by their zeal, must acquit me, if they
but reflect on the impossibility of examining an argument,
like the one I have chosen, without full liberty of speech.
I feel no irreverence towards the Catholic church—far
from it—I wish to respect her; nevertheless, I have been
frequently obliged, in order to show the strength of her
enemies’ arguments, to put myself in their place, and
adopt their spirit and language. Had I not done this, I
must have curtailed the evidence here produced, to the
great detriment of the work, and exposed myself, by not
fully proving my allegations, to the risk of being called a
bold assertor and malignant calumniator, by those very
persons to whom I should have wished to spare the morti-
fication of hearing the crimes which were ascribed to
them. - .
By bringing to light the exaggerated opinions and
audacious attempts, against which the Latin church had
to struggle, I justify, in some degree, the extreme rigour
to which she was urged. One alternative alone was left
to her; to yield, or to attack; and she chose the last as
her remedy;-a remedy, alas! which aggravated the dis-
ease. To preserve her power, she became cruel; and lost
PR.EFACE. xiii
it, precisely, because she was so. That power was de-
rived from her character; and the means taken to increase
the one, ruined the other.
I have entered into no discussions on points of doc-
trine; and when I speak of them at all, it is not with any
intention of arguing on the real failings of him who is
supposed to be infallible, but on those which were im-
puted to him, either by friends or foes. The light, in
which I shall present their opinions, will show the extent
of the secret forces which, preparatory to its mighty fall,
had longencompassed the tower on which stood the gigantic
colossus of the Papal power, resting in fancied security
over a mine; and, while exhibiting the effects of the
sharpest weapon which ever attacked it, I have been com-
pelled to cast aside every consideration which would have
lessened the belief of its power.
My subject will furnish many a useful lesson to those
who govern, warning them of the necessity of valuing
public opinion. When crushed by armed violence, it
may be mute for a time; but its silence is eloquent and
awful! It watches with clºsed eyelids; it labours in its
repose; and its course will never be arrested until, the
favourable moment being arrived, it overthrows every
obstacle opposed to it, and leaps to the desired goal
When once acquainted with the secret causes which
prepared the way for that great event which deprived the
Roman shepherd of the half of his flock, we shall see that
the ruler who, forgetful of his true interest, instead of
stretching out his hand to sorrowful children, prefers
trampling upon murmuring slaves, may obtain a tem-
porary triumph; but he will entail upon his successors a
WOL. I. 3.
xiv PREFACE.
long train of misfortunes, from which they will seek to
extricate themselves in vain. -
He who reads the future in the past, when he sees that
the satellites of St. Dominic, and the myrmidons of St.
Ignatius, and the bloodthirsty army of Inquisitors, who
were hired to be the destroyers of the faithful, and the
brothers who rose up against their brothers, goaded on by
him who was called their common Father; and the dread-
ful days of Toulouse and St. Bartholomew, and the dun-
geons and racks, the axes, and funeral piles; that all
these were the producing causes of that change of things
which took from Rome so much, and left her so little; he
will perceive clearly that the same effects must always be
produced by similar causes.
The following disquisitions will place before our eyes a
clear mirror. For several ages, the dust of time and the
veil of mystery have hung over it, and concealed secrets
of the last importance from the world; which has beheld
their effects without being able to trace their origin. The
hand of History and Criticism will lift the veil, and
scatter the dust; and the mirror will then, like a magic-
lantern, show us, in the successive scenes of a new reve-
lation, the solution of all the most difficult and important
problems that the political, religious, historical, and lite-
rary works of any European country can offer for the
consideration of mankind.
C O N T E N T S.
OF THE
F I R S T V O L U M E.
Page
INTRoduction * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * c e º 0 e º 'º e º 'º e s s e e s e e s 6 & e º Q & ©
CHAPTER. I.
Open Language against Rome . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
CHAPTER II.
Secret Language against Rome & © e o 'º e º 0 e º 'º e º e º e º e e e º e o e e º e e
CHAPTER III.
Opinion of modern Critics on the Allegory of Dante's Poem ......
CHAPTER IV.
Dante and his Age e e º e º 0 & 0 e o O ſo e o e º 'o e º ſº e º 6 e s c e g c e s e º 'º e º e g
CHAPTER, W.
Principal Allegory of the Inferno . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
CHAPTER VI.
On the most ancient of Dante's Commentators . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
CHAPTER VII.
On the Imitators of Dante • - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
CHAPTER VIII.
I
5
27
42
46
59
79
94
On the grand episodical Scene of Dante's Inferno . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107
xvi CONTENTS.
Page
CHAPTER IX.
Preliminary Reflections on the Language of the Secret Schools.... 130
CHAPTER, X.
On the Language of the Secret Schools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143
CHAPTER XI.
On the religious and political Character of Dante's Poem ........ 157
CHAPTER XII.
On other Works of Dante, in connection with the Commedia...... 172
CHAPTER XIII.
On the Virgil of Dante's Poem. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 188
CHAPTER, XIV.
Preliminary Observations on the Platonic Love . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 200
CHAPTER XV.
On the variety of Figures employed to express one Object . . . . . . . . 219
CHAPTER XVI.
On Allegorical Pilgrimages tº e º 'º e º G & © º 0 & 0 & 0 & 9 º' Q & Q & © & © & Q & Q & & © 224
INTRODUCTION.
THE abuse of power in any ruler is odious; but, in the
minister of the sanctuary, it becomes also scandalous and
fatal in its consequences. When he forfeits the respect of
mankind, religion is the sufferer; when he becomes an
oppressor, God is dishonoured. If religion be still held
sacred, the unrighteous priest will be known to be false
to it; and the very zeal with which the one is followed
will redound to the disgrace of the other : and having
lost the good opinion of mankind, what substitute can he
find for it ! Not force; for that being another violation
of the law of peace over which he should preside, would
but tend to widen the breach, and woe to any cause when
persuasion is rejected for violence 1 The one may win
back, but the other is sure to be resented on the first
opportunity. And so it was with regard to the corrupted
and armed papacy:-Christians detested its vices; but they
dreaded its power. They worshipped Christ, while they
considered him who styled himself his vicar, and acted
not as such, as his worst adversary.
It would be a superfluous task to recall the many dis-
orders introduced by unworthy shepherds into Christ's
flock; the vices with which they were stained, the changes
in the true doctrine which were imputed to them; the
cruelties they exercised towards those who remonstrated
against them, and the many victims they sacrificed to their
ambition,--All these are historical truths which are sanc-
tified by the indignation of thousands of eloquent volumes;
truths which the Romish writers themselves could not
- B
2 INTRODUCTION.
wholly deny, and dared not always excuse; and which
we willingly pass over, our design being to consider their
effects.
In order to show that the acts of the Reformers, at the
beginning of the 16th century, were the fruits of the
opinions of preceding ages; that the spirit of protest-
antism descended from generation to generation, down to
those who at last boldly preached it to the world, and
that the Christian Church was divided, while it appeared
still entire, we shall bring before our readers the words
of many of those who raised their voices from time to
time, and spoke a language which gave a new impulse to
their posterity.
Awe-struck and stupified, the world was the spectator
of the abominations of which Rome was the centre; and
from the year 1000 of the Christian era, the words of the
Revelations were thought of with terror: “And when the
thousand years are expired, Satan shall be loosed out of
his prison, and shall go out to deceive the nations.”
(c. 20. v. 7, 8.) Every eye was turned towards that hot-
bed of vice, to seek there the unchained Satan. The
passage in c. 18. v. 2. : “Babylon the great is fallen, is
fallen, and is become the habitation of devils, and the
hold of every foul spirit,” was applied to those who sur-
rounded the earthly Satan like so many infernal spirits.
And again, in c. 17, “the judgment of the great whore
that sitteth upon many waters.” “I will tell thee the
mystery of the woman, and of the beast that carrieth her,
which hath the seven heads.—The woman which thou
sawest is that great city, which reigneth over the kings of
the earth. The seven heads are seven mountains, on
which the woman sitteth.” All these passages seemed
to point out minutely the city of the seven hills, Rome,
(who celebrated on the solemn festival of the Septimontium
her own topography) as the abode of that infamy, and
of that dominion which even monarchs dreaded. The
words in c. 17, v. 6. “ and I saw the woman drunken
{-
INTRODUCTION. 3
with the blood of the saints, and with the blood of the
martyrs of Jesus,” were in very early times applied to the
repeated and merciless punishments inflicted by Rome on
those who dared to lift up the voice of complaint or indig-
nation. The passage in c. 13. v. 18. “Let him that hath
understanding, count the number of the beast, for it is the
number of a man, and his number is six hundred three
score and six,” was interpreted by Greek letters (for the
Revelation was written in Greek.) LATEINos, latin man;
which name gave exactly the number 666; and hence it
was firmly believed that the beast of the Apocalypse
called by St. John the false prophet, was the same who
was known as the head of the Latin Church.*
The whole book, from which we have here quoted a few
passages, was fatal to Rome. That single apostolical
writing gave more disquiet to the Popes than all the
Protestant works ever written; and improbable as it may
appear, they seemed to take delight in doing every thing
most likely to turn the hearts of the faithful to receive
these opinions; as though they desired to be recognised
as those depraved characters, so plainly declared by our
Lord's apostles to be the delegates and the image of
Lucifer. St. Paul wrote that that false prophet, that man
of sin, who was to come through the working of Satan,
would sit in God’s temple with all the power of signs and
miracles,t and the Pope seating himself in the temple of
God, filled it with numberless workers of signs and
miracles, whose deeds even now, swell the pages of the
Flos Sanctorum. St. Paul wrote that the messenger of
Satan would forbid marriage; and the Pope condemned
to celibacy the whole body of priests, friars and nuns.
St. Paul wrote that the agent of Satan would command
* The interpretation of Lateinos, which gives the number 666, is very
ancient. See it in St. Irenaeus, b. 5. c. 30. St. Jerome, St. Augustine,
Tertullian, and many other ancient fathers of the church, understood
Rome to be the Babylon of the Revelations.
# 2d. Epis. Thessal. ch. 2.
B 2
4 INTRODUCTION.
abstinence from meat; and the Pope introduced the ob-
servance of lent, vigils, and ember weeks. St. Paul
says that we should exercise ourselves unto godliness, for
bodily exercise profiteth little; and the Pope ordered
penances, fasts, and discipline.” St. Paul recommends
us above all things to abide by the doctrine and words of
our Saviour, and to withdraw from those who dispute
perversely; and the Pope encouraged the controversies of
schoolmen, who made theology a field of thorns and
thistles. St. Paul says that confession should be public,
and the Pope made it private. St. Paul, faithful to the
precepts and practice of his divine Master, warns us that
those who seek riches fall into the snares of the devil, and
err from the faith; and the Pope dwelt in splendid
palaces, and abounded in wealth raised from the sale of
indulgences, bulls and dispensations,t St. Peter also
wrote that there would be false teachers among us, who,
would live luxuriously, and make merchandise of us
through covetousness, with feigned words, &c., f and the
Popes, who could not be ignorant of these predictions,
who read them every day, who heard how distinct and
characteristic they were, courted, by their own deeds,
the application of them, at the very time that they were
loudly proclaiming themselves the successors of the
Apostles who had written them. Let us pity those then,
who, deceived by the singular coincidence of these pro-
phecies, believed that they had discovered their true
objects. -
From that time, the Pope was constantly called by
ecclesiastics even more frequently than by others, Satan
and Antichrist; his ministers were styled demons and
sons of perdition, and their city Hell and Babylon; and
these names are understood to this day by many Pro-
testants to bear the same signification. Let us produce
a few examples, as they follow in successive ages.
* 1st Timothy, ch. 4. t 1st Timothy, ch. 6. # 2d Peter, ch. 2.
CHAPTER I.
OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
Even before the year 1000, Claudius, Archbishop of
Turin, who was celebrated for the purity of his life and
doctrine, though censured by some members of the church
for his writings against the Pope, wrote: “No wonder
that the members of Satan speak of me thus.””
Of the Pope Hildebrand (Gregory VII.), who lived at
the end of the prophesied thousand years, we read :
“The raging Satan has been unchained, that the mighty
arm of the Lord may destroy him, that is, the Pope Hil-
debrand.”+ -
Lambert, the Monk of Aschaffenburg, writing of the
same Pope, says: “Satan has broken forth from prison,
and lays waste the Church.”f
A little later, the English Carmelite, William Dysse,
who was celebrated for his preaching in France, Spain,
&c., indignant at the vices of the heads of the church
exclaimed: —
“O how worse than useless are the modern priests
Rather may they be called priests of Hell!” $
Arnulph, Bishop of Orleans, thus addressed the Council
* Apologeticum rescriptum Claudii Epis. See J. Léger. Hist. Gen.
des Eglises Evang. Part I. page 188. Leyden, 1669.
# Concilia, &c. Cologne, 1551. vol. ii. page 814.
f Hist. of Germ. of the year 1076.
§ Lez. sopra il decameron. Bottari, at the beginning.
Heu, quantum nugatorii Praesules moderni,
Dici debent potius Praesides Averniſ
6 OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME,
of Rheims, pointing to the Roman Pontiff : “Who is
that seated upon a high throne, and radiant with purple
and gold 2 I say, whom do you take him to be : Verily,
if he thus follows uncharitableness, and is puffed up with
, his own learning, it must be Antichrist, sitting in the
temple of God.” “
And in the Council of Ratisbon, which was held much
later, Everard, Bishop of Saltzburg, exclaimed : “He
who is the servant of servants, desires to be lord of
lords: he profanes, he pillages, he defrauds, he robs, he
murders, and he is the lost man who is called Anti-
christ.” + The last words prove that the name was habi-
tually applied to the Pope.
In the General History of the Church of the Val-
denses, published by their minister, Jean Léger, many
very ancient protestant manuscripts are brought to light,
which were deposited for safety in the University of
Cambridge, in the time of Oliver Cromwell. We take
a few extracts from one of them only, which bears the
date of 1120 : “What are the works of Antichrist 2 To
take away the truth, and change it into falsehood; to
practise insatiable avarice, and simony; to govern, not
by the Holy Spirit, but by secular power; to hate, per-
secute, murder, rob, and torture Christ's followers. He
has brought forward various decrees, both ancient and
modern, with the design of obtaining money by them. —
The Apostle says: “What communion hath light with
darkness, and what concord hath Christ with Belial 7’—I
will not that ye make yourselves companions of demons.—
We will separate ourselves wholly from him whom we
believe to be Antichrist.” I
When the spirit of reform manifested itself among the
Albigenses, thousands of whom were sacrificed by the
Popes, the indignant Muse of the Provençal trouba-
dours hurled many an invective against Rome. One ex-
* Baronius, vol. x. f Aventino. Annal. B. VII.
† Part I. page 74, &c.
OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME. 7
ample will suffice, which was written in the thirteenth
century, during the heat of the struggle between the
Empire and the Priesthood, that is, between Frederick II.
and three consecutive Popes. “ Immoral, faithless
city, Rome, thy seat is fixed in the depths of hell and
perdition. Without reason, thou hast destroyed a whole
people.—Thou despisest God and the saints — falsehood
and infamy dwell in thy bosom.” And then he turns to
the cause of all this evil, and exclaims: “Outwardly
thou art a lamb, but inwardly, a devouring wolf, and
a crowned serpent. * Go, Sirvente, and tell the false
priest, that he who submitteth to his dominion, is dead.”
Guillen Figueiras. f -
But we will dwell no longer on the authority of men
little known, whom we might, were it necessary, cite in
myriads against Rome, but pass on to those who hold the
chief rank in this undaunted band : at the head of them
appears the greatest literary character of the following
century, Petrarch, the celebrated contemporary of Dante.
He is worthy of entire belief, not only from the ac-
knowledged integrity of his character, but from his inti-
mate acquaintance with the papal court, where he resided
for some time; and we shall be excused for dwelling at
some length on his testimony, because his confidential
intercourse with the greatest princes and most learned
men of his time, his frequent journeys to France, and
more distant lands, and his extensive correspondence,
which brought him into contact with various men and
countries, render his words almost an epitome of the spirit
of the age. And those who know him only as the tender
and impassioned poet, will forgive us in the pleasure of
meeting him again in the character of a powerful and
eloquent orator.
We will not call poetry in evidence, because there
* “That old serpent, called the Devil and Satan, – having seven
heads and ten horns, and seven crowns upon his heads.” Rev. ch. 12.
f Millot, Hist. Litt. des Troubadours.
8 OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
generally rests on it a suspicion of exaggeration ; there-
fore we pass over those well-known sonnets, which were
interdicted at Rome, in which he calls that city “a
school of error, a temple of heresy; once Rome, now
Babylon, the false and wicked—hell of the living :” and
we turn to his prose writings, wherein we shall read his
real sentiments, and particularly to his familiar epistles,
in which he opened his heart to his friends without
reserve. * The only difficulty is in selecting from
such abundant materials. Petrarch left seventeen vo-
lumes, which contain nearly three hundred letters; and
we must here confine ourselves to some detached pas-
sages, selected from the contents of a single volume, en-
titled Epistolarum sine titulo liber; and from them we
shall learn his abhorrence of what he called Hell and
the congregation of devils, and his grief for the persecu-
tions of those persons who were treated as heretics, but
whom he called true followers of Christ, and we shall
leave the reader to judge whether or not he was of their
number. He writes from Avignon, then the papal see, to
a confidential friend, thus : —
“The sun never shone on a more shameless city than
this western Babylon, where I am now dwelling : its
river, the proud Rhone, is like the burning Cocytus or
Acheron, and here reigns a proud race of fishermen, who
are no longer poor. In the name of Jesus, but with the
works of Belial, they imprison numbers of unhappy
Christians, and then, after pillaging them of every thing,
they condemn them to the flames.” (Epis. 4.) “Woe tothy
people, Christ Jesus, woe to thy people, Lord! Fountain
of all mercies, suffer us to pour out our sorrows unto thee,
for as our woes are great, so do our hearts cling to thee
more fondly. Give not our souls, we implore thee, as a
* “In his Epistles, Petrarch describes himself, and every secret of his
heart, with wonderful candour.” Baldelli. Life of Petr. “It is there we
must seek for the soul of Petrarch.” Ginguené Hist. Lit. d’Italiè. In
De Sade's memoirs of the poet, we find the same thing repeated.
OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME. 9
prey to the devouring beasts. Thou hast sorely tried thy
people, like as silver is tried; we have passed through
the flame &c.; we trusted in thee, who rulest over the
waters, to still the fury of the waves, which destroyed the
first fisherman ; and we hoped that thou wouldst have
calmed them when his bark descended to another : * we
trusted that these proud ones would have been humbled,
and that thine arm would have overthrown thine enemies,
for they are no longer lambs, but wolves; no longer
fishermen, but pirates; no longer shepherds, but butchers;
but their pride increases now more and more.” (Epis. 10)
“This ecclesiastical Dionysius oppresses and spoils our
Syracuse—his delight is in others' woes; fishing in trou-
bled waters, thieving in darkness.” (Epis. 11) “O, Christ
thou who art all-powerful, hear our miseries, and put an
end to this struggle, for our yoke is intolerably heavy.
We are fervent and zealous, O Saviour, in thy service.”
(Epis. 15.)
In another letter, he dissuades a friend from going to
that infernal city, and conjures him rather to visit any
other part of the world. “Go where thou wilt, even
among the Indians, but come not to Babylon, descend
not, while living, into Hell. — No light is here, but all is
confusion, darkness, and perplexity ; (and to use the
words of Lucan,) a night of intense wickedness; yes, a
night of clouds and darkness, unspeakable misery, infi-
nite anguish, and distress that has no end.” (Epis. 12)
Horrified with the wickedness he saw, he escaped from
Avignon, fearing probably that he might share in the
works of Satan, and afterwards writing to a friend who
still remained there, he urged him to fly directly from
the tabernacle of the devil, if he would not be damned
for ever. “The Rhone surpasses Cocytus and Acheron,
the rivers of hell. All that has been ever heard or read
* From this, and many other passages, we clearly collect that Petrarch
considered that the Apostolical succession had passed to the persecuted,
and not to their persecutors, whom he calls Satan, demons, &c. &c.
B 5
I 0. OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
of perfidy, deceit, pride, and unbridled licentiousness; all
that earth ever contained, in its different regions of im-
piety and immorality, is gathered and concentrated there.
And if thou still lovest Christ, piety will give thee strength
to fly from the sight of the enormities of his enemies.
For thou art living in the midst of a people who have
rebelled against him, who were ranged under his banners,
and are fighting the battles of Satan; in a word, a peo-
ple impious, proud, greedy, and vain ; with a heart of
iron, a breast of steel, a will of lead, but soft of speech;
a people who follow the example of Judas Iscariot, who
betrayed his master with a kiss, saying, ‘Hail, Master 1’
and of those Jews who clothed their Lord in purple, and
crowned him with thorns, and then smote him, and spat
upon him, and bowed the knee before him in bitter
mockery, crying, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’ And what
else do those enemies of Christ continually (Epis. 15.)
In another, addressed to the same friend, he endea-
vours to persuade him to abjure for ever that “School
of error,” &c., undertaking to prove by argument, that
the papal court was really the Babylon of the Revelations.
“Would'st thou know the ineffable beauty of God 2 Try
to measure the wickedness of his enemies: thou hast not
to seek them afar off, they dwell in Babylon.” And then
he goes on to enumerate such monstrous heresies, such
abominable practices, and crimes so excessive, that we
are tempted to hope that he saw things with too pre-
judiced an eye.
“Rejoice, O enemy of all goodness, handmaid of im-
piety, asylum of the wicked 1 Rejoice, O vilest of all
things—infamous Babylon, thou who art leagued in ini-
quity with the kings of the earth ! Thou art the very
same which the Evangelist saw in the spirit; the very
same, and none other, that sitteth on many waters —
thou sittest in thy pride and folly, forgetful of the power
of the Almighty. The waters are the people and the
nations over whom thou hast dominion. “And the wo-
OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME. I I
man was arrayed in purple and scarlet colour, and decked
with gold, and precious stones, and pearls, having a
golden cup in her hand, full of abominations,’ &c. &c.
(Rev. c. 17. v. 4.) O Babylon, dost thou know thyself?
To whom do the next passages apply, if not to thee, O
mother of all the abominations of the earth, infamous
parent of infamous children 7 “And I saw the woman
drunken with the blood of the saints, and with the blood
of the martyrs of Jesus.’ Still silent! Show me another,
drunken with that blood, or confess that thou art she.
The words of the Evangelist are true; and if he who saw
thee in the spirit, wondered with great admiration, how
much greater must be our wonder, who see thee with our
own eyes 2 What reward dost thou expect for all these
abominations, of which the kings and nations of the earth
have drunk 2 St. John says: ‘The great Babylon is
fallen, is fallen, and is become the habitation of devils:’
and so art thou, for in what respect is a wicked and des-
perate man better than a devil? Yes, thou art not only
the habitation, but the kingdom of devils, who, under a
human form, but with all their art, reign in thee. And
thou, my friend, listen to the words which the Apostle
heard from heaven: “Come out of her, my people, that
ye be not partakers of her sins, and that ye receive not of
her plagues; for her sins have reached unto heaven, and
God hath remembered her iniquities. How much she
hath glorified herself, and lived deliciously, so much tor-
ment and sorrow give her ; for she saith in her heart, I
sit a queen: therefore shall her plagues come in one day;
death, and mourning, and famine; for strong is the Lord
God who judgeth her.” (Rev. c. 18.) Hear then and de-
part, lest thy innocence be confounded with her iniquities,
which are without beginning or end, and which no man
can measure or weigh. I say nothing of the heresy of
Simon Magus, which is there imitated ; nor of the crimes
of those who sell the gifts of the Holy Spirit; nor of
their avarice, called by the Apostle the worship of idols;
nor of their cruelty,” &c. &c. (Epis. 16.)
12 OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
Persuaded by the arguments of Petrarch, his friend fled
from the court, and, as we may reasonably presume, from
the doctrine of Satan, and doubtless, he had the best
opportunity of seeing with his own eyes, whether these
vivid descriptions of crimes which the pen refuses to tran-
scribe were exaggerated or not. Petrarch, happy that
he had been the means of saving his soul, exultingly ex-
claimed, “Thou hast fled, thou hast escaped, and my
heart is glad. I feared, yes, I confess that I feared for thy
soul. I thought that having once descended into the in-
fernal regions, thou wouldst not have had strength or power
to escape thence. I feared, because I know that the path
which leads to them is easy, but that the ascent is slippery
and painful. I said in mine heart, O, will my Alcides,
will my Theseus, ever return in safety from that Hell !
Thou hast returned ; thanks be to God who releases the
souls of those who trust in him. Remember, and never-
more see the face of that Minos, that judge of hell—
nevermore let thy will lead thee into the presence of the
princes of darkness; but may the God of gods confound
them for ever in their wickedness, for they are stained
with the blood of the holy Lamb, and are rebellious and
stubborn against his word.” He then gives us to under-
stand that a high personage, probably the Cardinal
Colonna, had recalled him to the papal court, but he adds:
“He urges me with well-meant but foolish kindness, to
return to live and die in Babylon. And wherefore ? To
see the good humbled, and the wicked exalted ; eagles
creeping, and asses flying; foxes in gilded coaches, crows
on high towers, doves on dunghills, wolves unchained,
lambs fettered, Christ forgotten, Antichrist supreme, and
Beelzebub the judge 7” (Ep. 17.)
It is quite evident that these opinions, uttered in the
confidence of friendship to several persons, and never
swerved from, must have been the fruits of conviction.
And even those sentiments which, at first sight, appear
exaggerated figures of language, we must understand from
OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME. | 3
Petrarch literally. We shall see that they are derived
from the sacred doctrines professed by the Protestant
Church, then oppressed and followed in secret, now
triumphant and openly proclaimed. Petrarch entertained
these opinions in common with many, whom he called
true followers of Christ, persecuted by Antichrist and
Satan. The disinterested feelings which induced him, at
an advanced age, to refuse high places and dignities,
which the Pope offered him through Cardinal Talleyrand,
are a convincing proof of his sincerity,
We would fain dwell much longer on Petrarch's testi-
mony, but we must now leave him, and cast a hurried
glance over the uniformity of the like sentiments in illus-
trious men of other countries, in that same century.
To prove that the expressions already cited, are not to
be ascribed to mere vehemence of language, but to the
firmness of belief, we will produce examples from dog-
matic books, which were written contemporaneously with
the last works of Petrarch; and consider some of those
multifarious opinions, which were afterwards solemnly
condemned by the council of Constance, and which flowed
abundantly from the inexhaustible pen of Wickliffe, the
professor of the University of Oxford; and they will show
the bond of fellowship which existed between the Italian
poet and the English theologian.
“The Popes and Cardinals were not ordained by
God, but introduced by the devil.—If the Pope belong to
any order, it is to the devil's.-The cardinals are beyond
all doubt, incarnate devils.”— The Pope is the Antichrist
mentioned in the sacred pages, the lawyer specially
appointed by the devil, f who strives to renew every year
* These are the Princes of the Earth, the Princes of the World, to
whom Dante wrote his letter on the death of Beatrice, which begins
“How doth the city sit solitary.”
t The procurator of infernal wickedness, he was called by Bartolo,
Wickliffe's contemporary.
14 OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
the treason against Christ.” The Pope put the shackles
of infidelity round the feet of Christians; and those
shackles are private auricular confessions, for which there
is no foundation in the law. Private confession to the
priest was introduced by Pope Innocent III. From the
beginning of the tenth century down to this day, the con-
secrated host has been converted into a heresy, viz.,
when it was introduced by the devil. The confirmation
of the bishops, solemnized with so many rites, was intro-
duced by the devil. False and lying censures are not
founded on the law of Christ, but were fraudulently
devised by Antichrist. Mankind, especially in Europe,
follow that blind heresy, which teaches that the whole
church militant is under the governance of Antichrist.
No imperial Pope (that is, with the power of a secular
Prince,) was ever established by Christ's ordination, but
introduced into the church by the malice of the devil.
Princes and powers ought mutually to aid each other, in
order that no such Pope may exist, and they should never
assist such a Pope either with money or works. What
does that law signify, Omnis utriusque sexus, except a
submission to this devil, the Pope? And the same, with
other similar laws of Lucifer. God will not permit that
cankerworm who calls himself Pope, any longer to infest
the church; he has made it a mass of corruption in his
diabolical abode. The Pope assumes to have the power
of excommunicating; which power he has no more right
to than the devil has a right to curse a Christian people.
The masked demons are powerless against the children of
light, for they are devils and the children of devils.”+
Numerous were the followers of Wickliffe in England;
nobles and people, learned and ignorant; and the alarm-
* The treason against Christ gave Dante the idea of putting Judas into
the centre mouth of that immense colossus, of whom he wrote, the Pope is
Satan. “Then entered Judas into Satan.
t See these and others of Wickliffe's opinions, condemned by the Council
of Constance in the Fasciculus Rerum Expetendarum et Fugiendarum of
E. Brown, p. 266, &c. London, 1690.
OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME. 15
ing rebellion which broke out in 1379 and 1380, while he
was still living, is by historians generally attributed to
the powerful effects of his writings and preaching. Nor
were they of less consequence out of England. John
Huss, and Jerome of Prague, pursued the doctrines in-
culcated in his works; and their followers, to the number
of 40,000 armed sectarians, made the Latin church pay
most dearly for the death of their two chiefs, so remorse-
lessly given to the flames. -
In the next century, we find materials to fill a volume;
but as the Roman tribunal itself lets us know in what
estimation it was held, we shall prefer its evidence to
that of another.
Albert of Capitaneis, appointed by Innocent VIII. to
examine heretics, wrote in the ninth article of his report:
“These men have believed, and continue to believe, that
the Roman Church is the house of confusion, the Baby-
lon of the Revelation, the synagogue of the devil; and .
this is public, notorious, true, and manifest.” Now being
all this, by the acknowledgment of the papal inquisitors
themselves, it would be a loss of time, were we to bring
forward the volumes of evidence on their adversaries’
side: and we therefore pass on to the next century,
which was still more fertile in disputes.
In the sixteenth century, the ardent spirit of reform
burst forth in one simultaneous blaze throughout Europe;
and men without number, nay, whole provinces and
kingdoms, threw off the mask of popery, and declared
their true sentiments. Some among the protestant
doctors, a little inclined to the marvellous, have per-
suaded themselves, and tried to persuade others, that
Providence specially interposed, so that, in countries far
distant from each other, men inspired by divine grace,
abjured at the same moment, their ancient belief. But
we hope to show more fully than we have yet done, that
preceding ages had kindled and secretly fed the fire,
which at last broke out with the might of a volcano. All
16 OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
the most profound critics and historians agree, that the
reformers of the sixteenth century only set the match to
the train, which their predecessors had, by slow degrees,
and from time to time, laid in the mine. Luther, for in-
stance, in his work on the Captivity of Babylon, taught
nothing new when he called Rome Babylon, and the
Pope, Antichrist, the devouring wolf, the beast of the
Apocalypse, vomiting devils, the messenger of Satan on
earth, and similar names. He merely found himself en-
abled, by circumstances, to publish with impunity, what
before his time was only whispered tremblingly. The
worship of images, the prayers for the dead, the celibacy
of the clergy, the sacrifice of the mass, indulgences,
fasts, &c. &c.; all these had been previously abolished
by the Valdenses, the Albigenses, and other sects. In
short, we know that the practices of the Reformed
Church had existed from a remote period, although only
then proclaimed solemnly. The Popes, who persecuted
the primitive reformers so remorselessly, never foresaw
how powerful their successors would one day become :
had they done so, instead of shedding rivers of blood, and
disgusting the world by their conduct, instead of mak-
ing their own devotees adversaries, their first care would
have been to correct the most crying abuses, and by thus
reconciling the souls of men to their dominion, they
would have strengthened that dominion on the founda-
tions of piety. But it appears destined that every re-
form should have its martyrs, and those who begin the
great work are generally the lamented victims; pos-
terity does them justice, while the memory of their op-
pressors is execrated. But is it equally destined that
those oppressors should learn nothing from the sad school
of experience 2
Now while the reformation was spreading throughout
Germany, what was passing in Italy 7 In spite of the
formidable presence of the supposed Satan, who, mad-
dened with fear and rage, caused the funeral pile to be
OPEN LANG (JAGE AGAINST ROME. 17
lighted, and the axe to be sharpened, many an Italian
voice was heard to echo the words of that Luther, whose
thunders already shook the Vatican. O1 how many
flattered themselves with the hope that they should live
to see the fall of the towers on the seven hills of Baby-
lon ] The seed which had been sown in secret by so many
illustrious men, (and we shall bring proofs of their exer-
tions) and increased and fertilized from age to age, now
began to bring forth the promised fruit. Reformed
Churches sprang up in several parts of the Peninsula,
and cities and villages declared their adherence to the
new faith. To quench this fervent and increasing zeal,
blood was profusely shed ; and there were days when
(to use one of their own expressions,) hundreds of inno-
cent lambs fell at the foot of the altar of the infernal
deity. Those who desire to be more fully acquainted
with the atrocities perpetrated at that time in Italy, would
do well to read the affecting narrative lately published
by Dr. M'Crie. (Hist. of the Progress and Suppression
of the Reformation in Italy.)
In this disturbed state of things, many works were
written by Italians on the same melancholy subject,
among which are those of Francesco Negri of Bassano,
who, having sought safety in flight, published several
anti-papal works in his exile, and particularly a Latin
tragedy, called Liberum Arbitrium (1546), from which
we need only transcribe four lines:
Long had the Pope proclaimed himself to the world
Half man, half God;
Now by God’s blessing we are enabled to see him
Half man, half Satan.* Act III. Sc. 4.
James Acontius, of Trent, a philosopher, theologian,
and jurisconsult, being persecuted for his opinions
in Italy, withdrew to England, where he was kindly re-
* Esse diu mentitus erat se Papa per orbem
Semideumque virum, semivirumque Deum.
At vere hunc, retegente Deo, nunc esse widemus
Semisatanque virum, semivirumque Satan.
18 OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
ceived; and where he lived until his death, which hap-
pened in 1566. He composed and published, in that
country, his Latin work, intituled, “The Stratagems of
Satan.” In the frontispiece, was engraven the figure of
the Romish Church, with a wolf at her feet; sitting
amidst the vices, which are personified, and cloaked with
virtues. From the beginning to the end of the work, we
are given to understand, that the Satan whose strata-
gems he exposes, was the very same who forced him to
leave his country.” In Book the 2nd, where he unveils
all the intrigues of Rome with the European princes, the
nature of all her institutions, and the practices of the in-
quisition, the author, after a long enumeration of them,
exclaims:—“ It is wonderful to see the art with which
Satan trains this people, and with what success he carries
on their institutions.” At the end of the book, he ad-
dresses these words to the reader:—“Observe all the art
of Satan, and remember that it may insnare thyself.
These are some of the stratagems we might enumerate :
Satan strives to cover with a veil the truth of the Gos-
pel, or to stop its course altogether, to corrupt men's
minds, or lay the foundation of a new tyranny. But
thou canst understand easily all that he is capable of
doing; and what punishment is too great for those who
conspire to the injury of the people, and the desolation of
Christ's kingdom? Woe to ye who despise your brethren,
afflicting them, oppressing them, and thus building for-
tresses, and raising strong walls for the kingdom of Sa-
tan. Woe to ye, I say”
These authorities might be quoted for ever; but not to
dwell too long on the same subject, we shall conclude
our notices of this century with the two above-mentioned
Italians, and pass over many others, who, however, are
well worthy of attention. If we were to turn to other
countries, what a mass of evidence might we not collect
* See the note (A) at the end of the volume.
OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME. 19
from their writers! We might, among others, quote the
pamphlet published at Monaco, in 1586, and called,
“Advice given to Italy, by a young French Nobleman;”
and the numerous works of Pierre Viret, in which we
read in every page, such sentences as these against the
Pope :—“Satan would make us believe that life is death,
and death life.” - - --
It must have been most mortifying to the pride of
Rome to see these opinions increasing among her own
clergy. Besides the three bishops and two monks whom
we have already cited, Luther was a friar, and Petrarch
a canon of the Romish Church, rich in ecclesiastical
benefices, conferred on him by different pontiffs. And
there were numberless others, who were in their hearts
reformers, long before reform triumphed. The letters
of Petrarch, from which we have made extracts, were,
as we discover from the researches of the Abbé de Sade,
and the Count Baldelli, addressed to the Bishops of Ca-
vaillon and Padua, both men of exemplary lives; and
others, not less bold in their language, the poet sent to
the prior of the Holy Apostles at Florence, whose an-
swers were framed in a corresponding tone, or even
stronger, as we learn from De Sade, who had read the
whole correspondence. Thus thought and wrote men
of high intellect and pure heart, learned and just persons,
pious ministers of the Roman priesthood; and what Zap-
pears more singular is, that sometimes they scrupled not
to hold this language before the Pope himself. For in-
stances of this fact, we must go back a little.
Robert, Bishop of Lincoln, a prelate of great learning,
and of a character so spotless, that many miracles were
attributed to him after his death, expressed his opinions
with infinite address, in the letter which he wrote to
Pope Innocent IV. in 1253, in answer to a bull which he
had received from Rome, conveying certain orders.
“What is required of me concerning the government of
20 OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
my diocese, could only be expected to come from one
leagued hand in hand with Antichrist and Lucifer; for it
is diametrically opposed to the precepts of our Creator
and Redeemer; but the head of our Holy Church is far
different from Lucifer or Antichrist; wherefore, I hold it
to be impossible that your holiness would ever give such
orders to me.” This letter enraged the Pope so much, that
he was only prevented hurling his spiritual and temporal
thunders against the offender, by the council of cardinals,
who, with one accord, confessed the superiority of that
learned and pious man, and declared that he had written
nothing but the truth. This fact is minutely related by
the contemporary historian, Matthew Paris, who tells us
also, that shortly afterwards, the bishop having expired,
lamenting the state of the church, and prophesying the
fall of Rome; the Pope determined to shew some signal
insult to his remains, when the soul of the pious man de-
scended from Heaven, clothed in episcopal pomp, and
seizing the crosier, inflicted a severe personal chastise-
ment on his holiness.
But what shall we think when we find that among the
cardinals themselves there was one who entertained the
same sentments, and had the boldness to express them
before the Pope in full consistory. The Abbé de Sade
cites the authors from whom he quoted the fact, which
happened in Petrarch's time.—“One day, while the Pope
(Clement VI.) was holding a consistory, a cardinal, whose
name did not transpire, adroitly dropped a letter which
was carried to the Pope, and read before the whole court.
The inscription was in these terms: ‘Leviathan, Prince of
Darkness, to the Pope Clement, his vicar, and the car-
dinals, his counsellors and good friends.’ And at the end
there was : “Given in the centre of hell, in the presence
of a company of demons.’ This letter enumerated all the
crimes supposed to be committed by the prelates of the
court, for which Leviathan praised them highly, exhorting
OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME. 21
them to continue to deserve his favour by their ac-
tions.”
We shall shortly notice other works written by mem-
bers of the Romish Church, which will convince our
readers that their opinions differed in no respect from
those of the cardinal who wrote this letter.
The saints, who were canonized by Rome, and who at
this very time are receiving the incense and vows of sup-
pliants at their altars — even they were shocked at the
depravity of the church, and gave utterance to similar
sentiments. –“ Rome (wrote St. Bridget) has become
the whirlpool of hell, the house of Mammon, where the
devil, the ruler of avarice, sits upon his throne, and sells
the patrimony of Christ.”
It must not be imagined, then, that the Pope was
likened to Satan and Antichrist, and his court to hell
and Babylon, allegorically. On the contrary, as we have
already said, this opinion was almost a part of the pro-
testant faith ; it was taken from the doctrines of the Old
and the New Testament, and particularly from the Apo-
calypse; it had been taught for years and years by a
thousand zealous antipapal apostles; and it was the crime
which gave birth to the inquisition, which, in order to
stifle a far-fetched belief, destroyed the believers, who
really thought, as a Gospel truth, that the Pope was the
manifestation of Satan, predicted by the Evangelist; that
his kingdom was the kingdom of Antichrist, reigning for
his master, Satan, on earth ; that, in short, in the Pope
was hidden the spirit of Satan, intent on corrupting man-
kind. Doubtless, this was an extravagant opinion ; but
it was deeply rooted in the minds of men ; — we may
perceive this by the following specimen of the doctrine
of the Albigenses, mentioned by the Abbé Pluquet in his
* Mémoire pour servir à la Vie de Petrarque — the year 1351. See
the letter of Leviathan in the original Latin, in Matteo Villani. B, 2.
ch. 47.
22 OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
Dictionary of Heresies:– “They believe that God made
Lucifer, with the angels; that Lucifer rebelled against
God — that he was banished from heaven, with all the
angels; and that he afterwards produced the visible world,
over which he reigned;” *— and hence they thought that
the Pope was either Satan, or his vicar, reigning over
the world, and they called him, in the words of Christ,
“Prince of this world.”
But without returning to those ages which we have
already left far behind, we shall find the same things af-
firmed by a successor of those ancient writers, viz. Jean
Léger, the minister of the Valdenses, who were, as he
tells us, synonimous with the Albigenses.t. In the Ge-
neral History of his Church, we find a very long article,
in which he endeavours to prove the same arguments.
And what an opinion is there expressed of the Popes
No wonder at the invincible abhorrence the sectarians
felt for their name ! No wonder at the constancy with
which so many suffered martyrdom rather than acknow-
ledge the Roman Pontiff as the true and lawful head of
the church.
This author, after quoting many authorities of ancient
fathers and modern divines, who adhered to the apostoli-
cal revelation, says: “We can never sufficiently admire
the wonderful dispensations of Providence, that, although
the learned differ with regard to the thousand years when
Satan was to be unloosed, some reckoning from the time
of our Lord’s birth; others, from his death ; and others
again, from the destruction of Jerusalem; — still, which-
ever opinion we follow, we shall find that at the end of a
thousand years a Pope was reigning, in whose person,
* Art. Albigeois.
f They were called by different names—sometimes Valdenses, and
sometimes Albigenses, from the city of Albi in Languedoc ; sometimes
Lombards, because their religion flourished particularly in Lombardy,
and thence spread throughout Italy. (Hist. Gen. des Eglises Vaud.
part 1, page 155.)
OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME. 23
even by the confession of his own creatures, the un-
chained Satan was recognized, and Antichrist manifested.
At all these three periods, the Popes, to show more
strongly in their persons the identity of the devil, exer-
cised the art of magic, as the Cardinal Benno, an irre-
proachable witness against Rome, proves in his life of
Hildebrand. If we reckon from the birth of Christ, at
the end of a thousand years reigned Sylvester II., of
whom the same Cardinal says, that he rose from the
abyss, by God's permission, soon after the thousand
years were accomplished. Platina, in his life of this
Pope, repeats the same thing, as does Nicholas de Lyra in
Morali Glossa,” &c. &c. He proves similar circum-
stances in the persons of the Popes who reigned in the
other two periods, finishing with Gregory VII., of whom
he writes: “It is this Pope (according to Conrad Abbas
Uspergensis, in his chronology under the year 1080) who
was called by the bishops, in the Council of Brixen, the
false monk, the prince of abominations.” (Jean Léger,
page 146, &c.)
And have we never heard, in our own days, the same
doctrines repeated seriously, by Protestants learned in
divinity, both in the pulpit and in their writings?
We should make this chapter a volume, were we to cite
all the writers who have described the Pope to be Satan
and Antichrist. One of the most accurate of living his-
torians, Sismond de Sismondi, in his observations on the
calamities of which the south of France was the theatre,
during the thirteenth century, relates the origin of those
events which took place subsequently in many countries
of Europe. He writes thus: — “Many sects existed si-
multaneously in Provence; and this was the necessary
consequence of the freedom of inquiry, which was the
essence of their doctrine. With one accord, they con-
sidered that the Romish Church had changed the nature
of Christianity, and that she was the object described in
the Apocalypse as the woman of Babylon. Although it
24 OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
was in the countries where the Provençal language was
spoken, and particularly in Languedoc, where the Patarin
creed had made the swiftest progress, it had not failed
to spread itself into other Christian lands, as Italy, Lor-
raine, Germany, and Spain. The Pope Innocent III.,
instead of trying to convert them, ordered his ministers
to burn their chiefs, scatter their flocks, and confiscate
the property of those who refused to bend their will to
his. And in pursuance of this command, several chiefs
of the new communion were burnt at Nevers, in 1198,
and the following years. The intolerance of the Pope
was roused by symptoms of the change of opinions which
he began to see drawing near to himself. Persecution,
in scattering the sectarians, had spread the germs of the
reformation in every country where the Roman tongue
was spoken. In vain the inquisition believed itself able
to force human reason to bow down, and to impose one
sole rule of faith. To maintain the unity of belief, the
church had recourse to the expedient of burning all those
who separated themselves from her; but although, for
200 years, the fires were never quenched, still every day
saw Catholics abjuring the faith of their fathers, and em-
bracing the religion which often guided them to the stake.
In vain Gregory IX., in 1231, put to death every heretic
whom he found concealed in Rome : his own letters, ad-
dressed in 1235 to the bishops of that part of Italy, show
that, in spite of the severity of the inquisition, the Pata-
rini ceased not to increase in numbers.-Hist, des Fran-
çais, v. 6 & 7.)
Thus, in various ways, were openly taught those doc-
trines, which had previously been kept a profound secret
by the sects who entertained in private the principles of
the reformed church : they wandered about Europe,
making the south of France their principal head-quar-
ters; and thence they dispersed themselves all over Italy;
where, historians inform us, that they were known as
Lombards, or Patarini, as early as the eleventh century,
OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME. 25
which was the most remarkable crisis in the sacred affairs
of Europe. -
Those who remember what was said at the commence-
ment of this chapter,-where we showed that the prophetic
allegories of the Apocalypse, and the reprobate actions
of Rome together (which, by a fatal coincidence, corres-
ponded to a hair's breadth) caused the change which
then came over the minds of men, who were disgusted
still more by the notorious cruelties of the popes, will
perceive very clearly, that that century was fated to see
the commencement of the melancholy struggle which, for
several following ages, convulsed the whole frame of
Christianity. It makes the heart of a true Christian bleed,
to think of the fatal error of the Latin church ; which,
by persecuting others, laid the foundation of its own
irreparable ruin. That these opinions were most injuri-
ous to it cannot be denied ; but the means taken to
destroy them were, of all others, the most likely to
strengthen and render them more deeply rooted. St. John
prophesied that Satan's delegate would use horrid cruel-
ties, and inundate Babylon with the blood of Christ's
martyrs; and the Pope, to prove that he was not that
delegate, did use horrid cruelties, and caused Rome to
overflow with the purest of Christian blood According
to some historians, no less than two millions of human
beings were sacrificed to the resentment of Rome, down
to the year 1650. And this was the means taken to con-
tradict the evidence of those who believed that the Evan-
gelist really saw in the spirit the sanguinary power of
the popes, when he wrote – “And I saw the woman
drunken with the blood of the saints,” &c. &c.—“And
I saw, under the altar, the souls of them that were slain
for the word of God, and for the testimony which they
held; and they cried with a loud voice, saying, How long,
O Lord, holy and true, dost thou not judge and avenge
our blood on them that dwell on the earth.”— (Rev. xvii.
6; vi. 9.)
C
26 - OPEN LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
The least reproach that can be made against the Ro-
mish church for all her deeds, is a total want of pru-
dence. Her enemies possessed this virtue, and turned it
into a weapon of tremendous force against her, which fell
when she was least prepared for the blow. Too feeble
to meet them on terms of equality, she opposed cunning
to strength; not being able to wage war openly, she carried
it on secretly. The next chapter, and the rest of this
volume, will show how far her efforts were successful.
CHAPTER II.
SECRET LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
THE English Historian, Matthew Paris, cites, under the
year 1243, a long Latin letter, which was written during
the reign of the Emperor Frederick II., by a deserter
from the sect, named Ivan of Narbonne, and addressed
to Giraldus, Archbishop of Bordeaux; in this letter, he
relates that, being persecuted in his own country as a
Patarin, he fled into Italy, where he was cordially re-
ceived, and generously assisted at Como, by others of the
same sect, to whom he made himself known; he says
that he found them scattered about in every city through
which he passed; that he solemnly promised them that
he would go and preach their doctrine, and persuade men
that the faith of Peter (meaning the Pope,) leads not to
salvation; that they had well regulated communions,
and superintending bishops; that he learned many of
their regulations, and among others, that they sent
disciples at their own expence to Paris, from various
cities of Tuscany, and Lombardy, to learn there the art
of making use of the subtleties of logic and theology, for
the furtherance of their doctrine, and that sectarian mer-
chants travelled about to the different fairs, to seek for
proselytes; he adds too, that when, after leaving Como,
he passed through Milan, Cremona, and Venice, &c., as
C 2
28 SECRET LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
far as Vienna; he was always recognized and welcomed
by means of signs. *
The Abbé Pluquet says: “Towards the tenth century,
they spread into Italy, and had considerable establish-
ments in Lombardy, whence they sent preachers, who
perverted the minds of many.” He adds, that these
Albigenses or Patarins believed in the visible reign of
Satan on the earth. This belief being common to so
many persons, it is very certain that they must have
communicated with each other in some particular lan-
guage; and that they did so, will be proved by their
own avowal, and by other and unquestionable evidence.
Our examination will show that there is no secret sect
which has not both signs and language peculiar to itself.
From themselves we shall learn the nature and rules of
this language, and we shall see with what imperceptible
and consummate art they made use of it, in order that
its existence might be undiscovered, for their very lives
were at stake. Before its nature is explained to us, we
may almost divine it. Legrand d'Aussy correctly wrote
that the art of speaking in allegories is a device which
naturally enters the mind of a man of talent. Those who
are groaning under any yoke, will easily understand how
gladly men, in times of persecution, embraced this re-
source, when the desire of telling truths, which might
have served the cause of the oppressed, and the fear of
telling them, which would have exasperated the oppres-
sors, left them no other alternative than that of covering
them with a veil.
The allegorical language was founded on the opinions
then predominant, which were of two classes, profane,
and sacred; and from these were derived the different
styles of mystic figures, the mythological, and the scrip-
tural ; by means of which, the world was described under
two aspects, as what it was, and as what it ought to be-
* See the note B. at the end of the volume.
SECRET LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME", 29
come. The ages of iron and gold; the deep vale of sin,
and the lofty mountain of virtue; Avernus and Elysium,
and other similar poetical imageries, are all ingenious
mythological fancies. The scriptural afford a not less
abundant store: first, we have Adam innocent, and sin-
ful; in his first state placed in the Garden of Eden, on
the top of a sunny mountain, full of flowers, fruits, and
domestic animals; and in the last, banished to a world
of tears and darkness, full of tribulation and sorrow ;
there, peace, abundance, life, joy, and happiness; here,
war, poverty, death, sadness, and misery. Then again, the
woful slavery in Babylon, and the joyful return to Jeru-
salem; the iron age of the one, and the golden age of the
other; an allegory equally taken from the old and the
new Testament, as in the Revelation, the wicked Baby-
lon, and the holy Jerusalem, are described in contrast.
Again, the condition of mankind under the dominion of
Satan, after the original sin, is contrasted with Christ's
holy kingdom, after the divine redemption. And figures
of allegory we may also call Hell and Paradise, with all
the different descriptions and ideas associated with each.
These were the weapons with which talent made war on
power, turning the erudition of paganism and the sacred
doctrines into dark meanings, in order to wound its ene-
mies secretly, and leave them no field whereon to meet
it. But to succeed in this warfare, with what skill must
the writer have armed himself! with what dissimulation
cloaked his meaning ! what a variety of resources must
he have had in store | One false step would have led him
to a fatal precipice.
But what caution could be overstrained in times when
liberty of conscience was forbidden throughout Europe,
and when no feeling of the heart could be disclosed with
impunity? We have seen already the fate which awaited
those who refused to prostrate themselves before the all-
powerful colossus. Petrarch's letters sine titulo were
never heard of, during his life, and when they were
30 SECRET LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
published, the names of those to whom he wrote them
were suppressed; for the mere fact of having received such
letters, and far more of having composed them, would
have been deemed a crime deserving of the flames. The
only means then by which the oppressed could safely vent
their feelings was, by having recourse to a figurative lan-
guage, which would be understood by those only who
knew its secret force. Petrarch tells us as much, and
even more than this, in the Latin pastorals which he
published in his own life-time; but then those pastorals
were not understood except by those who possessed a key
to the conventional jargon in which they were written.
Some centuries later, critics began to perceive that these
pastoral dialogues, which appear almost aimless, are in
point of fact, tremendous satires against the Pope and
his court. Those formidable personages are described in
the blackest colours; but who could or would identify
them? The papalists saw nothing beyond poetical beau-
ties; and the initiated, who well knew that those beauties
were used as veils to the real meaning of the writer, kept
their knowledge carefully concealed. The first read of
nothing but flocks and shepherds; the last saw before
their eyes far different flocks, and shepherds, who under
their outward garb, were ravenous wolves.
In this respect, Petrarch was an imitator only. There
are few ignorant of the fact that Virgil's eclogues all
allude to contemporary events; that they are mostly a
masked history; and that the pretended shepherds are
illustrious citizens. Thus, for instance, in the first
eclogue, Tityrus, who “fills the groves with Amaryllis'
name,” is Virgil himself celebrating Rome, whose
sacerdotal name was, according to some, Amaryllis.
Augustus is transformed into a God with a temple and altar:
“— a Deity bestowed,
For never can I deem him less than God, &c. &c.—Past. 1.”
* This idea of deifying the Emperors was not confined to poetical
fictions only, for we know that the Caesars after their apotheosis had their
SECRET LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME. 31
Tityrus, who forsook Galatea for Amaryllis, is the poet
who quitted Mantua, and went to Rome.
“Nor Amaryllis would vouchsafe a look,
Till Galatea's meaner bonds Ibroke.”?
Thus these two cities are represented by two shepherdesses,
and the same may be said of other pastorals of the Latin
poet.f Petrarch then, and almost all his contemporaries
and followers who wrote Latin pastorals, not excepting
Dante, imitated their classic model; and it is easy to
divine why the copies are so much more obscure than the
original, as Tityrus—Virgil sang Amaryllis—Rome; so
Stupeo—Petrarch made love to Daphne—Laurel. It is
certain that Petrarch's pastorals are all allegorical, for he
declares it himself; and it is not less certain that cities
and the powers ruling over them are represented under
the form of women, as well by profane as by sacred writers;
as we might prove by a host of examples, taken from
poetry, painting and sculpture, but principally from the
holy volume. We need go no further for instances of
this than the book of Revelations, which in Petrarch’s
time was deeply studied. There we see the wicked
Babylon and the New Jerusalem described as two females;
the one shameless; the other, chaste. The first repre-
sented in a horrid desert, the last on a high and lofty
mountain. We have evident proofs throughout his works,
and particularly in the before-cited letters, how attentively
temples, altars, priests and victims. According to the general opinion of
the learned, the Gods of antiquity were all Princes, as Jupiter in Greece,
Serapis in Egypt, &c. &c., and among the eastern nations, from whom all
Pagan theology is derived, there were, and still are people whose only
deity is their sovereign
# Mantua was called Galatea, or Nymph of the waters, probably be-
cause it is surrounded by waters. (See Virgil's commentators.)
# The Eneidis generally considered an allegory as well as the pastorals.
Petrarch in several writings; Boccaccio in his Genealogy, and Dante in
the Convito, mention it as such ; and Bishop Warburton interprets the
descent of Eneas into Tartarus and Elysium into an allegorical description
of the sacred mysteries of Eleusis.
32 SECRET LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
Petrarch had studied this sacred book; we may therefore
reasonably suppose that, in his pastorals, St. John was
his guide as well as Virgil.
Of the twelve which he composed, only some few have
been partially interpreted; the others still remain un-
folded; and especially the Amor pastorius in which
Daphne, synonimous with Laurel, and signifying Laura,
converses with the poet; and the Laurea occidens, in
which he appears to speak of the death of Laura, repre-
sented by a mystie laurel.
Ginguené says: “Almost all the eclogues of Petrarch
are in this enigmatic and mysterious style; and without
a key (which one cannot always find) it is impossible to
understand them. Most of them relate to the events of
his own life; and the speakers are sometimes, under
feigned names, the most illustrious persons of the time.
Some of them are real satires, such as the sixth and
seventh, in which the Pope, Clement the sixth, is plainly
described under the name of Mition, (from mitis, clement.)
In the sixth St. Peter, under the name of Pamphilus,
reproaches him severely for the state of languor in which
he finds his flock. (Hist. Litt. d’Ital. v. 2. p. 477.) and
Mition (the Pope) answers him thus: “I have entered
into a compact with robbers, and it has been ratified with
the blood of hogs on the altar of the king of hell; it may
be odious to the Gods above, but it is sacred to those
below, and accepted as lawful by them, to whom it is
offered up a sacrifice with money.”
“In the second eclogue, (says the same writer,) Mition
appears in the scene with the nymph Epy, that is, the city
of Avignon. The cardinals, disguised under the emblems
taken from pastoral life, pass one after the other, in
review before the nymph, who paints them all in the
blackest colours. The subject of the following one is
different, and still it contains severe strictures on Avignon
and its court. The Cardinal Colonna speaks under the
name of Ganymede, and the poet himself under that of
SECRET LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME. 33
Amyclas. “I loathe,” says the latter, “this wild forest,
(‘selva selvaggia, Dante,) this licentious shepherd, this
infected land,” &c. In another, called Conflictatio, a
shepherd relates a quarrel between Pan and Artichus;
which names signify the kings of France and England.
Artichus reproaches Pan with the favours he receives
from Faustula, meaning the pontifical court.
Protected by the allegory, this pastoral was circulated
publicly, and Petrarch slept in peace; for although it
contributed to increase the hatred of the antipapal party
against their rulers, those rulers only read it, as we read
the bucolick of Theocritus. But what do the other
eclogues conceal, which are still shrouded in darkness 2
Things even more terrible, and therefore more carefully
hidden. We may assert, without the slightest hesitation,
because we can prove our words, that from the first to
the last, they are all deadly arrows launched against the
Pope and Popery. Petrarch has openly confessed that his
pastorals were written without intermission of time, and
with one sole design, and that they conceal under a false
dress the same matter as his letters sine titulo, of which
we have already seen the nature. And he adds, that he
concealed his indignation under this pastoral disguise,
that he might be enabled to shew his real opinion of the
wickedness he detested, without any danger, and at the
same time please the taste of the age, which delighted in
that style of writing. These last words prove that if one
party did not understand him, the other did; and this
could not have been the case without a concerted lan-
guage. We know not how this ingenuous confession has
escaped the notice of the critics, (and we are not aware
that any speak of it) who have been so long endeavouring
to discover the very thing which the author himself tells
them. We have evidence, however, to prove that De
Sade had read this avowal of Petrarch's, but that he con-
cealed his knowledge for reasons which will be pointed
out hereafter.
B 5
34 SECRET LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
Before later critics began to suspect the secret meaning
of these pastorals, and even before the author had de-
clared them to have any, his intimate friend Giovanni
Boccaccio, of whom it was said that he shared the very
soul of Petrarch,” hinted to the world that the pastorals
of his friend contained an internal pith, intended as food
for a few, while the outward bark was for all. He speaks
in very plain terms to such as will understand, in the
14th book of the Genealogy of the Gods. The title to
the 10th chapter runs thus:–
“That it is folly to believe that poets concealed no-
thing under their outward words.” “Some are so bold
that, without the least authority, they scruple not to say
that it is folly to think that our famous poets hide any
meaning under their fables; they assert, on the con-
trary, that they write them merely to show the power
of their own eloquence. What folly! Will any but the
most ignorant of men say that these poetical fables are
simple, and that they contain nothing beyond their
outward meaning 2 To show their eloquence Excel-
lent reason As if eloquence could be better employed
than in exposing truths. When Dante succeeded (as he
often did) in cutting the intricate knots of sacred theo-
logy, did any one deny him the title of a great theo-
logian, as well as philosopher? And this being granted,
shall we say that he had no meaning when he described
the griffin drawing the car to the summit of the lofty
mountain, accompanied by seven candlesticks, and as
many nymphs, and all the pomp of a triumphal proces-
sion ? Does any one believe that the celebrated and excel-
lent Petrarch spent so many days and nights in study and
* “ Petrarch contracted a friendship with Boccaccio of Florence;
which was of so intimate a nature, that it seemed as though the two
bodies were moved by one soul; and such was Petrarch's affection for
his friend, that we learn by one of his own letters, that he constantly
wore a ring on his finger which contained the likeness of both.”—Squar-
ciafico, Life of Petrarch.
SECRET LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME. 35
labour on his pastorals, merely for the grace of the verses
and the elegance of the language, or to describe the
imaginary conversations of Pamphilius and Mition, and
other careless shepherds, or to let us know that Gallo
asked for the pipe of Tirreno 2 I might adduce the ex-
ample of my own eclogue, being conscious of its meaning;
but I judge it more prudent to abstain. Therefore, let
these ignorant and vain chatterers be silent; for these
illustrious men, who are nursed by the muses, and edu-
cated in the dwellings of philosophy, did surely conceal
a deep meaning in their verses, and there are very few old
women who could tell a story of witches and giants after
dark (even if surrounded by their waiting women) with-
out feeling in their minds that the words sometimes con-
tain a hidden sense which checks any inclination to
laughter.” (Trans. of Gius. Betussi.)
In the next chapter, intitled, “That obscurity is not to
be condemned in poets,” he expresses himself thus:—
“There are some things in their nature so abstruse, that
even intellects of the highest order have difficulty in pene-
trating them. And I do not deny but that this some-
times applies to the works of our poets; but they are
not therefore to be blamed; for it is the duty of a poet not
to lay bare what he finds covered with a veil, but to shroud
it rather with all possible care from the gaze of the vul-
gar. I confess that they sometimes are not only obscure,
but unintelligible, except to those of great acuteness of
intellect. But they, who complain so loudly of them, I
hold to have the eyes of bats rather than of men. They
must put off the old man, and become the very reverse of
what they are: and then the things which appear most
obscure will all seem clear and familiar. And I say again
to those who will understand me: that to clear up doubt-
ful points they must watch, read, study, and exercise all
the powers of the brain : if they cannot arrive at the
desired goal by one path, they must enter another: if any
obstacle impedes their progress in that, they must take a
36 SECRET LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
third; until, if their powers fail them not, what is now dark
will become light as day.” (Trans, of Betussi.) He gives
us further information in the two following chapters: the
first is intitled, “What men do not understand they
foolishly blame;” and the other, “On the unjust custom
of pronouncing an opinion on things not known.”
That the reader may be aware of the meaning attached
to the words written by this glory of Italian literature,
this fervent admirer of Dante, and beloved friend of
Petrarch, “I might adduce the example of my own
eclogue, being conscious of its meaning;” we shall show
a few specimens of this cunning pastoral, presenting it to
the world for the first time in a true light. The satisfac-
tion which all must feel in discovering the truth, under
the veil of allegory, will, perhaps, beguile the ennui
which is generally felt from too long, and too frequent
quotations. And besides, the pastorals of Boccaccio are
now so completely forgotten, that although ancient, they
may be considered almost a novelty.
The subjects of the 8th eclogue are an avaricious and
immoral old man, called Midas, and his wicked wife Lupi-
sca, (in allusion to the Roman wolf;) and of this couple
he speaks in these terms: “Midas the robber is the base
slave to iniquity : O infamy! The aged Lupisca, who so
lately gathered acorns and olives in the plains, has turned
to guilt and avarice, and now insults heaven with her
words, and bewitches the lambs, O may this wicked
Lupisca be made to return to her acorns and olives again!”
Similar to this, is the apostrophe of Petrarch to Papal
Rome. “O wicked one thy greatness is come from the
* He says elsewhere, speaking of Petrarch and Dante : “The Chris-
tian poets concealed nothing under their mystic language which was not
true; especially when they feigned any thing belonging to the Deity or
to the Christian faith; the bucolick of my excellent master Francis
Petrarch is an instance of this; for whoever opens that book, not in envy,
but with impartial discretion, will find under its outward covering, sweet
and delighful instruction; and so also in the poem of Dante.” (Comm.
on the Div. Com. canto i.)
SECRET LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME. 37
river and the acorns, and is founded on the misery of
others.”
In the third, he goes back to the reign of Frederic II.,
and to the deaths of Manfred and Conradin, who
were slain by the ravenous wolf, in the forest infested
with lions, that is, with the princes of France,t to whom
that forest was afterwards given by the wolf. The alle-
gorical terms being once understood, every difficulty
vanishes; and yet, no writer has hitherto perceived their
hidden sense, or, at least, given his knowledge to the
world. “I know not whether you have heard of the
mountains and numerous plains which lie between the
two seas of Italy, anciently separated from the great Pelo-
rus. The shepherd Argus, who was every way worthy
of being celebrated, was the wealthy owner of those fields,
and I have heard that he kept no less than a thousand
flocks in his pastures. The horrid fates cut the thread
of his noble life, but as a reward for his virtues he was
transported to the stars. In his last moments, he be-
queathed his woods to the youth Alexis; who was one day
carelessly leading his flocks through the meadows, when
he lighted suddenly upon a fierce and raging she-wolf.
He pursued his path through the darksome wood, and the
cruel beast pursued him, sprang upon him, and seizing
him by the throat with her fangs, held him fast until she
had deprived him of life. This is the story as it is related,
and many persons say that that same wood is the haunt
* In the Sonnet “Fiamma del Ciel.”
# The princes of the imperial house of Suabia were figured as eagles,
and the princes of France as lions.
f Boccaccio himself, speaking confidentially to a friend, of the secret
meaning of his eclogues, informed him that he sometimes called the
Emperor a shepherd. “Among all the shepherds of the earth, that is,
among all her kings, the emperor was reckoned the chief. The victorious
and triumphant Caesars are the first of shepherds.” (Manni. Hist. of
the Decam. p. 59.) How deeply Frederic II, was concerned in the
antipapal sects, will be shewn elsewhere.
38 SECRET LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
of lions.” As soon as the tidings of this sad catastrophe
were carried to Tityrus, who was then in the cave which
bounds the Ister, he bitterly wept, and calling up an innu-
merable number of dogs from the deep valleys of the Da-
nube, and collecting together his stoutest husbandmen, he
forsook his hills and flocks, and marched in haste to cut
down the noxious wood, in the hope of being able to seize
the wolf and the lions together, and make them pay the
penalty of their cruelty, for the murdered Alexis was his
own brother.”
Of the same wolf he speaks also in the 9th eclogue, where
he describes her as howling over her two cubs, in allusion
to Rome and her two Guelphic pupils; and this allegory
is really founded on history; Guelph being a corrup-
tion of wolf; hence, in figurative language the Guelphs
were always called wolves; and Dante called Florence,
which they had made their chief abode, the cursed and
miserable den of wolves.t
The 10th eclogue, which is called “The Dark Valley,”
opposed to the Sunny Mountain, describes the Infernal
regions, where reigns a cruel shepherd named Plutarch,
who torments those who dwell in these dismal shades,
with a flock of wolves; Boccaccio here hints to a friend;
“The tenth eclogue is called the Dark Valley, because
in it I have treated of infernal deeds.” (Manni.)
“In the centre of Taenarus there is a cave where the sun
never penetrates, and where those are imprisoned who are
* The lion who cut off the head of the young eagle, (Charles of Anjou,
who murdered Conradin) caused the following inscription to be written
on his tomb, which is still to be seen in the market-place of Naples:—
“Asturis ungue leo pullum rapiens aquilinum
Hic deplumavit, acefalonque dedit.”
f Conrad II. and Lothario III. were the founders of the Ghibelline
and Guelphic factions, according to most historians. They disputed the
imperial throne after the death of Henry W. and transmitted to their pos-
terity that fearful spirit which for ages desolated Germany and Italy.
The Popes were subsequently at the head of the Guelphs, and the Em-
perors at the head of the Ghibellines.
SECRET LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME. 39
shut out from heaven. A watch-dog" stands at the mouth
of the cave to guard the entrance, and when he sees any
one approaching, he wags his tail at them, if they seek
to enter the cavern; but flies at them if they attempt to
leave it without the permission of the prince. Within
are dark woods and rivers: and its appearance is alto-
gether dreadful. The valleys are surcharged with a
dense marshy fog, and the hills are blackened with smoke,
The ice never melts there; the gloom never clears away,
and there is a constant slow fire burning without the need
of fuel to feed it. The place is infested with serpents,
which are the pests of the land;t their tails lash us, their
teeth bite us, and their black folds crush us. Plutarch
and his dusky queen are seated upon a throne of rock;
their faces are covered with lank and matted hair, and
around them hover squalid filth and disease, with every ill
that brings death. The cruel shepherd, surrounded by
this train, and guarded by snakes with bloody scales,
amuses himself in torturing his wretched flock: they are
never refreshed with the shears, nor cheered by the sound
of the pipe; but spirits and sheep are alike terrified with
the blasts of a horn, which he ever and anon sounds from
his rocky seat to awaken the Furies. Then do the cruel
sisters appear on the steeps, and torment us with hydras;
the ferocious ministers range the multitude, assign the
respective punishments, and then hurl the condemned
from the top to the bottom of the cliff. Plutarch himself
casts the wolves into the flames, and, too often, alas !
have I been flung into them in their company ſ” “O Lyci-
das, say no more, I implore thee! Thou hast then been
with those wolves, thou hast been hurled into the flames
beneath.”
* In this watch-dog, we may recognize the Holy Office, the Cerberus
of the age.
+ Papal Rome was called in this jargon Libica Tellus, considered as
Carthage, the enemy of Imperial Rome,
40 SECRET LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME.
It appears that this Lycidas, who relates all these things,
is a figure of some wretch who was employed by the
Inquisition as an informer against the sect. A wolf, and
tormented by the great Wolf nevertheless. Boccaccio
tells his friend in confidence, that he called him Lycidas,
“from Lyco, which signifies a wolf.” (See Manni. p. 60.)
Why borrow any more from these sixteen Eclogues 2
They all speak the same language; of this we may be
quite sure, although we have not yet the means of ex-
plaining them all satisfactorily. It seems that Boccaccio
intended at first to dedicate his bucolic to the memory of
Dante, but he afterwards offered it to Italy. We collect
this from the last pastoral, in which the speakers are
Angelus, that is, a messenger, and Appenninus, who repre-
sents Italy. Angelus presents to Appenninus a flock
from Cerretio, a citizen of Cerreto, which most probably
signifies Certaldo, with these words:—
Ang. “Tell me, I pray thee, if on these hills, or among
the fruitful pastures of our shepherds, thou knowest the
old Etruscan 7”
App. “I recollect to have seen the aged man in our
grottoes, where he sometimes came to rest himself after
his labours. I saw him too in the cave of the Cyclop
Ravennate,” and also slowly walking through the marshy
woods. I beheld him when he came to visit the Venetian
hills.t. There never lived a shepherd, whether in Ar-
cadia, Sicily, Greece, or Italy, to whom Pales granted so
much authority in the fields. Fauns and nymphs rise up
in reverence when they see the venerable man approach-
ing, and woods and groves, caves and fountains, unite
together to do him honour. The dwellings of the gods
are open to him at all times, and even the silent gates of
* The Lord of Ravenna, under whose roof Dante died. The princes,
in this jargon, are always called giants.
f Shortly before his death, Dante went as ambassador from Ravenna
to Venice.
Si2CRET LANGUAGE AGAINST ROME. 41
Dis are for this Tuscan unbarred. To him, therefore,
Angelus Cerretio ought to send his sickly flock.”
Ang. “He would have blushed to send a gift so value-
less to that great shepherd, who is used to have the con-
troul over kings' herds; therefore Appenninus, waste no
thought on my trifling offering.”
Doubtless, Boccaccio knew, not only the secrets of
Petrarch, but those of Dante, to which we shall now turn
our thoughts. Why did he not then reveal them in his
commentary on the Divina Commedia 2 From the same
reason which made him conceal his own — from his pro-
fessed maxim, that it is the duty of a poet not to lay
bare what he finds veiled, but on the contrary, to shroud
it with all possible care. To reveal the language and
the secrets of Dante, would have been to publish his own.
But who obliged him to give a wrong explanation of what
he understood rightly 2 He was reproached for this by
some who well comprehended the mystic volume, and he,
indigent, and paid by the Florentine republic to disfigure
Dante, answered that his poverty forced him to it; that
he repented deeply; and that the reproaches of his own
mind had made him resolve to discontinue so impious an
undertaking. And this was, perhaps, the principal motive
(together with his advanced age), which made him give
up the prosecution of this ill-judged design.” Before we
prove incontestably that the Certaldese commentator
knew the secrets of the Florentine bard, we must see
what those secrets were, and then we shall know that he
neither could nor ought to have revealed them. Our in-
quiries will be prepared by a few preliminary observations.
* Boccaccio's commentary on Dante's poem, scarcely comprehends
the sixth part; of the hundred cantos, he did not quite complete
Seventeen.
42
CHAPTER III.
OPINION OF MODERN CRITICS ON THE ALLEGORY OF
DANTE's PoEM.
PERHAPs no classical work in any language has attracted
the notice of so many speculative interpreters, as the
poem of Alighieri. But do their opinions harmonize to-
gether? By no means; on the contrary, the Divine Com-
edy has been turned into a field of battle, on which
commentators attack each other, some with mockery,
some with abuse, and generally speaking, in terms of such
violent invective, that it is hard to say whether the feel-
ings they excite in the minds of those to whom they all
offer themselves as exclusive and infallible guides, par-
take most of pity or amusement, anger or contempt.
From what cause arise all these discrepancies? Have they
not all been wandering far from the right path, while
each thought himself in sole possession of it ! That in
spite of all their researches the poem has never, up to
the present time, been thoroughly understood, is now the
opinion of the most learned investigators of its secret
pages; it is the sentence pronounced and confirmed by
those who have long and deeply studied them. We need
only here refer to the most recent writers on the subject.
Ugo Foscolo, who studied the poem most laboriously,
calls it the unknown art of Dante ; and adds that, not-
withstanding the many travellers who have tracked the
OPINION OF MODERN CRITICS. 43
footsteps of Alighieri, through the region by him trodden,
“...frightful from its darkness and its labyrinths, the
road is still the same, and the greater part of this im-
mense forest remains after the labours of five centuries,
involved in its primitive darkness.” (See the Edinb.
Review. Feb. 1818. art. Dante.)
The Rev. Henry Cary, the learned translator of the
poem, after a long and profound study of his original,
declares that “the line of reading which the poet himself
appears to have pursued, (and there are many vestiges
in his works, by which we shall be enabled to discover it)
must be diligently tracked ; and the search, I have little
doubt, would lead to sources of information equally pro-
fitable and unexpected.” “
In 1824, The editors of the Biblioteca Italiana wrote :
“The interpretation of the allegory of the Divine Comedy
is an undertaking of the greatest importance and diffi-
culty. Allusions and allegories were in fashion in Dante's
time; he followed the current, and could not steer quite
clear of the confusion and doubts which are inseparable
from this style of composition; and which necessarily in-
crease as the work becomes more ancient.” No. 100,
page 47.
Giulio Perticari and Vincenzo Monti, both fervent ad-
mirers and followers of Dante, and both engaged to-
gether in the attempt to clear up his obscurities, were of
the same opinion. Monti introduced, in a dialogue, the
shades of the poet and Perticari, and put the following
words into the mouth of the latter, with whose real sen-
timents he was fully acquainted : -
Dante. “Have the Commentators succeeded in clear-
ing up the difficulties of my poem 2 has the mystic dark-
ness, in which I sometimes wrapt my ideas, been dis-
persed ?”
Perticari. “Listen to those Commentators, and they
* See the Life of Dante, p. 50, prefixed to the translation.
44 OPINION OF MODERN CRITICS.
will all tell thee, yes; ask thy admirers, and they will
say, no ; and I am one of these.”
With these few words Monti explained Perticari's
opinions as well as his own ; he had grown old in the
study of Dante : and this dialogue was written in 1825,
only three years before Italy had to lament his loss.
Quirico Viviani, the editor and annotator of the Barto-
linian Manuscript, wrote in 1827: “Before we can un-
ravel the web of Dante's allegories, we must forget our-
selves, as well as the society to which we belong; identify
ourselves with the age in which he lived; range ourselves
on the side either of the Guelphs, or of the Ghibellines;
alternately with the poet, love and hate; clothe our
fancy with all that he imagined in his most excited mo-
ments; bear in mind all his opinions, &c. Until some
one appears who can do all this, there is little hope that
the veil will be drawn aside which conceals these verses;
therefore we must confess our ignorance, and rest satis-
fied with the little that we know.” ”
But above all, the Canon Dionisi, who spent many years
in the examination of the manuscripts of Dante, and who
wrote on them Aggiunte critiche e Blandimenti funebri,
reaped so little fruit from his researches, that at the end
of the last century, he confessed that “ The inward,
mysterious, and most precious part of the great work of
Dante Alighieri, remains in several places almost an un-
discovered treasure; so that, veiled with those secret
things, which are neither few nor trifling, it is like some
picture, which is hung up in a dark place, where none
can see it in a proper light, nor appreciate the beauty of
its colouring or design.” +
With these unequivocal declarations from the most pro-
found connoisseurs of the poem, men who have been esteem-
ed as such, by the consent of the whole literary world be-
* Letter to the Mar. Trivulzio, prefixed to vol. iii. of the Ediz. Bartolin.
f Pref. to the Ediz. Bodoniana of the Div. Comm.
OPINION OF MODERN CRITICS. 45
fore him, no wonder if the inquiring reader hesitate to give
his undivided acquiescence to the commonly received
explanations of this work; he seems to wander before a
phantasmagoria of beings real and unreal, which vanish
from his sight every moment; and turning from a peru-
sal of these expounders, he feels the satisfaction of one
who, while parching with thirst, dreams that he is
drinking.
Let us boldly enter this dark sanctuary, and question
this new Delphic oracle, which has never as yet given a
satisfactory reply to the prayers of its most assiduous
worshippers. But let us not be mistaken for one of
those who have fought so many literary battles on this
subject; we quarrel with no one: we may be visionary,
but never uncourteous.
46
CHAPTER IV.
DANTE AND HIS AGE.
DANTE Alighieri, when exiled from his country and
ruined in his fortune by the intrigues of Pope Boniface
VIII., wandered from one city of Italy to another, with-
out food or shelter, eating the bitter bread of charity, and
lodging in the dwelling of the stranger. Banished as a
Bianco or Ghibelline, (the party opposed to the Pope,)
those political opinions which had cost him so dear, were
still more obstinately cherished; and it appears that the
least word uttered against his own party, was sufficient
at any time to excite in him a burst of fury. “Never
(writes Boccaccio in his life of the poet,) was there a
prouder Ghibelline, or a more deadly enemy of the
Guelphs. I grieve to be obliged to confess, what, how-
ever, is publicly known throughout Romagna, that his
hatred extended even to the women and children of the
adverse party, and this feeling died but with himself.”
No wonder that he hated that party; for while he was
roving in poverty and distress about Italy, he was not
likely to forget the permanent cause, not only of his own
individual misfortunes, but of those which afflicted his
unhappy country. Before we proceed further, it will,
perhaps, be useful to offer a few reflections on the state of
Italy, when Dante composed his poem; and we trust that
DANTE AND HIS AGE. 47
they will not only fully justify his conduct with respect to
the party whose cause he espoused, but explain the
design of those who shared his upright intentions and sad
reward.
No Pope was ever enterprising or fortunate enough to
reduce the whole of Italy under his sole dominion,
although they all declared themselves its head and law-
giver; whether the nature of the theocratical government
did not admit of such a union; or that the conflicting
opinions of so many various provinces and restless people
rendered it almost impossible; or that the jealousy of
other powers had always raised an insuperable barrier to
the design. Whatever might have been the cause, it is
much to be regretted that Rome did not become the
capital of the whole Peninsula, united under the govern-
ment of the Sovereign Pontiff, elected chief of the religi-
ous and political affairs of the country. If when invested
with the power of religion only, she succeeded in dictating
to most of the European monarchs, to what a height of
grandeur would she not have risen had both powers been
united in her The Popes were raised to the throne at an
age when the passions cease to be tumultuous; they were
assisted by a chosen number of wise counsellors; and
they were the depositaries and guardians of the most holy
religion, which knows no distinction of persons, but con-
siders all men as one great family of brethren; could
they therefore, but have governed with this two-fold
power the clever and energetic people, whom nature
destined for the country in which they were placed; what
foreign potentate would have ventured to set his foot on
Italian ground 2 The greatness of ancient Rome under
her Pagan Emperors might have been surpassed by
modern Rome, governed by the head of the Christian
Republic. All those abuses might have been prevented,
which gave so many advantages to the enemies of the
Latin Church, and in that case, her pastor would have
been too highly venerated to need the assistance of
48 DANTE AND HIS AGE.
foreigners to silence the many who exclaimed against
perverted doctrines and false miracles. Certain of the
truth which he upheld, and blending the light of philo-
sophy with that of revelation, he would have blunted the
malice of scrutinizing enemies, who, dazzled with his
power, would have ended by bowing down before it.
Standing on higher ground than mere public opinion, he
would never have allowed the fear of it to render him
cruel. Virtuous from his profession, he would not have
craved the silence of the world, to enable him to keep up
his character for holiness. Rich enough, he would not
have sought any secret ways of obtaining money. Strong
enough, he would not have humbled himself to procure
foreign alliances, and so barter honour for protection.
We should not have beheld the conclave obsequiously
obeying the commands of Austria or France; nor Peter
denying his Master through fear; but we should have
seen Rome free and mighty, holy and inviolable, not only
infallible but invincible; and her hierarch, supreme head
of the Latin church and the Italian monarchy, would
have been in the highest sense of the words Imperator
augustus et Pontifex maximus.
But without stopping to muse over a blissful dream,
let us consider the sad reality. The Popes not being
able, or perhaps not willing to unite the whole country
of Italy, under their diadem, felt the danger to which it
was exposed from others. Hence, it was their unceasing care
to prevent any other ruler from acquiring dominion in the
land, lest such newly-arisen power might dictate to them-
selves. And when any powerful sovereign, supported by
well-founded claims, attempted the enterprize, no means
nor art was left untried by the Roman Court in order to
frustrate his success; and hence, the many disputes
between the Empire and the Priesthood, and the uplifting
of the crosier against the sceptre, each time that the design
was renewed. -
While their own political and selfish interests induced
DANTE AND HIS AGE. 49
these autocrats to keep Italy divided into several small
states, dependent on so many rulers who were mere in-
struments of their own, they took especial care to keep their
secret purpose concealed from the world under a sem-
blance of generosity. They well knew that the love of
freedom is of native growth in the hearts of the children
of that land, and they employed their priestly satellites,
who had great influence over the minds of the people, to
persuade them that Christ's vicars, the Popes themselves,
were the best guardians of the common liberty; and that,
as such, they would never permit the noblest country of
Europe to be subjected to a military tyrant. Meanwhile,
the general name of Italian was gradually being lost in
the separate dominations of Sicilians, Romans, Tuscans,
Lombards, Genoese, &c. &c.; and again, the inhabitants
of cities began to assume an exclusive name, as the
Florentines, Paduans, Brescians, &c. &c., and consider-
ing themselves almost a distinct nation, fancied, in the
excitement of a mutual antipathy, that they were fighting
for liberty, while they were but seeking each other's
destruction, and perpetuating the slavery and weakness
which were the fruits of their fatal disunion. All those
embers of discord which still smoulder there, that lofty
idea of themselves, and insulting contempt for their neigh-
bours, are the miserable inheritance of by-gone jealousies.
It naturally followed that Italy, not being linked by that
unity whence come strength and independence, but on
the contrary, nourishing in her own bosom the mortal
seeds of disunion and weakness, fell an easy prey to the
foreign armies, who came and conquered her piece-meal.
And how could these disasters be averted, when every
province, and sometimes every city looked upon its nearest
neighbour as a foreigner or an enemy, and considered its
misfortunes a blessing to itself? A kingdom divided
against itself shall be desolate, is the sentence pronounced
by God, and therefore infallible.
How did the hearts of the wise die within them at the
D
50 - DANTE AND HIS AGE.
sight of so much misery Dante compared his enslaved
country to a ship without a pilot, overtaken by the
tempest, and Grazioli, his contemporary, exclaimed :
“A divided kingdom has no defenders—unhappy Italy |
Such is thy fate; for, in thee, neighbour seeks to destroy
neighbour, either by force or by fraud.”
More than one monarch attempted to knit together the
disjointed parts of this mutilated body, and restore it to
its original grandeur; but the thunders of the Vatican
appalled them; and, at their sound, the rebellious members
realized the fable of the Sacred Hill. Frederic II. was
among the number of these illustrious but unfortunate
Princes; he was excellent as a politician and warrior, as
a philosopher and poet, but three successive Pontiffs
hurled their anathemas against him, and at the third
attack, his strength failed him, and he disappeared.*
By such means, the Popes succeeded in disuniting the
people; causing their patriotism to become guilt, and
their virtuous sentiments most dangerous vices, and turn-
ing their desire for liberty into an instrument wherewith
to enslave them. Their machinations were undiscovered
except by those few learned men, who, perceiving the
real though hidden cause of their country's misery, sighed
for the interposition of some powerful monarch, who sur-
mounting every obstacle raised by his antagonist, and
conciliating all hearts, might come like a heavenly mes-
senger to free them from the chains of him whom they
called, and believed to be Satan. And as this Saviour
could be no other than the Emperor of Germany, who
boasted hereditary claims on Italy, on him were turned
the anxious eyes of the Ghibellines.
Before men have been tried in the school of experience,
it too often happens that their minds are engrossed by
abstract maxims and ideas of a theoretical perfection,
which in practice evaporates and dies away. So these
* See the note C, at the end of the volume.
IDANTE AND HIS AGE. 5]
philanthropists, deceived by their own hearts, worshipped
a mental idol, which they endowed with superhuman
qualities, and then they sought to meet the distempered
vision in a human form, and as usual they sought in vain.
As the mind regulates all the movements of the body,
and as the All-Wise gives life and motion to the universe,
so did they dream that the whole earth might be governed
by the head of an empire which never existed beyond
their own imaginations. Proud of the ancient grandeur
of their native country, whose remains they cherished in
her laws, in her literature, in her ancient monuments, in
her political history, and in her vast extent, which they
magnified even beyond the truth; their ambition was,
that Rome should be the centre of this Empire, and that
all other countries should acknowledge her as sole ruler.
And this was the political creed, not only of Dante, but
of all the learned men of the age, who were so enamoured
with the phantom of their own brain, that they would
have considered all else as valueless, if that proved unat-
tainable. What madness | While their country was
crushed and trampled on under their very eyes, to think
of that country ruling over the united world ! But their
error arose from inexperience, and the love of science
in early times usually produced this effervescence of the
imagination. This fancied empire, they called in the
language of Scripture, the New Jerusalem, and the head
of it the king of kings, who was to humble the pride of
the servant of servants.
Such desires naturally became more ardent, as the
state of anarchy in which their country was plunged,
brought on endless changes, the shocks of adverse par-
ties, reverses of fortune, hereditary hatreds, exiles, mur-
ders, and infinite miseries of every kind. History records
no epoch more calamitous than this, which was com-
monly called the Babylonish time, in opposition to the
so much wished-for New Jerusalem.
In that period, so fertile in allegories, this Babylonish
D 2
52 DANTE AND HIS AGE,
Time was figured by the statue seen by the real king of
Babylon in his dream. We shall cite two witnesses only
to..bear us out in this assertion : one was a contemporary
of Dante, and like him a Ghibelline, called Marsilio
Menandrino, of Padua; he wrote a work at the time
when the emperor was expected in Italy, called “Defen-
sor Pacis,” which, in its power, may be compared with
the Monarchia of Dante. After comparing the Papal
Court with Hell, and calling it, in the words of Job,
“A land of darkness, &c., where the light is as dark-
ness,” he adds: “I have seen it, and have dwelt in the
midst of it, and I can say from experience, that that court
is like the terrible statue seen by Nebuchadnezzar in his
dream, and described by Daniel in his 2nd chapter &c. :
What does that statue signify, but the condition of the
Roman Court and its Pontiff, once the terror of the
wicked, now the object of abhorrence to the virtuous.”
(P. 2. Ch. 24.) Then he proceeds to show the resem-
blance between that statue and the papal court, and
prophesies that the fall of the last will be as signal as the
decay of tile first. “On this colossus will fall a stone,
that is, a monarch, on whom God will confer his power;
and who, by divine, more than by human strength, will
break and scatter to pieces the earthly part of this hor-
rible and monstrous statue, viz: the frail feet which sup-
port it. He will exhibit, before the eyes of all princes
and people, the false and wicked means which it em-
ploys, lay bare all its sophistry, and crush it with philoso-
phy and revelation. What is contrary to nature, and to
all laws, human and divine, as well as to reason itself,
cannot long stand.” The German theologian, Theodoric
Uric, alluding to the same Babylonish Colossus, which
was in reality a symbol of the Babylonish time, expressed
himself thus: “The papal court, which was anciently
gold, fell from gold to silver ; then it turned to iron, and
so stood obstinately for some time; but now it is all
clay.”
DANTE AND HIS AGE, 53
It was during this unfortunate period, that Dante, ba-
mished through the influence of the pope, made his pil-
grimage throughout Italy, in search of a subsistence and
a shelter. And what scenes did he there behold ! At
every step a crime, at every look a misfortune, and tur-
bulence, alarm, blood, and misery every where. Could
he shut his eyes to the cause of all this woe 2 It was
while in this state of distress and poverty, that his poem
was composed; and writing its various parts while he was
wandering about, and often interrupting his labours, ei-
ther to fly from the persecution which pursued him, or to
procure the necessaries of life, how more than probable
is it, that he checked many of his original impulses. His
enemy was too formidable for him to venture openly to
express all the just hatred he felt, a hatred which was
continually aggravated by the weight of his own misfor-
tunes, and the sight of those of others | What resource
had he then 2 Silence 1 yes, such silence as Petrarch and
Boccaccio observed in their pastorals : sometimes he did
burst forth into an open exclamation, but he soon again
veiled it in mystery; as in the Monarchia for instance,
which was written at the time when the speedy arrival of
the Emperor in Italy was looked for : “Not only do they
defraud the Church, but what is worse, every day they
usurp some ecclesiastical patrimony, and thus she is
becoming poor and miserable. What can we say of such
pastors ? What can we say, when we see them squander-
ing away property which should be inviolate, or else
converting it into the aggrandizement of their own fami-
lies 2 But perhaps it is better, with the materials we have
already in our hands, to wait in patient silence, for the
coming of our Saviour.” (Book 2.)
A modern critic writes thus: “ Dante's poem consists
not so much in the vision of three kingdoms of another
world, as in the moral and political picture he drew of
his own time. He has described the vices of the age,
and the faults and miseries of nations and their rulers.
54 DANTE AND HIS AGE,
His bitter and severe censure on the depravity of his
time, his lively sallies against the abuses of every species
of authority, his patriotic invectives against civil dissen-
sions; in a word, his bold and happy idea of referring
every thing to the history of his own age, and making
use of a picture of the other world, to describe the ex-
cesses and wickednesses of this; these are the decisive
traits which distinguish the Divine Comedy from all other
poems, ancient or modern. Not being able to make the
virtues or actions of his age the subject of an epic poem,
he undertook the task of exposing all its vices; and truly,
the annals of the world could not have supplied his pen
with more abundant materials than he found in the me-
lancholy state of affairs, national and foreign, at the pe-
riod when he lived. That pen never appears so sublime,
as when it traces the accumulated horrors which in those
days afflicted the half of Christendom, and with noble
courage unfolds, before the eyes of the world, the politi-
cal crimes, and the vices of those men invested with su-
preme power, who influenced so directly the general con-
fusion, in which a part of the Christian World was then
plunged. * And this is the point of view in which we
must consider the whole structure of Dante's poem.”
(Franc. Torti.)
The acute intellect of Madame de Stael led her
apparently, to a similar conclusion. “Dante, banished
from his father-land, carried into imaginary regions the
memory of his own severe sufferings. His spirits ask
with anxiety concerning the affairs of life, as the poet him-
self seeks tidings of his own country; and Hell appears
before him, painted with the colours of exile.” (Corinne,
vol. 1.) Had the last clause in the sentence been in-
verted, the description would have been exact.
We may hence perceive that Dante, in his allegorical
* He tells us immediately afterwards that he alludes to Celestine V.,
Boniface VIII., and Nicholas III. -
DANTE AND HIS AGE. 55
pilgrimage through the infernal regions, describes mys-
tically his own real journey through Italy, in that Baby-
lonish time for which his unlucky fate had reserved him.
Boccaccio, in the language of the secret school, gives us
an intimation of this, when he speaks of the principal
allegory of the Inferno. “Our Dante, in the first part of
his poem, called Hell, describes within Mount Ida, in
Crete, a huge statue of an old man, which looks towards:
Rome. In every limb are fissures which distil drops of
water, and these collected together, and passing into the
caverns of Hell, form the river Acheron. But what these
things mean, is still to be seen. Some affirm that, in
ancient times, the Greeks used to send their condemned
criminals as exiles into Italy, which is said to be near the
lower sea, and hence they will have it, that both the river
and the condemned were in Hell. The etymology of the
word Acheron favours this fiction, being interpreted
without joy or health, meaning that exiles from their
country are without joy or health. Servio and Alberigo,
both say that Acheron does not signify a river, but the
soil of Italy.”
Leo the Jew wrote also that the poets called Italy
hell;* and we who have heard that the Monk Dysse
ealled the heads of the church, Priests of Hell; and that
the troubadour Figueiras cried “Rome, thy seat is fixed
in the depths of the abyss;” besides much more that was
written before Dante - was born ; we who have heard
Boccaccio, in his infernal valley, speak of the cruel shep-
herd Plutarch, and of the furies and wolves; and Petrarch
exclaim to Papal Rome—“Abode of all earthly vices,
fountain of grief, dire prison, false, wicked Babylon, hell
of the living;+” and Negri proclaim the Pope, “Half
Satan, half man,” clearly perceive that the poets did call
Italy hell; and we may add, “that it was a land of dark-
* Dial. d’Am. p. 75. Ven. 1565.
# See the three well-known Sonnets, interdicted by Rome.
56 DANTE AND HIS AGE.
ness, as darkness itself; and of the shadows of death
without any order, and where the light is as darkness.”
(Job. ch. 10.)
That Italy was in this state, while Dante the wanderer
was composing his poem, is very certain, and history con-
firms the fact; that his poem is allegorical, is no less
certain from his own assertions, and that it contains a
deep and connected train of thought, we collect from his
opinion on allegorical language: “I say that poets do not
speak thus without reason, neither ought they ever to
speak thus without some object in view ; for it would be
a disgrace to a poet if he were to array his verses in a
figurative garb, and then, being questioned, if he could
not cast aside that garb, and shew that his words had a
real meaning.” (Vita Nuova.)
All this being premised, we are quite at a loss to divine
how it has happened, that after five centuries of assiduous
research and repeated attempts, not one of those intelli-
gent enquirers who have so deeply meditated on the sub-
ject of the Divine Comedy, has ever penetrated the secret
of its allegory. They certainly could not be ignorant of
the political opinions and religious doctrines of the time,
for they were inscribed in thousands of volumes; neither
have those doctrines been lost or forgotten, for they are
inherited by the Protestants of the present day. They
knew that Italy was then swarming with Patarini, who
professed those opinions, and they knew that Dante's own
friends were burned alive by the inquisition as Patarini.”
They were aware that he was a proud and unfortunate
Ghibelline, and (by his own avowal) that his poem was
allegorical. It would appear that the interpretation of
this dark work must have followed from all these guiding
* Ceeco d’Ascoli who, in his Acerba speaks of Dante, and gives us to
understand that he was in correspondence with him, was burnt as a
Patarin, six years after the death of Alighieri. (See Tiraboschi and
Gio. Villani, under the year 1327.) .
DANTE AND HIS AGE. 57
clues, but it has not done so, in spite of the many hints
scattered by the author himself throughout all his works.
As the secret sense of Petrarch's bucolic remained
long unknown, and in a great measure remains so still ;
as the hidden meaning of Boccaccio's pastoral is still un-
discovered, with the exception of the small part we lately
cited; so has it been with Dante's Commedia; and we
may venture to say, without presumption, that we were
the first to extract its buried essence, in our analytical
commentary. From that work, some observations are
here repeated, which will assist us in unravelling the
mazes of the poem. The commentary itself met with a
varied fate. Some who, in the fervour of intellect, seize
the truth at one glance, welcomed its discoveries with
enthusiasm, and pronounced them incontrovertible. Two
critics applauded its ingenuity, (as they termed it,) but
declared themselves still unpersuaded. One laughed at
its extravagance; another raved against the imposture,
pronouncing its author to be a mere quack. Gratefully
acknowledging kindness, and calmly meeting abuse, we
candidly confess that, feeling a high respect for the
Catholic religion which we profess, it was with diffidence
that we entered on the subject at all; at first, we endea-
voured, while presenting the truth, to cover its sternest
features with a thin veil; hoping that if some more acute
than others did see it in its broad light, the greater
number would have seen just enough, and no more; as
we proceeded however, it became evident that the subject
must be treated distinctly and boldly, or remain un-
touched. He who strikes the keys of an instrument
feebly, will produce indistinct and inharmonious sounds,
and will be considered a bad performer; and so have we
been judged by many. The powerful reasons which have
induced us now to expose to full view the means and end
of the secret antipapal school, will in a more suitable
place be explained; we only here protest that we do not
D 5
58 DANTE AND HIS AGE.
depart from a lawful obedience to the Latin Church, by
shewing what was thought and believed of her in less
happy times. And we exclaim with Dante:
é &
*- ye of intellect
Sound and entire, mark well the lore conceal’d
Under close texture of the mystic strain.”
“These words tell directly against those who, not under-
standing the things which are hidden under the veil of
these verses (of the poem), insist that Dante meant
mothing beyond their simple and literal meaning; surely
by them they may clearly see that he did mean something
more than they are able to comprehend from his outward
words.” (Boccaccio, Comm. on the above passage.)
59
CHAPTER V.
PRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE INFERNO.
WHEN Dante sent his poem to his protector, Can Grande
della Scala, the captain of the Ghibelline league in Italy,
he pointed out its nature in these words : — “The mean-
ing of this work is not simple, or rather, it may be said
to have two meanings; the first is in the words as they
are read; the second is contained in the things which the
words signify ; the first is called literal, and the second
allegorical. Therefore it is evident, that as there is a
double meaning, the subject must be double also. In the
first place, then, consider the subject of the work, taken
literally, and then the real subject, taken according to
the allegorical meaning. Now the literal subject is the
state of souls after death ; but if you observe the words
with attention, you will discover, that in the allegorical
sense, the poet speaks of this hell, in which, travelling as
pilgrims, we render ourselves either worthy or unworthy.
Allegorically, then, the subject is Man ; who according
as he exercises his power of free-will, becomes worthy of
reward or punishment.” - w
In the Convito, his doctrinal work, written in Italian
prose, he considers vicious men as dead, according to the
sentence in the Revelations against the angel of the
church of Sardis : — “Thou hast a name that thou livest
60 PRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE INFERNO.
and art dead;” and he explains the meaning of the
Wei'Se
“Ch'ei tocca un tal ch’ & morto e va per terra.”
With these words: —“By the laws of reason, I say, that
the wicked are dead, though seemingly alive. To live, in
man, is to use reason ; therefore, if life be essential to
man (that is, the use of reason,) whoever uses it not, is
dead.” (Treat. 4.) It is rightly said by critics, that the
Convito is very useful, towards illustrating many parts of
the Commedia.” According to the theory there laid down
by him, he, from whom all the vices of the time pro-
ceeded, was the chief of the dead. And the provençal
troubadour, who described the seat of Rome to be at the
bottom of the abyss, added, that those who submitted to
its dominion were dead also.
One of the methods by which the poet effectually suc-
ceeded in hiding his real meaning was, by separating the
correlative parts from each other in the work; and still,
by means of hints, almost imperceptible, drawing and
uniting them together, as we shall see forthwith.
In these two expressions “the present world,” and
“ the present time,” the words world and time are equi-
valent to each other in sense and meaning. This being
premised: Dante, in the Purgatory (canto 16.) asks the
spirit of Marco, how it happens that the world is so desti-
tute of virtue, and so full of wickedness.
** The world, indeed, is even so forlorn
Of all good, as thou speak'st it, and so swarms
With every evil; yet, beseech thee, point
The cause out to me.”
The spirit answers, that the cause is
“Ill-conducting, that hath turned the world
To evil.”
* Monti calls it –“ A book so necessary towards the understanding
of many parts of the Commedia.”
PRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE INFERNO. 61
Adding, —
** Rome
Was wont to boast two suns", whose several beams
Cast light on either way, the world’s and God's.
One since hath quench'd the other; and the sword
Is grafted on the crook; and so conjoin'd,
Each must perforce decline to worse, unawed
By fear of other.”
The following words explain the real cause of the de-
pravity of the time : —
“ Therefore the multitude, who see their guide
Strike at the very good they covet most,
Feed there and look no further.”
And Dante leaves us in no uncertainty with respect to
this guide : —
“ — The church of Rome,
Mixing two governments that ill assort,
Hath miss'd her footing, fall’n into the mire,
And there herself and burden much defil’d.”
In the eighth canto, where he speaks of a family who
preserved their virtue, in the midst of the general de-
pravity, he again declares, in plain terms, that the world
was corrupted by this wicked guide, or head.
“ While the world is twisted from his course,
By a bad head, she only walks aright,
And has the evil way in scorn.”—(Purg, 8.)
The poet's idea is manifest from his words; when Rome
was virtuous the time was virtuous, and when she was
wicked, the time was wicked. Now, the principal element
of the Inferno is the wicked time; the same that Boccaccio
calls the origin of all the rivers of Tartarus, described by
Alighieri. In the fourteenth canto, it is presented under
the aspect of a huge colossus, composed of various
metals, corresponding with the different ages, of gold,
silver, brass, and iron. And where does this wicked time,
* The Emperor and the Pope.
62 PRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE INFERNO.
or colossus, who pours all its produce into hell, look?
He, “at Rome, as in his mirror, looks.” (14.)
In canto 19. Dante tells us, that St. John saw a figure
of the wicked popes, when he beheld “her who sitteth
upon many waters.” Now we know that those waters are
people; therefore, the waters which the wicked time pours
out, as it looks towards Rome, are figures of corrupt ma-
tions,
“The multitude who see their guide.”
Let us follow their course even to their final destina-
tion. They flow to the bottom of the well of the abyss,
where Satan sits; “dread seat of Dis.” (Inf. 11.) This
well is surrounded by a high wall, and the wall by a vast
trench ; the circuit of the trench is twenty-two miles,
and that of the wall eleven miles. Now the outward
trench of the walls of Rome, (whether real or imaginary
we say not) was reckoned by Dante's contemporaries to
be exactly twenty-two miles; and the walls of the city
were then, and still are, eleven miles round.” Hence it
is clear, that the wicked time which looks into Rome, as
into a mirror, sees there the corrupt place which is the
final goal to its waters or people, that is, the figurative
Rome, “ dread seat of Dis.”
The characteristic vice of the papal court was avarice;
all writers agree in this; and when the demon of avarice
saw Dante descending into hell, he cried :
“Pap' é Satan, Pap' é Satan, Aleppe.”f (Inf. 7.)
* “Two-and-twenty miles the valley winds its circuit,” (Inf, 29.)
says Dante, of the valley of the abyss.- “Twenty-two long miles,”
(Dittam. B. 2. ch. 31.) says Fazio degli Uberti, his imitator, of the
trench of Rome. —“ Eleven miles it winds,” (Inf. 30.) writes Dante,
of the wall of the well of Abyss; and “the walls of Rome are from eleven
to twelve miles round” writes Nibbi, in the “Mura di Roma;” adding,
that the present walls are the same as those of Honorius. (See p. 235.
edit. of Rome, 1820.)
f In modern editions it is written Pape, in many ancient ones Papé.
The Analytical Commentary has shewn, by many examples of similar
words, that it should be written Pap' é.
BRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE INFERNO. 63
Aleppe comes from the Hebrew word Aleph, prince; so
the meaning of the demon's words is: the Pope is Satan,
prince of this hell. $º
Let us here remark, that this verse, after confounding
all the interpreters, was finally declared unintelligible.
Now we comprehend its meaning. And the two measures,
which we have already explained (of the trench and the
wall) were always supposed to be introduced accidentally;
but now we see their allusion. They are the only mea-
sures which we find in the Inferno, and they have no
origin whatever in any scriptural doctrine. We shall
soon understand the true meaning of other and similar
allusions to Rome and her hierarchs.
The well of abyss, the central point of the region of
guile, over which the demon Geryon presides, is sur-
rounded with trenches; and a chain of bridges leads to
the great wall of the well. Dante compares the trenches
to those which encompass a fortified city; the bridges to
those which lead to the city itself; and the sinners who
pass over the first bridge, he likens to those who cross
the bridge of St. Angelo, in Rome, and go to St. Peter's.
“ E’en thus the Romans, when the year returns
Of jubilee, with better speed to rid
The thronging multitudes, their means devise
For such as pass the bridge; that on one side
All front toward the castle, and approach
St. Peter's fane.”—(Canto 18.)
We cannot stop in this place to shew that the Geryon
and Lucifer of Dante were one and the same person; this
will be done elsewhere; and with respect to the bridges
over which that demon presides, we must content our-
selves with calling to mind a well-known saying: — Pon-
tifea: a pontibus faciundis.
Pliny has celebrated the 734 towers of the walls of
Rome, of which more than half were still standing in
Dante's time. He and other writers likened them to the
towers of Babylon, and he describes the wall of the
64 PRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE INFERNO.
abyss to be crowned with towers like the castle of Mon-
tereggion. Amidst the darkness, he thought he saw
“many a lofty tower,” and he asked his guide, “What
land is this?” His master replied: “These are not
towers, but giants,” who, “ half their length uprearing,”
stand on the wall which is eleven miles in circuit.
Dante recognizes the first giant, and his head appears
“ as doth the pine that tops St. Peter’s.” (Inf, 31.)
Let us bring all these points together, and see if there
be more than one design in them. The trench round
the well of the abyss has the same extent as the trench
which encompasses Rome. The wall which surrounds
the abyss, where Satan dwells, has the same circuit as
the walls of Rome, where reigns the Pope ; and the
demon of avarice cries, “The Pope is Satan, the prince.”
The wicked Time, which pours its waters or people into
the abyss, looks into Rome as into a mirror. The con-
demned, who cross the bridge which leads to the abyss,
are compared to those who go to St. Peter's in Rome;
on the wall are giants, who look like towers; and the
head of the first is like the pine of St. Peter's at Rome.
And who is this giant? It is Nimrod, the builder of
the tower of Babel. “Here is the terrible Nimrod, who
built the towers of this new Babel,” says Petrarch,
speaking of the Roman court, which he sometimes called
Hell, but more frequently Babylon; the confidential let-
ters of this writer were always dated from the double
Babylon,” he considering it as both earthly and infernal;
and, in answer to a friend who expressed some surprise
at his boldness, he wrote: “You are astonished at the
manner in which I date my letters, and your surprise is
very natural, as you always read—from the Double Ba-
bylon. Wonder no longer; for this corner of the earth
* Hell and Babylon were written indifferently, because “Babylon
the Great is become the habitation of devils.” (Rev.) Therefore Pe-
trarch wrote: “Come not to Babylon; descend not while living into
hell.” And again : “Once Rome, now Babylon, hell of the living.”
PRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE INFERNO. 65
has indeed its Babylon; the name of its founder is un-
certain ; but it is notorious that it has acquired its pre-
sent name from its inhabitants. Here dwells the mighty
Nimrod, who, rebellious against his Lord, raises high
towers to Heaven; here is the shameless Semiramis (the
woman of the Revelations), and Cerberus, and proud
Minos.” (Ep. 8.)
Many writers and historians of the time spoke ha-
bitually of the Papal court in these terms;* and hence
Dante placed the figure of the builder of the tower of
Babel on the wall of the abyss, in order to show more
pointedly what that abyss represented.
The colossus, whom he describes as pouring out the
waters of hell, that is, the Bad Time personified, which
produces the people who inhabit his hell, is an exact
copy of the mysterious image seen by the king of Baby-
lon in his dream, which the inspired Daniel interpreted
to be a figure of the future destiny of that kingdom.
As Landino justly remarks, we have only to compare the
second chapter of Daniel with the following description
of Dante's colossus, to perceive their similarity to each
other: —
“ — Of finest gold
His head is shap’d, pure silver are the breast
And arms; thence to the middle is of brass;
And downward, all beneath, well-tempered steel,
Save the right foot of potter's clay.” (Inf. 14.)
This personified Time, which Dante thus took almost li-
terally from Daniel, is the foundation stone towards the
interpretation of his Inferno, as he tells us in the letter
to Can Grande, which is explanatory of the poem : —
“If those who are envious of me, and exclaim against
the use of such elevated language, attributing it to a de-
fect in the speaker, would only read Daniel, they would
find that Nebuchadnezzar, by the divine will, saw many
* See the note D. at the end of the volume.
66 PRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE IN FERNO.
things against sinners (viz. the statue), which he after-
wards forgot.”
Dante, brought up in those sacred doctrines which all
revere, had studied Isaiah very deeply; the most ima-
ginative of poets delighted in the verses of the most
sublime of prophets, and he often refers us to his great
model for an explanation of the mysteries of his own work.
“ Isaiah saith that in their own land each one must be
clad in two-fold vesture.” (Par. 25.) Let us first hear,
therefore, how and where Isaiah figures the king of Ba-
bylon, and then we shall see how and where Dante de-
scribes the head of his Babylon, “Take us this proverb
against the king of Babylon, and say — How art thou
fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning ! how
art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken
the nations ! Thou shalt be brought down to hell, to the
sides of the pit.” (ch. 14.) And in this very place,
viz. in the depths of the pit of abyss, did Dante place
the king of Babylon, of whom he wrote: “The Pope is
Satan the prince.”
He studied and imitated Ezekiel too, as well as Isaiah ;
and refers us to him also for a solution of his own mys-
teries. Let us hear them together. Dante, in his para-
dise, which he places in the midst of the sea, describes
the woman of the Revelations, and tells us that she was
carried off thence on a monstrous car. Now, in the
letter explanatory of his poem, he mentions (as it were,
incidentally) that earthly paradise, and says that Lucifer
was driven out of it; citing the testimony of Ezekiel.
If we refer to that prophet, in order to see whom Dante
called Lucifer, we shall find that it is the same as the
Lucifer of Isaiah; and we shall perceive too, that the
woman whom he describes as seated on the holy hill of
God, in the heart of the sea, is also Lucifer himself. In
the above mentioned letter, Dante writes thus of the
earthly paradise : “Of whose delights Ezekiel speaks
where he rebukes Lucifer,” &c. &c. In the chapter
PRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE INFERNO. 67
alluded to (the 28th), we read: “Son of man, say unto
the prince of Tyrus, Thus saith the Lord God : Because
thine heart is lifted up, and thou hast said, I am a God,
I sit in the seat of God, in the midst of the seas; yet
thou art a man.—Thou hast gotten gold and silver into
thy treasures.—Thou hast been in Eden, the garden of
God.—Thou wast upon the holy mountain of God.—Thou
hast defiled thy sanctuaries by the multitude of thine
iniquities; by the iniquity of thy traffic,” &c. Here we
have the very Lucifer of Dante, a prince corrupting and
corrupted, who was seated in God’s seat, and defiled his
sanctuaries. And therefore he cited Ezekiel in his letter,
and in his poem, said: “Read Ezekiel,” (Purg. 29.)
(and each time in reference to the earthly paradise, where
he figures the woman of the Revelations), that we might
convince ourselves, by a reference to that prophet, that
the object described by him as a wicked prince, was the
same as the Lucifer and the woman of his own poem.
Before we proceed to more substantial proofs, let us
see the advantage that Dante derived from his acquaint-
ance with these prophetic books, and their figurative
language.
Petrarch described the Pope sometimes as a woman,
sometimes as a man, and also as a female disguised as a
man, according to the metaphor he employed. When
he treated of Babylon, he made the woman its ruler; .
when he described hell, he saw Lucifer on its throne. .
Dante borrowed the most powerful of the colours
which he employed in painting his great enemy, from
Isaiah and St. John. The Lucifer of Babylon of the
one, and the woman of Babylon of the other, were mixed
up and blended into one person, and were used by the
poet indifferently to describe the Pope. In various
places of the Inferno, we read of him as “The emperor
who sways the realm of sorrow ;” “Hell's monarch ;”
“Queen of this realm,” and “Queen of endless woe,”
&c. Nor did he disdain the aid of mythology on this
68 PRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE INFERNO.
point. In his letter to Can Grande he cites the Pagan
doctrine of endowing deities with the qualities of both
sexes;” and he gives us to understand that a Lucifer
is both male and female, “one and the same,” so is
the figure opposed to him, which he calls, in the 6th canto
of the Purgatory, “Highest Jove.” Boccaccio consi-
ders the same theory in the Genealogy of the Gods.
(B. 3. ch. 3.) +
But Dante did not confine himself to single names
only, whether masculine or feminine, wherewith to iden-
tify the supreme ruler of the abyss. He selected from
the pages of mythology, Hecate, the goddess of hell, as
another representative of Lucifer, the prince. The fa-
bulous Hecate had three faces; and the same number
has the Lucifer of the poem. Knowing, as we all do,
that Hecate is another name for Luna, or the moon, and
that she is described with three faces, to represent the
crescent, the full and the half moon, when we hear one
of the condemned in the Inferno, thus speaking of fifty
lunar months—
But not yet fifty times shall be relumed
Her aspect, who reigns here queen of this realm—(Canto 10.)
we must, of course, understand that the poet means
Hecate, the queen of hell, the same whom he calls, “the
queen of endless woe,” (Inf.9); who sits over the waters
of Cocytus. But who does this queen figure? Dante
himself will tell us, if we turn to Canto 19.
Of Shepherds like to you, th’ evangelist
Was 'ware, when her who sits upon the waves,
With kings in filthy whoredom he beheld.
Here, then, we have a triple personage, the woman,
Hecate, and Lucifer; an extraordinary compound of
* See vol. v. p. 476 of the works of Dante, edit. of Zatta.
# See the note E. at the end of the volume.
PRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE INFERNO. 69
scripture and mythology, male and female. Dante made
use of the name of Hecate, or Luna, because “all writers
in allegorical language teach that the moon is of either
sex;”* because “Orpheus addressed the moon as a male
or a female, indifferently;”t because, “among the Cari-
ans, a nation of Arabia, some believed that the moon
was a female, and others called it by a masculine name;”f
because, “in the mysteries of Isis, the moon was repre-
sented by a man dressed in female attire;”$ or because,
“the Gentiles gave the name of Lucifera to the moon or
Diana.”| However this may be, the fact is indisputable,
that the poet did consider this Lucifer of the Scriptures,
and Lucifera of the heathen, as one and the same object,
male and female together, and so addressed it in the
work we are now examining.
In the figure which Dante copied from Ezekiel, al-
though the prophet describes a man, and the poet a
woman, still the resemblance is obvious. The prophet
says, that he who sat in the seat of the Lord, and defiled
his sanctuaries, had dwelt in the garden of God on the
holy hill, in the midst of the seas; and the poet describes
his female in paradise, on the holy hill, in the midst of
the sea. In order to make us comprehend the real ob-
ject meant, he says that Ezekiel spoke of Lucifer; and
he identifies with the prophetic figure, his own Lucifer
and woman, two in one. Was he ignorant then, of the
fact, that Ezekiel denounced a wicked prince, by name?
No; but by saying that that prince was Lucifer, he gave
us to understand that his own Lucifer or woman, was in-
tended for the portrait of an equally wicked prince.
* Mars. Ficino. coment. Sopra l'Amore o Convito di Platone, p.76.
Flor. 1544.
+ Riposo of Borghini at the beginning.
# Cartari. Imm. degli Dei. p. 550.
§ Lenoir. La Fr. Maçonn. p. 135.
| In every great national museum there are to be seen statutes of
Diana Lucifera. See the collection of the Pio Clementino at Rome;
the Borbonico of Naples, &c.
70 PRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE INFERNo.
In canto 19, of the Inferno, the simoniacal popes are
described to us, with their punishment. They are in a
vault, with their heads downwards, and the soles of their
feet burning with fire, and there they hang mid-way to
the bottom, where the lake of Cocytus is yawning for
them, and subject to this law: every new Pope who
comes there, takes the place of his predecessor, who falls
down below out of his stony sepulchre. And where
does he go? Let us turn to chap. 14th of Isaiah, and
there we shall not only see where he goes, but we shall
fancy that we behold Dante, as he describes himself in
the same canto, stooping down and intently gazing
upon the wretched sinner:—“Take up this proverb
against the king of Babylon, and say, how art thou
fallen from Heaven, O Lucifer,-thou shalt be brought
down to hell, to the sides of the pit. They that see thee,
shall narrowly look upon thee, and consider thee, saying,
Is this the man who made the earth to tremble, that did
shake kingdoms? But thou art cast out of thy grave.”
Here Dante's imitation is as clear as possible. Every
wicked king of Babylon, by him placed in the bottomless
sepulchre, when he falls down below into the infernal lake,
becomes Lucifer, or a part of Lucifer—“Thou shalt be
brought down to hell, to the sides of the pit: thou art
cast out of thy grave.” This is the lake, produced by
the Babylonish Time, which pours its waters into the
depths of that figurative Babylon which it looks into.
“And at Rome, as at a mirror looks:” that Babylon,
on whose wall stands the builder of the tower of Babel,
with a head like the pine of St. Peter's, at Rome: that
Babylon, where the Pope is Satan, the prince; where
Dante saw many high towers, like the towers of Rome,
whose trenchis twenty-two miles round, and whose walls are
eleven miles round, the exact dimensions of the trench and
walls of Rome. And in making this Babylon a hell,
Dante copied St. John, “Babylon the great is become
the habitation of devils, and the hold of every foul
PRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE 1N FERNO. 71
spirit.” (Rev. ch. 18, ver. 2); and indulged his hatred
towards Rome at the same time.
Now, we shall have not the least difficulty in compre-
hending clearly his design in describing the popes who
were guilty of simony, since we see that the three-faced
Hecate represents the three-faced Satan, called by the
poet, the moon," queen of this realm; that this infernal
power was described as a male and female both; that
Dante made it a Lucifer, falling into the lake of hell, in
imitation of Isaiah; and a Babylonish woman seated upon
the waters, in imitation of St. John; and finally, as we
have proved by a multitude of striking allusions, that his
Abyss is a figure of Papal Rome. g
As we before said, he finds the last pope in hell, with
his head downwards, ready to tumble from the bottom-
less sepulchre into the lake of Abyss, where the satanic
power is seated on the waters; and, in . the dialogue
which ensues, he addresses him in the words we have
already cited—“Of shepherds like to you,” &c. The
Pope answers from his tomb:— -
Under my head are dragg’d
The rest, my predecessors in the guilt
Of simony. Stretch'd at their length they lie
Along an opening in the rock. 'Midst them
I also low shall fall.—(Canto 19.)
In another point, Dante clearly imitated the 14th chap-
ter of Isaiah. He placed not only Nimrod, but other
giants also, on the walls of the Babylonish abyss, where
sits the monarch Lucifer; and those giants, when they
saw him descending, were moved and troubled against
him. The analytical commentary proves that these were
different Guelphic princes, and describes them one by
* We shall see shortly, that in the conventional language, the word
moon signified either the Pope or the Papal Church.
72 PRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE INFERNO.
one. Isaiah's words are these:—“Hell from beneath is
moved for thee, to meet thee at thy coming ; it stirreth
up the dead for thee, even all the chief ones of the
earth; it hath raised up from their thrones all the kings
of the nations.”
We must now proceed to show, how the poet employed
the imageries of scripture and mythology united, to
paint, in his Satan, the formidable colossus of the Latin
Church, one in three.
To elucidate the subject, we repeat the before-cited
passage relating to the woman; which introduces us at
once to the fact of her identity with the Beast of the Re-
velations; even so far, that the seven heads and ten
horns of the beast are given to her by the poet, who says
that she was born with the first, and derived her strength
from the last:—
Of shepherds like to you, th’ Evangelist
Was 'ware, when her, who sits upon the waves,
he beheld;
She who with seven heads tower'd at her birth,
And from ten horns her proof of glory drew.
Nothing can more strongly prove the true nature of
Dante's Satan, than this quotation, taken from that
Sacred Book on which the Protestant Church lays so
much stress, and on which, in fact, Alighieri modelled his
whole poem. Although hitherto disregarded, it is the
principal guide to the interpretation of the Inferno, and
therefore Dante exclaimed:—“John is with me.”* Let
us now open that holy book, and consider its 12th and
13th chapters.
The dragon having appeared in the world with seven
* Vasari and Baldinucci relate, that Dante directed his friend Giotto,
in the composition of several frescoes, which illustrated different visions
of the Apocalypse.
PRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE INFERNO. 73
heads and ten horns, behold two beasts ascend, the one
from the sea, and the other from the earth. The Evan-
gelist says that the dragon was Satan, and the last beast
the false prophet; but he gives no name to the other: let us
hear however their distinctive characteristics. The beast
from the sea had the same number of heads and horns as
Satan himself; and Satan gave to him his own power
and authority: moreover, the false prophet, who had two
horns like a lamb, and who spake as a dragon, caused all
the inhabitants of the earth to worship the first beast,
persecuting those who refused. All the divines of the
reformed church, as well ancient as modern, suppose this
beast to be the Antichrist ; and as St. Paul, in the first
Epistle to the Corinthians (ch. 12) understood by Christ
the whole body of the faithful; so by Antichrist they un-
derstand the whole body of false priests, and their fol-
lowers — that is, the papal church, (according to them)
the work and image of Satan.* It had several heads and
horns, to express the multitude of its qualities, and it
came out of the sea, because the waters are people. By
the false prophet, writers generally understand the Popes,
who feigning to put on Christ's humility, while they fol.
low the doctrines of Satan (the horns of the Lamb and
the tongue of the Dragon), persecute those who refuse to
worship his image ; and as, forgetful of heaven, and full
of earthly passions, they aspire only to terrestrial power,
the beast rose from the earth. Here, then, we have ano-
ther triple alliance, in strict union together — the great
dragon, and the two beasts; that is, Satan, the corrupted
church, and the Pope ; all three conspiring together with
the same design in view, moved by the same spirit, and
therefore inseparable one from the other; an infernal tri-
umvirate, presented to us by the apostle as the sole cause
* Thus an ancient Albigense manuscript of 1120, after calling the
false priests of Rome “the false apostles,” adds, “And such congrega-
tion taken together is called Antichrist.” (See Jean Léger.)
E
74 PRINCIPAL AI, LEGORY OF THE INFERNO,
of the misfortunes of the Christian world. Let us now
turn for a moment from St. John to Dante.
The following vision appears to the poet in the Para-
dise of Joy (Purg. 32). He sees a divine car approach-
ing, to which a voice from heaven cries, “Oh bark of
mine !” (alluding to the bark of St. Peter.) The car is
surrounded by the scriptural books, the sacraments, &c.
to show that it figures Christ's church. It is enriched with
the spoils of the empire, expressed by the feathers of an
eagle; and as it moves along, Satan appears, and turns
it into his own image, by the following means : — the
earth opens between the wheels, and forth springs a dra-
gon, who fixes his tail into the car, and infects it with his
infernal poison. No sooner is this done, than it becomes
immediately transformed into the beast with seven heads
and ten horns, the image of the dragon, or Satan, who
has thus corrupted it. The primitive church having be-
come by this means Antichrist, next appears the woman
of the Revelations, mounted on the beast, a figure of the
false prophet, who governs the corrupted church. The
text of Dante will confirm the accuracy of this slight
sketch, and to that we refer our readers, rather than to
any explanation given by his interpreters, who have in
general strangely wrested his meaning.
Let us now return to St. John, and ask where this tri-
umvirate has disappeared. He will tell us that they are
gone where Dante placed them, and where he saw them
— to the bottom of hell. “And the devil that deceived
them was cast into the lake of fire and brimstone, where
the beast and the false prophet are, and shall be tor-
mented day and night, for ever and ever.” (Rev. ch. 20.)
The only difference is, that Dante changed the lake of
fire into one of water, to conform to Isaiah. The apostle
saw them thus tormented together : “And I saw three
unclean spirits, like frogs, come out of the mouth of the
dragon, and out of the mouth of the beast, and out of the
mouth of the false prophet,” (ch. 16, v. 13); and out of
PRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE INFERNO. 75
the three mouths of Dante's Satan, hang three unclean
spirits. These three beings, who are inseparable in their
unity of purpose, the poet united into one body, and made
a monster with three faces; and by this device we never
forget that, whether he speaks of the real Satan, or of
the church he corrupted, or of the Pope his minister, the
spirit, the idol, and the priest, are but one in three. A
female — as the church; a male — as Satan and the
Pope; “ queen of endless woe,” and “ queen of this
realm:” “the emperor who sways the realm of sorrow,”
and “hell's monarch.”
The three spirits, who hang from the mouths of his
Satan, are Judas, Brutus, and Cassius. The poet's rea-
son for selecting those names has never yet been satisfac-
torily accounted for ; but we have no hesitation in pro-
nouncing it to have been this — he considered the Pope
not only a betrayer and seller of Christ — “Where gain-
ful merchandise is made of Christ throughout the livelong
day,” (Parad. 17), and for that reason put Judas into his
centre mouth ; but a traitor and rebel to Caesar, and
therefore placed Brutus and Cassius in the other two
mouths; for the Pope, who was originally no more than
Caesar's vicar, became his enemy, and usurped the capital
of his empire, and the supreme authority. His treason
to Christ was not discovered by the world in general ;
hence the face of Judas is hidden – “He that hath his
head within, and plies the feet without” (Inf. 34*); his
treason to Caesar was open and manifest, therefore Bru-
tus and Cassius show their faces.
One more observation relating to this Satan will suffice
for the present. He is described in the last canto of the In-
ferno; and in the last but one, immediately before mention
is made of him, the following theory is explained by one of
the condemned. The soul of one who had betrayed his own
* The situation of Judas is the same as that of the Popes who were
guilty of Simony.
E 2
76 PRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE INFERNO.
friends falls into hell, directly after the commission
of the crime, and yet the body remains on earth, appa-
rently alive, because a devil has entered into it, and taken
the place of the soul that has fled. This is an idea en-
tirely evangelical. “Then Satan entered into Judas,”
wrote St. Luke of him, the betrayer of his best friend,
Christ, who, even while receiving the traitor's kiss, still
spoke kindly to him : “Friend, wherefore art thou come 7”
Dante, who distributed his crimes and punishments in
classes, made this chastisement to fall not only on Judas
and those who were with him, but on the preceding class
also.” But to make our explanations as clear as pos-
sible, we will here quote the last two verses of the thirty-
third, and the first three of the thirty-fourth canto : the
first speak of the traitor who betrayed his friend, accord-
ing to the above-mentioned theory; the last show the
arch-traitor himself in Cocytus.
For his doings, even now in soul,
Is in Cocytus plunged, and yet doth seem
In body still alive upon the earth.-
“The banners of hell’s monarch do come forth
Toward us; therefore look,” so spake my guide,
“If thou discern him.”
Now, the Pope being doubly a traitor, to Christ, and
to Caesar, the idea of the poet is clearly this : As soon as
he mounts the papal throne, “that old serpent, who was
called the Devil, and Satan,” enters into him, and prompts
him ; while his soul falls into hell, Satan's kingdom.
And remark the ingenious antithesis: Satan enters into
every new Judas who appears on earth, and this Judas is
the head of the real Rome; Judas enters every new Sa-
tan who falls into the abyss, and this Satan is the ruler
of the figurative Rome. He who is called Pope on earth,
* The two classes are, Tolomea from Ptolemy, who betrayed his illus-
trious friend Pompey; and Giudecca, from Judas, who betrayed his
divine friend Christ.
PRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE INFERNO. 77
is Satan himself governing his own church. He who ap-
pears Satan in the abyss, is the Pope himself, who be-
comes the viceroy of his master. The body of the Pope,
with the spirit of Satan, on earth ! the spirit of the Pope,
in the form of Satan, in hell !
Behold the visible reign of Lucifer on earth thus by
poetical skill realised behold the manifestation of Satan
in the person of the Pope . This is the false prophet who
clothes himself like the holy Lamb, and teaches the doc-
trines of the infernal dragon who prompts him — this is
the second beast, who causes the first beast to be wor-
shipped, and whose name is the number 666, contained
in the Greek word Lateinos, Latin man, head of the Latin
church — this is the priest of the false religion, called
Antichrist. “The banners of the king are in sight,” is
sang of Christ, the King of Heaven; and “The banners
of the king of hell are in sight,” sang Dante of this An-
tichrist. The banner of the first is the cross ; the stan-
dards of the last are the wings of Antichrist, which are
likened to a windmill because it has the form of a
cross.”
“The vessel which thou saw'st the serpent break,
Was and is not,” (Purg. 33.)
writes Dante of the papal church, when it was trans-
formed into the beast with seven heads and ten horns;
and “The beast whom thou sawest was and is not,” wrote
St. John in the Revelations. These are only a few of the
many allusions which all tend to the same design. The
proofs to be drawn from them are so numerous, but so
complicated at the same time, that there is a difficulty in
* In this verse, which some have considered profane, there is a sting-
ing satire against popery. The protestants, averse to the worship of signs
and images, believed that the adoration of the cross was the invention of
Antichrist. The ancient iconoclasts, Claudius, bishop of Turin, and
very probably Dante himself, among many others, were of the same opi-
nion; and for that reason he compared the wings of the figurative Anti-
christ to a windmill, which has always the form of a cross.
78 PRINCIPAL. ALLEGORY OF THE INFERNO.
selecting from them, without falling into errors of confu-
sion, which indeed are almost inevitable.
But we may now begin to see what has prevented the
allegory of this poem from being hitherto rightly ex-
plained. The extreme fear of the author made him ob-
scure; the prudence of his interpreters made them silent.
Very probably Dionisi, among the moderns, had some
glimmering of light, when he wrote that the internal,
mystical, and most valuable part of this work had not
been discovered; that the secrets in it were neither few
nor trifling; but that from their nature they could not be
revealed. Were the ancient annotators then aware of the
existence of such secrets? This will be examined by
us in another place. The whole of our following chap-
ter will be devoted to considerations on the most remark-
able among their number.
79
CHAPTER VI.
ON THE MOST ANCIENT OF DANTE's COMMENTATORs.
IT is well known to those who have studied Dante, that
his first Commentator, known as the anonymous one,
whose comment was always particularised as the best,
was an intimate friend of the author whom he inter-
preted. His own words, in several parts of his glossary,
indicate this. At the tenth canto of the Inferno, he writes:
“I the writer heard Dante say, that poetry never seduced
him into writing any thing but what he really meant,”
&c. He began to write his illustration so shortly after
the death of Alighieri, that he calls the year 1323 (two
years after Dante had departed this life) the year just
past, (in a note to canto xiii. of the Inferno.) In whom,
then, can we place implicit faith, if not in him 2 The
importance of his work will be seen even from the scanty
portion we shall now proceed to dwell on.
For a considerable period of time, there had been a
close intimacy between the Courts of Paris and Rome;
and the removal of the papal see from Italy to Provence
helped to render that intimacy still more binding. Seven
Frenchmen succeeded each other on the apostolic throne,
reckoning from Clement V., who was made Pope by
Philip the Fair; and it was that pontiff who transferred
the holy see to Avignon, where it remained in exile (as it
80 ON THE MOST ANCIENT
were) for the space of seventy years, the exact period during
which lasted the slavery in Babylon. Most intimate was
this connection in the time of Dante; and though it had
for some time been severed, while Philip and Pope
Boniface were disputing together, it was renewed more
strictly than ever under the successor of Boniface, the
before-mentioned Clement V., who, with Philip, was
always considered as the head of the Guelphic party, the
one always aiding and abetting the other in his views.
The Ghibelline bard describes this alliance at the
beginning of the first, and the end of the second part of
his poem, in two allegorical pictures, which correspond
with each other. In the first he sees a lion “hunger-
mad,” and a she-wolf who “seemed full of all wants,”
coming forth together to attack him; in the other, he
changes these animals into the Giant and the Babylonish
woman ; who mount the holy car which has been stolen
from Beatrice. In the first picture, the she-wolf who
appears with the lion, with many other animals is joined
“in wedlock vile.” In the second, this union of the
Giant and the Woman is explicitly related. So very
obvious is the meaning of this last allegorical idea, which
explains the former one, that all the interpreters with one
accord, recognise the Pope in the Woman, and the king
of France in the Giant, who between them dragged the
already corrupted church into the wood, the symbol of
that place where the lion and the wolf had harassed the
poet, in canto 1. Rome and France were so entirely
bound together in their unity of purpose in most respects,
that in that part of the Paradise where Dante describes
the Imperial Eagle, which he calls the Bird of God, and
exclaims:
And let not, with his Guelphs, the new crown'd Charles”
Assail it ; but those talons hold in dread,
Which from a lion of more lofty port,
Have rent the casing. (Par. 6.)
* Charles of Valois, Philip's brother.
of DANTE's comment ATORS. 81
*
This annotator says, “The author means thus: Whoever
is opposed to the Emperor, fights against the will of God;
such are those who bear on their arms the yellow lilies
of the houses of France and La Pouille, (branches of the
same dynasty,) and those also who call themselves parti-
sans of the church.” With these words, he expresses not
only the unity of design between France and Rome, but
between their followers also, who were ranged under
their joint banners, to go forth to war against the Bird
of God.
Now, let us see what were these Guelphic banners
opposed to the Ghibelline standard, what was the Bird of
the Devil which fought against the Bird of God. The
annotator says, that it had the large wings of a bat.
And here we entreat the attention of our readers to his
words.
Dante descends into the lowest circle of the abyss,
and there he beholds Lucifer. Virgil points him out
thus :
The banners of Hell's Monarch do come forth
Toward us.
The interpreter says: “The banners of the king of
France approach us.” Now will any one tell us, or can
any one seriously believe, that he would translate the
banners of hell's monarch into the banners of the king of
France, without some profound meaning 2 The king of
France, one of the two chiefs of the Guelphic party, and
the king of this allegorical hell, are hence one and the
same object for Dante's friend It is very easy to under-
stand his meaning: although desirous of explaining to us
that Lucifer was the Guelphic chief, two in one, he had
not the courage to mention the name of that one who
punished with the flames those who dared to call him the
king of hell, and for that reason he chose to bring for-
ward the name of the other who was, as we may say, his
shadow. He thought that the union of the lion with the
she-wolf, and of the giant with the woman, or in other
E 5
82 ON THE MOST ANCIENT
words, the connection between the king of France and the
Pope, was all that was required to assure Dante's readers
of the real nature of the king of hell, although he had
only named one part of him, and he expected too that
that hymn of the Latin Church which he applied to the
king of France, would naturally direct the attention of
those readers to the supreme ruler of the church itself,
and thus lead them to unite into one the two inseparable
chiefs of the Guelphic party; hence he annotated:
“Virgil, when he arrived at that point, cried to Dante:
The banners of the king of France are in sight; there-
fore look, if thou discern him.” Allegorically, the eyes
are a symbol of the understanding; and to look signifies
to search into ; therefore Virgil's last words mean: Search
with thy understanding into the sense of this allegorical
figure ; a warning kindly given to the attentive reader.
It is the custom, in allegorical writings, to heap mean-
ing on meaning, and blend them into one and the same
complicated figure. In this art, Dante excelled all others.
We have already seen the triple apocalyptical elements of
which his Lucifer is compounded; and now, in the same
Lucifer, we shall see a union of the whole body of the
corrupting Guelphism. Into three parties, it may be
divided, viz.: the Roman court, the fountain of Guelphic
principles; the court of France; and the Black party.
The two last were the agents of their chief, and always
joined to him. Each of these parties was distinguished
by a characteristic colour. Vermilion was the colour of
the papal party, as we learn from many writers, among
whom we may cite Gio. Villani, and Fran. Sacchetti. The
badge of the French party was the lily, a mixture of
white and yellow, which is the arms of France; this flower,
which has a white petal surrounding a yellow centre, was
sometimes of gold and sometimes of silver; in the first
instance Dante called it the yellow lily, in the last the
fleur de lis, the spotless flower.
That black was the colour appropriated to the Guelphic
of DANTE's commentatoRs. 83
faction which was known by that name, and by whom
Dante was banished and condemned to death, will
scarcely be questioned by those who are in the least
aware of the stress laid upon names in this class of allegory.
All this being decided: If Guelphism as a whole were to
be reduced to one infernal power, that power would be
triple like Hecate, and its three separate elements would
be the papal court, France, and the Black or Guelphic
faction. It would have three faces; one of vermilion in
the centre, a second half white half yellow at its right;
a third of black on its left, the last two adhering to the
first. And let us look now at the portrait of the Emperor
of the realm of sorrow, as drawn by Dante :
Oh, what a sight !
How passing strange it seem’d, when I did spy
Upon his head three faces; one in front
Of hue vermilion, the other two with this
Midway each shoulder join’d and at the crest;
The right 'twixt wan and yellow seem’d; the left
To look on, such as come from whence old Nile
Stoops to the lowlands.
That is, black like the face of an African. And let us
not fail to remark that the face in front was vermilion,
and that the two others were joined to it. Elsewhere we
shall see these three elements of Guelphism, which are
here united together into one body, presented in another
allegory disjoined.
What Dante calls banners are the three pairs of wings
with which he furnished his symbolic Colossus; hence
when his friend speaks of “the banners of the king of
France,” he only refers to the one pair of wings which is
under the wan and yellow face, for Lucifer had three of
these banners on his shoulders, which swept before his
different faces. Thus was Clement V. described in those
times: “On his back and before his face, stand up three
banners.” The poet to make his allegory correspond
with this picture exclaimed, “The banners of hell's
* Chron, of F. Pipino. See Muratori, Rer. Ital. Scrip. v. 9. p. 752.
84 ON THE MOST ANCIENT
monarch do come forth.” These allusions, manifest as
they are, might have been paid most dearly for by him
who framed them, and well he knew it; hence in the last
canto, where he describes Lucifer's appearance, we read:
“With fear I bid my strain record the marvel,” &c.,
and his interpreter who shared his fears, had recourse to
oblique explanations.
In the Fontanini manuscript, the first verse of canto 7
of the Inferno is written: “Pape San Aleppe voces has
congeminatas.” The Pope is called the Holy Father
(Papa Santo,) and this word Santo is abbreviated into
San ; consequently this ancient latin manuscript shews
that Pape San and Pape Satan were synonimously
written. Had there been no secret meaning for so writing
it, how could Sutan ever have been transformed into San 7
It is in vain that we search for any more open and
candid explanation from these writers; we might as well
question a mute; but if we know how to profit by the
hints they threw out, we shall find them so intelligible,
that all but the wilfully blind will easily perceive their
tendency; and the anonymous interpreter of Dante will
be to us one convincing example of this.
In the Sonnet “Fiamma del Ciel,” Petrarch describes
papal Babylon, and Beelzebub in the centre of her; Dante,
in his picture of the Babylonish abyss, draws Beelzebub in
the midst, (Inf. 24.) and why he gives that name to
Lucifer, his annotator will inform us. Beelzebub is one of
the many names given to Bel or Belus, the Babylonish
deity; and therefore he remarks: “The king of Babylon,
the husband of Semiramis, was the son of Nimrod, the
builder of the tower of Babel, where the primitive langu-
age was confused and parted into seventy-two tongues;
he made the idol Bel in honour of his father, and called
it afterwards Beelzebub ; so that Nimrod was called Bel
and Beelzebub.” Nimrod and Beelzebub then are one,
* See the facsimile in the ediz. Bartol. of the Divine Comedy.
of DANTE's commeNTATORs. 85
with this difference: when described as the builder, Nimrod
stands on the wall; when presented as the deity, Beelzebub
is seated in the centre of the infernal Babylon. Many
proofs and arguments will be deduced as we proceed, from
the information we shall derive by considering the various
figures under which one object was described. The inter-
preter, by means of this Beelzebub, the Babylonish idol,
otherwise Nimrod, whose head is like the pine of St.
Peter's in Rome, draws our attention to that city; and
as the best way of informing us that the infernal deity
was in reality a man who dwelt in Rome, he writes: “St.
Isidore in his Etymology, B. 10. ch. 11. says: Those
whom the Pagans declare to have been Gods were without
any doubt men ; thus in the dominions of the Latin
king, Faunus was worshipped : and among the Romans,
Romulus was a God.” This note is written to explain
the verse “Pape Satan Aleppe,” and he thus proceeds;
“To return to our subject; Plutus was the God of worldly
riches; and the poet says that when Plutus saw Reason,
(thus he calls Virgil,) guiding Human Nature (Dante),
he marvelled greatly; and with an indistinct voice cried
— Pape.” (Inf. 7.) Other ancient interpreters will suc-
ceed in making this voice as clear as possible.
In the last canto, this Beelzebub of Babylon towers in
the centre of the abyss, and the interpreter says that he
is there “because, in the presumption of his pride, he
rose against his Maker, and aspired to be equal to him;
and of him Isaiah wrote: How art thou fallen from
Heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning ! He seems indeed
to verify the words of that prophet: Hell from beneath is
moved for thee. (ch. 14.)” These are the tokens by
which he insinuates to us that Dante's poem is a parable,
his Hell a Babylon, and his Beelzebub or Lucifer, the
king of Babylon. Of the personified time which pours
its waters into Hell, the same interpreter thus writes:
“This image is the same which Nebuchadnezzar king of
Babylon, saw in his dream. That monarch sent for
86 ON THE MOST ANCIENT
Daniel who was then in prison, who having heard his
question, said: O king, in thy dream thou sawest the
image of an old man on a mountain, who turns his face
towards Rome, &c., as the text has it.” Most false I
When did ever Daniel tell the king of Babylon, that the
statue he dreamed of kept its face turned towards Rome,
according to the text of Dante 2 The annotator goes on
to explain the Colossus, in which the prophet saw a figure
of the Babylonish kingdom. He describes the different
materials of which the statue is formed, to mean so many
ages, gradually degenerating from bad to worse; and
when he comes to the right foot of the allegorical figure
which rests on hell, he says: “This foot of potter's clay
signifies the age in which the author lived, as will soon
be shewn. The pastors of the church are so wedded to
temporal gratifications that they have no thought but for
themselves. The right foot therefore is the age in which
those who are alive then will be so immersed in covetous-
ness, that they will have no other end in view; and the
author alludes to them in the first canto, when he speaks
of those to whom the she-wolf is united in wedlock. He
says, that she will continue in her course until that grey-
hound comes who will destroy her, by chasing her through
every city, until he finally drives her back into hell again;
and that he will be the salvation of that Italy for whom
the Virgin Camilla died.”
If we refer to his annotation on these verses of canto
first, we read: “These words are spoken by Virgil, and
they shew who is that she-wolf, and her condition; like-
wise how long her ravages are to last; who will put an
end to them, and when. He says that there are many
animals, that is, men, with whom the wolf is in strict alli-
ance, and who are given to that vice, and that she will
continue to keep them under her rule and dominion until
some greyhound of great power shall chase her from land
to land into hell; he says that this greyhound will be the
salvation of that humbled Italy, in which is Rome, which
of DANTE's comment ATORs. 8
was once the head of the world, and the seat of the em-
pire. Here the author means us to understand that this
wolf will govern the seventh age of the century; six ages
have already passed, and the present is the seventh, and
after this is gone, the first or golden age will return, of
which he sings in the third part of his poem. He, in this,
poetises the opinion of some philosophers who declare that
the world is divided into ages, which are governed by the
influence of the seven planets, the seventh age being go-
verned by the moon, under whose influence this she-wolf
is the queen over a people given to avarice; according to
them, the revolution of the planets will take place in the
eighth age, which will be in every respect like the first or
golden times; and then will reign a prince like Saturn.
The first age then was gold, pure and without a taint of
vice; the seventh, (when the author lived) was the most
depraved and the most remote from heaven; and the
eighth, which is to succeed it, will be once more of gold,
and will bring about a heavenly state of things; then
will avarice be hunted down to hell. He says that this
greyhound will be a universal ruler, the salvation and
lifter up of Italy. Then follow the words of Virgil, which
foretell the boundless empire which Rome is to enjoy.”
Dante in the Convito writes likewise: “Virgil agrees to
this, when speaking in the person of God he says: To
them (the Romans) I have set no limit of things nor
time; I have given them an empire without end.”
This part of the interpretation, over which the reader
will probably cast no more than a few careless glances,
contains a precious germ towards the final developement
of all the subsequent allegories of the poem ; and if by
chance he should refer to it, after examining the rest
of the volume, he will find how greatly its value is en-
hanced even in his own eyes. Returning to the Baby-
lonish time, our annotator proceeds in his remarks:
“This statue, under the form of an old man, signifies the
course of Time ; the fissures represent the imperfections
88 ON THE MOST ANCIENT
and vices which break out in human nature, and they
cause an overflow of tears, or impure waters, in other
words sinful souls (the waters are people, Rev.); these
form the three rivers, Acheron, Styx, and Phlegethon,
which running through a marsh, fall into a lake called
Cocytus, or tears and groans, which are the inheritance
of every lost soul.” And in the middle of Cocytus,
stands fixed that Beelzebub, the Babylonish idol, otherwise
Lucifer, King of Babylon, or the woman of Babylon, who
rules over all the souls of sin, who are figured in the
waters of vice, according to the poet, and his interpreter,
and the apostle; “The waters which thou sawest, are peo-
ple and nations.’”
Landino, who evidently had taken this anonymous
commentator as his authority, speaks of the figurative
time in these terms: “Our misery and damnation are the
fruits of our vices, and these make our hell. Dante poe-
tically expresses this idea, under the veil of allegory, when
he describes the statue which stands on mount Ida in
Crete. He says that it is formed of various metals, and
that it contains the rivers of hell. This is one proof of
the wonderful ingenuity of Dante; he here imitates at
once the statue seen by Nebuchadnezzar, and the Gre-
cian fable of describing different ages under the figure of
various metals, and introduces a third meaning which he
accommodates to his own opinions. The statue stood be-
fore the King of Babylon, until a stone, which was cut out
of a mountain without hands, smote its feet and crumbled
it to pieces. This stone is Christ, who changes the fate
of empires; but as it does not concern the present work,
I shall not follow up this interpretation, but rather go
back to our poet, who, with matchless art, unites the
visionary statue of Nebuchadnezzar with the ages distin-
guished by the poets by different metals, and forms from
them a third allegory reducing fiction to truth. The
poet's design is, to fix the source of all the infernal streams
of DANTE's CoMMENTAtoRs. 89
(corrupt nations) in tyrannical pride, whence proceed all
the other vices which lead to hell.”
In this guise, Landino and the anonymous interpreter,
go hand in hand in their desire to render the allegory of
the Babylonish Time intelligible to us; Dante's contem-
porary and fellow-labourer Marsilio, the Paduan, beheld
it without any disguise, a figure of the vicious court of
Rome, and the stone which Landino transforms into
Christ, he saw converted into a mighty prince, who was to
overthrow the cause of all this depravity. We shall
take a more favourable opportunity of observing how, in
different ways they both express the self-same meaning.
Not unfrequently our interpreter substitutes silence for
explanation; but the silence of him who is full of know-
ledge which he dares not unveil, is more expressive than
the words of others. A mind so well informed as his, to
whom Dante had most probably confided some of his
most secret thoughts, can instruct even by a hint. In
several places, he enjoins us to weigh well the words of
the author, and though he sometimes appears to speak
generally, we may profit by his words, by applying them
to the particular passages under our eye at the moment.
For instance, in that part where the poet, previous to the
appearance of his triple Geryon, entreats his friends to
penetrate his allegory, with an exclamation which seems
addressed for some other purpose —
Ah! what caution must men use
With those who look not at the deed alone,
But spy into the thoughts with subtle skill, (Inf. 16.)
the annotator says, “These are remarkable words, because
men ought always to study how to appear wise, and act
sensibly, and particularly among those persons who have
talent and wit, which induce them not merely to watch
and acquaint themselves with the works of others, but to
enquire, and examine, and enter into refined speculations
90 ON THE MOST ANCIENT
as to the intention, and meaning of a man, in doing any
given thing.”
And again, “Poetry is not a science in which we ex-
pect to find the arguments as clear as they are important,
still the present comedy is not imperfect, supposing even
that it has no first principles; by a poetical licence, by
metaphors and examples, it feigns one thing for another.”
(Proem. Par. 2.)
In many places, he refers the reader to the vision of
St. John, to elucidate the sense of Dante, and elsewhere
we shall most clearly perceive that the comedy is an imi-
tation of the Apocalypse. Some of the quotations which
he makes, hit upon the very truth, which later interpreters,
either from ignorance or custom, have so much obscured.
Thus, the dragon which comes up from the pit to corrupt
the church, figured in the car of Beatrice, is by some in-
terpreters declared to mean Mahomet; while the anony-
mous one boldly pronounces it to be Satan, and refers us
to chap. xii. of the Revelations, after which he adds:
“He shews the strength of the persecutor, who by his
malign power, corrupted the very edifice of the church.”
Now if we consider well the words of Dante, we shall see
that he, through whose malignity the nature of the church
was transformed, was no other than the head of the church
himself. So where Dante, in canto 16 of the Purgatory,
attributes all the depravity of the church and of christianity
to Rome, his interpreter annotates, “He inculpates more
particularly the pastor, who ought to guide his flock in
the right path; it is his duty to go before them; and if he
fall from the cliffs, they will of a certainty follow him.”
Elsewhere, he makes the following remark on the verse in
canto 16 of the Paradise :
Had not the people which of all the world
Degenerates most.
“He speaks with justice of Rome as the degenerate one,
for her present fruits are the very opposite to her first
produce.” Again in canto 18, on the verses: -
of DANTE's comment AtoR's. 91
Therefore I pray the Sovran mind, . . . .
That he would look from whence the fog doth rise,
To vitiate thy beam.
Ye host of heaven, whose glory I survey !
O beg ye grace for those, that are on earth
All after ill example gone astray. —
he annotates, “Here he intimates that God is wroth with
the Pope and the cardinals, for the flock of the land is
led astray by the bad example of its shepherd, therefore
he goes on to apostrophize that shepherd, saying: “And
thou, that writest but to cancel, think, that they who for
the vineyard which thou wastest died, Peter and Paul
live yet.”
Again in a note to Par. 19, we read: “As it is declared
in the first chapter of the Inferno; the subjects will follow
their prince; he ought to be their rule for conduct, and
their example, in justice and a good life; and if that
example is bad, the copy will not long continue in
integrity.”
“By Constantine's gift, the popes were tempted with
the enticing poison of human riches; they have be-
come covetous and avaricious, and their fair aspect is
transformed into darkness before the divine presence;
but soon will come that messenger from heaven who is
to slay the robber — and the end of the ninth canto of
the Paradise accords with this: The cursed flower that
hath made wander both the sheep and lambs, turning
the shepherd to a wolf.” Note to Paradise 27.
Have not these few quotations shown us who this in-
terpreter meant by the infernal dragon, whom he calls
the persecutor by whose malignity the edifice of the
church is transformed ? He writes no name it is true;
but all those of intellect sound and entire, can under-
stand him.
Sometimes he gives a strange and wrong interpret-
ation, as a means of guiding us to the right one. For
92 ON THE MOST ANCIENT
instance: he speaks of the third kind of traitors, whom
the poet meets with immediately before Lucifer makes his
appearance, viz: Branca Doria and his kinsman; and he
says that that third species includes churchmen who have
betrayed their benefactors. (proem to Inf. 18.) Now nei-
ther of those two were churchmen; but as we have be-
fore heard him call the figurative Lucifer by the name of
the King of France, for the purpose of pointing out his
ally, so here what he says of these two laymen, he means
us to apply to the churchman, viz: that his soul is in
Hell, while his body, prompted by Satan, seems alive on
earth.
Sometimes he refers the student to a preceding ex-
planation of the passages then under his hand ; and
those explanations, when sought after, are no where to be
found; a convincing proof, as his editor justly observes,
that they were suppressed, if not by himself, by others.
At other times, he declares that a thing has a meaning,
but that meaning is not told. And I am inclined to
think, as the real sense of what he does not explain,
would reveal the grand secret of the poet, that for that
very reason he leaves it on the point of his pen. For in-
stance: he says in his notes on the first canto, “Virgil,
who appeared before the eyes of Dante, is a figure of
sound reason, which came into the eyes of his mind, and
this reason is a figure :” and after these words he leaves
an hiatus, the only one we find in the whole canto.
Virgil then is a figure of sound reason, and this reason
is a figure of something unmentionable. When we ex-
amine minutely the allegorical character of the Mantuan
bard as employed by Dante, we shall be convinced that
this interpreter could not clearly reveal his nature, with-
out betraying the secret which had been entrusted to him;
and that he has therefore omitted it, that we might either
search out the truth, or understand it without explanation.
We have no intention of entering into a full exposition
of this ancient commentary; we are satisfied with having
of DANTE's comment ATORs. 93
shown a fair sample of it, in order that, when we cite its
authority hereafter, our readers may value and acknow-
ledge its worth ; and confess that those, which to them
appear unknown truths, were not considered as such in
the poet's own time. We only aspire to the ambition of
bringing secrets into the light of day, and wresting from
the grasp of a few, treasures which ought to be divided
amongst all. These rich hoards of ancient coin, which
are dug up from the caverns of the earth, are not ac-
quired, but recovered wealth. They have long been in
the possession of selfish misers; it is now high time that
they should be divided among those who will give them-
selves the trouble to claim them, and circulate them
freely among men. The age which coined them, left
them for the use of its successor; they were subsequently
long buried, and though now discovered, their full value
will not as yet be appreciated. It would be too much
to expect them to be taken as genuine, before the touch-
stone has been applied. Omnia tempus habent. But
though perhaps those who shun the difficult task of en-
quiry may cast them away, and pronounce them base
counterfeits; we firmly and fondly believe, that the day
is approaching, when they will be snatched from un-
deserved neglect, and valued according to their rich
merits.
94
CHAPTER VII.
ON THE IMITATORS OF DANTE.
AN examination of the works of those authors whose
opinions were in unison with those of Dante, will shed a
guiding ray over his studied darkness. Outwardly, they
appear sometimes to differ from him, while in reality they
might almost be deemed the echoes of his voice. Our
researches will be productive of this sure result: that if
we can rightly interpret throughout one of these works,
we can understand all which proceeded from the same
mysterious school; a school which, both in religion and in
politics, influenced the literature of the whole of Europe;
and whose pupils were innumerable, although their works,
disguised as they are under manifold forms, have hitherto
remained almost profitless in our hands. This will be the
case no longer, if our expectations be fulfilled; for we
hope to be able to explain the whole nature and aim of
this secret society, in a manner which will clear every
shadow of doubt from the subject.
As it would be impossible to recollect, and far more to
name, the many writers who conformed to the secret doc-
trines of Dante, we shall in this chapter limit ourselves to
two only ; choosing those who form almost a connecting
link between the age of Alighieri, and that of Luther;
between the secret and the proclaimed Reform ; between
the veiled and open language of truth.
ON THE IMITATOR'S OF DANTE. 95
One of them wrote when the triumph of the Reforma-
tion was almost assured; and emboldened by its success,
he informed the world, that he whom poets called Dis
and Plutus, was the demon who occasioned all the mis-
fortunes of the human race. And let us see if it be pos-
sible to misunderstand to whom those poets alluded.
“This is the same who is called by Christ and St. Paul,
the Prince of this World, * and by our crowned poets,
Dis and Plutus. If the care of the Sheep is committed
to Wolves, if an impious hand now lays hold on the holy
things of Christ, if an avaricious priest sells both heaven
and hell, if we see asses wearing princes, diadems, if our
temples are filled with sinners, if, in short, iniquities
without number are committed every day with impunity,
it is not the fault of the supreme Deity, but if this demon
whom we poets call Fortune and Plutus, if and whom we
might also most aptly call Sarcotheus, or God of Flesh.
He is the cause of all discords, quarrels, strifes, battles,
wars, deceit, frauds, conflagrations, slaughters; finally,
whatever evils prevail, or wherever they appear, their
origin is in this odious source, this Prince of the Earth ;
for the Demon who rules over the terrestrial orb, is an
evil spirit, who delights in cruelty and tyranny. This
Sarcotheus then, who reigns over the lower world, hates,
persecutes, vexes, oppresses, thwarts and torments all men,
whose lofty souls lead them to despise carnal gratifica-
tions, and follow Virtue's ways in the cultivation of their
talents. Thus do all insane and inhuman tyrants detest
learned and just persons. This wicked Demon assails
those, whose sublime intellect prompts them to seek to
* He alludes to the passages from St. Paul and St. John, applied by
the Reformers to the Pope. See St. John'sGospel, ch. xvi. ver. 11, and
the Second Epistle of St. Paul to the Thessal. ch. ii. Petrarch alludes
to the Pope in the same way: “The principality of Lucifer; thus the
Prince of this world is called by the Verb.”
+ From this line we perceive that Fortune was another name given to
the Pope.
96 ON THE IMITATOR'S OF DANTE.
penetrate the mysteries of heaven and nature, because
he is desirous of remaining himself unknown ; were his
real character once discovered, he would be detested by
all, as the father of every crime, and the murderous de-
stroyer of mankind; he would be pursued with curses
well deserved; and branded with the epithets of mad-
man, deceiver and betrayer. * He is the enemy and rival
of God, by whom he was banished from heaven; and
now he is chained down and bound between the moon and
the lowest earth, where he has his kingdom. t Behold
then, O unhappy mortals, behold the cause of all your
misery, behold the source of your overwhelming misfor-
tunes: this is your destroyer; this Sarcotheus, who tor-
ments you, and deceives the foolish ones with a false
mask of virtue.”
These passages, taken from the eighth book of the Zo-
diacus Vita of Marcellus Palingenius, reveal the secret
opinions of preceding ages. He recognizes the Pope as
Lucifer, banished from heaven, reigning on the face of the
earth, and causing all manner of evil ; and so did Dante.
If these lines offer a miniature of Dante's Geryon, those
which we subjoin, (taken from the ninth book,) present a
copy of his Lucifer; an immense colossus reigning in
frozen regions, with large wings like a bat's ; a body
covered with shaggy hair, and a crest on his head with
seven horns. “Satan which deceiveth the whole world,
having seven heads, and ten horns, and seven crowns
upon his heads.” (Rev. chap. xii.)
“I saw a gigantic king, seated on a slender throne. A
blazing diadem was on his head, his back was covered
with two large wings like a bat's, and his body with long
hairs. About him was a vast company, and a multitude
of satellites. Such as I have described the king, was his
* “If Antichrist,” says the ancient Valdense manuscript of 1120,
“ did not cover himself thus with his false ministers, he would be known
and hated by every body.”
f That is, he reigns on the face of the earth.
*:
ON THE IMITATIONS OF DANTE. 97
people, for subjects never fail to imitate their prince, and
to follow his example as far as they are able.* All that the
terraqueous orb contains of most diabolical waits on this
monarch's will. From him, as from a centre, springs
every ill, as the rays depart from the sun. His forehead
is decked with a bloody crest, and seven horns. Many
are they who attend him, and well skilled are they in the
hurling of arrows, and weapons of torture.t. Then said
my guide to me: ; This man was once beautiful, and
favoured in the sight of Jove; but his prosperity made
him proud and wicked, and finally caused his ruin. In
his foolishness, he desired to make himself equal with
God, and aspired to share his lofty throne, and the result
was, that he was banished from heaven, and assigned by
the almighty command (executed by Michael,) a fixed
boundary amid the darkness. Formerly, he was the bearer
of light, and hence called Lucifer ; now he is the lover of
darkness, and takes delight in wandering about in the
might-time, surrounded with phantoms and hobgoblins.'
With this chosen band, the wretched demon keeps him-
self and his kingdom secure : on this force he relies, and
by such means he has subjected the whole earth to his
power.”||
The author proceeds in this same style a great length;
but we have quoted enough for our purpose, and need
follow him no farther. The Pope recognized his own
* Thus Dante of the wicked time, which looks at Rome as into a
mirror.
# The inquisitors and their satellites.
f His guide and master, who instructs him as Virgil instructs Dante.
Most of the allegorical poets had a guide of this nature, as Federico
Frezzi, Fazio degli Uberti, &c. &c.
§ “This is not a city, it is the abode of phantoms and spirits, or to
speak it briefly, The Hell of the Living—Petrarch.
| This work obtained a great celebrity from the moment of its appear-
ance in the world, and subsequently went through several editions. The
most profound critics have spoken of it in terms of eulogium; and par-
ticularly Gravina, in his “Ragion Poetica.
F
98 ON THE IMITATOR'S OF DANTE.
portrait, and persecuted the luckless artist who drew it so
skilfully, and who with difficulty escaped out of the
hands of his enemy. After death his body was burnt by
the Pope's orders, and his ashes were given to the winds.
Now let us hear the other, who wrote his poem in
Dante's age, who imitated, nay, often copied him in his
imageries, verses, and expressions, and above all, in his
internal meaning. He will probably appear to us even
more tremendous in his satire ; and when, after citing some
specimens of his verses, we disclose his name, our readers
will raise their hands and eyes in astonishment.
Book ii. chap. 1. Title, “How the goddess Pallas ap-
pears to the author, and describes to him the seat and
the empire of Satan.” --
The author, like Dante and Palingenius, having asked
tº cause of all the evils which afflict mankind, the god-
dess tells him : -
“The first and greatest cause is Satan, who governs
the mortal world and your kingdoms.” It is now some
time since he came forth from hell, and let loose his fury
on this world, in whose first clime he dwells with the
giants.t. One of his arms is larger than their bodies;
but thou shalt see his face, and shalt hear him in his
pride, boast of vanquishing heaven; he sits in triumph in
the centre of the world with a sceptre in his hand like
a monarch. He has made his city like the real Hell,S
and filled it with vice, death, and misery; but if thou art
desirous of seeing it, thou must first descend into the
depths below, and there having visited the first and
second circles, and the afflicted souls, &c., thou shalt
come back with me to this world, and behold all the
kingdom of Satan, his great city, his high throne, and
* Prince of this world.
# The same giants so often introduced; Palingenius says: “The
madmen built a tower towards the skies, higher than that of Nimrod.”
f Rome, the head of the world.
§ “Once Rome, now Babylon, Hell of the Living.”—Petr.
ON THE IMITATOR'S OF DANTE. 99
his people, Then wilt thou see as clearly as I now see,
the cause of this world's degeneracy; think of him
who guides it; and that thought alone will tell thee why
it is so full of vice.” The allegorical pilgrim then asks
his guide how long it is since Satan left hell empty, and
ascended into this world 2 Minerva answers him, that
Envy descended into the abyss and drew forth Avarice,
and with Avarice came Satan. This indicates, that Envy,
by exciting the ecclesiastical against the political power,
and by urging it on to usurpation and gain, perverted and
corrupted it; the very idea of Dante on envy. (Inf. 1.)
“Avarice, the root of all evil, drew him forth and brought
him to this earth. Once out of his infernal abode, Satan
took, possession of this world, and established his throne
in the midst of it—Rome, the head of the world.”
After this, they descend to the earth's centre, to visit
the abyss: on their arrival, they find it almost vacant,
Satan having left it, with his whole court, for the purpose
of founding his visible kingdom on earth, which we have
heard described, by Palingenius and others, supporters of
the Albigense doctrine. It is evident that this author
has only inverted the order of Dante's journey, in order
to show us more plainly its real design. Let us accom-
pany him on his pilgrimage, until he returns to this globe
again, to witness the reign of his great enemy. “From
the place left void by Satan,” they begin gradually to
ascend, and having arrived at the spot which corresponds
with that part of Dante's Hell, where the giants stand on
the wall of the abyss, having Satan for their centre, the
author writes, that “Satan took away the great giants,
when he went to the higher regions with all his vices.”
Rising a little higher, they see the houses of the seven
capital vices, “vast but desolate, like the ancient ruins of
Rome,” because all the seven had gone to settle on earth,
and in the immediate vicinity of those ruins.
They continue to rise until chapter vi. the title of
which is : “How the author, having left hell, arrived in
F 2
I 00 ON THIE IMITATOR'S OF DAN TE.
the world, in the hemisphere of Satan.” Passing over
various allegorical pictures, we come to the river which
divides the outward from the inward regions of hell.
The travellers cross it in Charon's bark, which is plainly
a figure of the course of life of whoever, on his entrance
into this world, becomes a subject of Satan; for the souls
who make the voyage with them, appear first infants, then
children, and so on through the different stages of youth,
maturity, old age, and decrepitude. Having disembarked,
they enter the gate of hell, which is always open.
But before we proceed to an examination of the real
nature of this empire of Satan on earth, we must premise
that, from the consecutive scenes drawn by the author, it
is very clear that his figurative pilgrimage takes place in
Italy. Thus, where he sees the Furies leading on the
Guelphs and Ghibellines to destroy each other in battle.
“I tremble and turn pale when I call to mind that
a stream of blood flowed from those wretched beings,
and formed a river wider than the Arno. Megaera led on
the armies of Guelphs and Ghibellines against one
another, and the plain was soon dyed with their blood.
The river swelled, and then rushed the Furies into the
emsanguined stream, and bathed themselves in delight.
Oh, blinded Italy why so furiously rent by intestine dis-
cord 2 That discord will be thy ruin " Book 3. ch. 11.
And he declares, like Dante, that these dissensions
originated in the want of one supreme ruler to govern the
whole land; the object sighed for by the imperialists and
always frustrated by the Popes.
Into Italy then comes this new pilgrim, to behold the
kingdom of Satan on earth. After passing through the
infernal vestibule, he sees a female with wings, who trans-
forms herself into various semblances, but there is nothing
natural or true in any of them. They ask her name, and
she replies, that her study is to make black appear white,
“I am false opinion.” “Behold,” exclaims Minerva,
“the real cause of the evils which afflict humanity.”
ON THE IMITATOR'S OF DANTE. 101
We pass over the appearance of Fortune and Death,
and other symbolic figures, and proceed to chapter xv.
“How the author discovers the city of Dis in this world.”
“I saw the red city of Dis,” and it resembled the Dis of
hell.” They cross the river Phlegethon by a bridge, and
being arrived at the opposite shore, Minerva cries, with a
loud voice: “Open these gates to us, for we have de-
scended into this dark region for the purpose of seeing
Plutus, his temple, and his court.” They answer:
“You ask in vain; none enter here, but those who bring
an offering, or money.”
On the goddess assuring them that she has something
better than money for them, Mammon, who is the prin-
cipal leader there, causes the gates to be instantly flung
open, and within them stands Circe, the cursed sorceress,
who has the power of turning men into beasts and demons.
Dante in his Convito, Petrarch, and many others, have
enlarged on this attribute of vice; and Boccaccio, in his
Geneal. of the Gods (B 4, ch. 14.) says: “Homer,
speaking of Circe, tells us that she loved Glaucus, a sea-
god. By Glaucus I mean Peter the apostle; Glaucus
before his transformation was a sea-god ; and so was
Peter a fisherman likewise,” &c. &c. This is the Glau-
cus of the ninth eclogue, which appears written by a
devout Catholic. t
For a little time, the pilgrim is fascinated by what he
sees in this court, but Minerva gives him a mirror, and
tells him to cover himself with her shield, while he gazes
on their real character. “By these rhymes, reader, I
swear to thee, that one of them was inwardly a serpent,
and outwardly a pure man, I and another was like a
ravenous wolf, and another was a demon, clothed as a
lamb.” Then appear the three Furies, in the form of
* Red was the distinctive colour of the Guelphic or Papal party.
t Manni, Hist. of the Decam. p. 59.
: See Dante's Inf, the end of the 16th and the beginning of the 17th
CantoS.
*
102 ON THE IMITATOR'S OF DANTE.
women, who terrify the pilgrim by their threats and cries;
and more especially when he hears them call upon the
Gorgon to turn him into stone. The whole of this scene
is evidently copied from the ninth canto of the Inferno,
which we shall examine in the next chapter.
In ch. 18, they arrive at the temple of Plutus, which
is situated near a stormy sea,” and there they are re-
quired to worship the God, (Mammon).f. Plutus himself is
seated on a throne, surrounded by Minos, Rhadamanthus,
&c.; and the author describes the temple to be the very
opposite to that founded by Christ, t and as being filled
with avarice and cruelty. “Believe me, reader, that the
idol Mammon was worshipped by Plutus and his court
with more reverence than God. They knelt before him,
and offered him the heart which was God’s own due.”
In this temple was Proserpine, the queen of Hell, §
who is described as seated over the waters, and bestriding
a monstrous dragon—she is clothed in purple and quaffs
blood from a sparkling cup. It does not require the aid
of a telescope to recognize here, under another name, the
woman of the Revelations, on whom we have already so
largely expatiated. Dante, adhering to St. John, gives
the beast who carried her, seven heads and ten horns;
* “The waters are people.”
+ “Where God is despised, and Mammon worshipped,” says Petrarch
of the Papal court, in his 9th letter, sine titulo ; and in the 8th he says:
“One hope of salvation is held out, gold ; gold can appease this stern
monarch ; gold can tame this monster; gold opens the way to Heaven;
with gold Christ is sold.”
# The Temple of Antichrist.
§ Proserpine, Hecate, or Luna. See at the end of B. 8 of the Zod. of
Palingenius, the description of the demons descending from the moon to
Rome. Cecco d’Ascoli, who was burned as a Patarin, taught astrologi-
cally that demons came down from the moon. The day of the moon was
looked upon with abhorrence by the Albigenses or Patarins. (See
Millot.) “The Mingrelians accuse the moon of causing all the mis-
fortunes which happen to them; and in pursuance of this idea, they never
do any thing on Mondays.” Boullanger.
ON THE IMITATOR'S OF DANTE, 103
while his imitator describes it to have ten heads and seven
horns. The idea is however precisely the same in both—
on the ten Mosaical commandments were grafted the
seven Catholic sacraments; but being corrupted, they all
became members of that great beast called Antichrist,
who is ridden by the woman, whose deeds we have already
recorded.
As they continue on their way, Minerva and her follower
come to a large stone gateway, on which are written these
words:
“In this great plain dwells Satan, proud and triumphant.”
And then the author describes the Satan whom he beheld:
“When I lifted up my eyes, I saw the victorious Satan,
not as I had pictured him to myself, a monster, reigning
in gloom, but triumphant and glorious, and of so grand
and benign an aspect, that he seemed an object well
worthy of reverence and homage. He wore three crowns”
on his head, and in his hand he carried his sceptre; and
all around him were people who waited upon him and
obeyed him cheerfully. The chief of these were giantst,
who were served with pomp and splendour by ready
courtiers. Then seeing all these things, I exclaimed :
O Pallas ! who is this? I would fain bend the knee to
him, and worship him in his beauty and grandeur.”
Hearing him thus speak, the goddess desires him to take
the glass again, and look at him in his real aspect; he
obeys her, and beholds a dreadful change, particularly in
the three crowns, which to his inexperienced eye had
seemed so bright and beautiful. He describes him with
sharp claws on his hands, the tail of a scorpion, f and
* He says also that he was three miles in height, corresponding with
the three crowns, and with the triple composition, expressed by the three-
faced Lucifer of Dante. He also gives him six wings, the same number
given by Alighieri to his Lucifer.
# Alluding to those who surround the abyss of Dante's Hell. The
Cardinals were always figured as giants, and called princes of the earth.
# A copy of Dante's Geryon.
104 ON THE IMITATOR'S OF DANTE.
seated on a throne composed of ten dragons larger than
whales.”—“I saw him rise up from his throne, and cry
with a voice of defiance: In spite of thee, O God, I will
ascend above the stars of Heaven; I will lay hold of the
poles of the earth, and will snatch Heaven from thee.”
This is a plain allusion to the 14th chapter of Isaiah,
which speaks of the king of Babylon : “For thou hast
said in thine heart, I will ascend into heaven ; I will exalt
my throne above the stars of God; I will sit also upon the
mount of the congregation, in the sides of the north. I
will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like
the Most High,” &c. Can we help then recognizing in
these verses the Lucifer of Dante, surrounded by giants
in the depth of the abyss 2 Can we fail to understand
now, why the great statue, which is a figure of the Baby-
lonish kingdom, which Rome looks at as into a mirror,
sends the nations (waters) which it produces to that
figurative Rome, which is the final haven for those waters
or people 2 This author says, in plain terms, what that
statue figures, and places it in the plain where stands the
temple of Satan. “ In that great plain I saw the statue
which Nebuchadnezzar beheld, a figure of every worldly
kingdom.”
But to understand all his hidden meanings, we must
copy the greatest part of the seventy-two cantos of his
poem (this number probably relates to Daniel's seventy-
two weeks), since every page teems with mystery. In
several places he entreats his readers not to stop at the
outward bark. “As the devout mind knows how to
interpret the wheel of Ezekiel, and the seething-pot of
Jeremiah, so here one thing is placed before thine eyes,
and thy mind must understand that, in its true sense, it has
* The ten dragons on which Satan sits, correspond with the ten heads
of the dragon which carries the goddess of Hell, Proserpine. And in
imitation of Dante, Satan and Proserpine, although of different sexes,
are the same.
ON THE IMITATOR'S OF DANTE. 105
a different signification. And as I cannot repeat openly
what I saw, here my muse ceases her hidden lay.”
How can it be that these things, which seem so evident
and which are so very clear to our comprehension, both
in this author and in Dante, besides numberless others,
have never before been taken in their right sense ? We
shall show the reason, when we treat of the various means
by them employed to deceive those who were unversed in
their conventional language. The following may be cited
as one of those means. This writer, after introducing
Satan with his three crowns, his retinue, and all his em-
blems, adds, that he saw bands of demons preparing nets
and snares of every kind, to entrap the unwary. The
initiated read in plain characters, on the foreheads of these
demons, The Father Inquisitors ; and the very simplest
of his readers would have suspected his meaning, had not
their attention been drawn off by a false declaration. He
asks Minerva, how he shall avoid their snares, and she
tells him that, by keeping exactly in the middle, and
swerving neither to the right nor the left (which describes
the double language, which sustains equally one meaning
or the other), he will be quite safe; but that, as much
prudence and art is necessary, she has determined to put
a curb in his mouth. This is no sooner done, than he is
allowed to roam where he pleases, amidst the snares and
traps. He sees many caught in them, and, among the
rest, Gualterotto, the Pisan, who informs him that those
hooks, snares, and nets, are all figures of the bad laws,
and the frauds of the lawyers, of whom he here speaks
for the first time. Very soon after this, he says, that the
goddess Minerva drew the curb out of his mouth, so that,
in point of fact, he only wore it while the means used by
the devils to entrap the unguarded, were declared by him
to signify bad laws and intrigues of lawyers; and, as soon
as the inquisitors were transformed into jurisconsults, it
was taken away, because Minerva's twofold object was
attained. He had been restrained from declaring the true
F 5
106 ON THE IMITATOR'S OF DANTE.
allegory, and he had deceived others by a false interpreta-
tion; and this he does constantly, but without at all
leading the learned reader astray by his artifice, because
it was understood to be a rule laid down by the school to
which he belonged.
Happy were those who availed themselves of this talis-
man of Minerva Palingenius disdained it; and the Pope,
not content with persecuting him so long as he lived,
exercised his vengeance on his dead body; while he, who
used it so skilfully, was raised to high ecclesiastical dig-
nities. And we find that the finest edition of his poem
(Foligno, 1725) is dedicated to a pope; and to a pope
was dedicated a splendid edition of Dante; and to ano-
ther, a copy of Barberini's “Documenti D'Amore,” &c.
Thus, by a discreet use of this talisman, whose virtues
we shall more minutely describe hereafter, these writers
were enabled to dedicate the satire to its object, and to
present before his Holiness, in homage, the very work
which declared him to be Satan in person 1
And who is the author of the poem we have just exa-
mined ? A reverend Dominican, and very likely a father
inquisitor also, Federico Frezzi, who was created Bishop of
Foligno, his native country, by Boniface the Ninth ; and
he wrote this work, which he called the Quadriregio, or
Decorso della Vita, very soon after the death of Petrarch
and Boccaccio. For the present, we have contented our-
selves with quoting from those parts wherein he treats of
the infernal regions; since the others, which describe a
heaven on earth, will be better understood when our exa-
minations have been more extended.
And, although we have many other similar works
in store, which, perhaps, are even more confirmatory
than these, of our particular theory, for the present we
employ them not; reserving to ourselves the option of
producing them, should necessity require their aid, in
order to throw any additional light on the subjects we
are now about to investigate.
107
CHAPTER VIII.
oN THE GRAND EPISODICAL SCENE of DANTE's INFERNo.
HAVING proved that the Inferno of Dante relates to the
miserable state of Italy, at the period in which it was writ-
ten, we come to the natural conclusion, that the partial and
highly coloured scenes with which the poem is interspersed,
must relate also to the affairs of that same period. The
discovery of the writer's design in pourtraying those
scenes, will much facilitate the task of explaining their
meaning, on which we now enter, with an earnest desire to
convince.
Dante's mystic pilgrimage was begun on Holy Thurs-
day, in the year 1300, and completed in a few days, con-
sequently, those whom he saw among the dead, must all
have lived before that period. But as he continued the
action of his poem throughout many subsequent years,
he felt the absolute necessity of resorting to some means,
by which he might be enabled to dwell on those political
events, which followed the year 1300, in all of which his
own interests were bound up, and which in point of fact,
brought in their train the exciting causes to which we are
indebted for the composition of the work. He panted to
revenge himself on him who had made Italy a hell, and
himself desolate; and he desired, at the same time, to give
honour to him who would have made that country an
earthly paradise, and all her good men happy; he ap-
pealed to the Muses, and they offered him the means of
satisfying his twofold desire.
108 GRAND EPISODICAL SCENE
But how was it possible to speak of such things, and
so boldly too, without incurring certain ruin 2 And how
could he mention facts which happened after the year
1300, when his journey was confined to a few days in that
very year ! The Muses, exerting all their ingenuity for
him, saved him from danger and anachronism, by inspiring
him with the gifts of prophecy and allegory.
All that could be said safely, is foretold to him by the
spirits whom he meets on his journey : and for this pur-
pose, he introduces Ciacco, Farinata, Brunetto Latini, his
ancestor Cacciaguida, and many others, whom he endows
with the power of prophesying either mysteriously or
openly, what was to happen after the year 1300; and what
it would have been dangerous to express, he describes by
allegorical figures, making the personages who were then
living, and playing their parts on the stage of politics,
either imaginary beings, or characters of remote times.
Being made aware of this ingenious artifice, we shall,
with the aid of history, understand a great part of that
which has been hitherto unintelligible, and when we see
how he contrived to change the future into the present,
explaining by the mystic scene of a vision which appeared
to him in 1300, the political events which happened after
that time, the meaning of his most abstruse mysteries
will not fail to come upon our minds plainly and satisfac-
torily.
Observe then, that the events which occurred before
the year 1300, to persons already deceased (as Francesca
di Rimini, the Count Ugolino, Guido da Montefeltro,
Adamo, Bocca degli Abbati, &c. &c.), are related to him
by their spirits, when he meets them on his journey among
the dead; and all that happened after that year is either
prophesied by spirits endowed with that power, or else
represented in allegorical scenes, which are designed and
coloured with a masterly hand. One of these scenes we
now proceed to interpret, selecting that particular one
which refers to the most remarkable period of the poet's
OF DANTE's INFERNO. 109
unhappy life, and the steps of criticism shall be preceded
by the torch of history.
Dante, be it remembered, was banished for life, through
the secret management of Rome, the iniquitous interven-
tion of France, and the injustice of Florence herself.
Boniface VIII. sent Charles of Valois to that republic as
a pretended mediator between the Bianchi and the Neri,
who then divided it; but that prince had no sooner
entered the city, than, instructed by the Pope, and
assisted by partisans within, he proscribed 600 of the
white, or antipapal party, and left the government entirely
in the hands of the blacks, or papalists. This is an histo-
rical fact which needs no comment.
Let us bear in mind, that Guelphic Rome is always
figured by a wolf, the arms of Rome, in remembrance of
the she-wolf, whom the ancients feigned to have been the
nurse of Romulus and Remus; and that the princes of
France are figured by a lion.
At the opening of the poem we read that Dante found
himself in a dark wood, surrounded by a valley. He made
many attempts to ascend a sunny hill, but found himself
constantly opposed by three wild beasts. The first was a
panther, “covered with a speckled skin,” who, with light
and swift motions, hovered about him, and not only im-
peded his ascent, but drove him back again into the
valley several times. The gay coloured skin of this beast,
however, inspired him with some cause for hope; when,
suddenly, a lion, with erected mane, and a ravenous she-
wolf, who “many a land hath made disconsolate ere now,”
made their appearance together. The wolf alarmed him
more than either the lion or the panther, and made him
give up all hope of ever mounting the hill. She ceased
not to persecute him until she had succeeded in chasing
him down into the dark valley, where he met Virgil, who
offered him his protection. The bard of the Roman empire
discoursed to the pilgrim on the malignant nature of the
infernal beast, and invited him to follow his guidance, and
see with his own eyes the kingdom whence she had come.
1 10 GRAND EPISODICAL SCENE
In these three animals are described the three Guelphic
states, then confederated against the Ghibellines: avari-
cious Rome, proud France, and envious Florence (wolf,
lion, and panther). Our present examination will be
confined entirely to the last city.
The panther was an animal covered with white and
black spots; and, in 1300, Florence was filled with the
white and black parties. Black is the colour for mourn-
ing, and white for gaiety; and Dante, who was a white,
says, that he saw cause for hope in the animal's gay skin.
Envy was the vice which characterised Florence, accord-
ing to the testimony of all her historians; it is the vice, as
Erasmus declared, which is peculiar to republics; and
Dante himself calls it “a city heaped with envy to the
brim.” (Inf. 6.) The panther, then, who obstructed
him in his efforts to reach the top of the hill, is an emblem
of the envy of his fellow-citizens, which never ceased to
pursue him, while exercising the first offices in the state,
until his ruin was effected.
France and Rome, at that time, possessed great influ-
ence in the Florentine councils, and hence pride, avarice,
and envy, sister vices, became almost indigenous to the
land, rendering the distracted republic a scene of discord
and misery, which Dante has vividly described in Canto 6,
of the Purgatory. Even the Guelphic writers lamented
this state of things: “The misfortunes and dangers of our
city have been brought on by many sins, by the pride,
envy, and avarice of our citizens.”—(G. Villani. B. 8.
c. 68.) In the 15th of the Inferno, Brunetto Latini
(Dante's master) calls the Florentines a covetous, envi-
ous, and proud people. And in the 6th, when Dante
meets Ciacco among the gluttons, he asks him the cause
of the dissensions which rent the city, and the answer is:
“A varice, envy, pride,
Three fatal sparks, have set the hearts of all
On fire.”
Boccaccio, too, in his “Commedia delle Ninfe Fioren-
of DANTE's INFERNo. 1 i I
tine,” where he speaks of Florence, says: “Whereas
Tisiphone, sowing discords within her, has many a time
prevented her happiness, we shall now see whether
burning envy, grasping avarice, and intolerable pride,
which all reign in her at present, do not more effectually
impede it.” Thus was it in Dante's time ! Those three
sparks had increased to a conflagration, and Florence had
become really a city of fire: hence Boccaccio not only
placed Tisiphone there, and with her the sister Furies, but
Vulcan also, with his fearful flames. And so, in after
times, Machiavelli peopled the same city with demons,
who confessed that for their pride they were banished
from heaven.—“We were once blessed spirits; but, for
our pride, we were banished from the highest heaven. In
this city we have taken up our abode; for we find here
more tribulation and confusion than in hell.” “
Thus was Florence oppressed, while the poet, who is
now her pride and boast, was sent forth a solitary exile.
Wherever he turned his footsteps, he beheld proofs of the
desolation caused by the power of that man who was
believed to be Satan himself; and who, from political
ambition, opposed that salutary union which would have
turned hell into paradise. Boccaccio, who declares that
Dante, in his allegorical pilgrimage to the infernal regions,
relates his own sad wanderings through Italy, writes, in
another place, that the poet, in the city of Dis, describes
the torments of those who, while on earth, showed no
mercy towards their neighbour, nor love towards God.'t
Now this is not the fact; for Dante placed heretics in the
city of Dis; and therefore Boccaccio, who well knew the
poem, must have had some motive for this intentional
mistake. We have no difficulty in discovering it. The
hint thrown out by him, spoke volumes to those who
remembered the decree issued by the Emperor Henry
against the Florentines, when they shut the gates of the
* Ediz. de' Classici. Milan. v. 8. p. 407.
* See the Geneal. B. 8. art. Plutus.
112 GRAND EPISODICAL SCENE
city against him and their fellow-citizens, his partisans,
without any feeling of mercy towards their neighbours, or
love towards their God. In this decree the Florentine
Guelphs, who so acted, are called proud sons and heirs of
Lucifer; obstinate children of pride; despisers of Christ's
inheritance, which is peace; devoid of charity towards
their neighbours.”
Dante was in exile when Henry of Luxemburgh assumed
the sceptre of the Roman empire; and when that monarch,
like an angel from heaven,t prepared to visit Italy, with
the intention of healing her wounds, and restoring the
banished to their homes, a bright hope dawned again in
the bosom of the unhappy wanderer. We shall hear how
he rejoiced at the news; how he wrote to the emperor
himself, and to all Italy, princes, republics, and people,
trusting that his exile in Babylon was soon to be at an
end, and that he should return in peace and joy to Jeru-
salem. We shall hear how he declared that he had been
to meet the spouse of Italy and Rome in the company of
Virgil, singing : “Already returns the virgin; the king-
dom of Saturn is returning,” as in the poem, he goes
with Virgil to meet Beatrice in the earthly paradise,
which he declares to be figured in the kingdom of Saturn.
And, finally, we shall see that he adapted the Penitential
Psalms to the circumstances of the time; and described
the building of the New Jerusalem, and the return of all
people to one supreme head.
The new Augustus was joyfully welcomed in most of
the cities of Italy, and, at first, Florence was disposed to
receive him in the like manner; but the black, or prevail-
ing party, dreading the return of the exiled whites,
formented troubles and jealousies among the citizens; and
their influence being all-powerful at that time, they suc-
ceeded in causing the gates of the city to be shut against
him, and in rousing the bishop and all his clergy to a
* See the decree in vol. 10, of the Delizie degli eruditi Toscani.
f The expression used by the contemporary historian, Dino Compagni.
OF DANTE's INFERNO. 113
vigorous resistance. It is asserted that these discords
were encouraged by the secret machinations of the Pope,
who was seconded by the French king. The arrogance
of the Florentines rose to such a pitch, that, when two
envoys from the imperial army arrived, to treat for the
recall of the exiles, they scarcely vouchsafed to listen to
their proposals, but haughtily, and at once rejecting
them, they ordered the ambassadors to be turned out of
the city. Then, in order to delay Henry's progress, and
gain time to fortify themselves, they instigated various
cities in Lombardy to rebel against him; and, among
others, Brescia, which accordingly displayed the Guelphic
arms over its gates, and prepared for an obstinate resist-
ance. Contrary to the advice of Dante, who wrote to
him, earnestly entreating him not to remain in Lombardy,
but to hasten on to Florence, the primary cause of the
evil,” the emperor lingered before Brescia, which, after a
long defence, capitulated at the last extremity, and was
punished with the loss of the offending gates. After va-
rious delays, and much valuable time wasted, he marched
into Tuscany; but his health was already impaired, and
the poison of the malaria, which infected all the marshy
places through which he had passed, was lingering in his
blood. It was at this point of time, and as soon as
Henry arrived in the environs of Florence, that Dante
went to meet him and do him homage. On this side of
the Arno stood the Castle dell’ Ancisa, whose walls were
crowned with lofty towers; and those who were stationed
within the castle kept up a communication, by means
of telegraphic signals, with others who were posted on
the walls of the city. The emperor arrived at the castle
in the night-time; and, having slain some hundreds of
his enemies, and put the rest to flight, he crossed the
river, and sat down before Florence. The rebels, who
did not expect him so soon, were so panic-struck, that
* See Dante's letter to Henry.
I 14 GRAND EPISODICAL SCENE
had he taken advantage of his success, and marched at
once to the gates, he would have found them open and
ill-guarded, and, in all probability, would have taken
the city.” But, instead of carrying it by assault, he im-
prudently laid siege to it; and then, after some time,
finding that it made an unexpected resistance, and that
his own illness was increasing, he was compelled to re-
treat with his whole army, without being able to effect
any entrance within its walls. In spite of all Dante's
remonstrances, the rebellious Florence shewed plainly
her determination to follow the guidance of the Wolf;
and the unfortunate poet, becoming convinced of this,
introduced, in the ninth canto of his Paradise, a spirit
who tells him —
“Thy city, plant
Of him, that on his Maker turn’d the back,
And of whose envying so much woe hath sprung,
Engenders and expands the cursed flower,
That hath made wander both the sheep and lambs,
Turning the shepherd to a wolf.”
This plant did, indeed, yield flowers to Satan in abund-
ance, in two senses — in florins and in Florentines ;
and, in every writer of that age, we shall find the word
fiore (or flower) employed to express both a florin and
a Florentine.f. We shall soon read the description of the
impetuous wind which carried off the black flowers from
this plant of Lucifer's; and, when we have identified
Florence devoted to the Pope, with this plant, we shall
have established another convincing proof of the real
name of the Lucifer and Satan.
We have now heard history, which is fully corrobo-
* See Gio. Will. b. 9. ch. 46.
# The florin was called fore, because there was a flower engraven
on it; and the Florentines were so called, as being the sons of Flora.
Therefore Dante called them white and black flowers : and, when the
city was filled with Papalists or Neri, he called it the plant with black
flowers, and the plant of Lucifer.
of DANTE's INFERNo. 115
rated by the testimony of a multitude of contemporary
writers; it remains for us to pass to an application of its
facts, to the events related in the poem, and see whe-
ther Dante said truly or not, that he treated allegorically
of this hell. By comparing the cantos, which we are
about to examine, with the pages of history, the rea-
der will be able to form his own judgment, and ascertain
the truth.
In the eighth canto of the Inferno, Dante, guided by
Virgil, comes to the banks of the river Styx, which sur-
rounds the city of Dis, as a moat surrounds a fortified
town. From a castle, which stands on the outward
bank, comes a signal, which is immediately answered by
a corresponding one of fire from a tower on the walls of
the city. A furious demon then rushes with the swift-
ness of an arrow towards Dante, and cries, as though he
had been expecting his arrival: “Art thou arrived, fell
spirit 7” They enter the demon's boat, and soon ap-
proach the city, which is called the city of fire, and the
red city.” As they are crossing the marsh, which is
crowded with contending spirits, one rushes forward,
crying to Dante, “Who art thou, that thus comest ere
thine hour 7"t and the poet answered him, “Cursed
spirit 1 I know thee well !” and he calls it the Florentine
spirit, who “ on himself turns his avenging fangs.”
Dante cursed this spirit, and Virgil thrust it away,
praising his follower for the noble contempt he had ex-
pressed for it.
They then draw near to the trenches which surround
this comfortless land, and find them crowned with red
towers. The gates are guarded by more than a thou-
sand devils, who, as soon as they see that Dante is alive,
cry out, “Who is this, that without death first felt, goes
through the regions of the dead 2’
* Red, the badge of Guelphism.
+ Dante arrived in Tuscany before Henry, and thence wrote him the
letter above-mentioned, entreating him to hasten there.
116 GRAND EPISODICAL SCENE
Virgil signifies his desire to speak with them in pri-
vate ; and they agree to this, provided he sends away
his companion. Dante, in relating this, exclaims—
— “ Now, bethink thee, reader
What cheer was mine ; at sound of those curs’d words,
I did believe I never should return.”
Virgil goes to confer with the demons,” leaving his
pupil in a state of suspense as to the ultimate result of
the interview. But this uncertainty is soon at an end :
after a few words have passed between them, the de-
mons refuse to hear any thing further, and all together
rush back into the city:
“Clos'd were the gates,
By those our adversaries, on the breast
Of my liege lord.”
Virgil, divided between anger and contempt, consoles
his dejected companion, telling him not to despair, for
that, in spite of all the arts used within the city, he
should finally conquer. He reminds him that their ar-
rogance has been already proved at those gates which
now stand without a bolt, and on whose arch stood forth
the writing of the dead.t. But that, to punish them,
one (Tal) is already coming, for whom the gates of this
infernal city will be thrown open.
At the beginning of canto 9, Dante, seeing how im-
patient Virgil appears for the arrival of that one (Tal or
Altri,) whom he was expecting, asks him if any one ever
descends into that gulf from the first circle. (In that
* “They assembled the grand council, according to the Florentine
custom,” says the Bishop of Butrinto, one of Henry's envoys. And
again : “They bid us return whence we came. We desired to fulfil
our mission, but they would not listen to us.”
f “ Henry, approaching Brescia, found the gates löcked, and the walls
covered with Guelphic banners.” See Corio's History of Milan.
or DANTE's INFERNo. 117
circle he had met Electra and Æneas, with their descend-
ant Caesar.) While Virgil is answering his question, the
three Furies appear, standing on a burning tower,
stained with blood, and tearing and beating themselves,
like the demons whom Dante had seen outside the city.
Virgil points out the three : on the left stood Megaera;
on the right Alecto; and Tisiphone in the midst.
In these three females, we see the three odious pas-
sions which burned within the hearts of the Florentines —
the three sparks which Vulcan fanned, until he set the
whole city on fire. The first is Megara ; this word, sig-
nifying envy, speaks for itself. Alecto, meaning with-
out peace, describes the restless nature of pride. And
Tisiphone, whom Boccaccio also placed in Florence, as
the sower of dissension there, is called by poets the
daughter of Avarice, (the characteristic vice of Rome),
and she stands between the others, because Rome was
supposed to have instigated and urged them on. She
was the real cause of the tumults which filled the city
with blood; and the word Tisiphone signifies murder.
Virgil, who knew this, after he had uttered her name,
held his peace. But let us remember, that these three
furies express not only the three hateful passions, but the
three wild beasts before described : Megara or envy,
corresponding with the panther or Florence; Alecto or
pride, with the lion or France; and Tisiphone or ava-
rice, with the wolf or Rome. This triple alliance of
furies or beasts, making Florence their haunt, drove out
about 600 of the most distinguished of the imperial or
white party. And, thus stript of its fairest ornaments,
the garden of Lucifer contained nothing but black
flowers, the most suitable tenants of its dark paths.
The three Furies with shrill voices cry out, “Hasten,
Medusa, so to adamant him shall we change;” and Virgil
recommends his pupil to close his eyes, that he may not
see the Gorgon, and to keep his courage unsubdued, in
spite of the threats of the Furies: a valuable lesson for
118 GRAND EPISODICAL SCENE
those who desire to succeed against any powerful obsta-
cle. In this place, the poet, to prepare the initiated for
the interpretation of this scene, and to warn them of its
great importance, exclaims with solemnity:
** Ye of intellect
Sound and entire, mark well the lore conceal’d
Under close texture of the mystic strain.”
And now at last comes that one (Tal) whom Virgil
had so anxiously been waiting for. A rushing, terrible
sound comes over the troubled waters,
“As if of a wind
Impetuous, from conflicting vapours sprung,
That 'gainst some forest driving all its might,
Plucks off the branches, beats them down, and hurls
Afar; while beasts and shepherds fly.”
This wind, which carries away the branches or flowers,
signifies the emperor. * The wind which smites the fo-
rest and puts the wild beasts to flight, is a clear allusion
to the dark wood, and the three allegorical beasts of the
first canto; also to the three Furies, and the three passions
which ruled in Florence; this city Dante calls a forest,
in the fourteenth canto of the Purgatory: “Mark how
he issues from the woeful wood.” What a complication
of figures . The shepherds who are dispersed by the wind,
signify the bishop and priests of Florence, who had all
taken up arms against the emperor.
Dante, who had closed his eyes, to prevent being turned
to stone by the Gorgon, opens them again at Virgil's
command, and sees all the demons of the infernal river,
over which he had been ferried to the city, flying away in
alarm ; t and, precisely at the same moment, the Furies
disappear, of whom we hear nothing more.
* Dante calls the imperial warriors winds. The first, second, and
third winds (see Paradise, canto iii.) are Frederick I., Henry, his son,
and Frederick II., his grandson.
+ “The disloyal multitude, panic-struck at the sight of the Emperor,
OF DANTE’s INFERNo. 119
“As frogs
Before their foe the serpent, through the wave
Fly swiftly all, till on the ground each one
Lies on a heap; more than a thousand spirits
Destroyed, so saw I fleeing before one,
Who passed with unwet feet the Stygian sound.”*
In the conventional jargon, the Florentines were called
frogs; thus when Boccaccio was asked in confidence, the
secret meaning of the word frog, which he used so fre-
quently in his pastorals, he answered : + “By the word
Batrachos, I explain the character of the Florentines :
Batrachos in Greek, signifies Rana in latin —Frogs are
as noisy as they are cowardly.” In the book which was
Dante's model, we find these animals described as in-
fernal spirits: “And I saw three unclean spirits like
frogs, come out of the mouth of the dragon,” &c. &c.
(Rev. chap. xvi. ver. 13.) Not to delay the course of
the present illustration, we need only here remark that,
in four different places, the poet compares the Florentines
to frogs. (See cantos 9, 22, 23, 32.)
He whose coming puts the spirits to flight, has a
sceptre in his right hand, and with his left he wipes from
his face the thick vapours of the Stygian marsh (an al-
lusion probably to the malaria which affected the em-
retreated, and hid themselves.” Thus Ferreto Vicentino speaks of the
enemies of Henry.
* “The Emperor arrived in such force at the passage, that, notwith-
standing the Florentines, he succeeded in transporting his army over the
river.” Storie Pistolesi.
+ “We are very loquacious, but in war we are worth nothing, and
therefore called Batrochos.” See Marnnis Hist. of the Decam. p. 59. In
the ninth eclogue, Batrachos (Florence) says: “A faint-hearted multi-
tude dwell in me,” &c. &c. In the last chapter of the Acerba, Cecco
d’Ascoli charges Dante with cowardice, in having written with so much
mystery, while in the same lines he boasts of his own plainness of
language. “Here we do not sing after the manner of the frogs, (the
Florentines), neither does our song resemble the poet's, who feigns to
imagine vain things. But here shines the light of nature, which gladdens
the mind of the understanding; here is no dreaming of dark woods.”
120 GRAND EPISODICAL SCENE.
peror). Dante, on his appearance, says: “I perceived
that he was sent from heaven.” And, a messenger from
heaven, was the emperor commonly called by the people,
Uberto Folietta gives him this title; Dino Compagni
calls him an angel of God, synonymous with messenger;
and Dante, in the Purgatory, styles him the messenger
of God, who is to slay the woman. The narrative pro-
ceeds;
“And to my guide
Turn’d me, who signal made, that I should stand
Quiet, and bend to him.”
And historically, he went down to do homage to Henry,
on his arrival in Tuscany, as we read in Pelli's Memoirs;
and in the poet's own letter to that emperor, where he
says: “I saw thee in thy graciousness, and heard thy
mercy, when my hands touched thy feet.”
“Ah me ! how full
Of noble anger seem’d he.” To the gate
He came, and with his wand touch'd it, whereat
Open, without impediment it flew.”
“If the Emperor had hastened to the gates, it is
thought that he would have taken the city.” Villani.-
“Henry came, and encamped close to the gates of Flo-
rence.” Aretino, Life of Dante.—“The Archbishop of
Treves gave the imperial sceptre or wand into the hands
of Count Henry of Luxemburg, who was valiant in war,
and very prudent in civil government.” Ciccarelli, Life
of Henry VII.
“Outcasts of Heaven! O abject race, and scorn’d "f
Began he, on the horrid grunsel standing,
“Whence doth this wild excess of insolencef
* “Henry was very much enraged against the Florentines.” See
Tiraboschi. Life of Dante.
# Machiavelli speaks of the demons whom he placed in Florence, that
is, of the Florentines, proud sons of Lucifer, as, “All banished from
high Heaven.”
f “These sons of pride, led on by the spirit of evil, cried out that no
man should receive our messengers.” See the emperor's decree.
of DANTE's INFERNO. I21
Lodge in you ? wherefore kick you 'gainst that will ;
Ne'er frustrate of its end.”
This said, he turn’d back o'er the filthy way,
And syllable to us spake none; but wore
The semblance of a man by other care
Beset, and keenly press'd.
Henry did not enter Florence; neither does the Mes-
senger from Heaven enter Dis. And his thoughts were
doubtless engrossed by objects widely different from those
before him, for while he was engaged in the siege, he was
seized with an attack of the disorder, which ultimately put
a period to his existence; and with him vanished all Dante's
hopes of returning to his country, except in dreams; and
a dream he declares his journey to the infernal regions to
be, from the very moment he crosses the river Acheron.
I down dropp'd, as one with sudden slumber seized. (End of canto iii.)
“I pity all who are unhappy, but most I pity those, who
languish in exile, and see their country only in their
dreams.” Wul. Elog. B. 1 1. ch. 6. In the Convito, he
says that he dreamed not really, but cunningly, and at
the commencement of his poetical dream he invokes the
aid of the muses :
O Muses! O High Genius now vouchsafe
Your aid. (Canto 2.)
The dream which more particularly concerns himself is
this :
Then we our steps
Toward that territory mov’d, secure,
After the hallow'd words. We, unoppos'd
There entered. (Canto 9.)
Henry was close to the gates of Florence, but certainly
never opened them; Dante therefore, in the impetuous
and successful attack of the messenger from Heaven on
the gates of Dis, has described that first moment, when
“the Florentines were so terrified and disheartened for
G
122 GRAND EPISODICAL SCENE
two whole days, that, if the Emperor had attacked the
gates, it is generally believed that he would have taken
the city.” (Villani.) This is the point in history from
which the poet has made a trifling deviation.
With respect to the difficulty which may arise from the
circumstance of Dante giving a description of his own
entrance into Dis, while we know that he never did return
to Florence, it appears to us so trifling, as scarcely to
deserve the notice which we here take of it, in order to
satisfy the most fastidious of our readers.
Is Dante's work a chronicle or a poem 2 Is it true, or
is it a fiction that he descended alive into the kingdom of
the dead 2 He assures us that his Hell is figurative of
this world, and we read in it a series of mystic descriptions
of the Babylonish time, and of his own affairs. Now, if
the most important event of his life corresponded pre-
cisely with the poetic scene we have just examined, can
we pronounce against this evident whole, merely because
one small part deviates from the truth 2 We might as
well say that Metastasio's Themistocles is not Themis-
tocles, because the last scene of his drama differs from
history, in making the Athenian live happy, instead of
dying by poison. Shall we grant nothing to so rare a
talent 2 Nothing to the fond hope of the poet, that
although disappointed in his cherished expectations for
the time, he might be recompensed by their fulfilment at
some future period : But putting aside these questions,
we say that the necessity of continuing his allegorical
journey, forced him to take this licence, which is after all,
perhaps the very least ever taken by a poet. He justifies
it himself in the following words, which we shall do well
to remember as a guide to other interpretations. “There
are two ways in which we may be deceived with regard
to the mystical sense; we may seek for mystery where
there is none; or we may interpret it in a totally wrong
sense. St. Augustine in his work on the city of God,
says: It must not be supposed that every thing which is
of DANTE' INFERNo. 123
related as a fact in mystic writings, really has an inward
meaning; for things which have no meaning at all, are in-
termixed with those which signify every thing. The land
is ploughed by the coulter, but the other parts of the
plough are necessary, to make the coulter act.” (De
Mon. B. 3.) Thus speaks Dante, and Boccaccio, who
was perfectly versed in all arguments relating to the lan-
guage of the school, says in a similar case: “That was
put to ornament the fiction rather than for any reason;
for, (as St. Augustine says in his city of God,) it must
not be supposed that every thing mentioned as a fact, has
a particular meaning. What has no meaning at all, is
blended with the other parts. The chords of the lyre pro-
duce the sounds, but they require a frame to support
them. Thus says Augustine.” These words shew the
reasons which induced them to support the principal
fiction with these additional images.
Let us forgive Dante then, for fancying that the event
which he sighed for above every thing, did actually occur.
When Monti published his Aristodemus, the critics
found fault with him, because he made the daughter
remain on the stage, while she suspected that her father
had left her in order to destroy himself. Monti replied
very courteously, that the critics were right, but that he
was not to blame for all that ; because, had she followed
her father, he would not have been able to kill himself,
neither would he have been able to finish his tragedy,
which he desired to do. And the same may we say of
Dante. If he had not poetically entered Dis, because
historically he did not enter Florence, his allegorical
journey would have been at an end, and we should have
had only nine cantos of his poem instead of a hundred; and
moreover, should have lost many of those scenes full of
meaning, which he covered with a veil of mystic rhyme
for the use of those who could understand.
* Geneal., B. 4, art. Giants.
G 2
| 24 GRAND EPISODICAL SCENE
But the best reason that can be assigned is his own;
viz. that he feigned or dreamed that he had returned to
his own country, while he was languishing in exile all the
while, because the whole poem is a long dream. His
imitator Fazio did the same thing, without incurring cen-
sure or reproach. The law, by which the Uberti were
banished from Florence, was in force in Fazio's time, who
lived in exile;" and yet in his allegorical journey, he says
that he entered Florence.—“We arrived at the city of
the Flower. There I saw many rich and grand sights,
but none pleased me so well as the Baptistery, with its
unequalled intaglios of marble. After remaining there
several days, we departed.” (Book 3. ch. 8.)
Poets have the privilege of personifying their thoughts,
and of transporting themselves in dreams wheresoever
those thoughts carry them. “My thought lifted me up,”
sang Petrarch, and it wafted him to the third heaven.
In thought, Dante ascended to an allegorical heaven; and
in thought he entered the allegorical Dis.
Having now established the identity of Dis with Flo-
rence, let us enter the infernal city, and see what it con-
tains. Guido Cavalcanti, a celebrated Ghibelline, to
express that the Florentines were allegorically dead,
described their houses to be tombs, and Petrarch did the
same;+ Dante finds the city of Dis full of tombs, and the
tombs full of dead: the first two who look out from one of
them are two Florentines; and of two others, who are
mentioned as being within, f the one was a Florentine,
and the other, by a whimsical interpretation, was said to
have died in Florence. These are the only four persons
named.
Florence was divided between the Guelphs and the
* Words of the annotator of the Dittamondo in the last Milan edit.
* See Nov. 9; day 6th of the Decam. ; and see in Petrarch Rerum
Memor. B. 11. art. Dinus Florentinus.
# The Card. degli Ubaldini and Frederic II.
§ See Gio. Villani, on the death of Frederic II.
of DANTE's INFERNO. 125
Ghibellines; and the two Florentines who converse with
Dante from the tomb are, one a Guelph, the other a
Ghibelline. The poet, to shew the superiority of his own
party over their adversaries, describes the Guelph as
kneeling at the feet of the Ghibelline; the one weeping
in fear, the other proud and lofty; the first falling back-
wards again into his tomb, and the last setting hell at
defiance. But let us enquire why they are placed in Dis
as heretics.
Dante describes the furies in that city as being stained
with blood; he saw them tearing their flesh with their
mails, and beating themselves, uttering, at the same time,
loud cries. This is, to express the family dissensions,
the intestine miseries, the civil wars, the dreadful tumults
excited by the furies of his native city. And hence Tisi-
phone, the daughter of avarice, and meaning murder,
was placed by Boccaccio in Florence, and by Dante in
Dis, as the centre and instigator of the other furies, who
are called in Italian Erine, from the Greek eris, strife or
contention ; and the question is, whether Dante did not
derive the words eresia (heresy) and eresiarchi (heretics)
from the same root. Are not these seeming heretics, in
point of fact, real disputants, who, moved by the Flo-
rentine spirit, tore each other to pieces like wild beasts,
and of whom Dante offered a figure, in the demons who
were in the marsh which surrounds the city ? Allegori-
cally, they destroyed their own souls, by becoming pa-
palists; literally, they destroyed their own bodies by
constant warfares; and, therefore, these heretics or com-
batants “with the body make the spirit die;” this is the
only crime charged upon them.
But Dante put some of his own party into hell, and
made them, illustrious as they were, servants of Satan;
and why not ? He was himself an irreconcileable foe to
the Pope and his party; and yet he was in hell as well
as they, because this hell was Italy.
The supposed dead, as we before remarked, are merely
126 GRAND EPISODICAL SCENE
the shadows of living persons; and both Guelphs and
Ghibellines were equally under the dominion of Satan.
How great was the number of those who were forced to
live under his authority, while they detested him, as the
cause of all their misfortunes and anarchy | They trem-
bled, but could not escape; they abhorred that hell, but
could not quit it; and for an instance, let us take the
Ghibelline, whom Dante describes in Dis, who,
& &
His breast and forehead there
Erecting, seem'd as in high scorn he held
E’en hell. (Inf. 10.)”
Even before he sees Dante, he discovers, by his lan-
guage, that he is living ; and exclaims from his tomb—
“O Tuscan thou, who through the city of fire
Alive art passing, so discreet of speech,”
Here, please thee, stay awhile. Thy utterance
Declares the place of thy nativity.”
They then converse together in this language, the Ghi-
belline calling Lucifer “ queen of this realm,” in the
signification of Luna, or Hecate ; and Dante, in return,
informing him that his friend Guido is still “to the living
joined;” an expression which would have been devoid of
all meaning in the literal sense of the word, but which
conveyed important information in this jargon, in which
the living signified the Ghibellines. But those who can-
not be persuaded that Dante's hell is figurative of the
then wretched state of Italy, under the influence of the
popes, will always find a difficulty in reconciling to their
own minds the idea that the condemned in that hell are
not really so; but that, on the contrary, there are many
there who were, in the mystic sense of the word, quite
the reverse. Let us dwell a little on this point.
Three cantos prior to his arrival in Dis, Dante meets
the Florentine Ciacco (canto 6.) and puts three questions
* Discreet or veiled; terms applied to the sectarian jargon.
of DANTE's INFERNo. 127
to him, concerning their country. The real object of
these questions has never yet been discovered; but it
will become evident, when we see that the replies made
to them exactly describe what Dante afterwards found,
when he entered the infernal city. And this was the
means by which the poet informed those who understood
the conventional language, that the same city which in
canto 6. is called Florence, in canto 9. is described as
Dis.
Dante's first question was : What will become of the
citizens of this divided city ? The second was : What
has caused the dissensions which now rend her ? The
first answer, which declares that the one party will be
crushed, and the other uplifted, by his power (Tal) who
was coming, we shall not discuss here, because it requires
a full development. The second relates to the three
furies, whose nature we have already analyzed. In
canto 6. they are Pride, Envy, and Avarice, in Florence.
In canto 9. they become Alecto, Megaera, and Tisiphone,
in Dis. The third question and answer are as follows:
“Are there any just ones in Florence 7"—“The just are
two in number.” And how many Florentine Ghibellines
does the poet find in Dis 7 two only : Farinata degli
Uberti, and the Cardinal degli Ubaldini. Canto 6. says,
that they were just men in Florence. Canto 9. calls
them condemned heretics in Dis. Both lived in the time
of Frederic II, and espoused his cause, and Frederic is
there in the city with them. The poet placed all three
in that figurative hell, where the Pope is Satan, the
prince; because in reality they were there, and felt the
weight of their oppressor's yoke, while dwelling among
their enemies, the dead or condemned. Their ultimate
fate was equally unfortunate: Farinata died in exile;
the Cardinal was always distrusted by the popes; and
Frederic II. closed a life of troubles and disappointments,
by an unhappy death. But Dante, determined that his
readers should not imagine for a moment that he consi-
128 GRAND EPISODICAL SCENE
dered Farinata or his companions deserving of the pains
of the real hell, asks Ciacco : “Of Farinata and Teg-
ghiajo say, they who so well deserved, Jacopo Rusticucci,
and the others who worked for good, tell me where they
are: for I desire anxiously to know whether they are
blessed in heaven, or miserable in hell.” The answer
gives us to understand, that, although they abhorred the
yoke of Satan, the prince, they were forced to live among
the blackest souls of his worshippers, their misery aggra-
vated by the horrid crimes of the tyrant who kept them
there humbled and depressed.
We shall now conclude this chapter, after showing one
more example of the ingenious deceptions with which he
deceived his enemies, and vented his hatred against them.
Having seen Dis, he descended to the next circle,
which is immediately under that infernal city; and there
he met two of those countrymen whom he calls so worthy
and so intent on well-doing (Tegghiajo and Rusticucci)
and with them another spirit. Virgil commanded him to
honour them, which he did accordingly. They then
asked him in what state he had left Florence—“ If
courtesy and valour, as they wont, dwell in our city, or
have vanished clean :” (canto 16.) * And he (mark,
reader 1) lifting up his face, cried aloud—
“An upstart multitude and sudden gains,
Pride and excess, O Florence 1 have in thee
Engender'd, so that now in tears thou mourn'st |"
The three spirits, seeing him look upward, while he
uttered this apostrophe, understood his answer fully, and
gazed at each other; and then turning to him, they said—
“If at so little cost (that is, nothing but gazing up-
ward, and calling Dis, Florence) thou satisfy others who
question thee, O happy thou, gifted with words so apt to
speak thy thought.”
* Courtesy and valour signify, in the conventional language, the po-
litical and religious object of the sect.
of DANtE’s INFERNO. 129
The last line was interpreted by some to be a compli-
ment paid by Dante to his own eloquence, and lofty
manner of expressing his ideas; but now we see that the
compliment was not written for himself, but for Florence
— and what a compliment!
Whatever trouble it may have already cost us to reveal
the inward and real meaning of this secret language, we
are very sensible that our task is not half accomplished.
But, before we proceed to more important illustrations,
we purpose offering a few reflexions on the language it-
self, which we are endeavouring to interpret.
130
CHAPTER IX.
PRELIMINARY REFLECTIONS ON THE LANGUAGE OF THE
SECRET SCHOOLS.
ONE of the means by which Dante succeeded in deceiv-
ing the world into the belief that his poem was literal
was, by the fidelity and truth with which he touched on
the events therein commemorated. For instance, when
we read his vivid descriptions of the rivers of hell, of the
various demons, as Charon, Minos, Cerberus and the Mi-
notaur, &c., and of the many condemned of antiquity,
as Semiramis, Capaneus, Mahomet, Simon Magus, and
Nimrod, the builder of the Tower of Babel, we can
hardly divest ourselves of the persuasion that he must
be speaking seriously and literally of the hell of another
world; and so he is, literally, as he explains in his own
letter on the poem, but that literal version encloses an
allegory, as the same letter goes on to declare. And if
we think attentively of the devices practised by him and
his contemporaries, to vent their hatred against their com-
mon oppressor, we shall perceive that the rivers, and the
demons, and the damned all convey some allusion to the
things and persons then living, in that Babylonish Time,
when Lucifer's kingdom was on earth. Did not Petrarch,
in fancy, behold all the rivers of Hell surrounding the
Papal Court’ and let us pause for a moment at this au-
thor's name, and see how exactly his opinions coincided
with those of Alighieri.
f*RELIMINARY REFLECTIONS, 13]
In the philosophical work entitled, “De Remediis
utriusque Fortunae,” we find him declaring that a wicked
prince is really and truly a demon, and that all those
who administer to his iniquities are demons as wicked as
himself; and, in three letters in which he speaks of the
Babylonish Hell and its devils, we read such sentences as
the following: “Some are of opinion, that men become
demons, whenever they are so constantly in the habit of
sinning, that they take a delight in the commission of
crimes; and certainly, those who are not only wicked,
but obstinate in their wickedness, are in all respects as
bad as demons.” “Babylon the great is fallen, and is
become the habitation of devils. (Rev.) And truly, thou
art became so, O Babylon for in what respect is a lost
and wicked sinner better than a devil 7 Thou art become
a receptacle, and a kingdom of devils, who reign in thee
under a human form.” “All that was ever said of the
Egyptian or the Assyrian Babylon, or of Avernus, or of
Tartarus, or of the sulphureous marshes, compared to this
Tartarus, is a mere fable. Here dwells the fearful Nim-
rod, the builder of the towers of this new Babylon, and
the infamous Semiramis, and the devouring Cerberus,
finally, all that is confused, dark and dreadful, is here
collected and brought together. This is not a city, it is
a haunt of wild spirits and goblins, a very sink of wicked-
ness and impurity, - the hell of the living.” Epis. 7
Slne tit.
In another letter, he describes the place of his abode to
be “A scene of fraud, - a den of infamy, - a kingdom
of devils, the principality of Lucifer, as the prince of this
world, was called by the Eternal Word ; * Alive with de-
mons, but though living dead : + the hell of the living.”:
* These words, applied to Satan by our Blessed Lord, were generally
supposed to signify the Pope, who was in possession of so vast power
over the Christain world.
+ Life and Death signify the state of Antipopery and Popery.
f Can any thing be stronger than these expressions? A Catholic
132 PRELIMINARY REFLECTIONS ON THE
Here we see in Petrarch's Infernal Kingdom, Lucifer the
prince, surrounded by the very same court of devils who
people Dante's Hell, where the Pope is Satan the prince.
And in the canzone, “O Patria degna,” of Alighieri, we
read that the Mahomet, and Capaneus, and Simon Magus,
who were in hell, were to be seen also in papal Florence.
Again, if we turn to his letter to the Emperor, we shall
see that the Myrrha of his hell figures the connexion exist-
ing between Florence and the Holy Father. “How :
dost thou not know Florence? She is the wretched and
infamous Myrrha I’”
We have before mentioned, that these writers were in
the habit of confusing the reader, by separating the events
which depend on each other; so that it requires the
greatest attention and tenacity of memory, to unite them
together again. For instance, it is in the letter explana-
tory of the poem, that Dante says that he treats allegori-
cally of this hell, where man is a traveller. The Convito
declares, the wicked to be dead men, and the Purgatory,
(can. 16.) shews that Rome, by her bad example, had
made the Time wicked. Canto 14 of the Inferno, describes
this wicked Time, which looks into Rome, as into a mirror,
and pours its waters round Satan. In Canto 31, we see
the builder of the tower of Babel on the wall of the Abyss,
author writes that Petrarch has said a mere nothing. “Some writers
charge him with having excited the innovators, to humble and destroy
the Pontifical authority, by his letters and pastorals, and his three
famous Sonnets, which half mysteriously, and half openly, publish and ag-
gravate the vices of Rome; but it only requires to turn to what I
have related of Avignon, to see how weak were his accusations, and how
wnjust those made against him ; and Petrarch may well be pardoned, if,
moved by holy zeal and love for his fellow-creatures, he spared not the
lash of censure, when speaking of the purple assembly.” Baldelli, Life
of Petr. p. 151. A recent French work, “ Musée des Protestans célè-
bres, &c. Paris, 1822,” places Dante and Petrarch at the head of the first
reformers; and the before-mentioned antipapal work, “Advice given to
Italy, 1586,” gives them the same rank, and with justice raises Boccaccio
to a level with them.
LANGUAGE OF THE SECRET SCHOOLS. 133
where Satan is. In canto 7, the demon of avarice cries :
The Pope is Satan the Prince. And in two others, the
29th and 30th, he fixes the dimensions of the trench,
and of the wall of the Abyss, where Satan reigns, and
makes them agree exactly with the trench and walls
of Rome, the Pope's seat. And all these rays dis-
persed about, with many others which may have escaped
our observation, must be brought to meet in one central
point |
Again, we must not forget that, in this language, words
are used in a sense quite at variance with their literal
acceptation ; for instance : in the Inferno, without the
assistance of the conventional vocabulary, how could we
know that Lucifer, the demons, the damned, and the dead,
signify beings very different from those to whom men
generally apply these words, and that the poem, which
appears founded on the Catholic or Papal faith, is in
point of fact a violent satire upon it ! But when once
we are in possession of the key which unlocks this jargon,
we are at no loss to understand what Dante means, by
saying that he descended alive into the kingdom of the
dead, to see that Rome where “the Pope is Satan.”
The writers of this school did not forget the old trick
which was practised by the oracles, viz.: Amphibology;
and Matthew Paris cites one instance which happened
in his time, during the pontificate of Gregory the Ninth.
He relates that in the year 1240, an Englishman of very
moral and religious habits, was observed to avoid with
great care, entering the churches, which naturally attract-
ed the notice of many persons. He was soon apprehended,
and taken before the Pope's legate at Cambridge, where,
being questioned as to his reasons for this conduct, he
said boldly: “Gregory is not the Pope, nor the head of
the church, but another is the head of the church,” the
* Hereafter we shall shew that the secret church had a head of its own.
Ivan of Narbonne found in the association of the Italian Patarini, esta-
blished churches and bishops.
134 PRELIMINARY REFLECTIONS -6N THE
Devil as unloosed, the heretical Pope.” If a viz.: be put
between the two last named objects, we shall see that they
signify one and the same person, “The Devil is unloosed,
that is, the heretical Pope.” The idea of this, was to
shew the unloosing of Satan, and his manifestation in the
person of the Pope, the prevailing belief of the time. But
the sentence as it stands in the original, would be read at
first sight, “The Devil is unloosed, the Pope is a heretic,”
which would not convey the real meaning of the speaker.
This is the art which Dante made available on so many
occasions. In the Paradise, he puts the following severe
reproaches against the Pope into the mouth of St.
Peter :
“My place
He who usurps on earth, (my place, aye, mine,
Which in the presence of the Son of God
Is void) the same hath made my cemetery
A common sewer of puddle and of blood :
The more below his triumph, who from hence,
Malignant fell.” (canto 27.)
Is there any connexion here between the Pope and
Lucifer ? Do they not appear quite distinct from each
other ? Certainly; and Dante's fear made this apparent
independence; but his hatred made him connect the he
of the second line with the his of the sixth, and thus he
meant to say: The wicked usurper of my place, who fell
from on high, is appeased (or triumphs) below. If we
omit the last clause (who from hence, &c.) the meaning
will be still more clear, because let us reflect that, ac-
cording to the Romish doctrine, how could Lucifer be
appeased with the blood of heretics, who taught his doc-
trines 2 The sense is too obvious to admit of a doubt:
The Pope was the usurper whom that blood appeased,
which he caused to flow in torrents, in order to save his
own tottering power. -
The instances are innumerable, in which Dante made
LANGUAGE OF THE SECRET SCHOOLS. 135
his words bear a double meaning, to suit either friends
or foes. When he wrote: “Lo capo reo, lo mondo torce
dal dritto cammino,” he left the explanation of the phrase
arbitrary, the nominative and objective being both be-
fore the verb. The Guelphs read it : lo mondo torce lo
capo reo: taking capo in the physical sense of head ; the
Ghibellines on the other hand construed it: Lo capo reo
(the wicked prince, “The prince of this world,”) torce lo
mondo. And thus the writer expressed his feelings in se-
curity. What, in our days, would be considered a vice
in composition, was by him sought for and employed on
all occasions; and he was so constant to this art, that
even on his death-bed he did not forget it, as his own
solemn confession will prove.
So far did he carry this, that sometimes when his abuse
of the Pope is more severe than usual, he would almost
persuade an ordinary reader, that he was his warm par-
tizan and adherent. For instance : In canto 2. of the
Inferno, he refuses to follow Virgil any farther, asserting
that Rome and its Empire were created and prepared by
God, for the purpose of serving as the established seat of
the Highest Peter; who is above all authority, even that
of the Emperor; and that the victory of Eneas in La-
tium was gained to secure the establishment of the papal
mantle. Now, how could he reconcile these opinions
with his life and writings 2 In this manner: The sun,
the emblem of Reason sinks. “Now was the day de-
parting,” and then he holds that discourse; to signify
that such opinions could only be entertained in the ab-
sence of reason. He concludes his speech thus:
Se’ savio, e intendi me, ch'io non ragiono :
Here the me has a double meaning; it is the abbrevia-
tion of meglio, and the accusative of io; in the first sense
it was intended for the Guelphs. “Thou art wise, and
canst understand better than I can speak;” in the second,
it was meant for the Ghibellines, “Thou art wise, and
136 PRELIMINARY REFLECTIONS ON THE
canst understand that I do not reason rightly.” On
such minutiae sometimes depends the sense of a whole
passage; and often too, while the literal subject is treat-
ed of at large, the allegorical or real one is contracted
and veiled.
We find this acknowledged in Dante's letter to Can
Grande: “The subject of the work taken literally is,
The state of souls after death, not contracted, but openly
expressed ; but the allegorical subject is man, who de-
serving, according to the actions of his free-will, either
reward or punishment, is judged by them; and this is the
subject which is contracted,” &c. &c. The words as man,
fully explain his meaning, inasmuch as they tell us that
the poem treats of this world, and not of the other; of
man, and not of the spirit of man, by him very clearly
distinguished from each other; therefore : “Now not
man; man once I was,” says his guide Virgil. The re-
sult of this argument shews that, as the poet treats of this
world, the allegorical Lucifer and his opposite are men
and not spirits.
Another mode of deceiving the many was, by giving a
false interpretation of preceding passages. The fol-
lowing is an instance : — Piero delle Vigne was the
chancellor and chief counsellor of the Emperor Fre-
deric II. during his long warfare with the Pope. Some
historians assert that he afterwards suffered himself to
be bribed by the enemy, and became a traitor to his
master; while others declare, that some of the courtiers
who were in the pay of Rome, insinuated this base sus-
picion into the emperor's mind, at the instigation of the
Papal court, and for the purpose of ruining the faithful
minister. Dante introduces his spirit, who says to him :
“I swear that I never broke faith to my honoured mas-
ter. That woman, whose eyes were never turned away
from his cabinet — she, who is death, and the vice of
courts, kindled men's hearts against me, and they per-
LANGUAGE OF THE SECRET SCHOOLs. 137
suaded Augustus to treat me with anger which I, just as
I was, deserved not.” There is no doubt who this woman
was, that ruined the innocent Chancellor; but further
on, Dante speaks of Envy, and with so much ingenuity,
that he would induce any one to believe that it was one
and the same person as the woman, and between the two
the Pope was never thought of. (See Inf. c. 13.) No
annotator has given any satisfactory reason why Envy,
which has nothing seducing about it, should be identified
with the woman ; and yet, without one valid argument
to support their theory, they have all done so.
The false declaration, by which the reader's attention
is allured away from the truth, has been already men-
tioned as one of the deceptions of these writers. Bishop
Frezzi employed it in his Quadriregio, when he trans-
formed the hooks, snares and nets, of Satan's ministers,
into the fraudulent practices of the lawyers. But, in
spite of all these directing hints, until long use has made
the reader familiar with this style of writing, the outward
meaning will draw his mind away from the hidden alle-
gory ; appearances will make him forget realities.
The number of the artifices resorted to by these au-
thors, prove most forcibly the calamities of the time, and
the extent of the fears which so fettered their pens.
Their great object was to render the truth as obscure as
possible; and, as Boccaccio expressed it, “Not to lay
bare the things which are covered with a veil, but, on the
contrary, to conceal them with all possible care from
the gaze of the vulgar.” “None but the ignorant will
say that poets write simple fables, which contain nothing
beyond the outward meaning.” And then he brings for-
ward the instance of Dante's poem, and Petrarch's
eclogues and his own, whose meaning he was aware of,
but judged it prudent to conceal. And wherefore ?—
Because those famed logicians, the Reverend Father In-
quisitors, used arguments warm, fiery and irresistible,
wherewith to persuade men; and Dante, who was equally
138 PRELIMINARY REFLECTIONS ON THE
convinced of their power and efficacy, endeavoured to
invest himself with the armour of skill, and succeeded in
making it impervious.
As we have shewn some of the means employed to
mislead the general reader, so we shall endeavour to ex-
plain a few of those which led the initiated to the truth ;
but this will be better done when we treat of the lan-
guage itself. At present, we shall only present a few
scattered examples.
One effectual means of indicating where lies the secret
essence was, by comparing the feigned object with the
true, or with something relating to it. Thus in Dante,
the infernal spirits who pass over the first of the bridges
which lead to the abyss, are compared to those who cross
the bridge of St. Angelo in Rome, and go to St. Peter's,
in the year of the Jubilee. And on the bridges them-
selves, which end in the abyss, we see the builder of the
tower of Babel, whose head is like the pine of St. Peter's
at Rome.
Boccaccio offers us similar instances. In his com-
mentary on the poem, he identifies Dis with Florence,
in the following manner. The episode of the infernal
city commences at the eighth canto, and, in his expla-
natory uotes on that canto, he raises a ridiculous and
untenable argument whether the seven preceding cantos
were not written before the poet's exile from Florence.
He brings forward facts and witnesses (but all dead
ones) to prove that such was the case; and then he him-
self throws discredit on the opinion, by citing a passage
from canto 6., where the poet speaks of his own exile
with distinct details; and from that he draws the conclu-
sion, that they could not have been written, before
Dante had the least suspicion of his approaching fate.
Nothing could be more absurd than the idea which
Boccaccio first pretended to support, and afterwards ri-
diculed. Why, then, did he advance it? — To awaken
the minds of his own sect to this fact : that the subjects
LANGUAGE OF THE SECRET SCHOOLS. 139
of the poem are Dante, exiled from Florence; and Flo-
rence, who exiled him : and, with this thread put into
their hands, they easily guided themselves through the
mazes of the labyrinth, especially at that period, when
the events, not having long happened, were still fresh in
the memories of men. Dante's life, written by Boccaccio,
is all in this conventional language, and hence it has
been considered by many in the light of a romance; but
those who are able to penetrate the subtleties of that lan-
guage, know that it is the true and secret biography of
the poet, and far superior to those others which affect to
decry it.
In order to bring forward the secret meaning, it was
a very common practice to desire the particular attention
of the reader to the thing described; such is Dante's
apostrophe to those “ of intellect sound and entire,” &c.
Whenever we meet with similar hints, we may conclude
with the greatest certainty, that there is some good rea-
son why we should thus be invited to meditate and
search. When the “fell monster” Geryon ascends from
the abyss, the poet exclaims, “By these notes, reader,
I swear to thee that I spied,” &c. follow up the sense, and
the real nature of this demon who wore the semblance of
a just man, will soon appear. Again, where he an-
nounces the coming of the three-faced Lucifer, and sees
the banners of the king of hell, he exclaims: “How
frozen and how faint I then became, ask me not,
readerſ for I write it not. Think thyself, if quick con-
ception work in thee. Mark now how great that whole
must be,” &c. The words, mark now, point out that
that whole of three elements, which we have already
analysed, was under the eyes of all who dwelt in Italy
at that period.
It was very customary also to quote for some feigned
object, in order to enlighten the mind as to the real one.
The reader refers to the passage cited, and, in what pre-
cedes and follows the quotation, he often finds revealed
140 PRELIMINARY REFLECTIONS ON THE
the secret opinion of the writer. Thus, in the beginning
of the grand allegorical scene of the earthly paradise, the
poet, desiring to warn his readers that they must read
the visions of Ezekiel and St. John, if they hope to com-
prehend his own, dares not speak openly ; but, making
a pretext of the four mystic animals and their wings, he
writes: “Read Ezekiel,” “John is with me;” and, if
we look over the pages of the prophet and the apostle,
we shall soon see how very valuable they are, in enabling
us to trace the dark plan of the Ghibelline bard. We
might adduce numberless instances of such quotations,
taking them from the letter to Can Grande. All the
authors whom he there names, and the passages to which
he refers, although seemingly mentioned with a different
view, or thrown together undesignedly, are the very ones
which, well examined, elucidate his own secret doctrines.
In one place he tells those, who think his project very
arduous, to turn to the king of Babylon's dream. In
another we are informed (as if by accident) by a line in
the margin, that Jupiter is both male and female, one
and the same God; there he writes that Ezekiel speaks
of Lucifer, while the quotation reveals that that Lucifer
was a wicked prince, who sat in the seat of God, pol-
luting his sanctuaries. There he declares that the God,
whose glory he describes in his vision, is one in simili-
tude and not in reality, citing another passage from the
same prophet : “This was the appearance of the likeness
of the glory of the Lord. And when I saw it, I fell upon
my face.” (ch. 1. v. 28.) Again, speaking of that same
God, he brings to mind the three verses in the Paradise :
“In heaven
That largeliest of his light partakes, was I,
Witness of things, which to relate again,
Surpasseth power of him who comes from thence.”
And he makes the following note on this passage, speak-
ing of himself: “He saw some things which he neither
LANGUAGE OF THE SECRET SCHOOLS. 141
can nor ought to repeat ; and take great heed when I
say, that he neither can nor ought.” He tells his pro-
tector that he cannot enter into a full exposition of the
meaning of his Paradise, on account of the distressed
state of his family affairs (meaning the ill-success of his
party); but that his hopes centre in him (the captain of
the Ghibelline league), and he trusts that he will do great
things, and enable him to proceed with that useful in-
terpretation, which the present state of affairs has broken
off. He ends by referring us to the Revelations, the key
to all his secrets, saying that, as he has found God, no-
thing more remains for investigation, since he is the
beginning and end of his poem : “At present, I cannot
enter into an explanation of its real meaning ; I am
bound down by the distressed condition of the family
affairs, so that I must omit many things which might be
useful to the republic. But I trust in your power to do
great things, and hope that, in the end, I shall be able
to enter into a full explanation ; and, since the beginning
or first object is found, which is God, nothing more is
necessary, for he is the beginning and the end, the Alpha
and Omega, as St. John says; and thus I finish in the
name of God, and blessed be his name for ever and ever.”
In the same style, he finishes the Vita Nuova : “May it
please him who is the Lord of Courtesy, that my soul
may see the glory of his lady,” that blessed Beatrice,
who happily beholds the face of him who is blessed for
ever and ever.” (“This word is taken from the courts,
and it signifies either courtesy or court customs.” Con-
vito.) The Lord of Courtesy, then, means a lord, the
head of a court; and this is the God of Dante's poems.
In the preceding chapter, we saw him figured as a mes-
senger from heaven; but this was not enough for the
frenzied admiration of his partizan ; and let us bear in
* Does this refer to the Lord of Courtesy, or to the soul of Dante?
142 THE LANGUAGE OF THE SECRET SCHOOLS.
mind this preparatory hint, until we convert it into an
irresistible demonstration.
We might enumerate many other means devised to
delude the general reader, and enlighten the sectarian.
But all tended to one sole design, viz. that of writing so
that each party might interpret according to their own
wishes; and the following chapter will shew us the an-
tiquity and frequent use of this mysterious language.
143
CHAPTER X.
ON THE LANGUAGE OF THE SECRET SCHOOLS.
THE art of speaking and writing in a language which
bears a double interpretation, is of very great antiquity.
It was in practice among the priests of Egypt; and pro-
bably it was from that country that it found its way, in
the course of time, into other lands. Its one sense was
adapted to the understanding of the common reader, the
other to the intelligence of brighter intellects; and thus
did the unlearned and the initiated look at the same thing
under entirely different points of view. The whole fabric
of mythology is based on this doctrine. Those absurd
deities, who commanded the false worship of the ignorant,
were regarded by the wise as so many emblems of the
religion of nature: tremendous and hallowed divinities
for the first; causes and effects of natural things for the
last.
It is not our intention to explain here the abstruse
mysteries of fabulous mythology; that task has, in a
great measure, been already accomplished. Our only
desire is to prove, by indisputable authorities, that the
ancient schools of philosophy practised, and transmitted
to their successors, the valuable and carefully-preserved
art which forms the subject of the present chapter.
Our first authority is Clemens Alexandrinus: “The
Aristotelians assert that some of their books are esoteric,
and some exoteric :” that is, that some have an internal,
and others an eaſternal meaning.—(Strom. B. 5, p. 681.)
144 ON THE LANGUAGE OF
Aulus Gellius repeats the same thing : “They say that
the technical books, written by the philosopher Aristotle
for the use of his disciples, are of two kinds; some he
called eacoteric, others acroatic. The first were intended
for rhetorical studies, and the faculty of arguing ; the
second for the contemplation of nature, and logical dis-
quisitions.”—(Noct. Attic. B. 20. ch. 5.) He adds, that
the Stagirite admitted all his disciples indiscriminately to
the exposition of the first; but only a few chosen ones to
the explanation of the last. Plutarch also mentions these
books, when speaking against Colotes. They appear to
have been written with so much skill, that, although read
by every one, they were understood by very few; and those
few had received the key from their master. We read
that, when Alexander, his royal pupil, expressed his
regret that such works should be allowed to fall into
every hand, the philosopher replied: “Know that they
are neither public nor private, neither published nor un-
published; seeing that they are only intelligible to those
who have been my listeners.”—(Aul. Gel.)
This style was borrowed by Aristotle from preceding
philosophers, and especially from his preceptor, Plato;
who, having seen the deplorable fate of his master,
Socrates, and conceived a distaste for hemlock, invented
a language for himself, more resembling the ways of
poetry than the dry paths of philosophy. He transformed
the nature of things, the different elements, the faculties
of the mind, &c. into beings, composed of body and soul,
whom he brought into action as gods and goddesses,
demons, men, &c. The secret meaning of his theories,
thus disguised, was understood by so few, that Apuleius
called them—“Those sublime and divine doctrines of
Plato, intelligible to very few of the most devout, and
quite obscure to the profane.”—(Apol. p. 419.)
Heraclitus, the Ephesian, a pupil of the same school,
in his work On Nature, wrote so darkly, that he acquired
the name of Scolinus, or the Obscure; and the well-
THE SECRET SCHOOLS. 145
known epigram, which speaks of him, contains these
words:—
“You must not, Heraclitus, slightly read;
The way is rugged, and the book obscure ;
But, if into his sense he does you lead,
All's plain, and, like the sun itself, most pure.”
Diog. Laert. B. 9. S. 8.
Cicero, in his work De Finibus, (B. 5. ch. 5.) says of
his time—“There are two kinds of books; one written
for the people, and called eacoteric ; and the other more
finely composed, which they explain in their commen-
taries;”—this is the esoteric. And hence he concludes
that, by this method of writing, an author may sometimes
appear to contradict himself, while the very reverse is the
CaSé.
Many works of antiquity, then, were written both with
an easternal and an internal meaning; and principally by
Plato, Aristotle, and their disciples. Now, let us recol-
lect, that, in the middle ages, the doctrines of the two
Grecian philosophers were taught in every school; and
that the works of the great teachers of the Academy and
the Lyceum, have never been, either before or since, so
deeply studied. Dante, in all his works, professes himself
an Aristotelian. And it was in these times, when the doc-
trines of Plato, which transformed abstract ideas and
physical things, into beings endowed with human qualities,
were brought to life again, that the minds of men began
to be led astray by the absurdities of the Platonic Love,
which was as little believed in as it deserved to be, and
on which critics have wasted so much fancy to so little
purpose. -
A learned writer of the last century, John Toland,
whose works are full of curious researches, has left us a.
dissertation, called “Clidophorus, or Of Exoteric and
Esoteric Philosophy: that is, of the External and Internal
doctrine of the Ancients: the one, open and public,
IH
146 ON THE LANGUAGE OF
accommodated to popular prejudices; the other, private
and secret, wherein, to the few capable and discreet, was
taught the real truth.” In this work, much more is said
respecting this double language than we have ventured
on. But, although we are far from agreeing with the
opinions of the author, we have found some passages in
his treatise which fully coincide with our own views on
the subject of the impolitic persecution which was the
real cause and creator of the amphibological language;
and from these we make a few extracts. “This (perse-
cution) must of necessity produce ambiguities, equivoca-
tions, and hypocrisy, in all its shapes; but which will not
merely be called, but actually esteemed, necessary cau-
tions; occasioned, in all times and places, by ambitious
priests, supported by their property, the mob : thus
depriving us of the peace of life and the truth of religion;
yea, of philosophical discoveries and improvements, to the
no small detriment of mankind. In all this affair, pride
is ever joined to interest; for never was any pride equal
to the pretence of infallibility.—This double manner of
teaching was also in use among Oriental nations, and
especially the Ethiopians and Babylonians, the ancient
and modern Brahmins, the Syrians, Persians, and the rest,
principally instructed by Zoroaster. The Druids of the
Gauls and Britons would by no means deliver their mys-
teries, or secret doctrines, to any except the initiated—to
say nothing of the present Chinese, Siamese, and Indians
properly so called, the thing being so notorious as to be
denied by nobody. The disciples of Pythagoras were
either hearers or mathematicians, or exoterical or esoteri-
cal, whom we may render exterior and interior auditors.
All things were declared to the esoterical (but without
witnesses) in a plain, perspicuous, and copious speech;
while every thing, on the contrary, was delivered to the
exoterical in a perplexed, obscure, and enigmatical man-
ner: nor was any thing told clearly, except popular and
vulgar matters. The silence enjoined to the latter, lasted
THE SECRET SCHOOLS. 147
five years; but that of the former, whom they also styled
or reputed perfect, was perpetual;—not towards each
other, (as has been rashly believed by many,) but only
towards all those who were not of their fellowship. They
reserved their own doctrines to themselves, as so many
holy secrets; or, if any others happened to be present,
they told their minds to each other by symbols, and
enigmas, and parables. Whence it has unluckily hap-
pened, that scarce anything, which was of use or moment
among them, is come to the knowledge of modern times;
this being the true reason of the obscurity, or rather the
almost entire loss, of the Pythagorean philosophy. Lysis,
the Pythagorean, severely chid his condisciple, Hip-
parchus, for having published some points of the esoteric
philosophy; and for having communicated to men, who
were neither initiated nor prepared by contemplation and
the necessary sciences, their master's doctrine. Where-
upon he was expelled out of the school, and a monument
was erected for him, according to the custom of the
Pythagoreans, as if he had been already dead. We
ought, in the meanwhile, most carefully to observe, that
the priests were everywhere the cause why the philosophers
invented those occult ways of speaking and writing: for
while the priests industriously concealed their mysteries,
lest, being clearly understood, they might, by the philo-
sophers, be exposed to the laughter of the people as
fabulous, false, and useless, the philosophers, on the
other hand, concealed their sentiments of the nature of
things under the veil of divine allegories; lest, being
accused of impiety by the priests, (which often happened),
they might be exposed, in their turn, to the hatred, if not
to the fury, of the vulgar.”
In various parts of his works, this writer informs us,
(and with truth), that, in his time, this double language
was constantly in use. In this same dissertation (page 94,)
he says: “I have more than once hinted, that the external
and internal doctrine are as much now in use as ever
H 2
148 ON THE LANGUAGE OF
though the distinction is not so openly and professedly
approved as among the ancients.”
Now, if, in times so near our own, we find that this
language was as much as ever in use, how much more
likely was it to be so when Dante lived, and persecution
raged on every side. We will here recall a few facts, in
support of our argument, before we go on to prove that
the mystic doctrine, transplanted into Europe from the
East, did secretly flourish in Italy in Dante's time; that
many of its proselytes fell victims to their imprudent use
of it; and that, finally, in spite of every obstacle, far
from being extinguished, it spread so much the more, and
has even descended to our own age.
Whoever examines with attention the writings of that
period, will find in them many traces of the secret school.
Why were the Templars, who were members of the most
illustrious families in Europe, sacrificed by hundreds in
different countries : Why were the Patarini burned alive
in almost every city ? History tells us: They belonged to
secret societies, and professed doctrines inimical to Rome.
What those doctrines were, is well known, as far as re-
gards the Patarini, but nothing has been conclusively
ascertained respecting the secret opinions of the Templars,
although so much has been hazarded.
Arnold of Villanova, the celebrated physician, was a
very learned contemporary of Dante; and like him a per-
secuted exile; in his work entitled the Testamentum, we
read that “Philosophers wrote with a double meaning;
the one was true, the other false—the first was expressed
in dark words, for the understandings of the children
of wisdom; the last was couched in plain language.” In
his Liber Saturni he wrote: “The philosophers wrote for
their children only 1 and by their children I mean those,
who understood their works in their real and not their
literal meaning.”
Raymond Lully, another of Dante's contemporaries,
was a disciple of this Villanova, and in the vast collection
"THE SECRET SCHOOLS, 149
of works left by him, (which one could scarcely read in
the course of a natural life,) all the arts taught by his
master were put into practice. He was accused of heresy,
and after wandering for some time from one kingdom to
another, making proselytes to his doctrine, he at last, had
recourse to the language of conventional hypocrisy, and
pretended (as did Dante) to be reconciled to the Romish
Church. “Lully (say his biographers) was as obscure in
his expressions as in his ideas. His work on logic is
insane; but the Spanish doctors say that his motive for
writing it was, to enable us to defend ourselves against
Antichrist, (and we well know who is meant by that word)
by retorting his own arguments.” In short, it is a trea-
tise written in the double language, and shewing that by
a skilful use of it, an author may be considered the most
orthodox of Catholics, while he is waging a deadly war-
fare against the Pope and his church.
Dante's age was more than any other fertile in secret
societies, and enigmatical works; and a glance over the
dictionary of Heresies will shew us under how many forms
their hatred against Rome was disguised. We shall see
that the art of expressing a thing with two meanings,
called the art of speaking secretly or shortly, was taught
in the schools on regular principles; that it was the first
of the seven mystic sciences known as the Trivium and the
Quadrivium, and that it was called the Grammar. Dante
mentions this in the Vulg. Eloq. and again in comment-
ing the first canzone of the Convito. The famous Cardan,
in describing its nature, which he does in a very few
words, asserts, with great truth, that very many writers
used this art. We will copy his words as we read them
in the treatise on Secrets by Wecker, who translated them
under the title of “The Secrets of the Grammar, to know
how to speak secretly.—We may conceal the meaning... by
using words which convey another sense; the Italians
* See the Dict. Univ. Hist. Crit. Bibliog; art. Lulli Raimond,
150 ON THE LANGUAGE OF
call this a cant language. Long observation is requisite ;
but, by dexterity all suspicion may be avoided. There is
another mode of speaking which is likewise very becoming
a grave man, and is called brief speaking ; this last
conveys a double meaning also ; and therefore it is fami-
liar and suitable to the learned in their writings.” (Les
Secrets, &c. p. 733.) Were it not for the expositions on
which we have already entered; these words would be to
us an enigma. Who could point out to us these learned
writings 2 True, there are numbers of them in circulation
under our eyes, but they are unknown, because they bear
a double meaning; the one true and the other false; the
first written obscurely; the last openly. The generality
abided by the second meaning, because they were not
aware that those writings were intended to be taken not
literally. Our analyses of the works of Dante, Petrarch,
Boccaccio and many others will prove this; and we say
many others, because it is true, as Cardan asserts, that
this double language was familiar to the learned in their
writings.
Very much more might be added in support of our
present argument; but we have already too long delayed
the course of our disquisitions. Our chief object in pro-
ducing these various authorities to strengthen our own
opinion was, because we know that all novelty of matter
inevitably causes a certain degree of incredulity in the
mind of a reader.
If to all that we have said in this chapter, be added the
proofs we brought forward in the second, where we treated
of the pastorals of Petrarch and Boccaccio, and shewed
that, by their own confession, they were written through-
out in the conventional jargon ; and the declaration of
the latter, that poets wrapped the internal sense of their
verses in a veil ; and the confession of Dante, that his
poem is entirely allegorical ; if our interpretation of the
Hell, and of the Quadriregio—the verses of Alighieri and
those of Palingenius, be put side by side, we almost ven-
THE SECRET SCHOOLS. 151
ture to flatter ourselves with the hope, that the argument
to which we devoted this chapter, viz.: that a great por-
tion of the works of the ancient writers contained a double
meaning, external and internal, has been by us substan-
tiated. Testimonies and examinations, assertions and
proofs all agree, and what more can be required ? Much
more, before we can satisfy ourselves that our arguments
are as full and convincing as they may, and we trust
will be.
Dante, from his creative talent, was often called the
modern Homer; and we might say of him, what was said
of the ancient by his biographer, Dionysius Halicarnassus:
“Let it not be deemed extraordinary that he veiled his
ideas under studied enigmas, and fabulous discourses;
it must be ascribed partly to the system adopted by poets,
and partly to the custom settled by the ancients; that the
lovers of learning, being allured by a certain elegance of
style, might seek for the truth, and find it; and that the
unlearned, might not despise what they could not under-
stand; for we live in times when what is said figuratively
is valued, and all that is expressed in plain language is
regarded with contempt.*
But Dante learned the art of figurative writing from a
source far more valuable than all the works of priests,
poets, or philosophers. The prophetic books of the Old
and New Testament were his instructors, and in their
hallowed pages, he saw the most convincing examples of
the power of the double language. How many endeavours
have been made to explain, according to the customary
forms of speech, the mysterious expressions used by the
inspired authors, especially Ezekiel and St. John Com-
parative vocabularies have been drawn up, selected with
great care from those sacred writers, in order to fix the
true meaning of their allegorical pictures, and from a long
* Petrarch assigns the same reason for concealing under a veil, in his
figurative eclogues, all his detestation for Rome. See the preface pre-
fixed to the Epistles sine tit.
I 52 ON THE LANGUAGE OF
list of these interpreters, we will offer the theory of one of
the most modern, an English clergyman, who appears to
have deeply studied the works of his predecessors.
The Rev. George Stanley Faber, in his recent work
entitled “The Sacred Calendar of Prophecy,” proves that
the language of the divine prophecies is entirely figurative,
and that conventional symbols and emblems are therein
substituted for common words and literal meanings; and
descending to examples, he produces numberless instances
wherewith to strengthen his interpretation. With the
bible in his hand, he shews that earth and sea, sun and
moon, life and death, earthquake and storm, mountain
and river, besides numberless other words, sentences and
images which fill these prophetic pages, signify in their
internal sense something very different from their mere out-
ward meaning. We understand them to represent one thing,
and they convey some allusion totally opposite to their
supposed signification. St. John himself informs us that
by the two females of the Apocalypse we are to under-
stand two cities with their inhabitants; by the seven
heads of the beast the seven hills of the wicked city; by
angels, bishops; by waters, people; by a number a man;
and so with other things. Hence the English divine,
following up these indications infers, that of the two
females, the chaste one is the type of the true church, and
as such considered the spouse of Christ, and that the
wicked one, opposed to her, is a symbol of the apostate
and idolatrous church. He calls this language, “the
technical and conventional phraseology of the prophetic
schools,” and is of opinion that it was taught in the
prophetic seminaries of the Hebrews; nor does he appear
to be singular in this idea. These are his words: “The
proper use, and import of this language, comprising the
hieroglyphical system of the ancient Hebrews, seems to
have been taught, as one great branch of education in
those schools of the prophets, which are often mentioned
in the scriptures. There is nothing incongruous in sup-
THE SECRET SCHOOLS, 153
posing that the pupils were instructed in the meaning and
application of the established prophetic phraseology.”
Ch. 1.
Every volume thus written, is called by the prophets
themselves, “A book written within and without;” that
is, with an internal meaning for the wise, an external one
for the vulgar; and to eat the book signifies to learn the
language, which was evidently invented to deceive those
who would have been incensed against the writers.
The device succeeded so completely, that they accepted,
as welcome compliments, the very sentences in which
they were most severely held up to odium. Two cor-
responding passages, the one from Ezekiel, the other from
St. John, will illustrate our idea.
The first desired to express this fact : God said unto
me, Thou shalt now make known my word; but that
the minds of men be not exasperated, speak to them in a
double language; the inward or bitter sense shall remain
invisible, while the outward shall be made to appear ac-
ceptable. Thou art not sent to a people of profound
ideas and unknown language, where all that thou sayest
would be understood, but to the house of Israel, where
few will comprehend the language in which thou wilt
speak. Instead of writing thus, he expressed himself as
follows:– “But thou, son of man, hear what I say unto
thee; be not thou rebellious like that rebellious house;
open thy mouth, and eat that I give thee. And when I
looked, behold, a hand was sent unto me, and lo, a roll
of a book was therein ; and he spread it before me; and
it was written within and without, and there was written
therein lamentations, and mourning and woe. Moreover,
he said unto me : Son of man, eat that thou findest; eat
this roll, and do speak unto the house of Israel. So I
opened my mouth, and he caused me to eat that roll,”
&c. (Ezekiel, ch. 2 and 3.)
Now let us hear St. John. “And I saw, in the right hand
of him that sat on the throne, a book written within and
H 5
154 ON THE LANGUAGE OF
on the backside, sealed with seven seals. And no man in
heaven, nor in earth, neither under the earth, was able to
open the book, neither to look thereon.” (Rev. ch. 5.) The
mystic Lamb opened the book in heaven, and an angel de-
scended with it unclosed. “And the voice which I heard
from heaven spake unto me again, and said: Go and take
the little book which is open in the hand of the angel, which
standeth upon the sea and upon the earth. And I went unto
the angel, and said unto him : Give me the little book. And
he said unto me: Take it, and eat it up.” (ch. 10.) We
do most humbly revere the pages which contain God’s
holy word; but we must confess that those who interpret
these and similar passages, allegorically, (and in this, the
learned are generally agreed) appear to us much more
logical than those who can seriously believe that a hea-
venly voice commanded two holy men to devour a book
written within and without; and that they, after their
repast, being ordered to prophecy, immediately spoke in
the dark language, which has given rise to so many dis-
cordant interpretations.
St. Jerome, writing to Paulinus and Marcellus, says,
that the Apocalypse contains as many secrets as words ;
and that it must be understood entirely in a spiritual
sense. And Clement of Alexandria, who is an authority
above all suspicion, writes thus : —“All those who have
treated of divine things, whether Greeks or barbarians,
have concealed the real motives which induced them to
write, and have enveloped the truth in enigmas, symbols,
allegories, and metaphors, as mysterious as the sentences
of oracles. Poets themselves, who learned theology from
the prophets, have generally philosophized very deeply,
and followed their secret sense.” (Strom. B. 5.) And with
regard to Dante and his followers, who have, throughout
their writings, confused together holy things and Platonic
love, we may repeat the significant words from the Pla-
tonisme devoilé. “They followed their manner of philo-
sophizing, which was to speak in terms so absolute that
THE SECRET SCHOOLS. 155
the allegory was not perceived, in order that what they
said should have a more mysterious appearance. They
took for granted that minds of the first order, for whom
they wrote, knew the secret; and, as for the vulgar, it
was their object to conceal it from them. And who can
tell but that they affected to give an air of dogma to all
they pretended of the Verb, and concealed the secret of
the allegory, for the purpose of investing him, by this
appearance of majesty, with more respect and awe in the
eyes of the people, who are always lovers of the marvel-
lous 7" (p. 204.) These are remarkable words, which will
be confirmed to us by Dante's repeated confessions; he
will tell us in precise terms that he so wrote, and for the
very reasons here given.
Petrarch relates that, being one day in company with
the persons who were the real subjects of his Latin pas-
torals, (that is, with the cardinals and perhaps the Pope
likewise) he was asked the meaning of some of the figures
described in the eclogues, when he found presence of
mind enough to evade the question, by giving a false in-
terpretation to those bitter satires. He relates this fact
in the preface prefixed to the letters sine titulo, which are
throughout violent philippics against the court of Rome;
and he tells us, that his Latin pastorals contain secretly
the same matter treated of openly in those letters. But
these remarks cannot be clear to the minds of our readers,
until we have dispersed the clouds which hang over the
loves of Petrarch and Laura. In the loves of Dante
and Beatrice, we are about to consider an analogous
subject.
We fully agree with the observations made by the be-
fore-cited interpreter of the Revelations, that without a
key they cannot be understood ; but that that key once
found, the book is soon unclosed. As he justly says,
the Scriptures furnish us with a key to the scriptural
hieroglyphics, and when these are once deciphered, there
156 on THE LANGUAGE of THE SECRET SCHOOLS.
will be but little difficulty in transferring a mystic pro-
phecy into the literal value of a living language.”
The same may be said of Dante, to whom we now re-
turn. The key to his allegorical figures is furnished by
himself, and with it we will endeavour to open the secret
recesses of the book, written within and without. But
we are fully conscious of the difficulty of accomplishing
this hitherto unattempted project. It is evident, from the
great pains taken to involve the poem in obscurity, that
it is of a nature to give offence to many. If he who
thus originally shrouded its meaning dreaded the conse-
quences of its discovery, so may we who draw it from its
veiled sanctuary, with reason entertain a similar appre-
hension. We need not again repeat, that, under the veil
of divine allegories, things of deep moment were hidden,
and that Dante put into full practice the whimsical logic
of his contemporary Lully. He chose, for the guide and
companion of his figurative journey, the Mantuan bard,
who sung Deus nobis hac otia fecit ; and we may reason-
ably conclude, that the god of his mystic poem, opposed
to the Lucifer, is of the same nature as that guide and
master's god.
As it raises the veil which hangs over these mysteries,
criticism implores the indulgence of the religion it re-
veres, if any unintentional boldness should intrude
into its remarks; and surely that daughter of heaven
will not be less holy, even if these remarks prove that
a trembling muse, for its own safety, was induced by fear
to disguise itself in her sacred vestments.
* See the before-cited work of the Rev. G. S. Faber, vol. i. p. 12.
157
CHAPTER XI.
ON THE RELIGIOUS AND POLITICAL CHARACTER OF
DANTE's POEM.
IN the secret but deeply-rooted animosity of Alighieri
against the Papal Court, we may trace the prevailing
spirit of the age in which he lived. A reform, both in
church and state, was imperiously demanded; and the
same detested object was considered as the author of the
corruption of the one, and as the usurper of the other.
Dante firmly believed that the regeneration of the empire
under the Cesars would be the new-birth of Italian hap-
piness; and, for this opinion, he sacrificed his peace of
mind and fortune, cherishing it only the more fondly for
all that it cost him. Putting aside, therefore, his own
repeated avowals, we have every reason to suppose, from
facts, that it was the latter of the two sentiments, viz.
his political feelings, which principally induced him to
compose the poem in which he exhausted all the powers
of satire against the enemy who prevented the consumma-
tion of his wishes; and where, in an imaginary hell, he
depicted the state of Italy under the withering influence
of the Emperor “who sways the realm of sorrow,” and
feeds luxuriously on Brutus and Cassius, the betrayers of
Cesar. -
It is believed by the learned, and confirmed by the
authority of Jovius and other writers, that the epitaph
inscribed on his tomb, at Ravenna, where he died an
exile, was written by himself during his last illness. The
158 ON THE RELIGIOUS AND POLITICAL
three letters, at the head of the inscription—S. V. F. :
Sibi vivens fecit, (For himself he made it, while living)—
are a strong evidence of the correctness of the opinion.
On the epitaph we read, “I sang the rights of the mo-
narchy, among the blessed, in Phlegethon, and in the
infernal lakes.” And, because his design in writing this
poem was to sing the rights of the Roman monarchy, he
chose for his master and guide that Virgil who, in Eneas,
celebrated its virtual founder. Otherwise, why select
the ghost of a pagan to lead him through the hell of
Christians ? But, before we proceed further to establish
this point, we must take a short review of some of his
other works; and, especially, we must confront together
the two principal rival figures of his grand design, which
offer its epitome and substance together.
Almost in the middle of his Commedia, Dante inserted
a scene which there shines resplendent above all the
others, like an obelisk in the midst of a plain. It is pre-
pared by what precedes, and illustrated by what follows it;
and it is worthy of all the reader's attention, presenting,
as it does, the heavenly Beatrice contrasted with the
woman of the Revelations—the pure with the wicked—
virtue with vice. On the illustration of this scene, which
we are now on the point of commencing, depends, in a
great measure, the explanation of the whole poem ; for it
is the casket which incloses the principal mystery.
We begin by asserting that, according to the express
declaration of the poet himself, the shameless female of
the Inferno is not a woman, but an allegorical figure of
the Pope; and, moreover, that the chaste one, her rival,
is only imagined there in order to contrast with her.
Suppose we were shown a picture, painted by a first-rate
master, wherein the effect of light and shade was so
admirably contrived as to deceive us into the idea that
we were gazing on nature's self: by looking attentively
again and again, we should perceive our mistake. We
should see that what we took for shade was a colour
CHARACTER of DANTE's PoEM. 159
which imitated it, but not real shadows; and when fully
convinced of the delusion, would the idea ever enter our
mind that the light painted at the side of the shadows
was not a colour, but real and physical light, like that of
the sun ? What should we think of the judgment of any
critic, who would assert that the iron age is figurative of
the corruption of manners and consequent misery, but
that the golden age really signifies the abundance of the
metal which is dug from the mine, and worked by the
goldsmith ? -
So Dante, in one picture, represents these two females:
and if, in the one, we recognize the Antichrist and Anti-
cesar, under the generic names of the wicked Babylon and
its ruler, to say the very least, we must suspect that the
other is meant for Christ and Cesar, under the names of
the Holy Jerusalem and its king. But let us not trust to
suppositions, nor forget that the real interpreter of Dante
is St. John ; who, in the Apocalypse, introduces both
these allegorical females, and with similar forms of lan-
guage. The first, in ch. xvii. : “So he carried me away
in the spirit into the wilderness. And I saw a woman sit
upon a scarlet-coloured beast, full of names of blasphemy,
having seven heads and ten horns; and upon her forehead
was a name written, Babylon the Great,” &c. This is the
exact model of Dante's wicked female. And, in ch?xxi.,
we read : “Come hither, I will show thee the Bride, the
Lamb's wife. And he carried me away in the spirit to a
great and high mountain, and showed me that great city,
the Holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God.
And I John saw the holy city, New Jerusalem, coming
down from God out of heaven, prepared as a bride
adorned for her husband.” And this is the Beatrice
whom Dante was carried to behold on a high mountain,
who came down from heaven adorned like a bride, and to
whom was sung—Come, spouse, from Libanus. It is true,
that he dared not give her the name of Jerusalem openly;
but, in his own mysterious style, he so called her in several
160 ON THE RELIGIOUS AND POLITICAL
#
tº
•:
:
places: as when he describes himself at the foot of the
lofty mountain, on whose summit he beholds this city or
lady:—
“Now had the sun to that horizon reach'd
That covers, with the most exalted point
Of its meridian circle, Salem's walls.”—(Purg. 2.)
This circle covered the summit of the mount where the
New Jerusalem appeared to him, which he describes with
so much circumlocution. The reader's thoughts are natu-
rally directed to the site of the real Jerusalem, while Dante
meant to signify the figurative New Jerusalem—diametri-
cally opposed to it, as seen by St. John in the spirit.
The poet describes minutely the first appearance of this
allegorical lady, and the magnificence of her escort. She
comes preceded by the books of the Old Testament, and
the Sacraments; all personified. Around her are the four
Gospels; and she is followed by the Acts of the Apostles,
the Epistles, and the Revelations; all likewise personified.
The car on which she is seated is more splendid than that
of the sun. On her right hand, stand the three theological,
and on her left, the four cardinal, virtues. But soon the
dragon, rushing from the pit, infuses his deadly poison
into the car, which becomes transformed into the seven-
headed and ten-horned monster; and after being thus
rendered unworthy to carry Beatrice, by being made the
image of the dragon, or Satan, behold, the woman boldly
springs into it, and plunges into the forest, which is op-
posed to the garden where her rival remains.
But let us remark the difference: The heavenly Bea-
trice is still accompanied by the holy train who came with
her from on high ; while the other goes her way, on the
transformed car, with no holy books, no sacraments, no
virtues, no companion but an earthly king. And know-
ing that this shameless one, who has nothing of heaven
belonging to her, figures Babylon and its ruler, we are
forced to exclaim—What an opinion had Dante of the
;
:
:
:
:
;
CHARACTER OF DANTE's PoEM. 161
Pope I Could he pay homage to one whom he described
in such colours; a pope destitute of all that ought to be-
belong to him 2 No holy volumes, no sacraments, no
virtues 1
As it is very clear that the poet intended, in these two
females, to represent the extremes of Good and Evil per-
sonified, we might substitute for their names the scriptural
ages of Babylon and New Jerusalem, or the ages of iron
and gold, which signify precisely the same thing. The
Golden age supposes the realization of the perfection of
religion and good government; and these blessings can
only be obtained from an excellent monarch and a vir-
tuous priest. We need not say that the iron age is
diametrically the reverse of this state of things.
This being admitted, the golden age, when personified
and reduced to a female figure, is the lady who blesses,
or Beatrice: it it gives the two blessings to which man
aspires—those of mortal and eternal life; and causes him
to enjoy this life in a terrestrial paradise, with the hopes
of a heavenly one on high. What he receives on earth, is
owing to the moral and intellectual, or cardinal, virtues
practised by a good monarch. What he expects in
heaven is from the holy, christian, or theological virtues,
as taught by a virtuous priest. These two abstract per-
fections, reduced to a substance, form the Beatrice, who
blesses with a twofold blessing; and hence the cardinal
virtues stand on her left, and the theological on her right-
hand. According to this analysis, then, we say that the
imaginary Beatrice, in whose eyes Dante beheld great
mysteries—“in one figure now reflected, now in other,”
(Purg. 31.)—includes in herself the perfect and essential
qualities of an excellent emperor and of a holy priest.
But who can insure this? We might answer, criticism ;
but we say, Dante. Let Dante, then, interpret himself—
for his words merit all our attention — and explain away
every doubt on this question. The following is from the
Monarchia —
162 ON THE RELIGIOUS AND POLITICAL
“ Unerring Providence has directed the mind of man
to aspire to two blessings; viz. that of the present life,
which consists in the practice of virtue, and is figured by
the earthly paradise ; and that of life eternal, which con-
sists in the enjoyment of the divine presence : but to this
last, human virtue can never arrive, unless it be aided
by divine intelligence — and that is the celestial para-
dise. To these different blessings, as to two different
points, we must attain by separate means. To the first
(which is figured in the Earthly Paradise) we must arrive
by means of philosophy, whose rules we must fol-
low, acting according to the moral and intellectual vir-
tues (prudence, temperance, fortitude and justice). And
to the last, (which is figured in the Celestial Paradise,)
we must arrive by the exercise of the theological virtues
(viz. faith, and hope, and charity). To gain this two-
fold object, man needs a double government; a high
priest, to guide him through the revealed word, to life
eternal ; and an emperor to lead him by the precepts of
philosophy to earthly bliss. And this should be the
chief object with this emperor or ruler, in order that
while a dweller on earth, man may be at peace.* The
Emperor and the Pope then, being connected together
(by the Papal and imperial authority, the one relating
to paternity and the other to dominion), they ought al-
ways to act together in concert, and be reduced to a
unity; and this unity will be either a very God, in whom
all is united, or a being inferior to God, in whom the
differences belonging to each separate character will be
distinctly particularised. In short, the Pope and the
Emperor, in their characters as men, should be blended
into one.”f And into one he reduced them.
Here let us pause for a moment. Dante says that man
* See Monarchia, near the conclusion.
t B. 3. p. 87. See there all his arguments respecting this unity, con-
sidered either as God or man.
CHARACTER of DANTE's POEM. I63
needs two rulers to guide him to the two blessings; the
Emperor, by the practice of the cardinal virtues, to bring
him to the first, or earthly paradise; the Priest, by the ex-
ercise of the theological virtues, to lead him to the second,
or heavenly paradise; and that both rulers should be
blended into one. And all this is described to a hair's
breadth in the Beatrice of the poem, in whom both Em-
peror and Pope are united. On one side, she has the
four cardinal; on the other, the three theological virtues.
she governs Dante in the earthly, and guides and in-
structs him in the heavenly paradise. In her are figured
all the characteristics of each ruler; – she is the Em-
peror who makes his earthly abode blessed, she is the
Pope who leads him to the bliss of a heavenly paradise;
and therefore called Beatrice, our blessing ; in whose
eyes he contemplates those mysteries which we shall ex-
plain hereafter.”
In Dante, all is symmetry. Throughout his poem,
there flows such a spirit of harmony, that it is scarcely
possible to discover the meaning of the allegorical figures
in one sense, without doing so in the opposite one also,
so wonderfully are they blended into one another. This
was an art which he studied and professed upon prin-
ciples, and wrote accordingly : “Man finds those things
beautiful whose parts correspond, for from harmony re-
sults pleasure.” (Convito.) It is very difficult to explain
the emblematic figures of this poet, without falling into
the adoption of his language; but, as pious believers
have told of heresies without themselves departing from
the faith, so may we bring to light a bold conception
without for a moment wavering in our reverence for
holy things.
* See the Vita Nuova, where he writes, that when he saw Beatrice,
the animal spirit, which dwells in the chamber to which all the sensitive
spirits carry their perceptions, he began to wondergreatly; and, speaking
especially to the spirits of the face, said these words: “Already comes
Our Blessing.” This jargon will be explained hereafter.
164 ON THE RELIGIOUS AND POLITICAL
In accordance with his plan of universal harmony,
Dante made his Lucifer three in one, because such is
God. There are ten circles in hell, and Lucifer in the
middle; there are ten spheres in paradise, and God in
the centre. If he says that Beatrice is God, three in
one (and he does say this), we may conclude for certain
that her adversary is Lucifer, three in one. Is the
Satan who feeds on the betrayers of Christ and Cesar,
Antichrist and Anticesar 2 Then is his very opposite
Christ and Cesar. Is this Satan, or Antichrist and
Anticesar, the woman 2 Then her opposite, the Christ
and Caesar, must be Beatrice. As, in one single ima-
ginary being, he unites the qualities of true Pope and
true Emperor, so, in the opposite figure, he describes the
false Pope and false Emperor.” Now, if our assertions
as to this Beatrice be (what from the words of the poet
and our own analysis we pronounce them to be) correct,
it becomes a matter of certainty that the lovers of Dante
and this lady are allegorical. Nor are we the first to ad-
vance this opinion — for several ancient Florentines,t as
well as Filelfo, and the Canon Biscioni, &c. had the same
idea; but they confined themselves to assertions, while
we shall produce proofs, from Dante's own confessions,
and from other sources, so numerous and so indisputable,
that our conclusions will amount to a mathematical de-
monstration.
It is possible that he may have loved, or pretended to
love, a Florentine called Beatrice. We will not dispute
that point; but those who believe that the Beatrice of his
writings is a real and not an allegorical female, are bound
to believe also that the woman, opposed to her, is a real
and not a figurative person. The error has arisen from
an ignorance of the system of that secret language in
which he wrote; which enjoined that beings purely men-
* See the note F. at the end of the volume.
t “According to the judgment of several learned Florentines, Dante's
Beatrice is an allegorical personage.” Thus wrote De Sade.
CHARACTER OF DANTE's PoEM. 165
tal, should be described as tangible, visible and living ;
that all the qualities of mortals made of flesh and blood
should be given to them ; that they should be born and
live, and grow and die, &c.; that from the crown of the
head to the sole of the foot they should resemble human
beings; and that all the actions and passions attributed
to them, should induce a firm belief that they were true
females, and not allegorical figures of whom the author
treated. This was the system which gave rise to the
invincible illusion which has kept the world for so many
ages in error — an error which we would have attempted
to dispute on our own authority, had there not been
still extant several treatises which explain the fictions of
that conventional language, and render such a course
unnecessary. But without their aid, the words of Dante,
if well considered, will destroy the mental phantoms that
he created. For instance, in one place he calls it, “The
glorious lady of my mind, whom many called Beatrice,
not knowing their own names.” (Vita Nuova.) In ano-
ther, having written for this lady of his mind, the well
known Sonnet, “Amor che nella mente mi ragiona,”
he explains logically what mind signifies ; and then adds,
“Not without reason do I say that this love acts on my
mind; I say it advisedly, to let it be understood, by the
part on which it acts, what kind of love it is.” (Convito,
Treat. 3.) And elsewhere, “This noble lady will be
known when her chamber is discovered, that is, the soul
where she dwells.” This soul was his own. “This lady
was made with my soul, one and the same thing.” This
is but little; something much more decisive we shall
hear from him, to convince us of the true nature of this
glorious lady of his mind. It seems most strange how
the world could have continued so long deceived with
respect to Beatrice, after the many inuendoes and de-
clarations thrown out by Dante himself (to say nothing
of others); but such has been the delusion, that many,
like Pelli and Arrivabene, not only believe her to have
166 ON THE RELIGIOUS AND POLITICAL
been a Florentine lady, but scoff at the opinions of those
who declare her to be all an allegory.
We know from history, that the Patarini accused the
Pope of spoiling and laying waste the church of Christ;
we know also that the Ghibellines charged him with
having fraudulently usurped the throne of Caesar; and
hence in Dante's allegorical scene, the woman steals the
car of Beatrice, which is called divine and august, to re-
present the qualities belonging to the church of Christ
and the throne of Cesar. If, after this self-evident alle-
gory, we are told that Beatrice is not what we declare
her to be, but Madonna Beatrice Portinari, a Flo-
rentine, the daughter of Folco Portinari, and wife of
Simone de' Bardi, both Florentines; then we shall beg
our informants to show us in what chronicle it is writ-
ten that the Pope robbed the daughter of Folco, and
wife of Simon, of a church and an empire.
What did the empire, deprived of its emperor, appear
to Dante 2
“A vessel without a pilot in loud storm 1"–(Purg. 6.)
What did the car appear without Beatrice 2
“Like a ship it reel'd,
At random driven, to starboard now, o'ercome
And now to larboard, by the vaulting waves.”—(Purg. 32.)
He compares Beatrice to the admiral of that ship, and
the emperor to her pilot.
“As to the prow or stern, some admiral
Paces the deck, inspiriting his crew,
When 'mid the sail-yards all hands ply aloof;
Thus on the left side of the car, I saw
The virgin stationed, who before appear'd.”—(Purg. 30.)
“Although we see in a ship many officers and men
employed for one object, yet it is only one who orders all
for this object, and that is the pilot; whose voice should
CHARACTER OF DANTE's POEM. 167
be obeyed by all. And it is clear, that to bring the
human species to one universal religion, something of the
nature of a pilot is necessary, with the right of absolute
authority: and this office is called an Empire, and he who
is placed in it is called an Emperor.”—Convito, Treat. 4.
p. 198. Here the Emperor is a pilot, who directs the
crew of the vessel. There, Beatrice is an admiral, whose
orders are obeyed from prow to stern, in the vessel
he commands. Hence the car in which she advances
is called a Bark ; and in the scene where the woman
leaps into it, we read that a voice from heaven was heard
to cry, “O bark of mine ! how badly art thou freighted "
Before this, while it was yet in Beatrice's possession, and
bore her in the sacred throng, the poet writes, in that
part which describes the halting of the figurative vessel;
that it “stood firmly fixed, to duty there each one con-
voying, as that lower doth the steersman to his port.”
And on this passage the anonymous annotator remarks—
“She instructs all who are in the procession, in their se-
parate duties; as the pilot whistles at the helm when he
enters the port, in order to summon all on board to their
respective stations.” Her car of triumph is compared to
the one on which Augustus entered Rome; and before
her is sung the verse written by Virgil, for the presump-
tive heir to the throne of that emperor — “From full
hands scatter lilies.” And to this mystic lady does Virgil,
the bard of the Roman monarchy, guide the Ghibelline
Dante, as to the last resting-place on his allegorical
journey; that Dante, who, by his last confession, always
sang the rights of the monarchy.
If we reflect for an instant, we shall not fail to be con-
vinced, were it only by the attributes and character given
to this Beatrice. For instance : Escorted by angels, she
comes in triumph to the terrestrial Paradise, and is sa-
luted with the words: “ Hosanna, blessed is he who
cometh;” sung to Christ when he entered Jerusalem in
triumph.
168 ON THE RELIGIOUS AND POLITICAL
She says to them : “A little while, and ye shall not
see me; and again a little while, and ye shall see me” —
the very words spoken by our Lord.
The angels sing: “In thee, Lord, have I put my
trust.”
By forced comparisons, evidently introduced intention-
ally, she is likened to our Saviour, when transfigured on
Mount Tabor, before Peter, James, and John.
She is compared with Christ, when he raised the dead.
She comes from the east to the west, on the car which
is emblematic of the Church of Christ, which from the
east came to the west.
She is surrounded by the holy train we before enume-
rated ; sacred books, sacraments, and virtues; things all
relating to Christ and his church.
She is not only called the Holy Trinity, but particu-
larized as the second person ; and in this way : To con-
vince us that this allegorical figure is a male changed
into a female, like her rival, the poet makes John precede
her, and changes him likewise into a female. In the
Vita Nuova, he relates that he saw two ladies coming
towards him, the one preceding the other. “The name
of this lady, (the first) was Giovanna ; and still gazing,
I saw the wondrous Beatrice following her. This name
Giovanna is taken from Giovanni (John) that John who
preached the coming of the true light, saying — ‘The
voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare the way of
the Lord.’” (Vita Nuova, p. 40.) And who was this
Lord whose way was to be prepared, if not Beatrice,
whom this Giovanna preceded ? On this passage Bis-
cioni remarks very sensibly : “Dante desires us to
reflect particularly on the office of the Baptist; now who
does not know that John was the precursor of the
Incarnate Word 7” If the forerunner's sex was changed,
so was the sex of him who followed; and Giovanna and
Beatrice were substituted for the Baptist and his divine
Master. Christ is called the wisdom of God, and there-
cHARACTER OF DANTE's POEM. 169
fore Dante describes him as a female ; but still while
doing so, he makes the angels sing: “Blessed is he who
cometh.”
However enigmatical his words may appear, respecting
this lady, the annotations of his friend are sufficiently
clear. He repeats again and again, that Beatrice is
Christ, with the double nature of man and God. For
instance: When the three theological virtues lead Dante
forward, that his eyes may behold the eyes of the mystic
lady, which they call emeralds,” they tell him, “Spare
not thy vision; we have stationed thee before the eme-
ralds, whence love, erewhile, hath drawn his weapons
on thee.” (Purg. 31.) Here the interpreter says–
“Spare not thy intellect ; we have brought thee before
the emeralds, that is, before the most precious stones, or
Christ.” On the manifestation of Beatrice, he writes —
“ Until now Beatrice is treated of insufficiently; but
now that she openly manifests herself in the pure ether,
where dwells the human and divine nature of Christ, no
tongue can express the radiance which shines around
her.” And where Dante says that he gazed at the won-
drous beauty of his lady, until “at this point o'erpowered
I fail” (Par. 30.), the interpreter writes: “He says that
no poet ever was so overwhelmed by the subject he had
undertaken to write on, as he is now by this of the Di-
vinity.” (that is, Beatrice.) In these examples, we see the
mystic lady named as Christ and as God. Again, when
she advances towards Dante, all covered with a veil, he
annotates: “ The author wishing to introduce Beatrice,
says that he is veiled, with a cloud, which has a temper-
ing virtue, to enable the eye, that is, the human intellect,
* The eyes of Beatrice are called emeralds, not, as some explain, be-
cause they are green, but because, in the mystic language, three gems
correspond with the three persons in the Trinity, and with the three theo-
logical virtues also. The diamond, the emerald, and the ruby, figure
Faith, Hope, and Charity; and Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. The
three colours, white, green, and red signify the same things.
J.
170 ON THE RELIGIOUS AND POLITICAL
to confront (by means of the mystic and figurative writing)
the bright rays of the divine beauty, by which he shows
the divine essence, the substance of the Father, Son, and
Holy Ghost.” In this, the interpreter follows his author's
own declaration, that his Beatrice, the number 9, is a
figure of the Holy Trinity, in which is, of course, in-
cluded the second holy person.
To sum up this analysis, let us repeat, that these rival
females, so perfectly contrasted by Dante, are the same
whom he took from the Revelations, that is, the wicked
Babylon and the New Jerusalem; and in these two
figures, which offer, as it were, the idea of good and evil
personified, are represented two cities, with all their re-
spective inhabitants; papal and imperial Rome and their
rulers; the same object under two aspects. St. John tells
us, that in the millennium, Christ will be the head of the
New Jerusalem, uniting in his own person the two cha-
racters of supreme ruler of the kingdom and of religion.
And therefore Imperial Rome, or Dante's New Jerusalem,
contains within herself all that the brightest fancy can
imagine, Christ in person bestowing the two blessings of
earth and heaven, which are figured in the terrestrial and
celestial Paradise. We all know who the figurative Sa-
viour was, according to the Ghibelline creed, who was to
redeem the human race from the slavery of Antichrist
and Satan, the spoiler of the empire and the church.
And Beatrice unites the two qualities of this Saviour in
herself; she is both Pope and Emperor, reduced to a
unity. Finally, these two allegorical figures express the
following objects : —
Beatrice is a figure of Imperial Rome; the New Jeru-
salem, with Christ at its head, ruling over a virtuous,
peaceful, and happy people.
Her rival represents Papal Rome, the wicked Babylon,
with Antichrist, governing a vicious, anarchical, and mi-
serable race.
The first, is the city of life and truth; the last, the
CHARACTER OF DANTE's PoEM. 17|
city of death and falsehood. In offering them under the
semblance of female forms, Dante exactly conformed to
his original model, the Apocalypse.
St. John describes Babylon as the abode of demons,
and the hold of every unclean spirit; and the New Jeru-
salem, as the dwelling of angels, and the habitation of the
spirits of the just ; and Dante paints Papal Rome as hell,
or Babylon, under the dominion of Lucifer, three in one,
full of devils and condemned; and Imperial Rome, as the
New Jerusalem, or Paradise, with God three in one on
its throne, and with angels and blessed spirits for its in-
habitants.
We have already seen how many allusions to Papal
Rome are crowded together in Dante's Hell; and we
shall find at least as many in his Paradise, to connect
that with the city of the empire.
I 2
172
CHAPTER XII.
ON OTHER WORKS OF DANTE, IN CONNECTION WITH THE
COMIMEDIA.
IF it be true, as Negri asserts, that Dante composed a
work which he entitled: “Tractatum de Symbolo Civi-
tatis Jerusalem et Almae Romae,” its loss is to be in-
finitely regretted, for in all probability it contained very
many things towards the elucidation of his poem. For,
the title alone tells us that the figurative New Jerusalem
and Imperial Rome, (and probably the figurative Babylon
and Papal Rome) were there treated of in strict relation-
ship, and if, even in the least important of his writings,
he let fall many hints whereby we are enabled to unveil
the sanctuary of his thoughts, how much more would he
be likely to develop those thoughts in a work which ex-
pressly treated of the subject of them.
It is very true that he never called Italy Hell in plain
terms; but he called it Babylon, which amounts to the
same thing; and pronounced it to be one universal prison,
an inn of grief, and worse still than this.t. It was during
his wanderings through this Hell, that he heard that
Henry VII., that generous Emperor, who was hailed as
the saviour of unhappy Italy, and by our poet likened to
* It seems to us most probable that Negri by this treatise meant to
signify the poem of Dante; with whose real nature he was very possibly
acquainted.
* See Purg. Canto 6.
on OTHER works of DANTE, &c. 173
Christ, was coming as a peacemaker and physician, to
heal the wounds of this diseased body, if indeed they
were not past a cure. Delighted with the intelligence,
and in the full expectation of a glorious redemption, he
wrote two letters, one addressed to the people and princes
of the Peninsula, the other to the redeemer in person ;
and in both of them he expresses his hope that the Golden
Age will soon replace the Babylonish time. The fol-
lowing are extracts from the letter addressed to the
Emperor :
“A hope of better times dawned on Italy. Many,
anticipating from their own wishes, already sang with
Virgil the Virgin and the kingdoms of Saturn,”
Jam redit et Virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna.
In the poem he adapted these words to the coming of
our only real Saviour. The letter goes on to say: “The
subtlety and persecution of that ancient and proud enemy,
who is always secretly lying in wait for the sons of men—
he has cruelly wronged and spoiled us. Overthrow then
their dwelling places, descendant of Jesse; and as now
we weep and lament our exile from Jerusalem to Babylon,
so then, in peace and joy, we shall think over all the
miseries of our present confusion.” In this letter, he
intimates that he had already seen the Emperor. “I saw
thee in thy goodness, and heard thy mercy, when my hands
touched thy feet, and my lips paid their lawful debt, and
my spirit exulted within me.” And what debt was this 2
The calling him Saviour: “And my spirit hath rejoiced
in God my Saviour,” the words of the blessed Virgin.
In his letter on the coming of the Emperor, we read:
“The lion of the tribe of Judah has lent a merciful ear
to the groans which issued from this prison. Rejoice
now, Italy—for thy spouse,” the delight of the age and
the glory of the people, the merciful Henry hastens to
* The Apocalypse calls the New Jerusalem the Bride of the Lamb,
and so did Dante and other writers call Italy and Rome.
174 ON OTHER works OF DANTE,
thy nuptials.” Dry then thy tears, O loveliest, and put
away thy sadness, for he who will deliver thee from the
prison of the wicked draws near ; he will put all the
workers of wickedness to the sword, and his vineyard will
he give to other labourers.t Employ yourselves there-
fore, in confessing his supremacy, and sing the penitential
psalms.” Those psalms he adapted to the occasion, and
the allusions to our true Saviour he applied to the coming
of his figurative redeemer Henry. He prays to be delivered
from the “abhorred worm, that boreth through the
world,” (Inf. 34.) and to see the great work of the holy
Jerusalem brought to perfection. “O, be favourable and
gracious unto Sion, build thou the walls of Jerusalem.
Thou shalt arise and have mercy upon Sion, for it is time
thou have mercy upon her; yea, the time is come. And
why? thy servants think upon her stones, and it pitieth
them to see her in the dust. When the Lord shall build
up Sion, and when his glory shall appear. When he
turneth him unto the prayer of the poor destitute,
and despiseth not their desire. This shall be written for
those that come after ; and the people which shall be
born shall praise the Lord. Out of the heaven did the
Lord behold the earth; that he might hear the mournings of
such as are in captivity, and deliver the people appointed
unto death.” (Ps. 102.) “The enemy hath persecuted
my soul; he hath laid me in the darkness, as the men that
have been long dead. Therefore, is my spirit vexed
within me.' Hide not thy face from me, lest I be like
* “For the marriage of the Lamb is come, and his wife hath made
herself ready.” Rev. xix. 7.
t The vineyard of the Lord, is his church.
# In the Convito he declares Rome to have been built by the especial
will of God. “David was created, and so was Rome; and no man
ought to hesitate in believing that the foundation and progress of that
holy city was owing to God’s special interposition.” Treat. 4.
$ He expresses his grief at being compelled to live with those dead, in
the dark places of Hell.
IN CONNECTION WITH THE COMMEDIA. 175
unto them that go down into the pit.” (Ps. 143.)* “I
will inform thee, and teach thee in the way wherein thou
shalt go; and I will guide thee with mine eye.” (Ps. 32.)
This is a clear allusion to the poem, and to the allegorical
manifestation of the eyes of Beatrice in the earthly para-
dise, while the angels were singing :
“Turn Beatrice Oh turn
Thy saintly sight on this thy faithful one,
Who, to behold thee, many a wearisome pace
Hath measured.
As they spake,
A thousand fervent wishes riveted
Mine eyes upon her beaming eyes.” (Purg, 31.)
Almost, if not quite, all of Dante's works, originated
in one single and engrossing thought. The idea of a
universal monarchy, governed by an Emperor of Rome,
was the spirit which guided his pen. By his own dying
confession, it was the sole aim of his Commedia. The
Vita Nuova is the hieroglyphic key which opens the mys-
teries of that work, and the Convito is the philosophical
key to the Vita Nuova, as he declares to us.t. The
Monarchia brings still more plainly into view the hidden
meaning of the poem, and is of so much importance
towards our interpretations, that in the present chapter
we shall confine ourselves to an examination of the relative
connection between it, the Convito, and the poem itself.
Before we enter on these considerations, it is necessary
to take notice of one of the resources of this double lan-
guage, because we find it taught in their treatises, and
practised in all their poems. It is this: when the author
* “Thou shalt be brought down to Hell, to the sides of the pit.”
Isaiah xiv.
# “If the present work, which I have called the Convito, is written
more plainly than the Vita Nuova, I do not intend it by any means to
lessen the value of that work; on the contrary, it will be useful to it.”
(Convito, at the beginning.)
176 ON OTHER works of DANTE,
of an enigmatical work desired to point out its secret
design to his own sect, not daring to do so openly, he
had recourse to the following artifice: He began by treat-
ing of matters apparently quite distinct from those he in-
tended to explain; and while doing this, the very words
he was writing on one subject interpreted the other; but
so artfully, that none but those in the secret could under-
stand any thing. This will be proved more satisfactorily
hereafter, and then it will be seen whether we are not
justified in here affirming that the Monarchia and the
Convito explain the Commedia.
Dante calls his enigmatical poem a treatise, and des-
cribes its nature thus: “The form of the treatise is three-
fold, according to a triple division. The whole work is
divided into three canzoni.” These canzoni, we need
not remind the reader, are Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise.
In the first, the poet reproves the false government of the
usurping Pope; in the second, he points out the means of
rectifying it; in the third, he explains his theory of good
government, which consists in the universal sway of an
Emperor, the ruler of earth, as God is the ruler of Heaven.
Hence he defines the work to be, a great poetical fiction,
which shews what is good, and reproves what is evil, by
examples. In the Paradise, he offers the example of what
he desires to behold; in the Hell, he presents to view all
that he most condemns, and the letter explanatory of the
poem says that: “The form of this triple treatise is
poetical and figurative—it approves and condemns, by
means of examples. The title runs thus: Here begins
the Commedia of Dante Alighieri the Florentine.”
In the Convito, he comments on three Canzoni, which
correspond with the three of the Commedia, but inverted
in this order: — Paradise, Purgatory, and last of all,
Hell. And, in his prefatory remarks, he tells the reader
that he has changed the order of the poetical treatise he
* See the letter to Can Grande.
IN CONNECTION WITH THE COMMEDIA. 177
is illustrating. “Take notice that, in this proem, we
promise to treat of the truth first, and afterwards to con-
demn falsehood; and the treatise, on the contrary, first
reproves falsehood, and then treats of truth. The prin-
cipal design of both is to speak of the truth ; and false-
hood is reproved, in order to make that truth appear more
evident. Here, therefore, we treat first of truth, as the
chief end; and in the treatise,” (the poem) “we have
condemned falsehood first, because, when once false
opinions are forsworn, truth is more freely received.”*
And, to make us clearly understand that he is speaking
of the three parts of the poem, and not of the Convito,
he adds: “When the meaning of this proem is under-
stood, follow the treatise, which will be comprehended
better, if divided into its three principal parts; after that,
it will be advisable to make other divisions, in order to
take in the full value of the sense. Let not the reader
be surprised at these divisions, for he holds in his hands
a great and important thing, hitherto little searched into
by authors; and it has been purposely made long and
subtle, that the words on which all the real meaning de-
pends, might be perfectly unravelled.” + In the follow-
ing paragraph, he explains the nature of the truth which
was his chief end, and which corresponds with the Para-
dise: “The root and foundation of imperial authority
is in the wants of human nature, which all tend to the
desire for happiness,” as figured in the life of the blessed.
And then he dwells at some length on the necessity for a
universal monarchy, of which the Emperor of Rome
ought to be the supreme head.
He tells Can Grande that the three parts of his poem
have a double meaning, one literal, the other allegorical ;
and in the Convito he says, that they are a book written
within and without ; and that he treats of the outside,
* P. 195. Wen. 1760. Ediz. di Zatta
# P. 196. Do.
178 ON OTHER WORKS OF DANTE,
only to illustrate the inward part. “When there is both
an outside and an inside, it is impossible to come to the
last, until we have passed the first. Therefore, when
discoursing on each canzone, I shall speak first of its
literal, and then of its allegorical meaning, which con-
ceals the truth.”
While thus illustrating the Commedia, feigning all the
while to interpret the Convito, what contempt do his words
express for the veil of catholicism which he flung over
the poem " We shall hear how deeply he regretted the
necessity which compelled him to disguise his political
sentiments under the mantle of religion, and how he de-
tested the fatality which led him, if not exactly to pro-
fanation, at least to the hypocrisy of appearing to fight
with good will under the banners of his enemy. It was
the idea of being mistaken for a papalist, an idea ab-
horrent to his mind, which made him determine to ex-
plain in conventional language, for the benefit of the
learned, the real meaning of the figures of the poem.
“I fear that those who read the above-mentioned can-
zoni will upbraid me for allowing passion to have do-
minion over me ; my present language will, I trust, show
them, that no feeling save virtue has moved me. As my
meaning is very different from what those canzoni out-
wardly express, I must explain them in allegorical lan-
guage. Unless I am at the pains to show their real
meaning, it will never be discovered, for it is hidden
under figures of allegory ; and not only will it be plea-
sant to hear, but very instructive and useful towards the
understanding of other authors. This writing, which
may almost be called a commentary, is intended to re-
medy the fault of the above-mentioned canzoni; some
perhaps will find it hard (to understand); this obscurity is
not used in ignorance, but to avoid a greater fault.”
(Treat 1. p. 68, 72, 73.) This greater fault, which he
sought to avoid, was that of revealing the secrets of the
conventional tongue; and hence he had recourse to hard
IN CONNECTION WITH THE COMMEDIA. 179
comments; his plan was successful, for he made the world
believe that he was discoursing on certain lyric odes, while
he was interpreting his grand poem all the while; and
we are so convinced that an impartial examination of his
words will shew the validity of this assertion, that for the
present we shall let this part of the subject rest, content-
ing ourselves with these preliminary observations, before
subjecting the matter to a more severe scrutiny.
The Monarchia was composed with the same design,
and was therefore divided likewise into three parts, of
which the first answers to the Paradise, and the last to the
Hell. The reason of this inversion is, that the writer's
principal aim was to sing the rights of the monarchy, as
his epitaph declares: “I sang the rights of the monarchy
among the blessed, in Phlegethon, and in the Lakes of
Hell.” He treated in the first instance of the truth, and
afterwards of falsehood, in order to bring the truth into a
clearer light. (That the Paradise was considered by him-
self as the most important part of his poem, we may
assume from the fact that he began by writing it in Latin,
before he determined upon making it an Italian work.)
He seems to have flattered himself into the hope, that
when the world saw both truth and falsehood displayed
in their true colours, meditation on them would lead to
action; and hence he wrote: “The present work, being
entirely political, is not meant for meditation only, but
for action; its end and aim is action.” (See the begin-
ning of the Monarchia.) The letter to Can Grande says
the very same thing of the poem. “Putting aside all
abstruse arguments, I declare that the design of this work
is to deliver man in this life from a state of misery, and
to lead him to a state of happiness. Not for speculation,
but for action was this work and all its parts intended.”
To deliver them from misery, by destroying the cause of
it; to lead them to happiness, by establishing the pro-
ducer of happiness | We need not say what course he
advised, nor who was to be humbled and who exalted.
180 ON OTHER WORKS OF DANTE.
The prose and the poetical treatise, then, have the same
object in view, but they seek to arrive at it by different
paths. The first treats of universal monarchy openly, and
the last secretly. The one with thoughts undisguised,
the other with ideas veiled in mystery; the prose treatise
brings forward arguments and proofs, the poetical pre-
sents images and examples. Boccaccio explains the dif-
ference, where he speaks of the manner in which poets
conceal their opinions: “The philosopher condemns what
he considers false, and praises what he believes to be
true, in syllogisms; and the poet, casting aside syllogisms,
conceals the truth which his imagination has conceived,
as carefully as possible, under a veil of fiction.” (Geneal.
B. 14.) This is the ancient art, known so well by Dante,
Petrarch, and Boccaccio himself, by which an abstract
truth is changed into a positive fact; an art which, ages
before those poets lived, filled the pages of sacred as well
as profane writers. Our Lord himself, instead of saying:
Heaven has mercy on the penitent; told the story of the
prodigal son; and instead of reminding us that we should
always be prepared for God's summons, spake the
parable of the ten virgins. And Dante, instead of weary-
ing the reader (as he did in his prose treatise) with a chain
of arguments in condemnation of the papal, and in praise
of the imperial government, described in his poem a Hell
and a Paradise. To feel the superiority of the art of the
poet over that of the logician, we need only reflect that
the Monarchia is now no longer read, while the Commedia
is in every hand, the false arguments of the first becoming
wondrous pictures in the last. He, who, in the prose
treatise is an emperor, the supreme head of a universal
monarchy, the kingdom of happiness; in the poem,
becomes God, the supreme ruler in heaven, the kingdom
of the blessed. And so, the Pope of the first becomes the
Lucifer of the second, and by a transformation of sex, the
Emperor and God becomes Beatrice, or the New Jeru-
TN CONNECTION WITH THE COMMEDIA. 181
salem, while the Pope and Lucifer is changed into the
Woman or Babylon.
The three parts of the Monarchia argue the following
theses: 1st. A universal monarchy is necessary for the
happiness of mankind. 2dly. This monarchy belongs, by
an exclusive right, to the Emperor of Rome. 3dly. The
Pope has no temporal power, either over such monarchy
nor over its monarch. We may extend these parts a little
further, and view their correspondence with the three
divisions of the poem.
We must remember that the monarch worshipped by
the Ghibellines was Emperor of Germany and King of
Italy: hence Dante made a distinction between the words
Imperare and Reggere.
1. A universal monarchy, governed by an emperor,
ruling over every part by representatives, and reigning in
person in his capital city. This is the very essence of his
Paradise.—“That Emperor, who reigns above; who, in
all parts hath rule, there reigns and holds his citadel and
throne. O ! happy those, whom there he chooses 1”—
(Inf. c. 1.)
2. The government of this monarchy belongs, by right,
to the Roman emperor, who alone can bring mankind,
purged from vice, to the blessing of this life; figured in
the terrestrial paradise.—“The end and aim of the whole
work is to deliver man, in this life, from a state of misery,
and to lead him to a state of happiness.”—(Letter on the
poem.) This is the centre-piece of the Monarchia, and
of the poem; and it is bounded by the earthly paradise,
(figurative of the blessing of this life), where the poet
meets Beatrice, whom he calls Our Blessing ; because she
was the Emperor who was to bring about that blessing on
earth.
3. The Pope has no legitimate authority over the em-
pire; and his usurpation of it produced disorders, discords,
and misery. This is the last part of the Monarchia; and
it corresponds with the Hell, where the Pope is Satan, the
I82 oN OTHER works OF DANTE,
prince, reigning over a kingdom of discord and misery, in
the first part of the poem. The question of a universal
empire was so popular in those times, that, in the uni-
versity of Bologna, (the ancient seat of the Italian muses,
which long flourished under the auspices of the emperors),
it was argued for several days, between four professors of
jurisprudence, whether the Emperor was, or was not, The
Lord of the Terrestrial Orb, and The King of Kings; and
equal to that King of Kings, and Lord of Lords, in whom
he was figured And we learn from history, that two of
them declared themselves, warmly in favour of it; and
especially Martino Gosia, who made a God of the Emperor;
and, moreover, that his opinion was not without many
followers, even in after ages.” We may reckon Cino and
Dante among them; they were intimate friends and pupils
of the same university; and, throughout their works, they
supported that fantastic doctrine with the utmost fervour;
especially Dante, whose works were more numerous than
those of his friend, and who was never weary of enforcing
his ideas.
In the Paradise, he explains that the happiness of the
blessed consists in the conformity of their will with the
supreme will of God, the sole monarch of the kingdom:
it is one of the celestial inhabitants who speaks:—
“ Rather it is inherent, in this state
Of blessedness, to keep ourselves within
The divine will, by which our wills with his
Are one.
E’en as our king, who in us plants his will :
And in his will is our tranquillity.”—(Par. 3.)
There is a passage in the Monarchia which corresponds
precisely with this:—“Men are happy when there is a
unity of will among them. But this cannot be, unless
there be one ruling will to which all the others submit;
* See Ciampi's discourse, prefixed to the poems of Cino.—Pisa, 1813.
IN CONNECTION WITH THE COMMEDIA. 183
and, to bring this about, there must be one prince, whose
will guides and governs all the others.” (B. 1). Here we
have the One ruling will of the Emperor, or supreme
prince on earth, compared with that of God, the only
Lord of heaven: the first is the bestower of an earthly,
and the last, of a heavenly, paradise. This Will, which
makes life blessed, is personified, and beeomes the lady
who blesses, or the lady Beatrice. The will of the prince,
and the prince himself, are but one. And to this prince,
and his glory, “by whose might all things are moved, and
in one part sheds more resplendence, elsewhere less,”
(Par. 1.): “The Imperial Head, who reigneth ever,”
(Par. 12.): “Our Liege in the most secret council with
his lords,” (Par. 25.): who sits in “that true Rome,”
(as the paradise is called, in the 32d canto of the Purga-
tory), “wherein Christ dwells a Roman:”—To this Emperor
did the Ghibelline bard always direct his thoughts, em-
blematically, as to the final object of his allegorical
pilgrimage.
The mystic rhymers of the time usually addressed the
Emperor, who was anointed with chrism, as Christ the
anointed. For instance: Cecco da Valfreduzio, one of
the exiles, on hearing that Henry VII. was expected
shortly in Italy, wrote the sonnet mentioned by Allacci,
in which he figured him as the conqueror of Satan, and
the imperialists as the patriarchs in Limbo: “I am in
Limbo; and I trust to see the glory of him who is the light
himself. He will raise me from death to life, and keep
me subject to his will,” &c.
We have seen how Dante, in plain language, likened
to Christ that beloved monarch, against whom his Satan
raised up in rebellion both princes and people. At the
beginning of the second book of the Monarchia, he wrote
in the same vein: “Seeing that the people and princes
league together against their anointed Roman Prince,
with grief I apply to our Cesar the words which the
prophet uttered, when speaking of the Prince of Heaven:
184 ON OTHER works of DANTE,
Why do the heathen so furiously rage together ? The
kings of the earth stand up, and the rulers take counsel
together against the Lord, and against his Anointed.” In
the decree, he issued against the rebels, Henry applied
the same style of language to himself: “ Following
Christ's example, whose works we are doing.” We are
of the number of those who cannot reconcile their minds
to Dante's most audacious allegory; and therefore we
exclaim, with the ancient bishop Damasus—
“Jure pari regnal communis conditor aevi,
Et cum Patre pia regnans sublimis in arce
Sidereo sanctis insidit numine regnis,
Unde mare et terras solo videt omnia nutu ;
Suggerit humanis, et donat munera rebus.”
It is however a curious fact, that a universal empire
has been the cherished dream of various ages and people.
A very few extracts from the French work “Recherches
sur l'Origine du Despotisme Oriental,” will be our best
answer to the opinions of Dante and those who thought
with him. “It seems to me that despotism owed not its
power on earth either to will or to force; but that it was
the melancholy consequence and the natural result of the
kind of government which men chose, when in far-distant
ages, they took for their model the government of the
universe, as swayed by the Supreme Being ; a magnificent
but fatal project, which plunged nations into idolatry and
slavery. We shall explain the nature of the ills which
sprang from a theory whose object was the happiness of
human nature. Societies, all preoccupied with heaven,
forgot that they were yet on earth; they transformed the
tie which should be natural between government and
people, into a supernatural one; and not to lose sight of
the kingdom of Heaven, they imagined some means of
representing it here below; and thus enjoying a heaven
on earth, and anticipating the lingering future which
religion painted to them in such brilliant colours. But
1N CONNECTION WITH THE COMMEDIA. 185
their speculation was the source of all their misfortunes
and errors. They applied the principles of a heavenly, to
an earthly kingdom, and those principles failed, because
they were entirely out of place. They were obliged to
support their fiction by a multitude of theories which were
taken in those times for truths, and hence resulted a host
of religious and political prejudices which were fatal in
their effects both to religion and government. Thus did
whole nations abandon themselves to a chimera which
they called the kingdom of God. The picture which they
drew of the felicity of the heavenly kingdom, caused the
most absurd ideas to be entertained on liberty, equality
and independence. They did not foresee that, by taking
a mortal man for a representative of the Divinity, without
subjecting him either to public opinion or the common
laws of society, they gave themselves a tyrant; neither
did they reflect that, although that mortal might be an
emblem of God, they were not on that account justified in
confounding the Supreme Being with a frail creature. To
confuse heaven with earth, to refuse to bend to public
opinion, to pretend to be more than man, is impiety. To
believe that men ought to be governed on earth by one
sole will, as the universe is ruled by the Supreme Being,
is folly. The ceremonial of the Emperors, and the con-
duct and opinion of the people respecting them, are still
speaking proofs that men have mounted the throne of the
God Monarch, by the same road whose paths we have
traced among every other nation; and that kings were
placed and established there, to represent on this earth
the sovereign Ruler of heaven, and to hold in their hands
the sum of good and evil, which none but God alone is
able to balance or dispense with justice. These unhappy
ideas are still the basis of the sentiments and feelings of
eastern nations towards their sovereigns. They believe
that the diadem gives, by a divine right, the power of
doing good or harm. Our forefathers aimed at arriving
at happiness through this sublime perspective of the king-
186 ON OTHER works OF DANTE,
dom of heaven, and perhaps for some time they might have
succeeded, as they usually celebrated that epoch as the
Age of Gold and the Reign of Justice ; and as poets have
all vied one with another in their endeavours to sing due
praises of that primitive felicity.”
We shall see hereafter that the idea of a kingdom of
heaven on earth, as a means of establishing the Reign of
Justice and the Age of Gold, was borrowed by Dante
from an eastern sect which had been transplanted into
Italy, where it had made an infinite number of pro-
selytes.
We must now conclude our remarks on the connection
between the Monarchia and the Commedia. Were we to
make a complete analysis of the former work, we should
find it the shadow of the latter, and see abundant evidence
to prove that Dante's chief aim was to sing the rights of
the Roman Monarchy, under the government of a supreme
head, the dispenser of never-failing peace and happiness,
which is compared by him to the bliss of heaven, as con-
ferred by God. “God wills that every human creature
should offer, as far as it be possible, the image of the
divine similitude; the whole universe is but one long
trace of his ineffable goodness. Men will be happy in
r roportion as they resemble God; and they will come
nearer to this resemblance when they are all united under
one; therefore, human beings approach nearer to God
when they are under the dominion of one Prince. A
monarchy then is necessary—and justice should be
omnipotent within it. Hence Virgil, desiring to cele-
brate the coming of that happy time which he expected
to see, (viz.: the universal Empire of Augustus) sang :
Jam redit et Virgo, redeunt Saturnia regna.
The Virgin signifies Justice ; the kingdoms of Saturn are
those happy times still known as the Golden Age.
Finally, one monarchy, that is, a universal empire is
necessary for the happiness of the world.” (B. 1.)
IN CONNECTION WITH THE COMMEDIA. 187
“A renovated world, Justice returned,
Times of primeval innocence restored,
And a new race descended from above.” (Purg. 22.)
They, whose verse of yore
The golden age recorded and its bliss,
On the Parnassian mountain of this place
Perhaps had dreamed. (Purg. 28.)
And this place, dreamed of on Parnassus, is the Earthly
Paradise where Beatrice appeared with her attendant
angels and spirits “a new race descended from above.”
This terrestrial paradise is a shadow of the golden age
of the empire of Augustus, celebrated by Virgil; it is an
emblem of the happiness of this life, under the sway of a
universal monarch; and it is the kingdom to which Virgil
led Dante in search of that Beatrice who was the haven
of rest to the guide and the guided, the master and the
disciple.
188
CHAPTER XIII.
oN THE virgil of DANTE's POEM.
HAVE we yet succeeded in making it appear why Dante
chose Virgil for the guide of his allegorical journey :
Have we clearly shown why Beatrice is made the object
and end of it ! If so, we have already proved the ab-
surdity of the opinion, by many still entertained, that in
a poem which sang the rights of the monarchy, Virgil,
the bard of the Roman empire, guided Dante, who sang
those rights, to a Florentine lady called Beatrice Porti-
nari, from whom the Pope had stolen a symbolic car.
Let us now inquire into the real nature of this guide
and master. It is the Virgil who appeared to him in the
first canto, to deliver him from the ravenous wolf who
had come from hell, and who then took him into that
hell, to see all the miseries produced by the Babylonish
time. It is the Virgil who led him to consider on the
means of repairing the vices of humanity, in the pro-
gressive course of a symbolic purgatory, and who restored
him many times from weariness and anguish, by merely
reminding him that he was leading him to Beatrice. The
same Virgil, seeing him disheartened at the last and most
arduous trial of the mysterious purgatory, that of the
figurative fire, said to him : “Mark now, my son, from
Beatrice thou art by this wall divided;” and at the sound
on THE virg11, of DANTE's PoEMs. 189
of that magic name his pupil cast himself into the flames,
and passed over. This guide left him not until he saw
Beatrice appear in the earthly Paradise; and then, his
mission being fulfilled, he vanished, as if to say: This is
the object to which I was to lead thee. “Already ap-
pears our blessing.”
Now, we affirm that this Virgil, who celebrated the
Eneas, who
“ Of Rome and of Rome's empire wide,
In heaven's empyreal height was chosen sire.” (Inf. 2.)
is a type of the political opinions which urged his disciple
to sing the rights of the Emperor over Rome. These
opinions, which first dawned under Julius Cesar, spread
unrestrainedly during the reign of Augustus, and were
professed by Virgil, who wrote his poem, expressly to
celebrate the origin of the Julian people, who came, (as
they say) from a son of Æneas, called Iulus, who went
into Italy after the destruction of Troy. Dante personi-
fied these opinions, and transformed them into Virgil;
and when he saw himself persecuted by the wolf in
the dark forest, he had recourse to them; and they, or
rather we will here call them, Virgil, thus characterized
himself: —
“ Born when the power of Julius yet
Was scarcely firm. At Rome my life was past,
Beneath the mild Augustus, in the time
Of fabled deities and false. A bard
Was I, and made Anchises' upright son
The subject of my song, who came from Troy
When the flames prey’d on Ilium’s haughty towers.
But thou, say wherefore to such perils past
Return'st thou? wherefore not this pleasant mount
Ascendest, cause and source of all delight !”
And Dante, pointing to the wolf who was impeding his
ascent, answered—
190 oN THE VIRGIL of DANTE's POEM.
“See the beast, from whom I fled.
O save me from her, thou illustrious sage!
For every vein and pulse throughout my frame
She hath made tremble.”
“Thou must needs
Another way pursue,”
answered Virgil; and to that pleasant mount, he did
afterwards lead him, in spite of the wolf's opposition ; it
was to escape from her persecutions, that he made use of
the mysterious language, which not only lulled her vigi-
lance, but kept the world long in ignorance of the terrible
satire hidden under the mask of the Romish creed.
As the poet made Will a female figure, so he made
Opinion a male; and he caused the last to guide him to
the first; that is to say, he described his attachment for
the empire, as having led him into the presence of the
Emperor. The will of that emperor he changed by the
art of his school, into his Lady Beatrice. The opinions
which attached him to the idea of a universal empire he
transformed into his guide Virgil.
This is the place in which we may show how he con-
fessed having chosen religion as a cloak for political
opinions, together with his motives for so doing. In the
first canto, he describes the loftiness of the empire, (the
mountain) to which reason (the sun) guided him, and says
that his ascent to it was constantly impeded by the Pope
(the she-wolf.) His monarchical opinions (Virgil) then
shewed him how to avoid the stumbling-block. We will
now see how all this is expressed in figures.
When the wolf chased him out of the direct path which
led to the mount, he fell into the valley again; and there
Virgil appeared before his eyes (the intellect.) He im-
mediately invoked him, saying: “O save me from her,
thou illustrious sage.” The Mantuan answered : If you
wish to arrive safe at that mount, you must take another
path, for that beast will not suffer any to pass her: she
slays them all. (She opposes them until she compels
oN THE VIRGIL of DANTE's PoeM. 191
them to die allegorically.) I invite you to follow
me, and I will guide you through regions of misery
into purgatory, and thence into those blessed realms
where reigns the emperor, who in all parts hath
sway. Or in other words : You must take this in-
direct and long way of religion, if you ever expect
to reach the haven of political happiness to which you
aspire; for your enemy's power will put a stop to any
other course. Hence, when the straight-forward path
was denied him, he struck into the crooked one ; and by
this he means to imply, that his long-drawn fiction, and
his abuse of holy things, were the fault, not of Virgil,
who advised him to take the indirect road, but of the
wolf, who shut him out from the direct one. He makes
use of the following devices, to shew that this desperate
remedy was had recourse to after he was exiled. His
banishment from Florence is predicted to him inside the
city of Dis; when on the point of leaving that city,
he feels quite dismayed, and following the steps of Virgil,
they turn out of their former path, and strike into a road
which leads to the left, into a valley. Here they hide
themselves behind the cover of a monument, where lies
the Pope, whom Photinus drew from the right way; and
Virgil gives him a minute description of the infernal valley
he has to pass through, ere he can reach the mount, where
dwells the lady of his mind. His idea of turning to the
left to explain the catholic pilgrimage, and hiding himself
behind Anastasius' tomb, is another way of showing the
before-mentioned resource, with the additional informa-
tion that it took place after his exile from Florence. In
short, by introducing the pagan bard of the empire, to
propose that journey of catholicism to him, as a means of
avoiding the persecution of the wolf, he shows who urged
him to the deceit; by making him trace a plan of the ca-
tholic hell, under the shadow of the papal tomb, when
yet scarcely out of Dis, he explains the circumstance
which led him to adopt the design. Dante found two
192 ON THE v1RGIL of DANTE's PoEM.
characteristics in Virgil, which made him select that poet
for the guide of his pilgrimage — his style and his subject.
In the first place, his pastorals are all figurative ; they say
one thing and mean another; and his Eneid is generally
considered as belonging to the same class of writings.
Now Dante, before he wrote his Commedia, had already
composed some of the eclogues, of which two have come
down to our days, as well as a part of the canzoniere,
which treats of his love for the lady of the mind. All
these are mysteriously written, and were much admired
by those who understood the figurative style. And hence,
in Inf, canto 1. he calls Virgil his master and guide, and
tells him that from him he borrowed the style which has
done him so much honour. And again, when his lady
sends the bard of Augustus to deliver him from the wolf,
it is with these words: “A friend, not of Fortune, but of
mine, has met with an obstacle on his way to the moun-
tain, and has gone back into the valley, for fear of the
wolf; I trust to thee; go now, and with thy flowery lan-
guage save him.” In Virgil's Bucolick, are those words on
which Dante lays so much stress — Already returns the
Virgin, &c.; and in canto 22. of the Purgatory, he calls
the Mantuan “the sovran of the pastoral song.” In his
time, those pastorals were always considered as mystical,
and his anonymous interpreter mentions them as con-
taining wonderful things. In a note to the seventh canto of
the Purg. he says, that Virgil composed a book called the
Bucolick, which treats of moral philosophy, and prophe-
cies according to some art, (he does not explain what art,.)
&c. &c. Boccaccio, Landino, and others, speak of him in
the same terms, and discover things of the greatest moment
concealed under his shepherds' words. Having considered
one of Virgil's qualities, let us now proceed to the other,
which in Dante's estimation, was even more important.
If we turn from the poem of Alighieri, and open his
volumes in prose, we shall better comprehend all his
thoughts and feelings. How is Virgil therein mentioned 2
on THE VIRGIL OF DANTE's POEM. 193
always as the great bard of the Roman empire, and the
best authority to prove its rights.
It is painful to observe how far this great man suffered
himself to be blinded by his ruling passion; Virgil was
for him the very fountain-head of politics, history, and
philosophy, from whose verdict on sacred and all other
knowledge there was no appeal; and a few of his verses
were all that was requisite to settle the gravest points of
the momentous question then pending between the Em-
peror and the Pope. A few examples will show that the
words which Virgil put into the mouth of Jupiter, had as
much weight for Dante, as the words of God in the Holy
Bible have for us.
“ Divine reason, and not force, was the origin of the
Roman empire. And this is proved by two reasons; for
God first created the imperial city, and then took it
under his special protection. Virgil confirms this: when
speaking in the person of God, in the first canto of the
Eneid, he says: To them, that is, to the Romans, I have
put no limits of time nor things: I have given them an
empire without end.”—(Convito. Treat. 4.)
In the Monarchia, book 1st, he says: “Our divine poet,
Virgil, asserts, throughout the Eneid, that the glorious
king Eneas was the father of the Roman people; and we
refer to our poet for an account of his noble deeds.”
When he seeks to prove that the Roman empire had a
right to universal dominion, Virgil is brought forward to
give the weight of his authority to the argument. Eneas
was the great-grandson of Assaracus, an Asiatic ; and his
wife Creusa was a native of Asia : therefore the Roman
empire, by descent and marriage, had a claim on Asia.
Eneas was descended from Dardanus, a European, the son
of Electra: therefore the Roman empire had a right to
Europe. Eneas married Dido, an African queen : there-
fore the Roman empire had a right to Africa. Eneas
conquered Turnus, an Italian king; and espoused Lavinia,
the daughter of the king of Latium : therefore the Roman
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194 - ON THE VIRGIL OF DANTE's POEM.
emperors, his descendants, have a double claim on Italy
and Latium by conquest and marriage.
We are not informed whether, in the university of
Bologna, where Dante studied, these opinions were held
by the professors who made a god of the Emperor. But
they serve to prove how far the frenzy of party spirit
carried Alighieri, and they explain, in a great measure,
the essence of his Virgil and of his poem. In order to
show that we do not exaggerate, we cite some of his ori-
ginal words from the second book of the Monarchia. “As
for his inheritance, Eneas was noble in every part of the
world, both by descent and marriage. In Asia, by his
immediate forefathers—Assaracus, and others, kings of
Phrygia. Hence our poet, in the third book: Postguam
rex Asiae, &c.”
“In Europe, by his progenitor, Dardanus: in Africa,
through his ancestor, Electra. And, in his eighth book,
our poet makes Eneas bear testimony to this fact:
“Our founder, Dardanus, as fame hath sung,
And Greeks acknowledge, from Electra sprung.”
(Dryden's Virgil.)
“Our poet says that Dardanus was of European descent.
The first wife of Eneas was Creusa, the Asiatic, Priam's
daughter: the second was Dido, the African : * the third
was Lavinia, a native of Italy, the daughter and heir of
the king Latinus, and the mother of the Albans and
Romans—if our poet speaks truly. These facts being
proved, who will say that the father of the Roman people,
and consequently the people themselves, are not noble
under heaven 7 Is it not clear that a divine predestina-
tion was manifested in the person of him who was
descended by blood from every part of the world 7”
* The anachronism, committed by Virgil, remained undiscovered
until after Dante's death. We are indebted to Petrarch for our know-
ledge of the fact, that Dido lived some hundreds of years after Eneas.
on THE virg11, OF DANTE's POEM. I95
In this treatise, (the Monarchia,) Electra, the mother
of Dardanus, the Italian, is called the root of the Trojan
branch, and the founder of the rights of Eneas over Italy;
and Lavinia, the daughter and heir of Latinus, is said to
have confirmed those rights to her Phrygian husband.
And, in the poem which sings the rights of the Roman
monarchy, Electra appears in an allegorical castle, with
Eneas and Cesar in one group ; and in another group
appears Lavinia with Latinus, and Julia and other illus-
trious Roman ladies, their descendants; Virgil is the
authority cited by Dante, in the treatise, to prove the
rights of this august race; Virgil is the guide and master.
who shews him, in the poem, that same race, robbed of
their lawful inheritance, in the kingdom of the usurper,
and described by him as suspended in the kingdom where
the Pope is Satan the prince, in a place called Limbo,
where they are waiting the coming of the Redeemer, who
is to free them from the bondage of Satan.—(See Inf. 4.)
We repeat once more, that these two works, the
Monarchia and the Commedia, have but one sole aim in
view. The first argues and reasons openly; the last,
paints in mystic allegories; and, in both, it is Virgil who
explains the secret and true meaning. The fact is, that
Dante wrote two commentaries on the poem : one is the
Convito, in the conventional tongue; the other is the
Monarchia. We might add a third, viz.: the Vita Nuova,
which, although very difficult to understand, is still more
decisive than the others, when satisfactorily explained;
and yet the world has sought for an interpretation of the
divine Comedy But let us return to Dante's chief
authority and instructor.
Does he desire to recount the miracles which God
wrought for the Roman people, in order to establish them
in the empire of the universe ? Virgil is brought forward
to prove that the cry of a goose saved the Capitol from the
Gauls; “for which our poet was grateful.” Does he wish
to celebrate the heroes, whose virtues paved the way for
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196 ON TIIE VIRGIL of DANTE's PoEM.
the empire—as Junius Brutus, Cincinnatus, Fabricius,
Camillus, &c. ?—Virgil appears again : “Our poet con-
firms this fact.” “This hero is celebrated by our poet.”
“Whose glory is sung in the 6th book of our poet,” &c.
And, finally, he concludes: “All this sufficiently shows
that the Roman people were by nature destined for em-
pire. Therefore, when they became masters of the world,
they only came into possession of their own right.”—
(B. 2.)
It is remarkable that Dante never calls any other poet
by the title of our poet. When he speaks of God's
miracles in favour of the Roman empire, and, among
them, of the shield which fell from heaven, he says: “Of
which miracle Lucan speaks.” Again, when he is proving
that the Romans subjugated all Asia: “Ovid mentions
it.” And “Every family is governed by its oldest mem-
ber, as Homer says,” &c. No ; there is but one whom
Dante calls our poet; and that is Virgil, the bard of the
Roman empire, who furnished him with the materials to
prove its rights in the Monarchia; whom he chose for his
guide in the poem which sings those rights; who showed
him all the miseries of that place where the Pope is Satan
the prince; and who, finally, led him to the allegorical
Beatrice, as to the end and aim of his journey.
The interpreters declare, in chorus, that Virgil is a
figure of philosophy in general. But where do they find
this? Let them point out, if they can, the place where
Dante calls Virgil a philosopher. His philosopher was
Aristotle, the oracle of the schools of that period, whom
he calls, in the Convito, “the greatest of philosophers;”
“the master of philosophers;” “that glorious philoso-
pher, for whom nature displayed all her secrets;” “the
guide of life and human reason ;” and, in the Hell,
“The master of the sapient throng,
Seated amid the philosophic train.”—(Canto 4.)
oN THE v1RGIL of DANTE's PoEM. 197
Not from their own ideas, but from the words of the
author, should his interpreters explain the nature of a
principal agent of the poem. The spirit of Dante should
be sought for in his works; and from his life, opinions,
passions, and misfortunes, should be extracted the essence
of his allegorical Comedy. For is it not a natural suppo-
sition, that a man of irritable feelings and immovable
firmness, when he saw himself condemned and proscribed,
a beggar and a wanderer, and all because he was a Ghi-
belline, would pour out the bitterness of his soul, and cast
himself into a very delirium of party spirit, in the work
which he was composing while suffering under the miseries
of exile, poverty, and unrelenting persecution ? Is it at
all credible that he would choose the shade of a wor-
shipper of Jupiter to guide him to the Hell and Purgatory
of the believers in Christ? Or, at all events, why not
observe the prevailing genius of the time, and the prac-
tice of other poets in choosing their guides, in allegorical
compositions of the same nature ? Let us take Dante's
own master, and one of his imitators, as examples. When
Brunetto wrote of the changes in nature's works, he chose
for his instructor, Ovid, the writer of the Metamorphoses;
and when he treated of the heavenly bodies, he followed
Ptolemy, the prince of astronomers.-(See the Tesoretto.)
When Fazio degli Uberti took his imaginary journey over
the world, to observe its various productions, climates,
manners, and customs, he was accompanied by Solinus,
who had already treated of these things. Pliny explained
to him nature's different kingdoms; Ptolemy, the laws of
the heavenly bodies. An Anachorite instructed him in
morals, &c.—(See the Dittamondo.) And yet many, who
are well acquainted with these allegorical works, tell us
that the bard, who never wrote a syllable without a deep
meaning, and who is acknowledged as superior to all of
his own age, chose the poet of the Roman empire to
accompany him on a visit to the Lucifer of the Scriptures,
(whose name in all probability Virgil never heard), and
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198 ON THE VIRGIL of DANTE's PoEM.
also to introduce him to a beautiful Florentine lady, called
Beatrice!
Were we told that an ardent partisan of the Roman
empire had written an allegorical poem, and selected the
bard of that empire for the guide of his symbolic journey,
surely we should be able to give a very shrewd guess at
the purpose for which such a poem was composed. Yet,
strange to say, more than five hundred years have passed
away since the Commedia was written; during which
time, every endeavour has been made, by meditation, by
researches, by commentaries, and by notes, in which
every sentence, word, and syllable, has been analysed, in
order to arrive at the truth, and not one step has been
gained; although history tells us that, in those days,
there was quite as much antipapal spirit as papal perse-
cution ; that every place was full of sectarians, punished
by Rome; that many called, and believed the Pope
really to be Lucifer, and made almost a god of the
Emperor; and that, finally, all the learned (and Dante
more ardently than the rest,) desired to see the whole
peninsula united under this Emperor. To this, let us
add the numberless hints and insinuations given by Dante
himself in all his works. The two long comments, and
the three keys which he left, all written by himself; and
the decisive and solemn confession made in his last mo-
ments, which, engraven indelibly on his tomb, seems to
reproach us for our doubts and unbelief, that whether tra-
velling among the blessed, in Phlegethon, or in the infernal
lakes, he sang the rights of the Monarchy. And all these
proofs have availed nothing ! What spell, what talisman,
has been used? And do we flatter ourselves that the spell
has been broken by us? No; it still lasts, and will for
ever. And the writer of these pages, after the loss of
much time, will find them, if read at all, considered as the
work of a fanatic, who reasons from his own false ideas,
and sees things which have an existence in his own dis-
tempered fancy only. Some will condemn him as arro-
oN THE v1RGIL of DANTE's PoEM. 199
gant, for pretending to interpret what so many learned
persons have confessed themselves unable to understand :
others will look upon him as an impious enemy of the
Catholic church, who, not satisfied with being so himself,
endeavours to bring in the most illustrious authors guilty
of the same crime. But if the generality be thus enamoured
of error, there are still some to whom truth is always wel-
come; and they will not refuse to listen when it is Dante
who cries:
“Jura Monarchiae, Superos, Phlegetonta lacusque
Lustrando, cecini, voluerunt fata quousque.”
* Dante, as we before said, was ambiguous even on his death bed.
Those two active verbs (lustrando, cecini,) follow a string of accusatives,
(jura, Superos, Phlegetonta, and lacusque); and hence many critics have
asserted that, in this epitaph, he spoke of both the divine Comedy and the
Monarchia; and that it should be read—Cecini Jura Monarchiae; Cecini
Superos, Phlegetonta, lacusque;—leaving the lustrando without any
regimen. But is it likely that Alighieri would apply the verb to sing to a
dry prose treatise; and rank a work, written in barbarous Latin, before
the splendid poem which has immortalized him 1 To those who deny the
authenticity of our construction—Lustrando Superos, Phlegetonta lacus-
que, cecini jura Monarchiae—we can only say: “The world is blind ;
and thou, in truth, com'st from it.”—(Purg. 16.)
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200
CHAPTER XIV.
PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS ON THE PLATONIC LOVE.
OUR former considerations, on the allegorical or real ma-
ture of the rival females of Dante's poem, were intended
to prepare the way for our present reflections on the
character of the love he bore to the Blessed One; as we
have ascertained the nature of his journey by that of his
guide. Neither will our analysis be lengthened unneces-
sarily by discussing this part of the subject, as it com-
prehends matters of the highest importance.
We presume that there will be no difficulty in allowing
this fact, viz.: that there existed, in Dante's time, a secret
society, which had extended itself throughout various
countries of Europe; and whose proselytes were taught
so well how to suit their actions to their words, that all
of them were supposed to be sighing for some real lady;
while, in fact, the object of their love was of the same
nature as the allegorical Beatrice, of whom Dante was the
reputed lover. Let this be granted, and we shall soon see
that from this dissimulation arose that Platonic love which
turned the heads of half the learned men of the time.
This secret society, which we shall call the Love Sect,
was in being more than a century before Dante lived, but
had produced nothing beyond a few stupid rhymers; and
it remained for him to introduce a new method of instruc-
tion, by blending the language of religion with that of
love, to deceive the world. We have abundant materials
wherewith to explain the origin, extent, changes, lan-
PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS, ETC. 201
guage, and resources of this sect; and we have no doubt
of being able to convince our readers of their truth.
The mystic language of this society was taught by
means of a vocabulary, called the Grammar of the Gay
Science; founded chiefly on ideas and words put in oppo-
sition to each other. The antithesis of gay science was
sad ignorance; and, hence, to be gay, and to be sad, to
laugh, and to weep, with all their respective synonimes
and derivatives, signified to be a sectarian, or to be, on
the contrary, a papalist. Heart meant the hidden secret; *
face, the outward meaning; and sighs, the verses in this
jargon, &c.
Before Dante lived, this gay science had fixed the foun-
dation of its language on the two words, love and hatred ;
and all their attendant qualities followed on each side—
pleasure and grief, truth and falsehood, light and dark-
ness, sun and moon, life and death, good and evil, virtue
and vice, courage and cowardice, mountain and valley,
fire and frost, garden and desert, &c. To this list he
added many scriptural words; such as God and Lucifer,
Christ and Antichrist, angels and demons, paradise and
hell, Jerusalem and Babylon, &c. &c.
Dante had already written many things in the erotic
jargon, when the disasters which befel his own party
obliged him to sue for the favour and protection of the
adverse one. Although his altered fate had not changed
his real opinions, yet he felt the necessity of expressing
his ideas in the language of his potent enemy, and of thus
conciliating each of the contending parties among whom
he lived. His design was to deceive the Guelphs, by
casting over his political sentiments the pompous garb of
religion, and thus holding out a lure which would have
made them interpret every thing in their own favour;
while, to the Ghibellines, he would have intrusted the
key which unlocked the veiled temple of his thoughts,
* “By heart I mean the inward secret.”—(Convito.)
202 PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS ON
and enabled him to express his opinions without danger.
But, surely, it must have been with great reluctance that
he determined on this artful line of conduct; for, on the
one hand, he might have served the cause of the then pre-
vailing superstition, which was dignified with the names
of religion and piety; and, on the other, he ran the risk
of offending those of his own party, who might not have
been warned in time of his secret design. And these
doubts did make him waver and hesitate, while he was
composing the poem where courtesy plays the part of
piety. But let us hear all this confirmed by himself in
the conventional language.
In the mysterious visions of the Vita Nuova, which is
full of the new jargon, he writes: “The very noble Sig-
more (Love), who rules over me by virtue of the sweetest
lady, appeared to my imagination as a pilgrim, lightly
covered with a mean dress.”—(P. 14.) His meaning is
evident: His imagination conceived the idea of an alle-
gorical pilgrimage, mystically concealed under a papal
dress. He then goes on to say, that this pilgrim, Love,
appeared depressed, as though he had lost his power: “I
thought he called to me, and said: I come from that lady
who has long been thy defence, (the erotic Beatrice); and
I bear with me the heart (the secret) which you received
from her. I am carrying it to a lady who will defend
thee, as she has done. He then named her to me, so that
I knew her well. But, continued Love, if thou speakest
of these words of mine, take care that it be in such a way
that no one can discover the feigned love thou hast shewn
to this one, (the first,) and which thou wilt do well to
show to the other,” (the second). Having said this, he
disappeared.”—(P. 14.) He then tells us that, when
Love vanished, he remained quite changed in his outward
appearance: “I say what Love told me, but not quite
all, for fear of disclosing my secret.”
* Here is a clear avowal, on the part of Dante, that his love for both
ladies was feigned.
THE PLATONIC LOVE, 203
This secret (which we shall soon hear disclosed,) was
the name of the new lady for whom he was to feign a
passion : “Almost changed in my appearance, I rode (the
same as the travelling of the poem,) that day very sadly,
and accompanied by many sighs; and I began to seek
that lady whom my lord had named to me in the way of
sighs, (the poem). In a short time, I did make her my
defence; but many spoke of it beyond the bounds of
courtesy, and caused me thereby many sufferings. By
reason of those outrageous speakers, who vilely slandered
me, that loveliest person, who was the queen of virtue
and the destroyer of vice, denied me her sweet presence,
which had made every thing a blessing.”— (P. 15.)
Literally, that, by his deceit, the imperial party suspected
him of being a papalist, and consequently looked coldly
on him. And is this surprising, when, by his manner of
writing, he deceived, and still continues to deceive, the
world in general 2
But let us hear more distinctly how he gave up his first
visionary or erotic Beatrice; and turned, notwithstanding
his fears, to the second and Catholic one.
Another vision soon followed the above-mentioned one.
“When my blessing was denied me, I quitted my com-
panions; and, oppressed with grief, I bathed the earth
with bitter tears in my solitude.” And after begging for
mercy from the lady of courtesy, t and crying: Love aid
thy votary I fell asleep, weeping.”—(P. 16.) He in-
forms us, in the Convito, that he dreamed in the Vita
Nuova, intentionally : let us hear this dream.
Love appeared to him in a vision, and cried : My son,
it is now time to leave off our dissimulation ; ; and, so
* We have already mentioned the meaning conveyed by the word to
weep.
# Or, as it should be read: Giving the name of Piety to Madonna
Courtesy.
f A feigned love, he has already called his passion for both the first
and second lady.
204 PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS ON
saying, he wept piteously. He then ordered him to
make a ballad (the poem), and address his blessing, not
directly, but indirectly—feigning to sing to another lady,
but speaking to his own all the while; and to place,
almost in the middle, some words, set off by sweet har-
mony, which might serve to assure the true lady of his
real meaning. If we turn to the Commedia, we shall find,
almost in the middle of it, the allegorical scene of the rival
females, which shows his whole design. And, again,
almost in the middle of the Vita Nuova, he explains the
essence of all his fictions; as we shall show in another
place. Dante, at Love's command, writes the ballad,
and addresses it to Madonna, after bidding it seek that
other whom Love had named to him in secret—“After
thou hast sought Piety.”
Piety, then, was the lady who was to be made his de-
fence; and whom Love named to him in the way of sighs.
Piety was the object of his feigned love; the lady whom
he detested and pretended to adore, that he might be at
peace with all the world. We shall hear his own con-
fession.
He sends the ballad to plead his cause before Madonna
Courtesy, whom he calls the key of all piety : “Ma-
donna, he who sends me to thee, desires that, when it
shall be thy pleasure to understand me, thou wilt do
so. Love for thee, has made him appear outwardly
changed; but, although it has caused him to turn to
another (Piety), believe me, his heart has never wandered
from thee.”
“I tell my ballad where it may go, and in what com-
pany it should travel, if it would avoid danger. I dismiss
it, with a recommendation to throw itself into the arms of
Fortune (synonimous with Piety). Some will say that
they cannot understand why I should speak in the second
person, (to the second lady, as a means of addressing the
Jirst); since the ballad is nothing but the words I write,
and not a lady. But it is my intention, even in this book,
THE PLATONIC LOVE. 205
to solve all these mysteries; and then let those, who
most doubt, hear me.
And then he goes on to say: “After this vision, my
mind was distracted by many thoughts; of which four,
in particular, destroyed the peace of my life. One was
this: It is good to submit to Love; because it draws
the heart from wickedness. Another was : It is not good
to submit to Love; because the more faithful its subjects
are, the more painful are the trials they have to undergo.”
The third was : The name of Love is so sweet to the ear,
that it seems impossible its reality can be otherwise.
The last was . The lady whom thou lovest is not like
others, who are easily banished from the heart. Each of
these thoughts struggled so within me, that I felt like one
who wishes to go on, but knows not which way to take.
I would fain have found out some way to reconcile one
with the other, but could not; and I was therefore obliged
to throw myself into the arms of Piety. While in this
state, I felt a great desire to write some verses; and
accordingly composed this sonnet.—
“Every thought speaks of Love; but their variety tor-
ments me. One reminds me of his power; another recalls
his valour; a third brings sweet hopes; a fourth makes
me often weep. But all agree in urging me to call upon
Piety, trembling with the fear that is in my heart. I
know not on what subject to dwell ; fain would I speak,
but I can scarce tell what to say ; and so I go wandering
in Love's mazes. I desire with all to agree; and, to
do this, I must call my enemy, Madonna Piety, my
defender.
“I say that, wishing to speak of Love, I know not
where to begin the subject; and, if I do venture on it, I
must call my enemy Madonna Piety; and I say Madonna,
in scorn.”—(P. 16 to 20.)
* Cecco d’Ascoli, and thousands of others, prove this fact.
t And where else can fear be 3 Dante means to say that he trembled
for his sectarian secret.
206 PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS ON
“ Time is to be considered, for the sake both of the
speaker and the hearer: if the first be ill-disposed, his
words may be very hurtful; and if the last be so, he will
take in bad part what is really meant well. And there-
fore Solomon said wisely: There is a time to keep silence,
and a time to speak. I felt an inclination to speak of
Love, but I thought it better to wait; for time carries with
it the end of all our desires. If we could trace back the
origin of all our troubles, we should find that they have
arisen from our ignorance of the value of time.” This he
says in the Convito (P. 103); where he also writes, that,
desiring to sing of Love, and of that lady who was the
daughter of the Emperor of the Universe, he had recourse
to an expedient. These are his words: “I shewed my
own condition under a figure of other things. No rhyme
was worthy to speak openly of the lady of my heart; nor
were my readers well-disposed enough to comprehend my
words, unless they had been feigned. They would not
have believed the true meaning so well as the false one;
because they thought that I really felt a sincere, and not
a feigned passion.”—(P. 129.) And so has it always
been, in spite of his declaration, that, when he wished to
speak of Love, he was obliged to call his enemy Madonna
Piety. We may add, that he did it to outrage that
enemy, while he was pretending to honour him.
Now, we can better understand the bitter scorn, which
we noticed in the Convito, for the Catholic veil which he
threw over the grand allegory of the poem ; and the kind
of disgrace from which he wished to clear himself. And
let us not forget, that the way, and the way of sighs, of
which he makes mention so frequently, is the poem.
If there can be any excuse for Dante's profanation, it
must be sought for in the fatal necessity of calming the
cruel spirit of persecution, which in those ages was rife
against the secret societies. Their first or erotic language
had been partly interpreted by some of their powerful
adversaries, who obtained a key to it, either through the
THE PLATONIC LOVE. 207
malice of intruders, the weakness of the fearful,” or the
perfidy of apostates.t. From this discovery, ensued cruel
persecutions, from which Dante himself did not escape,
and hence seeking safety in profaneness, he spoke out-
wardly to Madonna Piety, and secretly to Madonna
Courtesy; and wrote: “This rhetorical figure is very ex-
pressive, and even necessary, when the words are addressed
to one person, and the meaning to another. This figure
is both beautiful and useful, and may be called dissimu-
lation ; it is like the plan of that wise general who attacked
the castle on one side, to draw away its defenders from
the other.” (Conv. Treat. 2. ch. 10.) So he made war
on Piety, that Love might be secure from her attacks.
He alone stood and boldly faced the formidable enemy,
during the allegorical night which succeeded, while all
the others fled like scared animals; hence we read in the
very first steps he took on his long way of sighs :
Now was the day departing, and the air
Imbrown'd with shadows, from their toils releas'd
All animals on earth ; and I alone
Prepar'd myself the conflict to sustain,
Both of sad Pity, ſqu- Piety] and that perilous road,
Which my unerring memory shall retrace.
O Muses I O high genius ! now vouchsafe your aid. (Inf. 2.)
There are still extant between Dante and his friend
Cino, a member of the same Love sect, and an exile from
his native land, two sonnets which relate to our present
inquiries. In the first, Dante laments the fate which con-
demns him to dwell among a people, the enemies of Love
and erotic language, and informs his friend that he has
had recourse to the language of piety; and Cino, in his
reply, exhorts him to preach the good in the kingdom of
devils, since he is forbidden to speak of Love, in the king-
* Such as Bracciarone of Pisa, of whom we shall speak elsewhere.
# See ch. 2, where we spoke of Ivan of Narbonne.
208 PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS ON
dom of lovers. We have already said that, in the gay
science, good and evil were synonimous with love and
hatred.
I)ANTE TO HIS FRIEND.
Poich’io non trovo chicon me ragioni
Del Signor cui serviamo e voi ed io,
Conviemmi soddisfare il gran desio
Ch'io ho di dire i pensamentiboni.
Null' altra cosa, appo voi m’accagioni
Del lungo e del nojoso tacer mio;
Sono in loco ove sono ch’é si rio,
Che 'l Ben non trova chi albergo glidoni.
Donna non c'è ch” amor le venga al volto,
Ně uomo ancora che per leisospiri,
E chi’l facesse saria detto stolto.
Ahi, Messer Cino, come il tempo è volto,
A danno nostro, e de li nostri diri,
Da poi che 'l Ben ci è si poco ricolto!
“I find none here with whom I can speak of the Lord
whom we both serve; and therefore with thee I must
gratify my earnest desire to communicate my good
thoughts. Attribute not my long silence to any other
cause ; I am now dwelling in a place of wickedness,
where good would seek a shelter in vain; here are no
ladies whose faces beam with love, no men to sigh for
them;* such sighs would be deemed folly. Ah Cino
Good is now coldly welcomed, and the time is unfriendly
to us and our language.”
This sonnet was written at the time when both they
and their language had nothing but persecution to expect;
the expressions throughout it, such as–I find none with
whom I can talk of love; neither do men sigh for ladies,—
are entirely allegorically ; as in no country in the world
is this ever likely to be the case, and even were it so, that
is no reason why Dante should have lamented that the
time was against their language, and that Good or Love
could find none to shelter him. The fact is, that what
* Sighs—the verses in the conventional tongue.
THE PLATONIC LOVE, 209
they called Good was persecuted by its opposite Evil,
who wielded those mighty weapons which, when hurled
from the Vatican, rarely failed to produce confusion and
dismay in the ranks of his adversaries. But let us hear
the
ANSWER OF CINO TO HIS FRIEND.
Dante, ionon odo in qual albergo suoni
Il Ben che da ciascun messo ê in obblio;
Esi gran tempo che di qua fuggio
Che del contrario son nati li tuoni.
E per le variate condizioni
Chi 'l Ben facesse non risponde al fio,
Il Ben sai tu che predicava Dio,
E non tacea nel regno de’ Demoni.
Dunque seal Bene ogni reame è tolto
Nel mondo, in ogni parte ove tu giri,
Vuomi tu fare ancor di piacer molto ?
Diletto fratel mio, di pene involto,
Mercé per quella Donnache tu miri,
Didir non star, se di fé non sei sciolto.
“Dante, I have no means of hearing where thou art
now chaunting that Good which seems almost forgotten.
It is so long since it left this place; and the thunders of
its opposite (Evil) have superseded it; and things are so
changed that those who might do much good come not
up to our expectations.” Thou knowest right well that
God never gave over preaching Good in the kingdom of
Demons.t. Therefore, though Good be driven out of
every realm, still wherever thou goest, fail not to pleasure
me by singing it. O my beloved brother, by the lady
whom thou beholdest, I pray thee, in the midst of all thy
* That is, do not satisfy our vengeance, by punishing him who is the
main cause of evil in the kingdom of devils.
f This mystic expression signifies, that according to their belief, Christ
preached nothing in the kingdom of the Devil, “the prince of this world,”
but that Good or Love, taken in its widest sense.
210 PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS ON
troubles,” never so long as thy faith is dear to thee, to
relax thy efforts.”f
The request of Cino was granted by the Florentine.
In the Convito, where he very evidently speaks of his
allegorical poem, although he dares not name it openly,
we read as follows: “I here declare that the lady with
whom I fell in love, after my first love,t was the beautiful
and virtuous daughter of the emperor of the universe,
called by Pythagoras Philosophy. (P. 139.) And when
I became the friend of this lady, whose real nature I have
here confessed, I began to love and to hate, according as
she loved or hated. Therefore, as she loved the followers
of truth and hated the followers of error and falsehood,
so did I.S Every thing is in itself loveable; it is only
through the working of malice that things become hate-
ful; therefore according to reason, we should avoid and
hate, not the things, but the malice. This is the very
thing that my most excellent Lady desires, and in her
dwell both reason and virtue. Following her example
therefore, I abhorred and despised the errors of the
people; and to avoid idleness which is very displeasing
to her, and expose the error which allures away her
friends, I determined to warn those who were pursuing
the wrong path (in order that they might re-enter the
straight one,) and for that purpose I began a canzone|| in
these words:
“I must now give up those sweet rhymes of Love which
for so long have filled my every thought; perhaps I
* It appears by these words that Dante had already commenced his
pilgrimage through the regions of Hell.
f See these sonnets in the poetical works of Cino, p. 112. Pisa 1813.
$ After his first or erotic fiction for Beatrice.
$ We must bear always in mind the secret meaning of the words Truth
and Error in the Gay Science. Of the Lady Truth who dwells in the
third heaven with the princes of Piety, covered with the three-coloured
veil of Error (white, green and red,) we shall speak elsewhere.
| The poem is here alluded to, but he quotes a canzone which relates
to it.
THE PLATONIC LOVE. 211
may return to them once more, but my lady's proud
and disdainful looks” have deprived me of all power of
singing in my own usual style (of love.) Here then I lay
aside my soft verses with a hope that better times may
come and enable me once again to celebrate Love. I
commence by invoking that Lord who dwells in the eyes
of my lady, because she is enamoured of herself.”t
“In this canzone I design to bring the world back
again to the right way.; I say, then, that for the pre-
sent I must give up those sweet rhymes of love which
have been hitherto the vehicles of my thoughts; and I
assign a reason for so doing : It is with no intention of
abandoning the subject of love, but because my lady is
so changed in appearance, that at present I have not the
power of talking about it. By this, I do not mean to say
that she is really disdainful or proud, but only that she
appears so.” (Treat. 4.) These new appearances of Piety,
shown by his lady Courtesy, and her seeming actions, for-
bade him to continue his discourse on love, and caused
him to profane the catholic doctrine, and disguise himself
throughout the Divine Comedy in the garb of a papalist.
In the very moment when he decided on this conduct,
the lady of his mind, Beatrice, died.
It is an historical fact that, on the death of Pope Cle-
ment V., which happened a few months after that of
Henry VII., Dante wrote a Latin letter to the Italian
cardinals, in which he exhorted them to choose a native
pope, who would transfer the pontifical see from Avignon
to Rome. The writing of that letter stamped Dante as a
partisan of popery in Italy, in the opinion of the public
and of the cardinals. And at the very point of time when
* Madonna Courtesy had put on the appearances of her enemy,
Madonna Piety.
+ The meaning of this last mysterious expression, will be explained
hereafter.
# See Hell, canto 1. where the wolf prevents Dante's ascent to the
symbolic mount, to which he is afterwards guided by Virgil.
212 PRELIMINARY OR SERVATIONS ON
he wrote that letter, in which he gave the latter the pom-
pous titles of Princes of the World and Princes of the
Earth, titles which Pius II. afterwards confirmed to them
by a bull — in that same moment in which Dante, writing
to those princes of the earth, presented himself to the
public in the disguise of a papalist, did Beatrice die.
We will here cite the beginning of his letter to the
cardinals, and afterwards that passage of the Vita Nuova,
which announces the death of Beatrice.
“The letter of Dante, the Florentine, to the Italian
cardinals.”
“How doth the city sit solitary, that was full of people :
How is she become as a widow ! The avarice of the princes
of the Pharisees, which made the ancient priesthood odi-
ous, not only deprived the people of the administration of
the Levitical law, but caused the destruction of the city of
David,” &c. He applies this to Rome, comparing that
city with Jerusalem; and describing its miserable condi-
tion, owing to the removal of the seat of government.
In the 47th and following pages of the Vita Nuova, we
read the following words, preceded by the very same quo-
tation from Jeremiah. “The Lord of Justice summoned
that beautiful lady to give praise, under the banners of
that blessed queen Mary, whose name was held in great
reverence in the language of the holy Beatrice. After the
departure of that lovely one, the above-mentioned city +
remained as a widow, spoiled of all dignity. And I,
weeping amidst her desolation, wrote to the princes of the
earth of her sad condition, beginning with these words of
the prophet Jeremiah: How doth the city, &c. &c. I say
this, that no one may wonder why I have quoted these
* This letter, which is still extant among the manuscripts in the Ric-
cardiana, at Florence, was first cited by Troya in his Weltro; and after-
wards quoted throughout by the German writer, Witte.
# We look in vain throughout the Vita Nuova for the name of this city.
THE PLATONIC LOVE. 213
words, as an entrance, as it were, to the new matter which
follows.” If any one blame me for not writing down the
words which come after that quotation, I excuse myself by
declaring that my original intention was to write in Italian
only; and seeing that what follows that quotation is in
Latin, I should have departed from that intention had I
cited it.” And so it was in Latin ; for he here speaks of
the letter which he wrote to the cardinals, concerning the
desolate city of Rome. Had he passed beyond the words
of Jeremiah, his artifice would have been discovered; and
that was the only reason which made him pause where he
did.
Perhaps we shall be told, that Dante wrote two Latin
letters, and began both with the same words from Jere-
miah: one to the cardinals, princes of the earth, for the
purpose above-named ; and another to the princes of the
earth in general, to inform them that the wife of Simon de'
Bardi, the Florentine lady of whom he was enamoured,
(according to his biographers,) was dead. If he did so,
we can only say, that those who assert the fact must
bring forward some very strong evidence to counteract
our conviction of his insanity. He tells us, in this same
place, that his Beatrice was the number 9; that is, by
similitude, the adorable Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy
Ghost. Was the wife of Simon this likewise ?
We are not now speculating on fantastic theories; we
are offering facts which are undeniable; and the truth of
which will be acknowledged by all those who will give
themselves the trouble to inspect the authentic testimo-
nials on which we found them. To those few, who pre-
sume to pronounce a decisive opinion without any means
of verifying it, we say, that we speak to the living and not
to the dead. “ To live, in man, is to use reason ; there-
* The new matter, which he adopted in the Vita Nuova, signifies the
substitution of the sacred for the amatory style.
214 PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS ON
fore, if life be essential to man, (that is, the use of reason,)
whoever uses it not, is dead.”—(Dante.)
But what do those words mean, that when he pre-
tended to be a papalist, his lady died ? To this ques-
tion, we might answer, that Dante has already explained
their meaning; we might say, that as the Pope was, in
this language, considered as the chief of the dead, so
those who submitted to him were dead likewise, and
those were the people of the dead whom Dante went in
imagination to visit; but on the contrary, we declare
that these words are a mystery; and, when we discover
their true meaning, and see the number of ladies who
died at the first hour of the day, and left their lovers to
weep piteously and laugh cruelly at Madonna Piety, we
shall find that those delightful persons were all chimeras
of fancy, who will vanish before the realities of a very
dry theory, which does but little honour to those tender
lovers who were left behind to weep, in obedience to the
precepts of the Gay Science.* Then we shall under-
stand why the outward man remained to weep outwardly,
and the inward man to laugh inwardly ; and why he
laughed within, and wept without, after he had swallowed
the volume written within and without.
We shall not, in this place, stop to analyse the mys-
tery of the three-coloured veil, which covered the lady
called Truth, and the Palladium. This palladium was
carefully guarded, and entrusted to the princes of piety,
who were angels dwelling in the third heaven on earth,
the very place to which Beatrice, Laura, Fiammetta,
Selvaggia, Teresa, Clori, Alete, and all the other ladies
who so fatally and methodically died before their lovers,
* In that part of the Vita Nuova, where he relates the death of
Beatrice, the very indifference with which he mentions it would be suffi-
cient to prove that death a fiction. He coolly gives the information,
and then says that she was a 9, divided into three parts, 3 times 3, and
that he wrote a Latin letter to the Princes of the Earth, of which he
can only cite the beginning.
THE PLATONIC LOVE. 215
ascended, if we may believe the testimony of those
lovers.
This mysterious female, the type of a perfect mo-
narchy with all its members, beginning from the head,
this much-desired New Jerusalem, had no existence ex-
cept in the minds of her lovers, and therefore she was
called by them the lady of their minds. These lovers
confessed themselves in error when they made religion
a cloke for politics; but at the same time they declared
that error to be indispensable for their own safety. We
have said before that, in their allegorical language, error
was synonymous with death, and truth with life; and,
from these words, come such expressions as: to be in
error or to be dead — to fall into error or to die, &c. &c.
This was all borrowed from the sects of antiquity; for
instance, the Pythagoreans raised a tomb to those pro-
selytes who fell into error, and declared them to be dead.
And we might cite numerous examples from the Scrip-
tures to shew the frequent application of the same lan-
guage. St. John says to a man who had fallen into error,
“Thou hast a name that thou livest and art dead.”
And Ezekiel declares that “ The soul that sinneth, it
shall die.” In later times, Figueiras dismissed his sa-
tirical lay with these words: “Go, Sirvente, and tell
the false priest that whoever submits to his dominion
is dead.” Now the very moment that the soul of Dante,
which contained within itself the idea of a perfect mo-
narchy, which he called Beatrice, submitted to that do-
minion, Beatrice died ; and hence the letter, which
shews him apparently subject to it, is the very one which
announces her death. The word dead was therefore
applied indiscriminately to those who submitted to the
emperor of the realm of sorrow, and to those who dwelt
in his kingdom, called the kingdom of death ; whether
they did so from choice, or from an indispensable ne-
cessity.
216 PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONS ON
We have every reason to suppose that Dante made
use of the circumstances which induced him to write that
letter, in order to shew what he really meant by the
death of his lady; and we have no doubt that he me-
ditated the great design of changing the mystic language
of a lover into that of a catholic before his exile, al-
though he did not put it into execution until after that
exile took place, that is, between the years 1304 and
and 1311, while he was wandering about in a state of
poverty and distress. These years, so pregnant with
misery for Dante, were also fatal to the great family of
the Templars, from whom the most important of the
Secret Societies boasts its descent. A solemn circular,
which was drawn up by the chief rulers of that society,
and despatched to all the brethren throughout the world,
contains the following words: “From the year of our
Lord 1304 to 1311, very extraordinary discoveries were
made in our order, and the occurrences which then took
place render that period one of the highest importance
in our history; it was a period dear to the heart of
every brother who is zealous for the cause of his order,
his country, and his God.”
These figurative dead persons remained in expectation
of that great day, when the King of kings, and Lord of
lords, after judging the woman and destroying Babylon,
would recall them all to a new life, and make them to
dwell in the New Jerusalem. Hence, among this peo-
ple of the dead, who were buried in the temple of
Love,” it was considered a merit to have renounced
life and accepted death ; for piety was in them alive
in secret, and dead in public; this is the true idea of
the Inferno, where many figurative anti-papalists ap-
pear disguised in the garb of their adversaries ; and
* See Dante and Beatrice, Petrarch and Laura, and many other
couples of fictitious lovers, who were buried in the Temple of Love —
a species of allegorical drama of the fifteenth century.
THE PLATONIC LOVE. 217
Dante himself writes of this Hell: “Here Piety is alive
when she appears most dead.” (Inf. 20.)
Those who were tossed about in the whirlwind of
Guelphic persecution, were compelled to feign them-
selves papalists, and to follow that Babylonish Semiramis
who ruled over people and nations. Thus did Dante,
when he declared himself reduced to die of piety ; and
the necessity was furthermore increased when, as some-
times happened, their emperor of the universe aban-
doned them to their fate. When, in canto 5. of the
Inferno, Dante arrives among those whom he calls
carnal sinners, he beholds them in crowds, dashed
about by the infernal tempest, which knows no calm.
He turns in anxiety and alarm towards his guide :
“Master, who are these ?” and Virgil tells him that
the first, she who is in the front of the rest, was an em-
press of many nations, her name Semiramis ; from their
own mouths he hears the miserable tale of these unhappy
beings, who are forced to follow the Babylonish woman ;
and, when he addresses himself to two of them in par-
ticular, while one is relating her unhappy story, the
other weeps bitterly.
“While thus one spirit spake,
The other wail'd so sorely, that heart-struck,
I through compassion fainting, seem’d not far
From death, and like a corse fell to the ground.”
In this same canto, he writes that, when these wretched
spirits arrived before the ruin, they wept and groaned,
and uttered curses against the king of the whiverse ; and
for this they had some cause, for very often Piety was
their only resource, and they were obliged to range them-
selves under the banners of Semiramis, when they found
that that king, instead of befriending them, forsook them
in their hour of need. It was on one of these occasions
L
218 PRELIMINARY OBSERVATIONs, &c.
that Dante cried to him who was in heart and mind a
German — “O German Albert, thou hast abandoned her
who for thee has become savage 1 thou and thy father
have allowed the garden of the empire (the earthly para-
dise) to be turned into a desert. Come, cruel, and see
the misery of thy people ; and if that will not move
thee, come and blush for thine own bad renown.”
(Purg. 6.)
219
CHAPTER XV.
ON THE WARIETY OF FIGURES EMPLOYED TO EXPRESS
ONE OBJECT.
OUR endeavours to explore the dark ways of antiquity,
and to clear them from the phantoms which haunt them,
have led us on to forget that those who follow us may
require some rest from their labours. Here, then, let us
pause, and unbend our minds with reflections of a
lighter, although not less important character, and we
shall be afterwards enabled to prosecute our journey with
renewed vigour.
If the queen of Babylon, the woman of Babylon, the
wolf of the dark forest, the Lucifer of the abyss, the
queen of endless woe, Hecate, Proserpine, or Luna, all
express, in Dante's figurative poem, one and the same
object, viz. the Pope, the vocabulary of the Gay Science
must have fixed on various symbols and words to be ex-
planatory of the same idea. The writers in this language
prove, by their works, that such was the case, and all
recommend the practice of describing one thing by dif-
ferent figures: their great authority was the Holy Bible
— in the prophets they sought and found precedents
without number, and throughout that Sacred Volume
they recognized our promised Redeemer, and the enemy
of the human race, both presented under many and va-
rious emblems. But the poem employs even more figures
L 2
220 ON THE WARIETY OF FIGURES
than we have mentioned above, to represent the same
person. We see him as Plutus, the cursed wolf, who
rules over the avaricious, and cries, the Pope is Satan.
We see him as the three-headed Cerberus, who, with his
sharp claws and greedy throat, tears and devours the
spirits; and we behold him as the triple Geryon, who is
stationed at the bridges of fraud, with the face of a
righteous man, and the body of a serpent. An ancient
critic, who had penetrated very deeply into the nature
of the poem, observed that Dante laboured particularly
to conceal the drift of this dangerous idea, with respect
to Geryon. “He uses,” (says this Jacopo Mazzoni, in
his defence of the Commedia, b. 2. ch. 37.), “more
comparisons here than elsewhere to draw the reader far
from his real meaning; and, for that purpose, in less
than fifty verses we find six similes.”
Even the extravagances which are occasionally met
with in the poem, were committed because they were
necessary for this purpose. Were we to describe the
infernal regions, and to place side by side, with such
known sinners as Cain and Judas, any beings totally
imaginary, whose existence was only in the fancy of a
writer of comedies or romances, such as the Tartuffe of
Molière, or the Lovelace of Richardson, &c., should we
not deserve such reproaches as the following : — Why
lessca cºr belief in what you say of real personages by
associating them with the fancies of a tale 7 Were real
sinners not to be found in the world, that you have had
recourse to fictitious ones : The very same thing has
been said to Dante, because, while history speaks of a
too-celebrated Thais of Macedonia, he preferred taking
for his subject the ideal Thais of Terence, and making
his guide point her out with the most marked solemnity.
And then with what bitter scorn he treats her Why
did he choose that fictitious person, and waste on an
unreal object so much acrimony ? Because one single
line of the comedy serves to identify her with the ori-
EMPLOYED TO EXPRESS ONE OBJECT. 221
ginal figure of the poem : “Pape superatipsam Thaidem.”
Virgil tells him — “With thine eyes,” (the symbol of
understanding), “ look into the face of this worthless
sinner, who is clawing herself with her nails; now she
crouches down in subjection, and now stands erect in
her pride; that is Thais answering her lord.” Now let
us recollect how Boniface VIII. trampled on Philip the
Fair, and how in after years Clement V. cringed to the
power of that same monarch, and we shall not fail to
recognize those two popes in the Thais, and the king of
France in her lord; and to understand that this one line of
Terence,—“Papesuperatipsam Thaidem,” induced Dante
to prefer the dramatic to the historical Thais. In order
that we may not mistake for a moment the person for
whom this Thais was designed, she is described as seated
over the waters, and those waters are loathsome and
fetid, to show the estimation in which Dante held the
subjects of the Pope. (See Inf. canto 18.)
The same language which allowed its writers to give
so many names to their one detested enemy, gave them
also the liberty of figuring the lady of their mind, their
fondly desired blessing, under different appellations;
and hence, in different poets, we meet with her as Beatrice,
Laura, Fiammetta, Selvaggia, Mandetta, Nina, Be-
china, &c. &c.; and hereafter, when we fully unveil
the mysteries of Platonic love, we shall show by what a
train of deceptive appearances the world was beguiled
into the belief, that each of these names belonged to a
real female, whose charms were celebrated by an ad-
miring lover.
Surely we can now comprehend that the means which
this sect of love found more efficacious than any other
to delude its enemies, was that of describing the same
object in different places, and figuring it under different
appearances and names. When we recognize the Pope
in the woman of the Revelations, do we consider at the
same time, that she whom we behold on the summit of
222 ON THE WARIETY OF FIGURES
the highest mountain of purgatory, we have already seen
in hell, in the lowest pit of the abyss, as Semiramis,
Thais, Lucifer, Plutus, Geryon and Cerberus 7 and the
same applies to the opposite character. When we read
of God and Christ in the highest heaven, both thus dis-
tinct from Beatrice, how can we ever imagine that the
names of those two ineffable beings are profaned by
being made the figures of a poem 2 If we are ignorant
of the secrets of this language of mysteries, if we know
not that Beatrice is (by Dante's own declaration) a being
distinct in three persons, we may build as many con-
jectures as we will — they will all fall to the ground.
Neither does the difficulty end here. The car on which
the mystic Beatrice advances, is drawn by the griffon,
half lion, half eagle, a figure of the double nature of
Christ. How can it be, that the incarnate Word is
figured in the female, while he is drawing the car ! If
we have not preserved the guiding-thread which has
been given to us by the treatises written in this jargon—
if we have not had the patience to read them attentively,
and compare them one with another; and if, having read
them, we cannot see that, notwithstanding their diver-
sity of appearance, they all contain the same internal
meaning, we shall remain in ignorance for ever; and for
us, the griffon and Beatrice will always be as different in
reality, as they appear at the first glance to be distinct ;
although Dante has declared that his eyes saw Beatrice,
who is one person in two natures.
The griffon, half eagle, half lion, is figurative of di-
vinity and humanity, and signifies the double govern-
ment of religion and politics, as founded by Christ and
Caesar; and the mystic lady transforms herself into ei-
ther being in this way: — she gazes steadfastly on the
griffon, who is reflected in her eyes the image of herself;
and in the meanwhile, the four cardinal, and the three
theological virtues, lead the poet to behold the eyes of
the lady. The four on the left, show him within those
EMPLOYED TO EXPRESS ONE OBJECT. 223
eyes the human nature, and the three on the right the
divine nature of the griffon ; so that he sees at once
Caesar and Christ, the ruler of the political, the chief of
the religious world.
“A thousand fervent wishes riveted
Mine eyes upon her beaming eyes, that stood
Still fix’d toward the Gryphon, motionless.
As the sun strikes a mirror, even thus
Within those orbs the twºfold being shone;
For ever varying, in one figure now
Reflected, now in other. Reader muse
How wondrous in my sight it seem’d, to mark
A thing, albeit steadfast in itself,
Yet in its imaged semblance mutable.” (Purg. 31.)
He calls it the thing, to avoid declaring it either the
griffon or Beatrice. Here we see the union of the lady,
or the soul of the sectarian, with the object beloved —
“Love truly taken and deeply considered, is nothing
but the union of the soul with the thing beloved.” (Con-
vito.) This union is called allegorically the marriage
between Christ and the soul, and therefore Beatrice is
saluted as the bride of the lamb.
We now proceed to further and most important con-
siderations, premising that, in another and more suitable
place, we intend, in an interpretation of the whole of
the Vita Nuova, and a great part of the Convito, to ex-
plain most fully, through Dante himself, every thing that
we have here, perhaps too briefly introduced.
224
CHAPTER XVI.
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
WITHOUT seeking to justify Dante, we may say, and with
truth, that the introduction of the sacred doctrines into
the language of allegory owes not its invention to him.
He merely adopted and introduced the practice among the
imperial sect; who, before his time, had been wont to sing
the sentimental adventures of lovers only : but the ori-
ginal use of those doctrines dates from a very remote
period. Many abuses, consequent upon it, appear to
have sprung up in the course of time, particularly among
the Manichaeans and Gnostics; but still it prevailed; and,
spreading by means of the Paulicians from the east to the
west, it gradually extended itself into Spain, Provence,
and Italy, where it took root, and stretched out branches
innumerable. The information gleaned by historians,
concerning the vicissitudes of this language, is confirmed
by the works of its mystic writers. Of those works, it is
our intention now to examine a few, the productions of
different countries. We have selected one, composed
before Dante's time; some, written by his contemporaries;
and others, after his death, by his imitators, or interpreters.
The first will show that this mixed language was in use
out of Italy; the others will point out the land whence it
came to her. The one will tell us that the disguise of
religion was assumed to allure the simple and ignorant,
(always the most devoted to the Pope,) and to convert
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 225
them into so many co-operators in the great design ; the
others will confirm this idea; and will show us, moreover,
that, by using that disguise, the members of the sect
freed themselves from the persecutions which had before
afflicted them.
The following is a short summary of an ancient French
fabliau, of the thirteenth century, called—The Confession
of the Fox, and his pilgrimage to Rome.
The fox, professing the greatest contrition for past mis-
conduct, went about preaching holiness everywhere; and
appeared so anxious to change his way of life, and so
sincere in his good resolutions, that he induced a lamb
and an ass to undertake a pilgrimage to Rome in his
company, for the purpose of making a full confession of
sins at the Pope's feet. Behold them, then, all three, on
their way to the holy city, with staff and rocket, and
every proper appearance of humility and penitence. But,
instead of taking his companions to Rome, as he assured
them he would, the crafty fox led them into the wolf's
den. Did he mean, by so doing, to entice them to their
ruin 7 By no means: so well did he manage, that, by his
own ingenuity, aided as it was by the almost involuntary
co-operation of the others, the wolf was destroyed, whilst
exulting over his imaginary prey. The fox directed, and
his simple friends followed his counsel; and with such
good effect, that the fierce animal was left with his head
crushed between two gates, his mate was put to flight, and
all their attendant wolves were dispersed or destroyed.
After this, the three holy pilgrims returned home, safe and
sound, delighted with their exploit; and what is more,
exempt from the payment of a certain tribute to Rome, of
which, after their victory, we hear no more. The object,
then, of the pilgrimage of these pious travellers was three-
fold, viz.: to crush the wolf's head, to put his female to
flight, and to destroy his followers; and they also van-
quished a natural impossibility, by making a lamb slay a
wolf. In imitation of this, we read in Petrarch : “Your
L 5
226 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
meek and gentle lamb destroys the fierce wolves.” And
Dante, persecuted by the Guelphs, styled himself a lamb,
a foe to the wolves who made war upon him, &c. This
fable furnishes us with another instance of the conven-
tional language explaining itself, as Dante explained the
secret meaning of his poem by the Convito, and other
prose works. Those who had learnt the vocabulary, knew
that the Pope was called a wolf, and that the Church was
his spouse, and their devotees wolves also ; therefore,
when they read these fables, they guessed the design of
the authors who wrote them, and were never deceived by
the devout and Catholic expressions put into the mouths
of foxes, lambs, or asses.
But, on the other hand, it was impossible for those,
who were altogether ignorant of the language, to enter
into the spirit of these tales; because even the names of
the animals were altered. The wolf was called Isangrin,
his female Hersant, the sheep Belin, and the ass the Arch-
priest Bernard.—(See the collection of ancient fabliaua,
by Legrand d’Aussy, vol. ii. p. 413.) The first two names,
Isangrin and Hersant, meaning the Pope and his church,
are met with in a great many ancient romances; one of
which, called Renard and Isangrin, was written in Dante's
time, and translated from the original French into English,
German, Latin, and Dutch. The very first company of
French comedians played it as a mystery, (the name given
to all their ancient pieces,) before the Guelphic monarch,
Philip the Fair; and the destroyer of the Templars consi-
dered it as something intended merely for his amusement.
The mystery finished with the triumph of the fox, who
killed Isangrin, and was made pope;—the very aim of
the sect. Woe to the clergy 1 if they fall, a new order of
priests will arise—was the mysterious threat held out in
the time of Frederic the Second.
Another romance of the same nature, and still more
ancient, called Le Nouveau Renard, was written by the
Trouveur Jaquemais Gielée, about the year 1289. The
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 227
fox is here at war with the lion instead of with the wolf.
(“Your adversary, the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh
about.”) After some time, he pretends to be reconciled
to him; and having drawn over the clergy to his side,
he makes his two sons friars: one, a Franciscan, the
other, a Dominican : the two orders who composed the
Inquisition. Finally, he goes to Rome, where he is
favoured by Fortune; and, eventually becomes pope.—
(See Legrand d’Aussy, Fabliaux, vol. 2. p. 413.) That
part of the tale which relates to the fox's sons will be
fully explained hereafter.
All the ancient romances, cited by Dante in his poem,
are of the same nature.—(Inf. 5. 31. 32. Purg. 26. Par.
16.) And in corroboration of our opinion of their real
meaning, we shall elsewhere show that the catechisms of
the sect figured it as a fox, who went first to the ape, and
then to the lion, and then to the pelican, and finally to
the dove; to signify that cunning led it to have recourse
first to imitation, and then to force : the last two em-
blems being figurative of the object in view.
There is not an iota of difference between the fox's pil-
grimage to Rome, which finished at the wolf's den, and
Dante's pilgrimage to the Abyss, which ended in the figu-
rative Babylon. If the first entered that den to crush the
wolf’s head, Dante descended into the abyss to do the
Pope an equal service. And the same design formed the
groundwork of a vast number of poetical journeys, which,
when described by travellers of ingenuity and talent, con-
cealed the only purpose for which they were undertaken.
The principal sects of those times may be reduced to
three, viz.: the Templars, the Albigenses, and the Ghi-
bellines; who, with one consent, although with different
ends in view, conspired together against the Pope. The
fact of entering one of those sects was expressed by a
symbolic pilgrimage. For instance: to go to the Temple
of St. John, in Jerusalem; or to that of St. James, in
Galicia; or to St. Peter's, at Rome; signified to become
228 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
a proselyte either of the society of the Templars, or of the
Albigenses, or of the Ghibellines. The first were called
palmers, the second pilgrims, and the last Romei. Dante's
principles were those of the last sect; but he made use of
many of the symbols and doctrines of the others in his
poem ; because, being decidedly antipapal, they ren-
dered great services both to his party and its chief.
Hence he wrote, in the Vita Nuova : “Those who are in
the service of the Most High are called by three names:
palmers, because they go beyond seas to the country of
palms; pilgrims, because they go to the house of Galicia;
Romei, because they go to Rome: and those whom I call
pilgrims, go there also, to see that blessed image which
Christ left to us as a copy of his own figure, which is seen
by the glorious lady of my mind.” - 4.
By many historians, the Albigenses were called Tou-
lousans, from the name of the city where they had estab-
lished their principal seat; and whose streets were so
often dyed with their blood, to satisfy the vengeance
of the Pope. We mention this, that there may be no
difficulty in understanding Dante, when he declares that,
from them, he learnt the sacred jargon which ensured
the safety of his poem ; and when we show that, from their
ranks, he chose the companion who, jointly with Virgil,
guided him in safety to the allegorical Beatrice. He thus
describes, in conventional phraseology, the change which
took place in his own style of writing.
At the end of the 20th canto of the Purgatory, he feels
the holy mountain tremble, like a thing that is about to
fall; and he turns icy cold, like one who is going to death.
Delos was not more agitated, when Latona brought forth
the sun and the moon. Here we may remind the reader,
that on those two words, was founded a great part of the
sacred jargon: they were synonimous with truth and
error. And hence, when we read of the moon covering
he sun, we must understand that the writer alludes to
the deceitful practice of veiling the light of truth under a
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 229
semblance of error, or Papistry. But to return : On
every side bursts forth a loud cry: Glory to God in the
highest, and on earth, peace; and Virgil and Dante both
stand in motionless wonder, like the shepherds who first
heard that same cry at the birth of our Saviour.
“When, lo! even as Luke relates, that Christ
Appear'd unto the two upon their way,
New risen from his vaulted grave; to us
A shade appeared.”—(Purg. 21.)
This shade salutes the pilgrims, saying: Brethren, may
God give you peace Virgil returns the salutation, and
asks him concerning his former state; to which the ghost,
thus compared with Christ, answers: “ Know that
From Tolosa, Rome
To herself drew me.
Things oft appear,
That minister false matter to our doubts
When their true causes are removed from sight.
Know, then, I was too wide of avarice (papistry);
And, e'en for that excess, thousands of moons
Have wax'd and wan'd upon my sufferings.-
Therefore, if I have been with those who wail
Their avarice, to cleanse me; through reverse
Of their transgression, such hath been my lot.
When thou exclaimedst, ‘Lo!
A renovated world, justice return’d,
Times of primeval innocence restor'd,
And a new race descended from above l’
Poet and Christian both to thee I owed.
Soon o'er all the world,
By messengers from heav'n, the true belief
Teem’d now prolific; and that word of thine
Accordant to the new instructors chim’d.
lnduc’d by which agreement, I was wont
Resort to them; and soon their sanctity
So won upon me, that, Domitian's rage
Pursuing them, I mix'd my tears with theirs,
And while on earth I stay’d still succour’d them;
And their most righteous customs made me scorn
All sects besides.
230 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES,
These, and many other things, are related in the con-
ventional jargon by the Toulousan who was drawn to
Rome by the Mantuan. And Dante, between these two
companions, pursues his journey towards Beatrice ; but,
as soon as the lady of his mind appears with an entirely
Christian aspect, and with an apocalyptical court around
her, Virgil, the pagan, vanishes, and leaves him alone
with the Christian guide; who, by Beatrice's orders, ad-
ministers to him the double Toulousan baptism by immer-
sion; after which, his new life begins. Thus, by the
mystic water, and the deceiving spirit regenerated, he is
made worthy to enter into a certain heavenly kingdom;
the nature of which may well excite our laughter, or
rather our indignation, when we think how the sacred
books, and especially that of St. John, were wrested by
this sect into strange and perverted meanings. “Jesus
answered and said unto him, Except a man be born again,
he cannot see the kingdom of God. Nicodemus saith
unto him, How can a man be born, when he is old 7
Jesus answered : Except a man be born of water and of
the Spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God.”—
(St. John, ch. iii.) The Albigenses died flesh, and were
born again Spirit ; died Adam, and were born again
Christ; and this expressed the difference between the
outward man, or papalist, and the inward man, or anti-
papalist.
These few remarks will enable the reader to understand
the real nature of this Statius, the Christian from Tou-
louse, who is likened to Christ; and who joins the
heathen Virgil on his way to lead Dante to Beatrice, who
is also likened to Christ, with Peter, James, and John.
They will show why that pious Christian tells a long story
about human nature, and the formation of the body and
the soul, and their separation from each other, both still
being visible; things which appear equally out of place,
and unsuited to the subject, until their nature is pro-
perly explained. We may observe too, that the real
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 231
Statius was a Neapolitan; but Dante took the liberty of
creating him a citizen of Toulouse, to serve his own par-
ticular purpose.
St. Paul, in the 2d chapter of his Epistle to the Gala-
tians, calls the three apostles—who attended their divine
Master in his most retired moments, and who witnessed
his transfiguration on Mount Tabor, and his devotion in
the Garden,_pillars; and, following that passage of the
apostle, the Paulicians made them three pillars, em-
blematic of the three theological virtues. St. Peter was
Faith, St. James Hope, and St. John Charity. In the
rites of the sect which boasts its descent from the Albi-
genses, three pillars appear, with the names of those
virtues on them. And we read in their rituals, that on
the capital of each pillar is written, in large golden
letters, one of these three words: Faith, Hope, Charity.
The candidate is obliged to travel for 33 years, (thus
they call the 33 turns he takes, in allusion to the age of
our Lord,) to learn the beauties of the new law. The
Master leads him round the three columns, repeating to
him successively the name of each virtue; and, after-
wards, he asks him what he has learnt in his pilgrimage:
to which he answers, that he has learnt the three virtues
of faith, hope, and charity, and that by them he intends
to govern himself. The Master assures him that they are
the principles and pillars of the new mystery.—(See
Light on Masonry, p. 220. Utica. 1829.) In these same
rites of the pilgrimage, undertaken by the candidate who
is 33 years of age, which extends through 33 years; the
tragedy of Good Friday, and the events of the following
days, are rehearsed; and Christ dies and rises again
under his eyes. This new mystery, or new law, is the
essence of Dante's Vita Nuova.
In the Paradise, we find this sectarian rite described
exactly. Before the last vision, St. Peter examines him
on faith; St. James, on hope; and St. John, on charity:
relating to the three pilgrimages, of the palmers, or
232 ON ALLEGORICAL FILGRIMAGES.
Templars, to St. John of Jerusalem; of the pilgrims, or
Albigenses, to St. James in Galicia; and of the Romei,
or Ghibellines, to St. Peter's in Rome: and at the exa-
mination presides Beatrice, who, by a far-fetched compa-
rison, is likened to Christ, when transfigured before the
eyes of his three apostles.
Wishing to let us know that these things are all mys-
tical, he wrote in the Convito: “There is one thing
which should be very attentively observed by readers, for
their own and their pupils’ benefit: We read that, when
Christ went up into the Mount to be transfigured, he took
only three apostles with him out of the twelve; and by
that we are to understand, that, in very secret things, we
should have but few companions.”—(P. 103.)
The three pilgrimages of the Palmers, the Pilgrims,
and the Romei, were symbolically directed : the first to
the east, where the light appears; the second to the west,
where it vanishes ; and the last to the north, which is
opposite to the light's course; and there it was that Lu-
cifer established his throne.” In the same situations, are
placed the three pillars in the above-mentioned rite, and
these pillars, be it remembered, correspond with the three
apostles, called by St. Paul Pillars.
One of Dante's most charming odes treats of these three
mystic associations, and offers an example of the manner
in which he blended them together, to serve for an out-
ward ornament to his inward love. It begins thus : —
“Three ladies have encompassed my heart round about.
They stand without, while love reigns within, and rules
over my life.t.” He gives the name of uprightness, or jus-
tice, to the first of the three ladies, but he desires that
none, except the friends of virtue, shall presume to in-
* “I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides of
the north.” Isaiah, c. 14. v. 13.
f Without and within, viz. the outward and the inward sense. Ladies
without, and Love within.
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 233
quire into the things which this justice keeps veiled; he
bids all others rest satisfied with the outward flower,
without touching the inward fruit ; from this lady, who
was to declare herself to none but the friends of virtue,
and who describes herself as the sister to the mother of
that love which absorbed the heart of the poet, were the
two others descended. She tells Love that “where the
sun on the Nile drives every shadow from the earth, I,
Justice, the sister of thy mother, brought forth this lady
at my side, and she, gazing at herself in a limpid foun-
tain, produced the other.”
This canzone will be easily understood, when we reflect
that the Templars were originally of Egyptian derivation,
and that the Albigenses were an emanation from them.
In a bull issued by Boniface VIII., we read: “The
church has two swords, one spiritual, the other temporal;
the first is wielded by the church herself, the second by
kings and warriors in her service,” &c. &c.
These swords are figurative of the double power of re-
ligion and politics, and were transformed by Dante into
two darts of love.
This Love tells the three ladies: “ These are the two
weapons which I craved for the good of mankind. Men
may lament now, and weep, for theirs is the loss; but,
although now blunted from disuse, the time will soon
come, when one of them will be made brighter than ever.”
This is an allusion to the political power of the empire —
Dante's never-failing hope.
These ladies are figures of the miserable and de-
pressed condition of the three sects, Templars, Albigenses,
and Ghibellines, which had, in earlier times, been so
flourishing and so respected. “Each one seems cast
down by grief and anguish, and desolate, like those who
have no friend. The time is long gone by when they
were joyous and glad.” The poet calls himself, the
exiled Ghibelline, the son of Flora, who fell with the
White party, Bianco fiore, the white flower, and glories
234 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
in the thought that he had fallen with the good; only
regretting that the bright sign of his eyes was taken away
far from his face, and that Death had set his key on his
breast; expressions conveying meanings too important to
escape the intelligent reader's observation. But although
banished from the now papal Florence, White Flower
preserved all his former nature ; or, to make use of con-
ventional terms, Florence died, but the White Flower still
lived on : the death of the first took place because she
withdrew her affections from the knights of Jerusalem;
the last preserved his life, by pretending to honour the
priests of Babylon, whom in reality he detested. All this
is copied in an old fabliau, written shortly after Dante
lived, of which the following is a very brief notice. The
fabliau is called : “Le Jugement d'Amour, ou Florence
et Blancheflor.” “He who found the tale which you are
now about to hear was full of courtesy ; but he forbad it
to be repeated before cowards, indiscreet speakers, or
traitors. It is a profanation to reveal the mysteries of
love to such a herd: they were only intended for knights
and clerks.” After this preliminary hint, the story com-
mences; the writer availing himself of the licence granted
to the sect, of changing the sex of his characters.
Florence and White Flower were two ladies who loved
each other with a sisterly affection. One morning in May,
the season of love", as they stood by the side of a brook,
they remarked the changes which love was working in
their faces. Prompted by a feeling of mutual confidence,
one confessed her love for a knight, while the other
declared herself in favour of a priest; and a dispute arose
between them which it was better to love, a knight or a
priest. They agreed to decide the question by an appeal
to the court of Love; and for that purpose, they entered
a garden, kept by a nightingale, one of that deity's mes-
* It was in the month of May that Dante (according to Boccaccio)
fell in love with Beatrice.
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 235
sengers. They asked him the way to the palace; but the
guardian songster first eyed them attentively, to see
whether they bore Love's signet, without which none
could pass; and although they had that signet, he re-
fused to admit them, until they had given him a kiss (the
oral communication of the pass-word.) As soon as they
complied with this condition, they were suffered to enter,
and the first thing they saw was the king, Love, lying on
a bed of roses. He welcomed them to his palace, and
having heard the reason of their coming, he convoked his
court of barons, who were all birds, (singers.) The ques-
tion in dispute was then formally argued, but the confu-
sion was so great, and the opinions of the feathered
judges so various, that they could come to no decision;
and it was agreed to settle the affair in a different way.
The disputants chose each a champion; Florence, the
chattering parrot, and Whiteflower, the prudent guardian
of the mystic garden, the nightingale. After a short
combat, the prater was vanquished by his more wary
enemy; and Florence, seeing the fate of her champion,
cried with a loud voice, Death, death, and immedi-
ately expired, while Whiteflower lived long to enjoy the
fruits of the nightingale's victory. She who loved the
knight, and preferred the voice of the parrot died, while
the prudent nightingale saved the life of the priest's lady.
A tomb was then raised by the birds to the memory of
the dead Florence, and on it was written ; Here lies Flo-
rence, who loved the knight.* This is an absurd fiction,
certainly, but still worthy of notice. Throughout the
whole fable, the allusions to Dante are evident; and being
written by a Frenchman, it shows that every member of
the sect, no matter in what language he wrote, was per-
fectly aware of the hidden meaning of his poem.
In those days, it was esteemed an honour to be admitted
* Thus the Pythagoreans raised a tomb to their indiscreet sectarians.
236 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
as a member into any of the principal secret societies”:
the most potent princes were at their head, and their in-
fluence and example induced many to enrol themselves
as disciples, for the purpose of enjoying the privileges of
fraternity with rulers of kingdoms. But the intrigues of
the Vatican soon severed the ties which bound together
companions so ill assorted. Princes heard their subjects
encouraged to throw off all allegiance to themselves;
and fearing that the advice would be followed in earnest,
they made a precipitate retreat, leaving their secret asso-
ciates exposed to all the fury of their enemy.
We shall see, that so long as the issue of their struggle
for supremacy was doubtful, the emperors were, on all
occasions, solicitous to draw over the proselytes of the
secret societies to their party, in order to avail themselves
of their riches, talents, and courage. There appears, in
fact, to have been a sort of tacit agreement between
them, that whenever the arms of one, aided by the not
less potent weapons of the other, should succeed in
crushing the common enemy, a general reform was to be
commenced, and the government of the church given up
to the Ghibellines; already, therefore, the Pope and his
hierarchy were doomed to destruction. These plans were
in agitation so early as the time of Frederic Barbarossa,
who, in his long contests with the popes, was often a
victor, although finally overcome; and they were re-
newed by Frederic II., who, for many years, braved all
the power of Rome. By three pontiffs this last monarch
was excommunicated; the first assigned no plausible
reason whatever for his anathema, being afraid, probably,
of letting the secret and real cause escape him ; the se-
cond and third spoke out more openly ; and in the me-
morable council of Lyons, held by Innocent IV., in 1245,
* The Templars counted 40,000 disciples in their society; and at
the breaking out of the persecution against them, they were in possession
of more than 9000 lordships, and were connected with all the most illus-
trious families in Europe.
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGIRIMAGES. 237
the following was one of the charges preferred against
the Emperor: “For entering into treaties of friendship and
alliance with those who, after slandering and reviling the
apostolic see, have separated themselves from the one
true church. The suspicion of heresy is founded on no
doubtful nor slight evidence, but on grave and evident
proofs.”
Four years afterwards, the Cardinal Remerius, in a letter
addressed to all the faithful wrote: “The heretical
despisers of the faith are gathering strength; they are
defended and encouraged by the impious Frederic, in
whose dominions heresy is preached, apostates are in-
creasing, and God's enemies find protection and support.”
According to historians, it was at this time that some
miraculous appearance of words took place, which de-
clared : Woe to the clergy if they fall, a new order of
priests will arise. And many similar forebodings were
uttered, all of the same kind. “Rome will rise up
against the Roman, (Pontiff) and the city will be taken
away from the old priest, by him who is to take his place.
A new flock is lifting up its head, and those who belong
to the old, will soon be condemned to scanty fare. Their
ornaments will be turned into shame, and their joy into
mourning.” An ancient inquisitor declared that, “in the
city of the Eagle, in the kingdom of Naples” (built by the
Emperor, and so called from his imperial eagle,) “the
heads of the new church are appointed. This creation
takes place with a certain degree of solemnity; and in
mockery of the Roman Pontiff, they change their name,
when they are advanced to the ministry.” (See the Sacred
Calendar of Prophecy, v. 3. p. 40.) But all the efforts
of Frederic II. were unavailing; and his successors were
more cautious in their secret practices; they desired, but
dared not execute; they promised every thing, and did
nothing; and the sectarians, whose ambition was to ex-
* See all these things related by Matthew Paris.
238 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGIRIMAGES.
tend the influence of their party, often found themselves
reduced to extremities, and exposed to all the fury of the
popes and their satellites, until at length came Dante to
save them with his invaluable resources. Beatrice died,
and he read in her countenance : “I am at peace—I
shall see the beginning of peace,” as it is written in the
Vita Nuova. As soon as the Toulousan joins the Man-
tuan, to lead Dante to the end of his journey, comes the
cry of “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace.”
These things all have a reference to his determination :
“I say that as I desire to be at peace with all, I must call
my enemy Madonna Piety who defends me; and I call
Ther Madonna in scorn.”
Boccaccio treats of the same things in a conventional
romance, where the principal agents are Jupiter, Plutus
and the race of Prometheus, created by Jupiter and per-
secuted by Plutus. In the genealogy of the Gods, he
points out the original of these figures. “Theodosius says
that this Jupiter was a celebrated man, who conquered
and deprived Lycaon, (whom he transformed into a wolf)
the king of Arcadia, of his kingdom; because he had
human flesh served before him at a banquet.” “Plutus
signifies riches; and for that reason the Latins called him
Dis-Pater, or the father of riches. The ancients pretended
that he was the God of hell.”
Of Prometheus, he speaks at some length, but very
obscurely, saying : “It will be a hazardous task, to lift
the veil from this fiction; and so much caution is requisite;
that I shall say as little as possible on the subject.” He
then describes him, and concludes by saying that he has
“many other and true things to tell. It is still to be seen
who this Prometheus really was, who was double, like the
man whom he made.” He says that this Prometheus
found men living in a savage state, like wild beasts, and
that he left them civilized beings; that those who were
formed by nature became brutal and ignorant, but that
being taken in hand by the second Prometheus, (that is,
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 239
the learned man), they were moulded like stone, and
formed and instructed; he declares that Minerva beheld
his works with astonishment, and took him up to heaven,
where she offered him all that was necessary for the per-
fecting of his labour; and by this we are to understand,
that the prudent man, under the guidance of wisdom,
steals the fire from the sun, the symbol of truth, and com-
municates it to the unlearned, who is said to be endowed
with life, when he becomes a rational and intelligent
being.
Boccaccio's Filocopo or Filocolo” is a romance which
contains every degree, regulation and vicissitude of the
secret society, and relates the reasons for the change
which took place in the language, the merit of which in-
vention he ascribes entirely to Dante. We shall confine
ourselves to the principal aim of this long work, which is
to shew the fount from which Dante drew the idea of his
new imageries. It is a companion worthy of the Vita
Nuova, and may be called another commentary on the
divine comedy; at the conclusion, the author dismisses
it, with an injunction to follow the Florentine Dante, with
the reverence of a servant, in relating the adventures of
Biancofiore and Florio ; and the romance does follow, not
only the measured verses (as he calls them) of the Floren-
tine, but his measured prose also, with the fidelity of a
servant. We should feel disgust at the audacious manner
in which scripture is here confounded with mythology,
and the most sacred mysteries with vain fables, did we
not reflect that the Jupiter, Plutus, Prometheus, and all
the rest with them associated, are not real but allegorical
beings.
Boccaccio says, that he was ordered to write this
romance by his lady, who was named after her who bore
* In the title, he calls it Filocopo, but Filocolo in the work itself, and
he observes that the word comes from two Greek words which signify a
lover of labour, or a workman, which is a name given to one of the
sectarian degrees.
240 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
that Saviour, who came to redeem us from the conse-
quences of our first mother's ungovernable curiosity."
Perhaps too she commanded him to make use of the
fictions, and the phrases, and even of the words used by
Dante in his Vita Nuova; and if so, she was obeyed to
the letter. Let us hear the place, day and hour when the
light of her eyes entered his.
“I, the composer of this work, found myself in a mag-
nificent temple in Parthenope, named after that saint who
was burnt on a gridiron; and there, I listened to the
melodious voices of those who were chaunting the service
of the day. In that day, whose first hour Saturn governs,
Phoebus having already reached with his horses the tenth
degree of the celestial ram, as soon as the fourth hour had
passed, a vision of loveliness appeared before my eyes, and
I saw that it was the beautiful lady of whom I have already
spoken, who came to hear what I was listening to. No
sooner did I perceive her, than my heart began to trem-
ble and palpitate, and I cried : Ah! what is this 2 fearing
that something terrible was going to happen. Soon how-
ever, gaining courage, I ventured to look into the eyes of
my beloved, and there I beheld Love clothed so piously,
that I longed to declare myself his subject. Brave sir, I
cried to him, how can I ever sufficiently thank thee for
bringing my blessing before my eyes; the heart, which was
before cold, begins to melt under the influence of thy rays.
And I who have hitherto endeavoured carefully to avoid
thy power, now humbly beg thee to enter me. I had
scarcely uttered the words, when the bright eyes of the
lady turned with a dazzling light upon mine, and at the
same moment, I saw a fiery golden arrow advancing,
* Boccaccio's biographers say that this lady was the princess Mary,
the daughter of king Robert; and they are right; but they forget to add that
this was the personal, but not the mental object of Boccaccio's love; and
that, by the rules of the sect, he was obliged to have the one to con-
ceal the other. Bartolo will shortly tell us who this Mary and Eve really
signified, whom Dante also mentioned together.
ON AL LEGORICAL PILGIRIMAGES. 24l
which darted so quickly into my heart, that all my tremors
were renewed; and it kindled so bold a flame, that my
whole soul was intent on the matchless beauty of the
lady, whose virtuous works made men doubt, whether she
were not a daughter of God, rather than of man.”
When the lady of his mind first appeared to Dante,
“ the spirit of life, which dwells in the secret chambers of
the heart, began to tremble and palpitate exceedingly;
and the animal spirit said to the spirits of the face,
Already comes our blessing. We may say with Homer,
She does not seem a child of man, but of God.” Again,
when he saw her in a dream : “I found that this vision had
appeared to me in the fourth hour of the night.” We
shall not delay here, nor make any remark on the season
and the month, the day, hour, place and manner in which
these curious loyers became enamoured of Madonna
Light, as they called her, but pass on to the strange
metamorphoses worked by this jargon. We shall see
Dante, who was buried in Ravenna, turned into the brother
of the same Jupiter, whom by the laws of the sect, he was
allowed to call his brother, and he will have a temple and
altar, and will be confounded with St. James of Galicia.
“That most high and noble prince, Jupiter, who holds
the imperial crown and sceptre, and is alone worthy to
possess the celestial kingdoms, had, in his goodness,
made many dear brethren and companions to share his
kingdom ; but discovering that Plutus, whom he had
made greater than all the others, had formed the base
design of usurping more power than he was entitled to,
he sent him from him, and gave to him and his followers
those dark kingdoms of Dis which are surrounded by
the Stygian marshes. He then made new generations to
fill the vacant seats, and with his own hands, formed
Prometheus, to whom he gave a dear and noble com-
panion. Plutus saw this, and, filled with mortification
at the sight of a strange people dwelling in the place
whence he had been banished, he pondered on some
M
242 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGIRIMAGES.
means of bringing about their exile also, and soon found
an opportunity of putting his schemes into effect.
Tempted by his advice, these first creatures miserably
transgressed the precepts of their creator, in his holy
garden, and were punished by being consigned with all
their descendants, to the mansions of Plutus, who saw
and exulted in his successful attempt to defeat the ori-
ginal decree of Jupiter. For a long course of time, the
Omniscient suffered him to triumph, but at length, moved
with compassion towards those who had so foolishly al-
lowed themselves to be deceived, and who were still con-
fined in those dark abodes, he sent his son on earth,
from the heavenly kingdoms, saying, “Go, and with
thy blood, free the prisoners in Dis; leave behind thee
weapons that may serve future generations to defend
themselves against the false and dark practices of
Plutus, and at thy command, Vulcan shall forge new thun-
derbolts, which shall make our power be felt, when
thrown, as formerly, by thy hand. At the bidding of
his father, the only son descended from on high to en-
dure for us, the bearers of the new weapons, the deadly
stroke of Atropos (by an allegorical death); and, when
the earth felt his presence, it gave out, in every part,
joyful and manifest signs of future victory to its inha-
bitants. Being already of mature age, he began to fill
the world with his weapons, and to explain to those who
listened with perfect faith to his words, the great injury
done them by the old tempter; and they, recovering
their senses, armed themselves with the new defensive
weapons, and fought various battles against the igno-
rant. East and west resounded with the victories of
these new knights, against whom none could stand, par-
ticularly when it appeared that they were equally in-
different to punishment and to death, and had boldly
entered the field against Plutus himself. After the son
of God had emptied many of the prisons in Dis, and
gone back to his father, he sent to the princes of his
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGIRIMAGES. 243
knights the promised gift of the Holy Ardour; and, de-
siring that his works might be known even to the re-
motest west, he chose one of the said princes, who
seemed most able to combat the insidious wiles of the
enemy, and dispatched him into those parts, where, for
some time, he carried on a very successful warfare; but,
after fighting many battles, finding that his foes were
too many for him, he submitted to the last stroke of
Atropos with humility and fortitude, and rendered his
soul up to the heaven his misfortunes had won for him.
His followers, in sorrow and mourning, buried his re-
mains in a suitable spot, and raised over his body a mag-
nificent temple, to which they gave his name; and there
it stands, an eternal memorial of that prince, near the
last western wave, and holy fires burn there unquench-
able, and sweet incense is offered up to Jupiter.”
Then begins another part of the story. Quintus Le-
lius Africanus, a noble Roman, was married according
to the laws of the Son of God, to Julia Topazia, a de-
scendant of the Julii, and, being very desirous of a heir
to his ancient name and inheritance, he offered up his
prayers to the God who dwelt on the distant western
shores ; promising that, in the event of those prayers
being accepted, he would make a pilgrimage to his
temple; “ and the saint for whom Galicia is visited”
(Dante) heard him, and granted his desire, whereupon
he prepared for his journey.
The wretched king of Dis, seeing that this custom
(of going to visit Galicia) was very inimical to his de-
signs, and that those who went, were enabled not only
to withstand all his temptations, but to render them-
selves worthy of the kingdom which he had lost by his
ambition, thought on some means of intimidating those
who seemed disposed to forsake his infernal mansions
and to undertake the same pilgrimage; he therefore sum-
moned his ministers to his presence, and said: “Com-
panions, you are aware that Jupiter deprived us of the
M 2
244 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
kingdom which he now possesses, and gave us, for a
portion, this extreme part which stands over the centre
of the universe; in spite of us, he created a new race
(that of Prometheus), and put them into our place, but we
soon cunningly allured them away again to these abodes.
Jupiter, not satisfied with his former injustice towards
us, sent his son to rob us of them ; and we, being un-
able to resist him, lost them. But this is not all : he
warned mankind of our snares, and gave them arms be-
fore which ours bent and broke ; therefore now let us
think of some means of revenging ourselves on this race
(of Prometheus). We are forbidden to ascend, for he is
mightier than we ; still we may endeavour to regain what
we have lost, and increase the numbers in our kingdom.
The son of Jupiter left a precept on earth among his
people, which, being very adverse to our interests, must
be, if possible, extinguished in their minds. He enjoined
constant labour,” and the Romans (those sectarians
whose object was Rome), being superior to the others,
have undertaken to teach and circulate this doctrine.
My object therefore is, to withhold them from visiting
these strange temples, by alarming their fears. And I
have hopes of succeeding with a great number of those
who are now on their way to the temple situated on the
western shores; they shall speedily feel my wrath, only
be you watchful to do the same wherever you may meet
them.”
We shall better understand why this figurative Plutus
was so eager to vent his wrath on those who went from
Rome to Galicia, when we show why the Pope perse-
cuted the Albigenses so cruelly.
Through the insidious contrivance of Plutus, the va-
liant Quintus Lelius Africanus perished with all his
family before he arrived in Galicia. His wife alone sur-
* That of making proselytes, extending themselves, writing in the
conventional language, &c. &c.
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 245
vived, and she was kept in the house of the king of Mar-
morina, where she gave birth to a daughter, the very
same day on which a son was born to the king ; and
why? — because they must both be nine years old when
they become lovers, that is, when the light of Madonna
enters through the eyes of her admirer, and passes to his
trembling heart.
From that time, the boy Florio, and the girl White-
flower, were as inseparable as soul and body; and as
they grew up, two wise men of the kingdom were ap-
pointed to instruct them. Then follows a long account
of the Loves of Florio, the son of the king of Marmorina,
and Whiteflower the descendant of the Caesars, both born
on the same day, the one in prosperity and the other in
slavery. The fantastic tale of their allegorical loves
shows the seven progressive degrees of the sect; the
work is divided into seven books, and the lover is ac-
companied, as we see further on, by seven mystic com-
panions.
Dante, in the Vita Nuova, relates a vision in which
Love appeared and said to him, “I am thy Lord;” and,
at the same time, holding the lady of his salvation in his
arms, and a burning thing in his hand, he cried, “ Be-
hold thy heart.” He says too, that Love made the lady
eat that heart, which she did doubtfully. When we
interpret the Vita Nuova, this dream shall be minutely
explained ; for the present, we only remind our readers
that heart signified the great secret of the society. The
king of Marmorina has a dream exactly like this vision
of Dante's, which is sent to him by Venus, and is pro-
phetic of his future fate, which is not unlike that of the
wolf, who was killed by the ass and the sheep.
He thought he was on a high mountain, and that there
he found a beautiful white hind, of whom he became
very fond ; he presently took it up in his arms, and
then saw, coming out of his own body, a young lion
(Florio, his son); and he fed the two animals together.
246 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
After a little while, he saw a spirit, radiant with light,
(Love), descending from heaven, who opened the young
lion's breast, and drew forth a burning thing which the
hind eagerly devoured. Then he thought that the
spirit did the same to the hind, and afterwards vanished.
Next came a wolf over the mountain, who rushed for-
ward to destroy the hind; and the king (who is a figure
of the wolf) offered her to him ; but the young lion
coming to her rescue, so lacerated the wolf with his
claws, that he deprived him of life. Both lion and hind
were then sent by a large greyhound to the top of a high
mount. But it seemed to the dreamer, that before they
went, both plunged into a clear fountain, which trans-
formed the lion into a noble youth, and the hind into a
beautiful lady. If we desire to find a real owner for
this hind, we must apply to Boccaccio's friend, and in
his 157th Sonnet, we shall read her own words: “ Det
no one touch me ; my Caesar made me free.” (See
Petrarch's Sonnets.) And Florio told Whiteflower :
“The mighty emperor of Rome would delight in thy
company; and, were Juno's death possible, Jupiter him-
self would find none more worthy of her place than
thou.” Before we can understand the secret drift of this
romance, we must be aware that Juno is the papal
church ; she is a very prominent character in the tale,
being the instigator of the king of Hell and the king of
Marmorina, two in one, in his persecutions of the sect.
While Whiteflower (who is a figure of the persecuted
sect, abandoned by the emperor) was reduced to great
misery, by the avaricious conduct of the king of Mar-
morina (the Pope), and of his wife (the church), her
lover Florio had the following vision : — He thought he
saw standing on a plain, a great lord (Love), with a
crown of gold on his head, set in precious gems, which
shone wonderfully ; his robes were royal ; in his left
hand he held a strong bow, and in his right two arrows,
one of gold and one of lead. He thought that this lord
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 247
was of middle age, and that he was seated on two large
eagles, with a lion under each foot.* The more Florio
gazed on him, the more majestic did he appear, with his
golden wings flapping in the air.f. After some time, he
thought he saw a beautiful lady on the right hand of the
vision, who knelt down before him and uttered some
prayer which Florio could not hear; but he looked very
earnestly, and thought he recognized in this lady his
own Whiteflower. Presently on the left hand of the
Lord, he saw a stormy sea (the waters are people), and
on it a beautiful vessel (ship without a pilot in loud
storm, Purg. 6.), with its masts broken, its sails rent, its
rudder gone and none to guide it; and Florio thought
that he was in this ship, blindfolded, and quite at a loss
what to do. Then he beheld a black spirit, fearful to be-
hold, rising from the sea, (I saw a beast rise up out of the
sea. Rev. xiii. 1.), and it laid hold on the ship and
dragged it with such violence towards the bottom, that
the half of it was already under water, when Florio, in
great alarm at the near approach of death, cried with a
loud voice, Help 1 but the Lord seemed as though he
heard him not ; and Florio's heart sank, as every hour
increased the danger of the vessel. At length, the Lord
spoke to him, saying, Fear not : I am he to whom thou
hast so often sighed; I will not let thee perish. But
still he did not move. Suddenly, while Florio was
weeping, the bandage seemed to fall from his eyes, and
he saw clearly that the ship was almost drawn under the
water; and, weeping still more bitterly, he looked up
to heaven, and implored the mercy of Jupiter, fearing
that the Lord might fail him, (Jupiter and the Lord
were the same person). Then he saw a beautiful lady
with no other covering than a thin veil (Reason, veiled
* The eagle and the lion form the griffon. Boccaccio describes them
as distinct under Love, and Dante unites them into one under Bea-
trice.
f See Dante's description of the wings of the griffon.
248 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES,
in fictions), who cried to him : O, light of my eyes, com-
fort thee. He answered, How can I be comforted,
while thus half-buried under the waves 2 And she said :
Free the vessel from that evil spirit, who is striving for
her destruction. Florio replied: How can I do that,
without arms ? Then he thought that she drew from
under her white veil a burning sword, and gave it to
him, with a branch of green olive; after which she va-
nished.” He ventured on the waves, and, with the
sword, wounded the wicked spirit severely, who, after
receiving many blows, let go his hold of the ship, and
went back to the place whence he came (Hell). And
Florio rejoiced greatly when he saw that the sea gra-
dually became calmer, and that the ship righted herself.
He here awoke from his dream, and was astonished to
find in his hand a branch of green olive. (The symbol
of peace, shewn outwardly.)
At this point of the story, the sectarian changes his
name, and assumes the characteristic or war-name of
Filocopo,t and then sets out on his pilgrimage, crossing
the sea in company with seven men, whom we shall see
transformed into seven ladies, to find the Whiteflower from
whom the machinations of Plutus had separated him.
It is worthy of remark, that in the first place, he goes to
Ravenna, the burial place of Dante, and then com-
mences his search from that city. The following vision
rapidly sketches the affairs of the sect, and the assump-
tion of the sacred jargon: —
He thought he saw the sea as beautiful and calm as
ever; and soon came in sight a vessel in which were
* The sword and the olive, the symbols of war and peace—the first
was real, the last feigned.
f Barruel, in his well-known work, speaks of this custom, and tells us
that the Illuminati always changed their names. He adds—“There
exists a similar precaution in the last degrees of the Freemasons, where
the Rose-Croix receive what is called in the lodges their characteristic,
that is, their war name.
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 249
seven ladies of great beauty. The four, near the prow,
he recollected to have seen before ; but the three, who
sat near the stern, were quite unknown to him. A mast
was between them, which seemed to reach to the skies,
and which no motion of the vessel affected. He went
on board the ship, and was welcomed by the four la-
dies; but, as he turned his eyes towards the prow, he
there beheld a woman of dreadful aspect,” with a veil
over her eyes, and her strength was so great that when
she fastened her hands on the vessel, it seemed as though
it must inevitably go down. The sea rose in stormy
waves, and Filocopo was beginning to feel much alarm,
when he heard a voice cry, Fear not. Reassured, in
some measure, by these words, he began to look at the
four ladies who were round him. The first held a mirror
and a book (Prudence); the second had a sharp sword
(her own) in her right hand, and a broken spear (her
enemy's) in her left, on which she leant, but her aspect
was very humble (Fortitude); the third sat on the ter-
raqueous globe, with a sceptre in her hand (Justice);
the fourth held her right hand on her heart, and one
finger of the left on her lips (Temperance); the three
last were under the guidance of the first or Prudence.
When Filocopo had considered all these things, he
looked again towards the prow, and there saw a young
man of engaging appearance dressed very nobly,+ and
holding in his arms a beautiful lady, who had wept so
bitterly that she had almost bathed him with her tears.
Filocopo thought that she was very like his own White-
flower, and, in a short time, he heard her call him by her
own name. He heard the four ladies talking very
fluently together, but he understood nothing, f all his
* In the preceding vision this female appeared as a black spirit.
f Love, whom Dante saw in the same situation, in the first dream in
his Vita Nuova.
1 In the first degrees every thing is presented in symbols, very diffi-
cult to understand.
250 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
thoughts being occupied with her he had lost. At last,
no longer able to listen to them, he rushed towards the
place where the youth stood with the lady, and he
thought that she received him very joyfully. But soon
the sea rose again in such a tempest, that not only the
ship, but the whole universe seemed doomed to perish.
The woman appeared again, and from her mouth issued
a loud voice like thunder (an anathema); and a violent
wind rushed by, which carried him, and Whiteflower, and
the youth from off the ship, and dashed them into a place
full of horrors (the inquisition), where they all three
began to weep piteously.” By a way before unthought
of, they escaped from this dark place without injury,
and returned to the vessel, where the woman now gave
them a cordial reception,t and suffered them to enter
into the midst of the four ladies, to whose conversation
Filocopo had not formerly listened (he did not under-
stand them then). With them, he now saw a man of
most dignified appearance, on whose head was a golden
crown, and who spoke to him and explained the nature
of the three ladies who were strangers to him. Pre-
sently the heavens appeared to open, and he saw a
dazzling light, which seemed as though it would set the
world on fire; but the part of the earth which felt the
light (the sect) was more beautiful than the rest. It
came over him, and he gazed into it, and saw a beautiful
lady, clothed with the light itself, who carried a golden
phial in her hand, full of a precious liquid, with which
she bathed his face and person, and then vanished, I
* Remark the effect of their weeping.
+ Before the church discovered the secret resource, she naturally
courted those who apparently favoured her; and for a long time the sect
was undisturbed. Persecutions and excommunications only recom-
menced at the beginning of the last century, and then they fell almost
unheeded.
# This corresponds with the scene in the Purgatory, where Dante is
bathed, first by Cato's order, and then by Beatrice's,
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 25]
leaving his sight so improved, that all things, worldly and
divine, were clearer to his perception than before. He
looked, and found himself with the three ladies, with
whom his Whiteflower appeared quite familiar. The
first was all vermilion in her appearance; the second
was greener than the emerald ; and the third would have
shamed the snow.” He remained near them, and fol-
lowed their steps; and presently he found himself rising
on the ship to heaven, the three being his guides, while
the four stood on the waves to assist him in his ascent.
He passed into the sacred regions of the gods, and saw
all the virtuous dead in their power and glory; and,
just as he was trying to exclaim, “Happy the man who
is chosen for such glory !” he was awakened by two
companions, who, seizing his arms, drew him from hea-
venly to worldly thoughts.
Filocopo then, with his seven companions, pursued
his journey in search of Whiteflower. They em-
barked with a favourable wind, and every promise of
a safe voyage. But where was Whiteflower all this while?
Some Catalan merchants had taken her into the king of
Babylon's dominions, and she was shut up in a mysterious
Egyptian tower,t and carefully concealed from view:
This tower is most evidently a figure of Dante's poem.
It was most jealously watched by an admiral (Dante him- .
* “Three nymphs
At the right wheel, came circling in smooth dance;
The one so ruddy, that her form had scarce
Been known within a furnace of clear flame;
The next did look as if the flesh and bones
Were emerald; snow new-fallen seem'd the third.” (Purg. 29.)
+ The writers on Masonry are unanimous in their opinion that the
rites of the sect owe their origin to the ancient Egyptians. “The
Egyptian mysteries were the cradle of this sect ; the three degrees
known by the name of Blue Masonry, testify to the truth of our opinion;
trials, instruction and result, every thing shewing its derivation.” (See
Reghellini's work on Masonry.)
252 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES,
self) who was a subject of the Babylonish ruler. It was
so lofty that it seemed to touch the clouds, and the sun
never shone on a more splendid edifice. It was walled
up to the top, and yet light pierced through many
windows; its exterior was plain, but within, it contained
things so wonderful, that they must be seen, to be believed;
there were one hundred magnificent chambers (cantos)
besides many halls, of which one especially was the most
splendid that could be imagined. It extended along the
breadth of the tower, (the grand scene in the earthly para-
dise,) and was built on twenty-four pillars of porphyry, one
of which was so transparent that it shewed every thing that
was taking place in the hall. (The Apocalypse.) In-
side the tower, there was one chamber of surpassing
beauty; which the dwelling of Jupiter himself could not
have equalled; it was of a proper size, and had this virtue
that, those who entered it, no matter how sad they were,
as soon as they looked up at the ceiling which was covered
with every precious stone that can be numbered, they be-
came gay and cheerful.” Before the door, stood the son of
Venus on a pillar, with dazzling wings of gold; and in
the centre of the apartment, was placed an ivory couch
supported on four lions of gold, on which Whiteflower
always reposed;t at the top of the tower, there was a
delightful garden (the garden of Eden,) filled with every
tree and flower that grows, and in the centre stood a clear
and limpid fountain which sent its waters to bathe and
fertilize them. (See the description of Dante's Eden.)
Over the fountain hung a tree, which was always deemed
matchless. Neither leaf nor flower ever forsook it, and
it was generally supposed to have been planted by Diana
(the three-faced Hecate) at Jupiter's command; wonder-
ful things were said both of tree and fountain. When-
ever the admiral wished to try the virtue of a lady
* See our former remarks on the Grammar of the Gay Science.
t The car of Beatrice supported by four anlmals.
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRíMAGES. 253
(allegorical females) he led her, at the first hour of the
day, under this tree. If she were pure, a flower fell on
her head, and the water flowed in softer streams; but if
not pure, the flower fell not, and the water was troubled.
By this means, the admiral discovered the real character
of many whom he dismissed with ignominy from his pre-
Sen Ce.
This tower, then, full of hieroglyphics and emblems,
was the place of Whiteflower's imprisonment, and from
thence, Filocopo contrived to release her by his dexterity
and good management, and to take her with him from
Egypt to Rome: this is the aim of the whole work.
We have omitted taking any notice of that part of the
romance which treats of the education, life, symbols, and
mysteries of Love ; because our chief design is here to
show how the sect changed an amatory into a religious
language. The author began by relating, that Jupiter
bade his son to go to Dis, and release the prisoners there,
leaving behind him weapons wherewith his followers
might be enabled to defend themselves against Plutus'
arts; we have read that this command was obeyed, and
that these new weapons were found irresistible. The mystic
visions of Florio, or Filocopo, have partly explained their
nature; and now the lovers, united in soul and body,
stand before us, ready to make use of them.
They drew near to Rome, and dressed themselves as
pilgrims ; but before entering the eternal city, White-
flower had the following vision, which showed it to her in
its glory ; happy in a reformed religion, and a recovered
emperor.
She thought that she was in an unknown place, and
that she saw in the heavens before her a lady, whose ex-
quisite beauty far surpassed her own; on her fair head
she wore a crown of inestimable value, and her red gar-
ments (the imperial purple), shining in the clear light, il-
luminated the surrounding atmosphere. In her right
hand, she bore a green palm (symbol of victory), and in
254 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
her left a golden globe, and she was seated on two
griffins (emblems of political and religious authority),
who flying towards heaven, had already carried her so
high, that her crown touched the stars; under her feet
was another globe (the terraqueous) on which was de-
scribed every region of the world. On either hand, sat a
man of dignified and majestic appearance. The one on
her right was old, and very gentle in his actions. Like
the lady he wore a crown, significant of high dignity; his
dress was white, and he was covered with a red mantle,
and seemed to be seated on a meek lamb ; his right hand
carried two keys, one of gold and the other of silver ; his
left held a book, and his eyes were fixed on the sky. But
he who sat on her left was young and proud, and powerful
in his look, and wore a crown so brilliant, that it shone over
the lady and the old man; his dress was like the lady's,
red, and he was seated on a lion, with an eagle in his left
hand, and a sword in his right, with which he made deep
furrows in the globe under the lady's foot (the limits of
kingdoms and states.) Whiteflower, struck with wonder,
cried : O lady, thy face is too beautiful for a mortal;
happy he who possesses thee! Much would I give to be
able to sing thy praises before the ignorant. And the
lady : Daughter, my life will last as long as the world :
I am Rome; and if this aged man (on her right) had not
pleaded with Jupiter, for pardon for the sins committed
by thy father-in-law (the king of Marmorina, at Plutus'
instigation), thy Florio must have taken the sword of this
other (on her left.) But come to me, and speedily, for
thy Maker desires thy happiness. So saying, she disap-
peared.
Here is evidence to confirm what we have said of the
secret priesthood ; because the king of Marmorina (urged
on by Plutus to persecute Whiteflower) being a figure
either of the Pope or of a king assisted by the Pope, he
who entreated Jupiter to forgive him, could not possibly
be a figure of the instigator himself. It is, on the con-
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 255
trary, a type of the new secret priesthood, which was to
succeed the papal hierarchy; and when we find in the
pages of history, that this priesthood was governed by a
chief, who styled himself the true successor of Christ and
Cephas, the high priest appointed to deliver mankind
from Antichrist, then we shall feel convinced that the
praises given in this romance to the successor of Cephas,
the chief of the bearers of the new weapons which were to
make war on Plutus, were praises given, not to the Pope,
but to him who was destined to supplant him ; and then
we shall feel the meaning of these words; “O mighty
and venerable city, whose yoke bends the most stubborn
necks (of Plutus' followers), Rome, true lady, thou alone
art worthy to be made the seat of the successors of
Cephas; rejoice within thee, for thou wert of the first to
take up the holy weapons.” This is a worthy imitation of
that great artist, who first made the sun go down, and
then declared that Eneas's voyage to Latium, and the cre-
ation of the Latin empire had been pre-ordained by God,
to bring about the establishment of the papal authority
under the successors of Peter. And that was the passage
cited by the Cardinal Bellarmine as proof unquestionable
of Dante's devotion to the Pope and his church. But we
must return to the lovers.
Dressed as pilgrims, they entered the holy city. Florio
took a guide with him, and went out one fine morning, to
see the beauties of Rome. On their way, they stopped to
admire a splendid temple, dedicated to him who preached
repentance in the wilderness, and announced that the
kingdom of heaven was at hand; it was called Lateran.
They entered the temple, and Filocopo saw a painting
representing the figure of the Saviour, which excited his
astonishment, as he knew not the meaning of the bleeding
side, neither why the hands and feet should bear the
marks of the cross. The aged Hilarius, (from ilare, gay)
who was celebrated for his science, had just come to
Rome with the son of the Emperor Justinian; he was one
256 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
of the knights of God, and chancing to see Filocolo in-
tently regarding the picture, he entered into conversation
with him, and finally induced him to turn Christian. And
here commences the abuse of the sacred doctrines.
Hilarius begins by relating the history of the creation,
the rebellion of the spirits, their punishment, and the
formation of the first pair; and then goes on to explain
the principal points in sacred history so minutely, that
the most wary reader might be deceived, were his suspi-
cions not aroused by the seeming absurdity of dwelling
on facts too trite and well known to require so much
waste of argument. He then proceeds to repeat the his-
tory of our Saviour, from his incarnation to his resurrec-
tion; and he says that, at the birth of Christ, while the
angels were singing: Glory to God, &c., the image of
Romulus, the king of Rome, fell to pieces. Also, that
there was a certain Octavius Augustus, who desired to be
worshipped as a god by the Romans; but being a very
prudent man, he first applied to the sybil, who came to
him on the day of that glorious nativity. He inquired of
her, whether any one would be born greater than himself,
or whether he should let the Romans worship him; when
the sybil showed him, in a golden circle round the sun, a
virgin with a child in her arms, and at the same time he
heard a voice cry: This is the altar of Heaven I Behold
one, cried the sybil, greater than thou; worship him : and
Augustus immediately offered incense to him.” After
Hilarius has finished speaking, Filocopo repeats the
Apostles' Creed, dwelling particularly on the part which
tells of the descent into hell, and the resurrection from
the dead, &c.; and concluding with these words: We
believe that, at the end, he will come to judge the quick
and the dead; the wicked will be cast into endless punish-
ment with Plutus; while the just will reign in everlasting
* The true meaning of this will be understood only by those who are
aware that, in the sectarian ceremonies, the outward man beholds his
inward self at a distance, expressed in emblematic figures.
ON ALLEGORICAL PILG RIMAGES. 257
glory with Jupiter. Hilarius then says to the new be-
lievers: Come to the only true light. He is indeed
wretched, who, having it in his power to deliver himself
from misery, still obstinately continues in it. Come, wash
in this holy fount, and adorn yourselves with the virtues
of Faith, Hope, and Charity. And Florio and White-
flower are made Christians.
The reason why the Church of St. John the Baptist was
chosen as the scene of the baptism of the allegorical lovers,
is clearly explained. The Baptist was, and is now, the
protector of the secret order. And in the before-cited
work of Reghellini, (La Maçonnerie,) we read : “In our
pictures, sculptures, and engravings, Jesus is represented
with St. John pouring water on his head. In our mys-
teries we keep up the remembrance of the baptismal
ceremony; and, in the first degree, the novice is asked :
Whence come you ? and he answers: From St. John's
lodge; meaning that he has been just purified by the
waters of baptism. We shall give the ceremony of ma-
sonic baptism” which is given by a double immersion in
two fonts. After the ceremony, Filocopo took his seven
companions aside, and said to them : Dear companions
and friends, new events give rise to a new manner of lan-
guage. Doubtless, you will marvel at my words; but I
am forced to utter them by a new flame (the Inquisition);
and as prudence bids me speak, I will not conceal what
my heart tells me is for our mutual benefit. Follow my
advice, and you will be happy; and, to convince you that
I am not guided by avarice, I give up all my power,
honours, and riches, into your hands. Think not that I
have abjured my errors, and adopted this faith inconsi-
derately ; on the contrary, I have long thought on and
examined the question; and I have found in it no precept
which is contrary to the holy faith. Be, therefore, with
me, always striving for our salvation.
It is here explained, that the son of Justinian, the em-
peror of Rome, had turned Catholic, and inscribed him-
258 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
self among the Knights of God; being appointed to guard
the Temple of St. John during the reign of John the High
Priest. This John, after baptizing Filocopo, showed him
the image of Christ which was brought from Jerusalem to
Vespasian; and also the seamless robe which he wore.
This robe is a figure of the Empire, one and indivisible;
and hence Dante, in the Monarchia: “It is not lawful
for the Emperor to divide the empire; and if it be true,
(as men say,) that Constantine did divide it, and give
part to another, by that act he rent the seamless robe of
Christ, which even they, who pierced with a spear the
side of the true God, dared not do.”—(B. 3.)
We have now seen the principal design with which this
sectarian romance was written; and, did it not demand
too long a review, we could show that every page contains
a deep and secret meaning. From so much that is interest-
ing, we would select the episode of the youth Fileno, who
came from Spain into Italy; began his pilgrimage at Ra-
venna, where Dante died; then went to Mantua, where Vir-
gil was born; and finally settled in Tuscany, where he was
turned into a fountain of tears. And next in importance
to this, is the story of the four unfortunate ladies, with
Greek names, who are figures of those imprudent secta-
rians who revealed the mysteries of the first jargon, and
thereby rendered the adoption of the second necessary.
We must be satisfied, for the present, with having shown
the nature of the weapons which Florio and Whiteflower
girded on, to war against Plutus and Hell.
Boccaccio left several other works written in this
jargon, which all refer to Dante as to a great model :
two of them, which are also in the form of pilgrimages,
are more clear and decisive than the one we have just ex-
amined, and place beyond a doubt the fact that Dante
borrowed his style of figurative writing from the Templars
and the Albigenses.
The veneration with which he was regarded by Boc-
caccio, is evidenced throughout all the latter's works.
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGIRIMAGES. 259
In the Amorosa Visione, a poem of fifty cantos, all in
acrostics, he meets the usual number of allegorical ladies,
(seven,) accompanied by the most illustrious poets. He
contents himself with mentioning the names of the most
of them; but, when he comes to Dante, no words are
forcible enough to express the admiration he feels. “I
saw a great poet receiving homage from the choir who
surrounded the seven ladies. The principal female put a
crown of laurel on his head, while the others rejoiced;
and seeing so much honour paid to one person, I drew
near to see who it was, thinking he must be something
extraordinary. And my guide said: That is Dante, the
Florentine; the glory of the Muses.”
He then proceeds to say, that as soon as he heard the
name of the great Master, from whom he had learnt every
thing good, he blessed God for letting him see that master
honoured according to his deserts; and he found it
scarcely possible to turn his eyes away from the place
where stood the glory of the Florentines. He would, in-
deed, have gazed on him for ever, had not his guide
hastened him away. He attempted to delay, saying: If
you could but know who this man is, whom I delight to
gaze on the guide answered: You could not make me
know him better; but there is something more to be seen.
And when he turned from Dante, his eyes rested on her,
the beloved of many lovers, seated on a car of triumph,
with a crown of rich gold on her head. Her aspect was
noble, and she held a glittering sword in her hand, with
which she seemed to threaten the world. This lady was
the enemy of Death, and her robes were imperial. Be-
hind her, revolved a brilliant circle, on which were
described kingdoms and empires; and on her forehead
was written, in golden characters: I am the glory of the
world.
Farther on, he saw Love, just as he appeared to Filocopo
in his visions, seated on two eagles, with two lions under
his feet, a crown of gold, wings of gold, and a lady on
260 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
either side. The allegorical description of the seven
virtues, in the 38th and 39th cantos, is well worthy of
our attention; as we shall find that the three theological
virtues correspond precisely with the three pilgrimages.
In the midst of a garden, whose beauties rivalled Eden,
stood a beautiful fountain : at each corner of this foun-
tain was placed a female statue: and, supported by these
four figures, three others stood in a large basin. The first
was Faith: she was black, and with a laughing counte-
nance, she was pouring forth tears from her eyes.
The second was Hope: she was white, and the water
spouted out from the crown of her head. The third was
Charity: she was red, and the limpid stream flowed from
her bosom. The urn of each figure, into which fell the
water, was distinguished by an animal's head. A bull's
head, before the urn of Charity; a lion's head, before that
of Hope; and, before the urn of Faith, a wolf's head
Out of the mouth of each beast flowed a stream, which
took a certain direction to water the garden. The first
(from the bull) flowed towards the south; the second (the
lion's) towards the east ; and the third (the wolf’s) towards
the north, where Isaiah placed the tirone of Lucifer. The
first two streams produced a gay abundance of fruits and
flowers; the last carried with it ruin, drought, and deso-
lation. What a cruel satire is here contained within a few
lines
In all Boccaccio's works, we see Dante's spirit tracked
and pursued. In the “Commedia delle Ninfe Fioren-
tine,” or “Ninfale d'Ameto,” he explains the seven de-
grees by which the blind are gradually enlightened by
seven ladies, who turn out to be the seven virtues. A
short examination of this tale will show how completely it
follows the plan traced out by Filocopo. He gives the
following reason for the change in the language.
“While the shepherd Ameto was with the seven ladies
who had brought him up, he saw a vision of seven poeti-
cal, and seven priestly birds, swans and storks. They all
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 261
rose in a flight from the neighbouring shores, with a noise
that filled the sky; and as they came nearer, the ladies
saw that they were divided into seven and seven, and
that they were fighting so fiercely that the air was filled
with their feathers. After a long contest, the storks re-
treated ; and while Ameto and the ladies were wondering
what the victorious swans would do, a new light broke in
the sky, and there descended a pillar of fire, like that
which guided the Israelites in the wilderness, leaving be-
hind it the way of Iris (peace), and a sweet voice spoke
unto them, the voice of Venus, the Goddess of Love,
saying: “I am the light of heaven, and those who follow
me will never go astray.” Dante's opinion of the name of
this light was somewhat different. “We are instructed
in this by the Emperor of the Universe, who is Christ,-
he died for us, to bring us life, and he is the light who
lightens our darkness, as St. John tells us.” (Convito.)
Ameto strove in vain to encounter the gaze of that ra-
diant countenance. The holy Venus bade the seven
ladies tear the veil from his eyes, that he might be able
to see her beauty, and speak of it to his companions. No
sooner were the words spoken, than all the seven ran to
him, and so intently was he gazing on Venus, that he did
not feel conscious that Lia (active life) had taken hold of
him, until he saw his old dress thrown away, and felt
himself bathed in a clear fountain ; after which, he was
given, quite pure, to Fiammetta, (contemplative life.)
Mopsa dispersed the mist which hid Venus from his sight.
—Emilia directed him where to look for her. A crimonia
strengthened his vision — Adonia covered him with rich
drapery — and Agatopen breathed into him, and kindled
him with an unwonted fire.*
Ameto, thus enlightened, cried to Venus: O sacred
goddess, only light of heaven and earth, look on me;
* “The minister of the Albigenses, according to their historians,
breathed seven times into the mouth of the believers.”—Millot. Hist, des
Troub. v. 1. art. Izarn.
262 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
and by thy holy and ineffable triple name, grant me thy
aid ; for the soul which thou hast newly given to me is
burned with seven flames.
Lia having given him a new life, by immersing him in
the fountain, the seven ladies gathered round him, singing
the same song which the seven virtues sang to Dante
after his mystic immersion. “Here we are nymphs, and
in heaven stars.” Then Ameto understood the real nature
of these nymphs, and of the temples and the goddesses, and
their lovers; for all was clear to his intellect, now that he
was become a new man. He then returned thanks to the
seven ladies, beginning with Mopsa, who had cleared
away the mist which obscured his intellect, and ending
with Fiammetta, who had given the last touches to per-
fect his nature, and render him worthy to rise among the
blessed in the day of judgment.
We know not whether our readers be perfectly convinced
of the real nature of this tale, if not, perhaps, they will
listen to the words of Cybele, the goddess of the whole
earth, and mother of Jupiter, who speaks to her followers
by the mouth of Lia, or active life. She is talking of
Florence: “Happy was she, and faithful to him who
made all things, until the cruel Vandal, the spoiler of
Italy, the ferocious enemy of the Roman empire came,
and by his wily counsels, caused an effusion of blood,
and the second flames.” To repair the mischief done by
that enemy, it was necessary to rebuild the city from its
foundations; and then Lia goes on to say: “I have been
devoted to Cybele from my earliest years, I have mounted
every hill with bow and arrow, and the flames of Venus
have scorched me. I have cured the mental blindness of
Ameto with my light, and made him to love and follow
the things which are good; turning all his former rude-
ness into gentleness. This change is owing to Venus as
well as to you (she is speaking to the other six), and
therefore will I honour her always. You, therefore, who
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 263
are of sound intellect, and whose hearts are full of love,
listen to my language and note the truth which is hidden;
for natural reason will not suffice to explain it.
The book ends with the following jeer at the Romish
church : “If there be any defect in this work, let it not
be ascribed to malice but to ignorance. I entreat the
examination and correction of the mother and teacher of
all, the most holy church of Rome.” Well did Boccaccio
know that no work from a sectarian's pen was ever pub-
lished without that mother's approval.
The object for which these tales were written appears
sufficiently clear, and yet we shall see others much more
clear, much more decisive, than either the Ninfale d'Ameto
or the Amorosa Visione, or the Filocopo ; in fact, Boc-
caccio boasted that he had penetrated into the enemy's
camp, and plundered and ravaged every thing, without
meeting with any resistance.
We will now give a brief summary of the inward spirit
of the Decameron; we say a brief one, because a com-
plete interpretation of that work, would demand a vo-
lume to itself; we therefore confine ourselves to a notice
of those particular parts which relate to our disquisitions;
and we begin by selecting the tale which describes a pil-
grimage to the Island of Love, where the Templars and their
grand master had fixed their chief residence; and whence
the last grand master, with his knights was enticed by
Philip the Fair, and condemned to be burned in Paris.
We seek not to discover the motive of him who com-
manded Boccaccio to write this work; it is enough that
we know that the order did come from one who could not
be disobeyed, and of this the writer himself assures us in
one of his Latin letters: “I wrote it when young, at
the command of a superior.”
The author first introduces us to the seven ladies, who
had met together in the church of Santa Maria Novella,
in Florence, in the holy week. We shall pass over the
264 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
artful discourse with which one of them * endeavours to
persuade the others to fly from the infected city, in order
to assist, preserve, and defend their lives, and proceed
with our interpretations, only stopping to point out to
our reader's notice the singular correspondence between
the works of our three great masters.
Dante's poem commences its march in the holy week;
so does the Africa of Petrarch t ; so does the Decameron
of Boccaccio. Beatrice sent her aid to Dante on Holy
Thursday; Laura first appeared to Petrarch on Good
Friday; Fiammetta was seen by Boccaccio, for the first
time on Holy Saturday. On Holy Thursday, Beatrice
turned her bright eyes away full of tears, and sent Virgil
to Dante; on Good Friday, Laura found the way open
through her eyes to the heart of Petrarch ; and on Easter-
eve, Fiammetta had love in her eyes, clothed piously, and
stole the heart of Boccaccio. On Thursday, Dante was
in a dark forest, and delivered by Beatrice; on Friday,
Petrarch was in a gloomy temple, when he saw and loved
Laura; on Saturday, Boccaccio was in a similar edifice,
when he beheld Fiammetta. And what is even more sin-
gular, these lovers expected death, as the certain conse-
quence of their passion, nor had they long to wait, for
it came in time to enable them to rise again on the third
day. Out of Italy, too, the singers of love usually lost their
hearts under similar circumstances; as for an example:
Ausius March, who fell in love with his Teresa on Good
Friday in a church. t On Good Friday, the Templars
celebrated their most solemn mysteries, in which Christ
died and rose again. But it is time to return to Boc-
caccio. º g
In the Decameron, every thing depends on the num-
* Pampinea, the name of the first of the seven ladies of the Deca-
meron, and of the second pastoral, whose meaning the author refused to
declare, when pressed by one of his friends.
? See his Letter to Posterity.
# See Sismondi's Litt. du Midi de l’Eur, vol. 1. p. 141.
ON ALLEGORICAL PIGLRIMAGES. 265
bers, and the names employed. If Boccaccio had been
forced to make eight ladies instead of seven, and eleven
days instead of ten, his work would no longer have con-
veyed any meaning. He divides the seven, into the four
women, and the three men-servants; and these latter and
the three masters are figures of the same thing under two
aspects: they are outwardly slaves, inwardly free. The
same thing may be said of the names, which in every tale
bear an inward sense; and in his Introduction, he con-
fesses to have given them feigned names, but not without
good cause.
Neifile was the queen of the third day; her name signifies
a lover of novelty : and she gave the following subject to be
argued : “On one who gained something he had ardently
desired ; or by address recovered what he had lost.”
She was elected Queen of the Gay Company on Thurs-
day, and she commanded that the two following days
should be devoted to a strict repose. The Sunday opened
brightly: the crimson tints of the dawn had begun to
fade before the sun's rays, when the queen arose, and
commanded the company to assemble in a place they had
not yet seen. She led them by a narrow path to a mag-
nificent palace, which was seated on a hill; and the gate
being thrown open, they all entered a garden, and began
to examine the beauties which, at first sight, had almost
dazzled them. The air was perfumed with balmy spices
from the East; every plant that could enchant the eye,
sprang up in wild profusion ; the orange and citron tree
waved over them, bending under their old and new fruits;
and in the midst of a meadow, whose verdure rivalled the
green of the emerald, stood a fountain of the whitest
marble. In the centre of the fountain, was a pillar, sup-
porting a figure, from which rose a stream of the most
limpid water, which seemed to enter the clouds; and then
falling again, with a soft murmur, into the fountain, it
flowed through the garden; first disappearing entirely,
and then rushing in all its brightness down the plain,
N
266 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGIRIMAGES.
where it turned two mills. Neifile's subjects were lost in
enchantment at the beauties of this exquisite place; and
with one voice they declared, that, if ever there was a Pa-
radise on earth, it must have been the very counterpart
of this garden.
This was the place to which the Lover of Novelty remov-
ed her court; and here, seated round the fountain, she
commanded the company to listen to the following tale.
Here let us remember, that Dante came from the Elisei,
who were descended from an ancient Roman noble,
called Eliseo, his family name being derived from one of
the Aldighieri of Ferrara: in the course of time, the word
(as we read in Boccaccio's Life of Dante,) was contracted
into Alighieri. Therefore the seventh tale of the third
day, which relates the adventures of Tedaldo degli Elisei,
contains the internal name as well as life of DanTe
D'Aldo ghieri, of the family of the Elisei; and of that
tale we now present a brief summary.
Tedaldo degli Elisei was a noble and honourable Flo-
rentine, the accepted but secret lover of Ermellina.” We
say secret; but we should add, that, whenever he could
open his heart safely, and without fear of exciting
suspicion, he never failed to express his devotion and
attachment to her in whose keeping he had placed his
fortune, honour, liberty, and love. But the enemy of
happy lovers, Fortune, proved the bane of their life.
Ermellina revealed the secret of her heart to her con-
fessor; and being required by him to give up her lover,
she, after a long struggle, consented. The unhappy
Tedaldo quitted Florence in a state of mind approaching
despair; and engaging himself in the service of a mer-
chant, who was going to Cyprus, he embarked with him;
and, under the name of Filippo Sanlodeccio, conducted
himself with so much prudence, that he soon became a
very celebrated trader. Equally renowned was he for his
... Ernellina (Ermine), so called from her fairness, and relating to
Whiteflower.
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 267
verses; and it happened one day, while he was in that
remote island, that he heard some one singing a canzone
of his own composition, which he had written to describe
his love for Ermellina. The sound of those simple words
rekindled all his desire to behold her; and, disguising
himself as a pilgrim from the Sepulchre, * he returned to
Florence again, and, attended by a servant, repaired to a
small inn, kept by two brothers,t near the dwelling of his
beloved, which he found silent and closed, as though its
mistress had been dead. Much moved at this, he was
returning to his inn, when he met four of his brothers near
the door, dressed in black, (the cardinal virtues in a papal
garb). Knowing that he was too much changed, both in
person and dress, to be easily recognized, he spoke to
them, and found by their answers that they were mourn-
ing for him as dead. He discovered, afterwards, that the
mistake arose from the fact of one, who was his perfect
image, having been put to death by three men; and he
came to the knowledge of this in the following way.
While he was sitting alone, at midnight, he thought he saw
the ceiling open, and three men descend with a beautiful
maiden, who held a light (Reason), and from their secret
discourse, he found out that these were the men who had
put his image to death. The next day, he made further
inquiries, and found that Ermellina was still alive; and,
immediately dismissing his servant, he proceeded towards
her house, and, entering, found her sitting in a room on
the ground-floor, weeping bitterly. Tedaldo approached
her, saying: Madonna, your peace is near. The lady
looked up, and, still weeping, cried : Good man, you are
apparently a foreign pilgrim; what know you of peace, or
of my sorrow 2 The disguised lover answered: I am
* This expression may be taken in a double sense; either that he was
disguised as one coming from the Holy Sepulchre, or as a dead man.
t Tedaldo, and his servant, signify Dante two in one: outwardly a
servant, inwardly free; and hence we shall hear him described as having
the cloak on peculiar to slaves, and an inward garment of green.
N 2
268 ON ALLEGORICAL PII.G RIMAGES.
come, sent by God, to turn your tears into smiles. (Now
the reason of her grief was this: Her husband, Aldobran-
dino Palermini, * was supposed to be the author of that
man's death who was taken for Tedaldo, Ermellina her-
self being deceived.) He who died was never loved by
you. Arise, and weep no more; listen to what I am now
about to tell you; but beware of repeating my words.
He then promised to liberate her husband from his dun-
geon ; but, at the same time, he failed not to reproach
her for having listened to the advice of the infamous con-
fessor, and caused the exile of her innocent lover. The lady
excused herself by saying, that the friar had terrified her
by his assurance that, if she refused to give him up, she
would surely fall into the kingdom of hell, and be doomed
there to endless punishment. On hearing this, the pilgrim
broke forth into the bitterest invectives against the friars,
and against their pride, avarice, and robbery; urging her,
if ever Tedaldo returned from his banishment, to restore
him to all the love he was in the enjoyment of, before
she gave ear to the insinuations of the vile priest. When
concluded, the lady exclaimed: O friend of God, truly
hast thou spoken; I confess my error, and would wil-
lingly now repair it; but Tedaldo is dead. Tedaldo is
not dead, answered the pilgrim, but alive and well; and
now the time is come, and I will reveal to you the secret
which you must guard for your life's sake. Then did he
cast aside his pilgrim's garb, and assume his own Flo-
rentine language, crying: Dost thou not know me !
When Ermellina saw him, she started back, as from a
spirit come from the dead; but Tedaldo reassured her,
saying: Doubt not, I am thy own living Tedaldo, and
I have never been dead, notwithstanding what men say of
me. After this, he resumed his disguise, and, taking a
* We find the emperors frequently called by the name of Aldobran-
dino by these ancient novelists. Palermini relates to Palermo, the first
bards of Love being Sicilians.
ON ALLEGORICAL PILG RIMAGES. 269
tender leave of the lady, departed. He then made known
to the authorities, the fact of his return ; and having
brought about the release of Ermellina's husband from
prison, he brought the three murderers to punishment,
and reconciled his four brothers with Aldobrandino.
These things being happily settled, all, with one accord,
(but more especially the lady,) loaded the pilgrim with
praises and honour; and he, as some compensation for
their kindness towards him, prepared a sumptuous ban-
quet (relative to the Convito of Dante, which explains the
secrets of the poem,) in the mansion of Aldobrandino, to
which he invited his four brothers and their wives. At
first, there reigned a certain silence in the apartment,
when, at length, the pilgrim, who still wore his disguise,
thinking it was now time to declare himself, rose up from
the table, and said: Nothing seems wanting to render
this banquet complete, except Tedaldo; and, strange to
say, he has been constantly with you, and yet you have
not known him. Behold him now ! and, throwing off his
pilgrim's dress, he stood before them clothed in a jerkin
of green silk.” It was a long while before they could be
convinced that it was really himself; but after they had
all examined and questioned him, doubt was at an end,
and they fondly and joyfully embraced him. With his
own hands, Tedaldo then stripped the black garments
from the shoulders of his brethren, and caused others to
be brought; and the banquet, which had begun in an
unpromising silence, ended in gaiety and enjoyment.
Still, for many days, the Florentines gazed doubtfully
upon Tedaldo, as they would upon a man risen from the
dead; and even his own brothers scarcely believed in his
identity. -
This is precisely our own case : so great is the illusion
* Green, the symbol of vegetation and life, was the characteristic colour
of the Albigenses; with which they mixed violet, the symbol of humility.
Laura was dressed in a robe of green and violet when first Petrarch saw her.
270 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES,
conjured up by Dante d'Aldoghieri, in the disguise of a
pilgrim from the holy sepulchre, that those who have the
opportunity of touching him with their hands, can hardly
persuade themselves of his reality. The tale concludes
by saying that the man who was really dead, and who
had been the cause of all the confusion, turned out to
be one Boniface of Pontremoli (Pope Boniface), a robber
who was in league with other robbers of Lunigiana. All
these things being cleared up satisfactorily, the suspicion
which had hung over Tedaldo vanished.
In another work of the same nature,” we read that
Papi Tedaldi, a Florentine, once circulated a report
that a certain young Roman (the Roman sect), who was
much loved and respected, had died. This news caused
a very great and painful feeling, and many would have
laid down their own lives, could they have restored the
youth. When Papi Tedaldi saw the effect he had
created, he hinted that the young Roman was not really
dead after all ; and that it was in his power to release
him from the prison in which he was confined, provided
he were assisted by the youth's friends; but he spoke
in vain, for none would advance a penny or move a
finger for him; and so the Roman remained shut up in
the Florentine's house.
This version of Tedaldi's history is more conformable
with the truth than Boccaccio's, which makes Dante
enter Florence really, as he did enter it in thought.
Of this curious little tale, as related by Boccaccio, we
find not the remotest hint in the pages of Florentine
history; and were we not in the secret of its real
meaning, we should ask how it is, that an event in which
* See the last of Doni's Tales. This author, who was profoundly
versed in the works of Dante and Boccaccio, was persecuted by the
court of Rome for writings which now seem sufficiently harmless. His
biographer, however, says that no man ever knew better how to veil
deep mysteries.
ON ALLEGORICAL PILG RIMAGES. 271
so many citizens were involved, and which caused first
grief, and then gladness through their streets; an event
which offered the singular instance of one man bearing
so strong a resemblance to another as to be supposed
dead, because his likeness had died before him; and this
event, be it remembered, not happening to an obscure
person, but to an individual of distinguished family, and
of talents which were conspicuous enough to cause his
verses to be repeated in far distant countries; we repeat,
that did we not comprehend the story, we should ask
how such an event could have escaped the notice of the
chroniclers of the time, who registered the minutest fact,
or why we find it not in the archives of the republic, or
in the acts of the tribunal which must have condemned
the slayers of the robber to death ? And where are the
verses of that Tedaldo, whose fame spread even to Cy-
prus 2 Manni, who was indefatigable in his search into
the origin of the tales of the Decameron, could find no
traces relative to this one. Are we then to pronounce
it a fable 7 By no means: its foundations are laid in
the history of real life; it is the sectarian biograpby of
Dante the Florentine poet.
The day of Neifile's reign was closed by a ballad, sang
by Lauretta, which her listeners interpreted in divers
ways. Some considered it an amusing trifle, while
others, of juster discernment, understood the serious
meaning it conveyed.
This tale is a fair specimen of the contents of the De-
cameron. It would be a work of great labour to inves-
tigate all the secret mysteries of a book, where every
sentence is written in a cant language; we shall there-
fore conclude by citing the author's farewell address to
the ladies, at the end of the volume: “ Noble ladies,
for your consolation I undertook this laborious work;
and, if the divine grace has deigned to support me
through it, to your pious prayers, and not to any merit
of my own, I ascribe my success. I thank God that he
272 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
has enabled me to complete all that I desired to say in
this book; and, thanking you also, I shall now rest
awhile from the labour of the hand and pen. If any too
free expressions have escaped me in the course of these
tales, they have originated in the nature of my subject;
and this will be admitted by every reader, who, with the
calm eye of reason, studies them with the desire of ac-
quiring useful knowledge from their perusal. They will
find it, provided they apply them to the times and per-
sons for whom they were written.” Those who do not
comprehend the value of his numbers and names, will
read Boccaccio, it is true, but they will not understand
him. The first are all mystical, and the last are of
Greek derivation ; and hence, when speaking of him-
self, he says (by the mouth of the lady of his mind),
“From constant association we soon acquired the power
of conversing together in public. And when he found that
I was very quick in learning and in understanding him,
he proceeded to give me more subtle instructions, teach-
ing me that love might be testified, not by words only, but
also by the movements of the countenance and the hand.
This I soon comprehended, and consequently, whatever
the one desired to signify, the other understood without
need of explanation; and seeing this, he then went on
to teach me the language of figures, calling me fiam-
metta and himself Panfilo ; and many a time have I
heard him relate, before a number of persons, the history of
two Greeks, Panfilo and Fiammetta, and how they first
became in love with each other, with all their subsequent
adventures, giving suitable names to the places and per-
sons of whom he was speaking. The simplicity of his
listeners amused me almost as much as his sagacity.”
Sometimes I trembled lest his warmth of language might
carry him too far; but he was more prudent than I sup-
* In various authors, we find expressed the amusement with which
they heard their artful tales taken literally.
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 273
posed him to be, and defended himself by the false
Latin.” O, pious ladies what does not love teach its
votaries 2 I, a simple maiden, who was too diffident ever
to speak before my humble companions, was so enchanted
with this way of speaking, that very shortly I could have
surpassed most poets in fiction ; and there are very few
things to which I could not reply by a fictitious tale ;
were they never so difficult to learn or to apply.” “Al-
though I have written of nothing which is not quite true,
yet I have so arranged my subjects that, except him who
knows them as well as I, none will find out who I am.”
Boccaccio himself, who did know her, has told us who
she was. Not the princess Mary, the daughter of King
Robert, as has been generally supposed, but the light of
Madonna Lucia, or Light's eyes personified. The mys-
tery is cleared up in his Amorosa Visione, where he saw
Love seated on two eagles, with two lions under his feet
(the eagle and the lion form the griffon), with a crown
and wings of gold, and a lady on each side; one was
crowned with roses, and looked like Love himself (Love
is both male and female); and the other was Lucia,
whose beautiful eyes shone with such a lustre, that each
one looked like Fiammetta, dazzling with love. Fiam-
metta, then, is the Light of the eyes of Lucia.t “By
my lady, I always mean the subject of the preceding
canzone, that is, Light, the beautiful and virtuous
daughter of the Emperor of the Universe, whom Pytha-
goras called Philosophy.” (Dante.) Dante, Petrarch,
* This word Latin signifies the jargon spoken by the partisans of the
Latin empire. Hence, Love speaks in Latin to Dante in the visions of
the Vita Nuova. We find the new style of language called New Latin.
f Tiraboschi, in his Life of Boccaccio, dissents from the opinion of
those who consider this Fiammetta as a real historical personage; and,
taking into consideration the many contradictions into which Boccaccio
has fallen with respect to her, he concludes by saying that these very
contradictions appear to him a convincing proof that he spoke of a
poetical object, and not of a living one.
N 5
274 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
Boccaccio, Cino and many others, repeatedly called their
enigmatical ladies Light; and from this Light formed a
female image, which entered their heart from their eyes :
“When the image lady enters the depths of the heart by
the eyes, all else is chased away.” (Petrarch, Son. 73.)
In an engraving for the frontispiece of the History of
Jean Léger, which we have often quoted in this volume,
we see this light surrounded by seven stars, and Léger
himself tells us that the Valdenses and Albigenses wore
this emblem in a seal.
This Light, or Lucia, is one of the principal movers
of the machinery of Dante's poem. In the second canto
of the Inferno, he relates that Lucia, the enemy of the
cruel, went to Beatrice to entreat her to lend her aid to
release the pilgrim from the persecutions of the wolf;
and that Beatrice, who was seated by Rachel, did send
Virgil to deliver him from the beast, “ by his eloquent
persuasive tongue.” The commentators all agree that
the Lucia who seeks out Beatrice, and the Rachel whom
she finds in her company, are imaginary beings; and
yet, in the same breath, they declare that Beatrice her-
self was a Florentine lady O, holy Lucia why extin-
guish thy light at the needful moment 2 Why not let
them read, with an understanding heart, the words written
by him who was the lover of Madonna Light, the lady
of his mind Ž “The glorious lady of my mind, whom
many called Beatrice, not knowing how to call them-
selves. Not without reason do I say that this Love acts on
my mind — I say it advisedly that the nature of the Love
may be known by the place on which it acts. By my lady,
I mean Light, the daughter of the Emperor of the Uni-
verse.” It is curious to read how this light or Lucia
becomes an eagle, the arms of the Emperor of the Uni-
VerSe.
In the Purgatory, canto 9, Dante dreams that he is
carried up on high by an eagle; when he awakes, Virgil
tells him that he was carried away by Lucia, – therefore
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 275
Lucia and the eagle are one ! Shall we ever cut all the
Gordian knots tied by hatred and fear 2 The light of
Lucia's eyes, or Fiammetta, inspired the mind of her
lover, and endowed him with resources of endless fictions,
which, to the great amusement of Madonna, the general
reader has always taken for poetical fancies. These fic-
tions are too long and complicated for us to undertake the
interpretation of more than one, and that the shortest among
them, which is important as describing a pilgrimage, and
as being the history of the sect whose aim was Rome.
It shows us that the first emperor who leagued with this
secret society was Frederic I., during the height of his
contests with the popes. The author, to keep up the
unity of the fiction, has connected it throughout with
that emperor; but, by means of other allegorical agents,
he has related the events which happened in succeeding
ages, and especially the most memorable, viz. the change
in the sectarian language. Dante, under the name of
Blandizio (from blandishment), is described as the prin-
cipal author of the change; and two other Florentines
(probably meant for Petrarch and Boccaccio himself),
are named as his co-operators in the design. The au-
thor, in his preamble, informs us that he wrote the ro-
mance one day when he found himself more than ever
attacked by death, and mortally offended at the loss of
a beloved friend.
EPITOME AND INTERPRETATION OF THE URBAN .
Frederic I. Emperor of Rome, was a great lover of the
chase, and one day having entered a wood, he espied a
large wild boar, which he instantly attacked sword in hand,
and wounded. The shades of night* overtook him, and he
found that he had missed the right path; and being some-
what alarmed, he called with a loud voice to his attend-
* Symbol of the ignorance of the people.
276 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
ants, but none replied; after repeated and vain endea-
vours to make himself heard, he began to think on some
other means of ensuring his personal safety; and while
he was anxiously looking round in search of some place,
where he might pass the night, out of the reach of the
wild beasts of the forest, he saw sparks of fire rising in
the air; and instantly plunging into the thickest of the
wood," after great labour he reached the spot where they
had appeared. Here he saw a miserable dwelling, and
knocking at the door he entered, and found that its only
inhabitant was a young female, to whom he apologized for
his intrusion, urging the necessity to which he was reduced
by the eatreme darkness of the night; after which he
demanded why he found her there all alone. She answered
that death had made sad havoc in her family; and that
her mother had gone as a servant to Rome, to gain a live-
lihood for them. The Emperor was considerably moved
at her tale, and feeling interested for her, he said: Only
return my love, and I will by secret ways contrive to
demand you of your mother in marriage—but you must
conceal in your own heart the love we entertain for each
other, until we can be united, and dwell together, without
suspicion, in peace and happiness. Think of the great
end in view, and you will not hesitate. Then drawing a
valuable ring from his finger, he gave it to her, t bidding
her keep it as a token of his love, sacred from other eyes,
until their secret plighted faith could be publicly ac-
knowledged; and having said this, he departed. When
the mother returned, she was astonished at the great
change which had taken place in her daughter's counte-
* “The Albigenses were obliged to hold their meetings in woods,”
(Millot): and they were reproached by the ferocious inquisitor Izarn,
with preaching the doctrine in woods. Thus also the priests accused the
Italian poets of burying themselves in woods. (See Bocc. Geneal. B. 14.
ch, 11.) Here the wood seems quite allegorical, like that of Dante, and
to represent Italy, a prey to the popes.
f A symbol of the secret treaty between the Emperor and the sect.
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGIRIMAGES. 277
nance,” and questioned her as to the cause ; but the
daughter evaded giving a direct reply, because she be-
lieved in Frederic's false promises. At length, she was
obliged to confess the whole affair to her mother, whose
grief may be easily imagined ; she was then a servant in
the house of an innkeeper, whom she admitted to her con-
fidence, and the good man kindly agreed to receive her
daughter into his house,t where she soon afterwards gave
birth to Urban. It so happened, that at the very same
time, another son was born to Frederic, and named
Speculo, and scarcely had this double birth taken place,
when the mother of the damsel, the Empress, and the
wife of the innkeeper all expired. The two boys grew
up : the one delicately nurtured by the Emperor, the
other no less fondly reared by his mother and their kind
friend, the innkeeper; and although their rank was so
very different, by some chance they became extremely
intimate, and Urban, naturally beautiful and pleasing
in his manners, soon acquired the habits of the court,
and loved Speculo with a truly fraternal affection; but
this not being agreeable either to his mother or to the inn-
keeper," he ceased to visit the palace, and devoted him-
self to the service of the public. The innkeeper's love for
* The old mother is a figure of the original Italian sect; the daughter
represents the modifications made in it by Frederic ; and her son is a
symbol of the sectarian language which owed its origin to their union.
f The innkeeper is a figure of the public ; who received the doctrine
of the sect.
f Speculo signifies the language adopted by the Emperor; the one
jargon being, as it were, a mirror to the other; and thus the Emperor in
his palace, and the sect in public, were in communication together.
$ The new secret language, professed by the sect, the Emperor, and
the public, superseded the old; and therefore, this triple death may be
reduced to one.
| This relates merely to the connection between the Emperor and the
public, by means of the secret language.
* This alludes probably, to some advice given to the proselytes of
the sect not to indulge in this perilous correspondence, for fear of
discovery. -
278 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGIRIMAGES.
him increased every day, and although he did not know
the mystery connected with his birth, his sole delight was
in gazing at him, and conversing with him. Thus matters
went on until Urban and Speculo had reached their
fourteenth year (the 14th century when the language was
altered), when three Florentine merchants, brothers,
arrived at the inn. The first, who was called Blandizio,
no sooner saw Urban, than he perceived his astonishing
likeness to Speculo, and feeling quite certain, that if they
were dressed alike, it would be impossible to distin-
guish one from the other, he conceived an idea full of
novelty and ingenuity. He drew his brothers aside and
said to them : “Dearest brothers, the uncertainty conse-
quent upon the life of a merchant obliges us to think in-
cessantly on some new artifice, whereby to deceive the
simple and unwary. To enable us to live without all
this trouble, I have thought on a novel expedient.” He
then remarked to them the great resemblance between
Urban and Speculo; and his conviction that if dressed
alike they would be mistaken for one another. At this
time, the great Soldan of Babylon, cither from pride or
avarice, had refused to send his customary tribute to
Rome, and all the remonstrances of the Emperor had
failed to bring him to his senses, but at the same time, he
was rather frightened at the warlike preparations making
against him, and was covertly seeking some means of
reconciliation. Blandizio therefore proposed taking ad-
vantage of this state of affairs; persuading Urban to dress
himself like Speculo, and go to Babylon under the pre-
tence of treating for peace, but in reality for the purpose
of getting the tribute out of the Soldan's hands. His
brothers were rather startled at the boldness of the design;
and at the danger of trusting so great and terrible an
undertaking to the prudence of a mere youth; for they
thought, on the one hand, on the difficulty he would have
to encounter, while conversing so long in a feigned
language, and on the other hand, they knew that a dis-
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGR, IMAGES. 279
covery would render their lives more wretched than ever.
Blandizio's eloquence however overcame all their scruples,
and the project was agreed on. Urban was informed of
their plot, and gave a willing consent to go with them, not
only to Babylon, but if it were necessary, to Hell itself.
As a commencement of their undertaking, they went to the
harbour of Genoa, and declared their intention of sailing
to the westward, meaning all the while to steer in a con-
trary direction.* Urban was so delighted with his splendid
apparel, that he could scarcely divest himself of the
belief that he was in sober reality an undisputed lord.t
While on board the ship, Blandizio recollected that the
Soldan of Babylon had a daughter between thirteen and
fourteen years of age, called Lucretia, who looked like a
divinity rather than a mortal; and that the whole country
spoke of her as a model of industry, sense, valour and
courtesy. Turning this over in his mind, he arranged
into a regular form the train of falsehoods he was obliged
to invent in order to cover his dangerous plot; and in due
time they arrived in Babylon, where the Soldan was then
holding his court, surrounded by his barons, and revelling
in luxury and wealth. There Urban, who was never dis-
covered, even by those who had seen Speculo at his
father's court, was received with the greatest honour and
joy, conducted to the Soldan's palace, and entertained
like a prince. During the banquet, many vague and half
formed suspicions came across the mind of the Babylonian,
but the apparent candour and honesty of his guests soon
stifled them, and as soon as it was ended, he was thus
addressed by the deceitful Florentine: “High and mighty
* From Genoa, or Naples, which signifies the New City, this new
sectarian course was to begin.
t This vain hope and belief was neurished for many ages.
f The Catholic doctrine. She is said to be in her fourteenth year,
because in that century the mystic union of the erotic and sacred language
took place; and her name Lucretia is derived from lucre, and signifies
the gain which the Pope and his church drew from her. *
280 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
lord, I need not call to your remembrance the long dis-
putes and wars between yourself and the Emperor,
Speculo has induced his father to let him mediate between
you; but he desires that any treaty of friendship and
alliance which may now be entered into, will be kept a
profound secret, for a little time; and as one token of
peace and concord, he demands your only daughter in
marriage for his son.” The king answered : “I never
could have dreamed that any thing so acceptable would
be proposed to me; or that so mighty a lord would deign
to ally himself with one so low as I am.* I am always
ready to obey his commands, with the devotion due from
a vassal; although I think my daughter so unworthy of
Speculo, that she ought to be his servant instead of his
wife.t. And when I consider the high rank to which she
is destined, I think that, were the whole of my territory
assigned as her portion, it would not be too much for one
who has a right to govern it as his own.” Having thus
answered, he next proposed to introduce his daughter to the
supposed Speculo, and when he saw her approaching, he
smiled and said: Well, Speculo, I think such merchandise
would find a ready sale in Rome, where buyers are so
plentiful.f Urban testified his sense of the lady's merit,
and the nuptials were celebrated forthwith in the presence
of the Soldan and his wife; after which, they presented
him with a casket filled with precious gems, the mar-
riage portion of their daughter. Blandizio beheld these
treasures with a greedy eye, while Urban was occu-
pied with gazing on the young lady so intently, that
the Florentine began to tremble, lest he should break
through the feigned language. The Soldan's wife also
* Very different were the real sentiments of the Babylonish ruler :
these are ascribed to him, only in order to degrade him by the com-
parison.
t What an insult is here offered to the Catholic faith !
f From the sale of this Lucretia he acquired his riches.
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 281
gave to her daughter rich cloths of gold, and dresses
of every description, and made, besides, very valu-
able presents to all the others, presenting the captain
of the vessel with a rich pavilion, splendidly woven and
embroidered. When the time for departure arrived,
she turned in sorrow to her child, saying: “O my be-
loved daughter, I am old, solitary and unhappy, and
your departure will shorten the life which I had fondly
hoped to spend and resign in your society.” She then
affectionately reminded her of the long journey she was
about to take into a foreign land; and as preservatives
against the ills which Fortune might have in store for
her, she gave her two precious gems from the East, bid-
ding her conceal them carefully in her white vest.* The
daughter accordingly hid them, assuring her mother that,
uncertain as was her life, wherever she might be, she
would strive to obey her injunctions; and then taking
a tender farewell of both her parents, she embarked on
board the vessel, with her old nurse, the only person
whom Blandizio would permit her to take away.t The
sails were spread, and they proceeded on their voyage,
with wind and weather both in their favour. t Urban's
happiness was centered wholly in his wife, and sometimes
he would exclaim : “O Lord, how highly was I favoured
when this subtle design entered the mind of Blandizio.”
They soon came in sight of an uninhabited rock, called
the “Dispersed Island,” which was full of wild beasts,
* These two gems are figurative of the two precious keys, which were
to be used in extreme cases. They were called Eastern gems, because
the Paulicians introduced them from the East.
# This ancient nurse is a symbol of the Old Testament.
# We may here remark, that previously to the commencement of this
story, four real ambassadors had used their best endeavours to bring
about a peace between the Emperor and the Soldan, but ineffectually;
and now three false ones have succeeded, because they employed the me-
diation of Urban, the illegitimate. After all that we have said about the
mystic number seven, need we again repeat whom these four and three
represent 7
282 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
and especially of lions.” There they landed, and spread-
ing the tent which had been given to the captain, they
spent the day in cheerful recreations, and in listening to
Lucretia, whileshe sang some plaintive canzonets. As soon
as Urban and Lucretia went into the tent, Blandizio pro-
posed to put them both to death, that they might possess
themselves of the Babylonish treasures; but in this he
was opposed by the master of the vessel, who advised
that they should be left there to their fate. His coun-
sels were taken, and Blandizio and his companions left
them in the imaginary, and sailed towards the figurative
country of the Lions, viz. Paris ; while the forsaken pair
perceived, too late, the artifices which had been practised
on them ; thus left alone, Urban confessed to Lucretia
the whole history of the fraud in which he had borne a
part, and received her forgiveness and assurances of af-
fection ; they then wandered for a long while over the
island, and seeing no possibility of escaping, they re-en-
tered the tent in despair, and cast themselves down, ex-
pecting death to put an end to their sufferings. At
this juncture, a ship was driven on the rock by contrary
winds; and the miserable couple were discovered by the
crew lying in a complete state of exhaustion in the tent:
Gerard, their captain, desired them, and the poor nurse
also, to be carried on board his vessel, where, by dint of
the most unwearied attentions, they were at length re-
stored to consciousness. As soon as she found herself
saved from death, Lucretia began to invent a long story,
denying or suppressing every thing relating to their real
history, and weeping bitterly. The captain then kindly
took them to Naples,t and as soon as they were all
landed in that city, Lucretia begged him to accept of the
* This island is a figure of the dispersion of the sectarians, by the per-
secutions of the Lions of France.
t Naples, or the New City, is mentioned in several of these mystic
tales, as the commencement of the new sectarian journey.
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 283
tent, as a token of their gratitude for all his kindness and
pious love towards them, which he accordingly did. Urban
and Lucretia then exchanged their splendid dresses for
the mean-habits of pilgrims, and in this guise slowly tra-
velled towards Rome (the Italian Babylon.) On their
arrival in the city, Urban went direct to the innkeeper's
house, but was desired instantly to leave it: * his
mother, on the contrary, flew to embrace him, and pro-
mised to find them a lodging forthwith ; she accordingly
applied to her neighbour, a widow t, with whom she was
very intimate ; and this lady being rich and old, took
the pilgrims into her house, and supplied their every
want. Still Urban was full of sad thoughts of the fu-
ture, and passed a long and sleepless night f, deaf to all
Lucretia's anticipations and assurances of love. As soon
as the day dawned $, they arose, and with the widow and
their mother took their way to the Capitol. Lucretia
took her two jewels in her hand, and there sold them to
a merchant, who paid 70,000 ducats for them, of which
sum she carried part away, leaving the rest as a deposit";
and the following day, she and Urban dressed themselves
in splendid garments, bought a palace very near the
Emperor's, and furnished it magnificently. All this
while, Urban's mother tried in vain to find out who Lu-
cretia really was.” None would tell her; but believing
her an honourable and religious person, she paid her
every proper attention.
* The reception which the unfortunate generally experience.
t This Widow is the sect founded by Gerard, viz. the Knights of St.
John of Jerusalem, whose proselytes called themselves the Sons of the
Widow.
# While ignorance prevailed.
§ Symbol of the return of better times.
| The goal to which they all aspired.
‘ſ Viz. the half; the value of the other gem could not be estimated in
those times, and never was afterwards.
** Had she known her better, she would have discovered her to be
fiction and a profanation.
284 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES.
Urban, following his wife's advice, attached himself to
the Emperor's court, and winning his way by the softness
of his manners, he was very soon loved and valued by
the Emperor, who beheld in him the image of his own
son Speculo, who had died a few days before.” On her
part, Lucretia had spared no device or skill, in the working
of a cloth of silk and gold, which she had finished up with
the most refined care; but while she was still employed
on it, she heard with great alarm, that the Emperor was
assembling a strong force against the Babylonian, and
she dreaded the thought of being discovered, well know-
ing that her life would be rendered a burden to her. Still
she hoped, that for Urban's sake, whom he loved, that
monarch would show mercy to her, particularly as she
was not guity towards him f. Consoling herself, there-
fore, as well as she could, she finished the work, and
humbly presented it to the Emperor, f who, delighted
with the gift, and astonished at the wonderful skill dis-
played on it, was pleased to praise it as a most masterly
production.
On hearing of the Emperor's preparations, every coun-
try sent ambassadors to Rome with supplies for his army;
and among them came the three Florentines, as envoys
from Paris. § They were instantly recognized by Lu-
cretia, who determined to revenge herself on them ; and
for that purpose, she invited them to meet the Emperor
* Speculo expired the very instant which witnessed the union of his
perfect image with Lucretia.
# She was guilty towards her father and mother, and not towards the
Emperor.
# This work, composed for and presented to the Emperor, is the real
definition of Dante's poem; outwardly sacred, really imperial.
§ The Florentines had remained in Paris, with their stolen treasure,
and had purchased castles and villas, and vaults there ; while the captain,
who had led them to their prize, went into Catalonia, with some of Lu-
cretia's jewels, and there ended his days.
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 285
at a sumptuous banquet " which she was preparing.
Every thing succeeded to her heart's content. When the
banquet was ended, the Emperor, charmed with her
agreeable manners, inquired into the particulars of her
former life; and she immediately entered into a full de-
tail of every circumstance connected with her birth and
marriage, and related all the deceitful and base conduct of
the Florentines, whose confusion may be easily imagined.
The Emperor was lost in astonishment. Urban's history
was then demanded : and when he confessed himself the
son of an inn-keeper, the reputed father was summoned
to appear. He being questioned, declared himself to-
tally unconnected with the youth, and informed the Em-
peror, that the secret of his birth rested with a lady not
less beautiful than virtuous. The imperial curiosity de-
manded the presence of this lady; and on her appear-
ance, she was pressed to unravel this entangled history;
when, with many blushes, she commenced the recital of
her own misfortunes; and when, having concluded her
tale, she displayed the ring, the token of the broken pro-
mises of the huntsman, a flood of past recollections rushed
to the heart of the Emperor; all was avowed; he em-
braced Urban and Lucretia as his children; and turning
to his former love, he publicly declared her his spouse,
and commanded that she should henceforth be known
as the Empress Silvestra. On the after fate of the other
characters of this tale, a few words will suffice.
Whoever reflects for a moment on the actions of
Blandizio and Gerard, will be at no loss to identify
them. The first, by secret arts, united the daughter of
Babylon with the son of Rome; the other saved them
from the dispersed island, and enabled them to set off
on their pilgrimage to Rome. The first concealed his
stolen treasures, the last put up to public sale his rich
* This banquet corresponds with that of Dante, wherein the secret of
his allegorical poem is explained to the intellectual reader.
286 ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES,
pavilion (as we read in the romance); the one is a
figure of the secret political spirit of the sect; the other
represents the declared spirit accommodated to the
dogmas of religion; and hence we find that Gerard is
set at liberty, while Blandizio is shut up in prison; and
invisible will he remain in that prison, until some great
spirit shall come, and show him and all his magical arts
to the world, with more power, though not more desire
than we can boast of, to explain those arts clearly.
There is a little difficulty in one part of this tale; —
Frederic declares Silvestra to be his lawful wife; that
is, in fact, to say that he declared the sect with whom
he was united, the ruling religion of the state. And
yet, immediately afterwards, he commands every one to
lay down his arms, because he had entered into a close
alliance with the Soldan. A little reflection on this sub-
ject will make us understand that this Soldan is no
longer the Babylonian ruler, but the head of the new re-
ligion of which Silvestra is the emblem.
Doubtless, the author of Urban, in his attempt to ex-
press his own secret opinions and ideas, was guilty of
many violations of historical truths; and we may dis-
cover, in many parts of the tale, a strange confusion of
persons, names, places and facts. But then we must
remember, that what seems most ridiculous and un-
pleasing too, literally taken, is very often of the deepest
meaning, allegorically. And can there be a doubt re-
maining of the nature of this romance, after our inter-
pretation has shown its perfect agreement with so many
other fables of the same school, and especially after the
declaration made by Fiammetta ?
Much time has been occupied in our reflexions on
the writings of Boccaccio, but not unprofitably ; we
were very anxious to prove that his Latin pastorals, his
Italian verses, his Genealogy of the Gods, his Amorosa
Visione, his Filocopo, Fiammetta, Ameto, Urbano and
Decameron, were every one written with the same de-
ON ALLEGORICAL PILGRIMAGES. 287
sign in view. We trust to have done this; and we must
conclude this chapter without noticing any more of the
numerous mystic pilgrimages, which are so many repe-
titions of the same subject, in various disguises con-
cealed. For instance, — Les trois pélérinages of Guil-
laume de Guilleville, a Cistercian monk, which appeared
shortly after Dante's death; and the Voyage d'outre-mer
du Comte de Ponthieu, which has many points of resem-
blance with the Filocopo, and relates the triple pil-
grimage likewise. Aucassin et Nicolette is a tale of
precisely the same nature. The two last-mentioned are
published in the third volume of the collection of Le-
grand d’Aussy. In short, every country has had its
pilgrims and pilgrimages; and these works in French,
English, Italian and Spanish, are equally numerous:
but, unfortunately, many of them are so completely en-
veloped in their secret and mystic garments, that to de-
clare their real names, without having time to stop and
divest them of their outward disguise, would only be to
subject ourselves to the disbelief and ridicule of the vast
majority of our readers.
ERRATA.
Page 41, line 2, after Angelus, insert a comma.
119 . . .9, from bottom, for Marnnis, read Manni’s.
121 .. 19, for Elog. read Eloq.
153 . . 5, from bottom, for go read do.
161 ... 17, omit it.
163 .. 3, of note, omit he.
164 . . 18, for lovers read loves.
263 ... 3, the quotation ends.
PRINTED BY STEwART & Co., old BAILEY.
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