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 DIVINA COMMEDIA 
 
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DANTE' 
 
 DIVINA COMMEDIA 
 
 ITS SCOPE AND VALUE. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF 
 
 FRANZ HETTINGER, D.D., 
 
 PROFESSOR OF THEOLOGY AT THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF WURZBURG. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 HENRY SEBASTIAN BOWDEN, 
 
 OF THE ORATORY. 
 
 LONDON : BURNS & OATES, Limited. 
 
 NEW YORK: CATHOLIC PUBLICATION SOCIETY CO. 
 
 1887. 
 
LOAN STACK 
 
}%H1 
 
 EDITOE'S PEEFACE. 
 
 " The scope and value of the Divina Commedia " is not a 
 subject which interests merely the student of classic poetry, 
 mediaBval history, or the Italian tongue. In the present, 
 even more than in the past, the poem holds its place, apart 
 from its artistic nierit, as a profound and comprehensive 
 treatise on the principles of human conduct, and the end 
 and worth of life. Most diverse, however, are the inter- 
 pretations it receives. Writers, politicians, and statesmen of 
 the foreign " liberal " school see in its pages the first expres- 
 sion and the strongest defence of their theories; while, on the 
 other hand, theologians, religious, and bishops are among 
 the most strenuous defenders of its orthodoxy. At Florence, 
 in 1865, young Italy crowns the bust of the poet as the 
 herald of free thought and revolution ; at Ravenna, in 1857, 
 Pius IX. places a wreath on his tomb, as a witness to his 
 Catholic loyalty and faith. What then is the true teaching 
 of the Commedia, and whence arise these conflicting judg- 
 ments? Dr. Hettinger seeks for a reply by a method 
 comparatively httle used. He takes the poet's own teachers, 
 the Fathers and Schoolmen, as his guides, and shows, from 
 their writings, the source, as he thinks, of Dante's song, 
 and therewith its true interpretation. For this mode of 
 exposition Dr. Hettinger is eminently fitted. His great 
 work, the Apologie des Christenthums^ of which translations 
 
 812 
 
vi EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 are to be found in nearly every European language, has 
 long since secured him a position in the front rank of 
 Catholic theologians. At the same time he is thoroughly 
 conversant with the modern literature bearing on the 
 Commedia. 
 
 Of the result of his inquiry we will trace a brief outline. 
 The subject-matter of the poem is the redemption of sinful 
 man, and his ascent, by grace and repentance, from earth to 
 heaven. Hell puts before us the sinner obdurate and chas- 
 tised ; Purgatory the penitent absolved, and advancing in 
 virtue ; Paradise the summit gained, and the reward of those 
 who persevere. The idea in its development embraces the 
 whole circle of Catholic theology, demonstrated according to 
 the scholastic method of Dante's time, but expressed in form 
 and language solely his own. Reason and faith, freewill and 
 grace, the State and the Church, and their mutual relations — 
 the three kingdoms of nature, grace, and glory, and each in 
 detail — man, sinning, repentant, and triumphant — all these 
 fall within the range of the poet's vision. What that vision 
 shows he recounts and describes as it is seen. In his own 
 complex being, in the problems of the schools and of 
 theology, in the world visible and invisible, mysteries deep 
 and unfathomable arrest his thought; but he rejects as 
 puerile and unworthy any temptation to doubt; where 
 reason fails, he believes and adores. Nay, the very fact 
 that God is incomprehensible, that His decrees and works 
 are alike inscrutable, is to him a cause not of despondency 
 but of thanksgiving. He delights to prostrate himself, in 
 his ignorance and nothingness, before his Creator, all wise 
 and all perfect, and then by a single act of love to span 
 the infinite and be one with his God. 
 
 And in the same spirit of exultant faith he views all 
 things. Hell with its eternal torture, the stumbling-block 
 of the modern philosopher, is to him a creation, not only 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE. vii 
 
 of " divine power and supremest wisdom," but also of 
 *' primeval love." For by Hell, even with the rebel and the 
 impenitent, that order is preserved which it is the office 
 of love to guard, and which makes the universe resemble 
 God. Apart from God and His grace, natural gifts and 
 merits are worthless. The most eminent patriots and states- 
 men are for one mortal sin cast into Hell ; while by one 
 act of contrition, " una lagrimetta," ^ one poor tear, with 
 the name of Mary on the lips of the dying criminal, and 
 Heaven is won. That Heaven is open to all. The pagan 
 who has never heard of Christ, if he obey the natural law, 
 and place all his love in what is just and right, will receive 
 from God further grace, and faith sufficient for salvation. 
 But faith is absolutely necessary, and formal heresy and 
 infidelity are the worst wilful sins, and can never be 
 excused. They come from a desire to measure divine by 
 human justice ; from an obstinate and unreasonable attach- 
 ment to our own opinions ; a restless eagerness to shine, 
 love of singularity; private and warped interpretation of 
 Holy Writ, and carnal sins which necessarily obscure the 
 "light that Cometh from above." 
 
 Though the poet knows no guide but the Church and 
 her teachers, he by no means disparages reason, which is 
 of our nature "the mitre and the crown." ^ Innate and 
 unquenchable is man's thirst for truth, and therefore Dante 
 studied philosophy as the first of human sciences, and 
 constantly introduces philosophical arguments and dis- 
 cussions. He has indeed been criticised for thus encumber- 
 ing his theme with useless and wearisome digressions, but 
 the nature of his subject and the thought of his time alike 
 demanded the employment of such arguments ; while the 
 power with which he has moulded tough scholastic terms 
 to poetic forms, without detriment to their force, offers a 
 ^ Piircf. V. 107, loi. ^ Purg. xxvii. 142. 
 
viii EDITOR'S PREFACE, 
 
 striking proof of his genius. But further, to our mind, 
 the philosophical element in the poem is most valuable for 
 itself. Hallam did not hesitate to say, some forty years 
 since, that Dr. Hampden was " the only Englishman, past 
 or present, who had penetrated far into the wilderness of 
 scholasticism." ^ This, is so no longer. Disputants of all 
 schools, who profess to treat of Christian philosophy, read 
 and quote the Summa. Men are learning again, that what- 
 ever the ignorance of the mediaeval schools in physical 
 science, the scholastic system is unrivalled for clearness of 
 thought, accuracy of expression, and cogency of reasoning ; 
 for " that fitting and close coherence of effects and causes, 
 drawn up like soldiers in line of battle ; those lucid defini- 
 tions and distinctions, by which light is distinguished from 
 darkness, truth from falsehood. "^ These intellectual forces, 
 and this system of teaching, are seen in Dante as "marshalled 
 by their chief and master St. Thomas, who sat in the great 
 houses of human wisdom like a prince in his kingdom." ^ It 
 is surely then a merit in the poem that it brings us into 
 contact with a mind whose "matchless grasp and subtlety 
 of intellect seem almost without a parallel," * and with that 
 system of philosophy which alone seems to beget convic- 
 tion, and to have a close and prescriptive alliance with the 
 teachings of faith. 
 
 But again, man acquires information and truth through 
 intercourse with others. Left to himself he would make 
 no progress; human society is necessary for his develop- 
 ment, and has been so willed by God. The welfare and 
 stability of this society, the true principles of its laws and 
 government, become therefore an all important question, 
 
 1 Hallam, Literature of Europe, v, i., p, 14, ed. 1854. 
 
 ^ Sixt._^V. Bulla Triunvphantis. Leo. XIII. Encyc, August 4, 1879. 
 
 3 Ihid. 
 
 4 Prof. Huxley, Fortnightly Review, p. 300, vol. ccxl., N. S., 
 December, i886. 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE. ix 
 
 and politics fall necessarily within the scheme of the Divina 
 Commedia. Of all forms of government, Dante, who follows 
 as usual Aristotle and St. Thomas, prefers an empire; 
 both because the rule of one absolute monarch, with 
 universal authority, is best calculated to secure that stable 
 peace which is necessary for the wellbeing of human society, 
 and also because it most resembles, in its catholicity and 
 union, that Divine unity which marks the Creator's works, 
 and society thus governed becomes a likeness of Heaven. 
 But Dante's ideal emperor is no selfish oppressor. He is 
 to seek not his own but his subjects' good ; he is to rule 
 so that men may be free, and freedom means a state in 
 which every man can become good. Those who use their 
 sovereignty otherwise are tyrants, and are classed with 
 murderers in Hell. On the other hand, the duties of 
 subjects are urgently insisted on. As the authority of the 
 ruler is from above, the rebel who conspires against king 
 or country is second only in malice to the heretic who 
 revolts against his God; and Brutus and Cassius share 
 with Judas the lowest depth of the abyss. 
 
 If then in politics, philosophy, and theology, Dante is so 
 essentially catholic and orthodox, how is he claimed as the 
 advocate of scepticism and revolution ? The poet was not 
 a saint, but a fallible and erring man. Pride and hate 
 were, as he says himself, his two chief faults ; and Dr. 
 Hettinger has no wish to paint him aught but what he 
 is. His exile, together with that of other Ghibelline 
 chiefs ; the confiscation of his goods, and subsequent expa- 
 triation of his family, by Charles of Valois and his knights, 
 while Dante himself was absent on an embassy to Rome, 
 embittered him for ever against the French party in Italy, 
 and especially against Boniface VIII., under whose 
 authority the French at that time professed to act. But 
 to a proud nature like the poet's, personal resentment 
 
X EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 would be but a poor excuse for the violent invectives he 
 employs ; and he eagerly adopted a theory of politics, 
 which both harmonised with his wounded feelings and 
 served as a vehicle for their expression. The German 
 emperor, whose authority he regards as of divine origin, 
 was then the one powerful opponent both of the French 
 king and of the sovereign Pontiff ; and in him Dante sees 
 the saviour of Italy, and in his universal empire the 
 salvation of mankind. He admits, indeed, the supremacy 
 and independence of the Church, and the necessary sub- 
 ordination of the temporal to the spiritual power, but 
 would have the Church confine her authority and dominion 
 to spiritual things only; and denounces the gift of Con- 
 stantine — by which, according to him, the Pope first became 
 possessed of temporalities — as the curse of the Church and 
 the source of its decay. It is then as a patriot and a 
 prophet, in defence of his country and in behalf of the 
 Church's purity, that Dante launches his fiercest diatribes 
 against Papal greed and tyranny. In fact and theory he 
 was, as Dr. Hettinger points out, equally at fault. The 
 Holy Roman Empire owed its title, not to Divine institu- 
 tion, but to the Pope, who alone conferred on Charle- 
 magne and his successors the imperial prerogatives under 
 certain definite obligations, which the monarch was to 
 perform to the Church and to his own subjects. When, 
 then, the Emperor oppressed alike his people and the 
 Church, the Pope, who had become by common consent 
 and the course of events the recognised arbitrator of 
 Christian Europe, was forced by every right to resist his 
 encroachments. Had he not done so, had Gregory IX. or 
 Innocent IV. allowed Frederic to proceed unchecked, a 
 despotism worse than Oriental would have enslaved Europe, 
 priests and people alike. But Dante lived to see his wishes 
 carried out. Clement Y. withdrew from Rome, and placed 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE. xi 
 
 the Holy See under the tutelage of France, with what 
 result in Dante's eyes ? Why, that the Church in her 
 secular aspect was robbed of her freedom, dignity, and 
 purity, and became like a mere state establishment, " una 
 puttana sciolta.''^ Dante's teaching, then, as regards the 
 empire was radically unsound, and as he embodied it in 
 the De Monarchia, that book was placed on the Index as 
 a work which would be dangerous in the hands of the 
 enemies of the Church. The event has proved the justice 
 of that decree. From Dante's theory, that the Church's 
 dominion is purely spiritual, Marsilius, Huss, and WicklifF, 
 with logical deduction, proclaimed her incapable of possess- 
 ing property, and consequently plundered her goods. But 
 the decree of the Holy Office, as Dr. Hettinger shows, does 
 not condemn the author as a teacher of heresy, nor is it 
 even a censure. The prohibition regards, moreover, only 
 the work named, and therefore, in this instance, in no way 
 affects the Commedia. It is well that Dr. Hettinger has 
 brought out this point, for in Dean Church's Essay, '^ 
 deservedly the most widely read work on Dante in this 
 country, it is stated that the poet has been both claimed 
 and condemned as the disturber of the faith, and has had 
 hard measure dealt him by the Church who is so much 
 beholden to him. With regard to this second point, let 
 us first ask how Dante dealt with the Church and her 
 rulers ? How far were his attacks upon the Popes justi- 
 fied ? They might have committed simony and been cruel 
 tyrants. There is no guarantee in the Divine promise 
 against such lapses. The question is merely one of history, 
 not doctrine. Were they what he describes ? We will 
 take briefly three prominent cases. 
 
 First, Nicholas III., surnamed " II Composto " from his 
 habitual recollection. During the three short years of his 
 1 Purg. xxxii. 149. 2 p^ges 120, 122, ed. 1879. 
 
xii EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 pontificate, he compelled both the Emperor Rudolph and 
 Charles of Anjou to abandon their claims on the Holy See, 
 laboured strenuously and with success for the reunion of 
 the Greeks, and was the special protector of the Franciscan 
 order. Ambitious views for the exaltation of his family is 
 the only kind of reproach on his character ; yet Dante con- 
 demns him to Hell, on " the unproved and improbable accu- 
 sation of simony." ^ Secondly, St. Celestine V., "a man of 
 admirable simplicity, but unfitted for the affairs connected 
 with the government of the Church," ^ renounced the ponti- 
 ficate, which he felt was beyond his power. He was clearly 
 within his rights in so doing, and the disinterestedness of 
 his conduct is praised by Petrarch as the act rather of an 
 angel than of a man. Yet, solely for this act, Dante classes 
 him among the reprobates, with the sluggards and base- 
 minded souls. Thirdly, the chief object of his hate is 
 Boniface VIII., whom he anathematises no less than nine 
 times on charges chiefly of simony and cruelty. We have 
 already seen why the poet considered this Pope the author 
 of his life's wrongs. The history of his election, which 
 Dante describes as fraudulent, is simple enough. The 
 electing cardinals were twenty-two in number, and unani- 
 mously chose the most eminent and independent of their 
 colleagues to the vacant See. Humanly speaking, it was 
 against their interest to elect Boniface, for he would 
 inevitably come into conflict with the French monarch, to 
 whose party most of the College belonged ; but, as so often 
 happened, they chose not for their own interests, but for 
 that of the Church. 
 
 Again, Dante accuses him, in common with Guido da 
 Montefeltro, of the treacherous destruction of the fortress 
 of Palestrina. The story is rejected as a calumny by 
 
 ^ Dr. Dollinger, History of the Church, vol. iv. 75. 
 ^ Bulla canoniz. Sti Petri Coelest. 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE. xiii 
 
 Muratori and by all the most trustworthy authorities. 
 Guido was a celebrated general, who became a Franciscan 
 friar. He was therefore one of the conspicuous men of 
 his age, and his doings are duly noted in the contemporary 
 records of his Order, and of the city of Bologna ; neither 
 makes any allusion to his having returned to the world, 
 but both testify to his having lived and died a holy 
 religious. Dante himself, in the Convito (iv. 28), speaks of 
 Guido as one of those noble souls, who, when advanced in 
 age, put aside every worldly occupation and affection, to 
 enter religion. But these and other equally scandalous 
 charges were fully disposed of at the Council of Vienne in 
 131 2. Boniface died in 1303. For the eight following 
 years, his enemies, the Colonnas and the French kings, 
 had pressed for proceedings to be instituted against his 
 name, and thus had ample time to prepare their charges, 
 with proofs in support. Yet by the decree of that Council, 
 in the face of every hostile influence, ecclesiastical and 
 civil, he was duly acknowledged as Pope, and his character 
 cleared from the slightest imputation. He may have been 
 inflexible and stern, nay severe, but during his long ponti- 
 ficate he never took the life of a single foe, and in those 
 times severity was needed. Within the ranks of the clergy 
 were devout but eccentric enthusiasts like B. Jacopone, or 
 pious but simple recluses like St. Celestine, who might at 
 any time become the tools of a dangerous faction. With 
 the secular powers, especially France, his life was one long 
 conflict for that supreme spiritual dominion which had ever 
 been regarded as the Church's right.^ His own words, 
 when he stood as it were alone against the princes of earth, 
 will best explain the motive of his conduct, and the perse- 
 cution which pursued him in life and death. *' If all the 
 princes of the world were united against us, we should 
 ^ See page 395 in the following essay. 
 
xiv EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 regard them as straws, if truth were on our side, and we 
 were responsible for it. But were truth and justice not 
 with us, then indeed we should have reason for fear." ^ 
 
 We think then that if reliable authorities be consulted ^ 
 it would be found that Dante has assailed with calumnies 
 some of the Church's holiest rulers, and has met with 
 singular leniency in return. When we recall the " Index 
 of Prohibited Works," published by Act of Parliament in 
 this country from the Reformation downwards, because 
 they reflected on the character of the reigning sovereign, 
 or on their conduct with regard to religion, books which it 
 was made high treason to possess, we think the Holy See's 
 treatment of the poet is that of a wise and generous parent, 
 who will not allow the storm of passion in an erring child 
 to influence her recognition and approval of his truer and 
 better nature. And thus as the Divina Commedia, notwith- 
 standing these serious blots, remains substantially a magni- 
 ficent exposition of the Catholic faith, it has been studied 
 and extolled by theologians and popes. 
 
 There is one other character which finds a place in 
 every commentary on Dante, and which must not be passed 
 by unnoticed, the Emperor Frederic II., "Stupor mundi 
 et immutator mirabilis." ^ He was the centre of the 
 Ghibelline hopes, and the impersonation of the Ghibelline 
 policy carried to its logical development. His kingdom 
 included Burgundy, Germany, Italy, and Sicily. He had 
 opportunities for good, such as perhaps no monarch enjoyed. 
 How did he use them 1 According to Macaulay, he was 
 " brave, accomplished, and unfortunate — a poet in the age 
 of schoolmen, a philosopher in the age of monks, a states- 
 
 ^ Hergenrother, v. ii. p. 143. 
 
 ^ e.g., Mansi, Hefele, Dollinger, Hergenrother. 
 
 ^ Sic Matthew Paris, the panegyrist of Frederic, whom he also 
 styles, "Principnm mundi maximus." Ilist. major, ed. Pel^, Paris, 
 1644. Cf. Freeman, HisU Essays, v. 1, 281. 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE, xv 
 
 man in the age of the Crusades." First, as regards his 
 fortitude, perhaps the most brilliant army ever despatched to 
 Palestine, to which England alone contributed 60,000 men, 
 was allowed by this "brave king" to sicken, disappear, 
 and die, till only 800 knights were left. Frederic mean- 
 while malingered at home, violating day by day his pledged 
 word to head the campaign. His philosophy, derived 
 from t he Arabian^ pantheistic corrupters of Aristotle, and 
 from the horoscopes cast for him by the wizard astrologer, 
 Michael Scot, consisted of a blind fatalism. Anything 
 new he eagerly sought — the last new receipt for a dish, the 
 last new book, the latest theory broached on God or the soul 
 — and from whatever source, Jew, Greek, Mahometan, save 
 only Christian. In this sense he was a promoter of learn- 
 ing, and " immutator mirabilis." A materialist in creed, he 
 made sensuality a religion, and duly organised its worship. 
 The high festivals were kept with all pomp "at his refined 
 and enlightened court," as Dean Church even calls it. The 
 ministers of the new religion were the harem of Saracen 
 women, and troops of jugglers and clowns — its ritual, their 
 dances, songs, and diverse performances, conducted amid 
 scenes of fairy-like splendour. In the midst of these orgies, 
 the whole aim of which was to protest against the Christian 
 doctrine of self-denial, Frederic was adored on both knees 
 as the supreme lord of earth. His sensuality was only 
 equalled by his cruelty. He revenged a conspiracy in 
 Sicily, after the manner of his father, upon women and 
 children ; tortured a Franciscan friar for being the bearer 
 of a papal letter; and in 1241, put out the eyes of Pietro 
 delle Vigne, his confidential minister and "right arm." 
 An oft-convicted perjurer, he regarded deceit as a virtue, 
 and practised it so perfectly, that he seems to have lost 
 the power, not only of speaking the truth, but of discerning 
 it in his own mind. His statesmanship ended in the 
 
xvi . EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 destruction of his family, the dire confusion of all things 
 in Italy, and the proximate disruption of the Empire. His 
 last act was to put on the Cistercian habit ; but few be- 
 lieved in his conversion, and Dante records but the judg- 
 ment of his contemporaries in giving him sepulture with 
 the heresiarchs.^ 
 
 Turning now to the artistic merit of the Commedia. 
 The form in which the poet casts his matter offers most 
 scope for the display of originality and genius. Visions 
 of the other world had been frequently described in prose 
 and verse before Dante wrote, and the same theme has 
 been repeatedly treated since his death. The subject, 
 therefore, is not new, but, as recast by Dante, is solely his 
 own creation. His comparisons and illustrations, especially 
 in the Inferno, are often of a kind distasteful to modern 
 fastidiousness. But his object was truth. He knew that 
 sin, and the flattering temptation which leads to it, how- 
 ever attractive or graceful the mask, are in reality hideous, 
 revolting, and corrupt ; and he therefore purposely selected 
 what was most repellant in nature as its fitting image. 
 And here again he but follows the example of the prophets 
 in Holy Scripture and the Apostles, who compare the 
 apostate and the sinner relapsed, to the "dog that re- 
 turneth to his vomit," and " the sow that is washed, to her 
 wallowing in the mire." ^ The characteristic excellences of 
 the poem have been so often pointed out, that we will only 
 follow our author in regard to some of the most striking. 
 First, though the scene lies entirely in the other world, 
 the reader meets, not typical forms or mythical personages, 
 
 ^ Our estimate of his character is drawn from Bollinger's Church 
 History, vol. iv. English trans., and from Renter's Geschichte der 
 religiosen AufHdrung im Mittelalter, 1877, which includes the latest 
 researches on the subject. Renter does not betray sign of any definite 
 religious belief, and is an admirer on the whole of Frederic. 
 
 ^ Prov. xxvi. II ; 2 Pet. ii. 22. 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE. xvii 
 
 but human beings clothed and palpable, the poet's contem- 
 poraries or predecessors — his relations, friends, teachers, 
 favourite authors, artists, sculptors, rulers, statesmen, 
 warriors, priests, religious, prelates, who were known to 
 him personally or by repute. Even when he is forced 
 to employ a typical figure, as with the impersonation of 
 Divine Wisdom, he chooses Beatrice, the pure and gentle 
 maiden, his first and last earthly love, who, transformed 
 and idealised, still leads him by the " cords of Adam " to 
 Grod. Or when he is obliged to form a creature from his 
 phantasy, as with the horrible figure of Lucifer, there 
 appears no chimera, grotesque, and unimaginable, but a 
 form, half beast, half man, which though monstrous, is so 
 distinct and visible, that the poet seems to have felt and 
 grasped, as Macaulay! says, "the demon's shaggy sides." 
 The effect of such treatment is, of course, dramatic in the 
 highest degree. You are surrounded by a world, ^ot of 
 fiction, but of truth. "Again, his descriptions of punishment, 
 penance, "andnreward, are not arbitrarily chosen. The 
 narrowing circles of Hell are drawn from the increasing 
 degrees of malice in the sphere of evil, and the diverse 
 tortures of the lost are theologically appropriate to the 
 sins chastised. In Purgatory, where the relics of evil are 
 effaced, the poet commences his ascent, with seven P's 
 inscribed on his forehead, signifying the seven deadly sins ; 
 which are successively removed as he mounts from grade 
 to grade, to the strains of the corresponding beatitudes, 
 and of sweet angelic song. The structure of Heaven is 
 determined by the nine orders of angels, as described by 
 the Fathers and Schoolmen; and the joy of the Blessed 
 varies with their fulness of the Vision of God. From Holy 
 Scripture, from theology, from the revelations of the saints, 
 Dante thus drew his most precious materials, and con- 
 stantly employs the Church's liturgy and office as their 
 
 h 
 
xviii EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 most fitting expression. To his faith, Dante owes this 
 extraordinary graphic power, which no natural genius or 
 learning could have supplied. 
 
 Nor is the influence of Catholicism on the poet confined 
 to the supernatural. The Divina Commedia is marked, it 
 has been observed, by its comprehensiveness and unity. 
 The poet embraces all things in his gaze — political events, 
 the movements of troops ; the emotions of the soul in sick- 
 ness and in health, in childhood and in age; the atti- 
 tudes of the body at rest, work, and play;i birds and 
 beasts, fishes and insects, doves cooing and circling, rooks 
 moving at daylight, starlings in their flight, the falcon 
 unhooded and tressed, the joy of the nightingale's song, 
 the lark silent at last, satiate with its own sweetness ; 
 fish making for food thrown to them; bees gathering 
 honey, poising and returning; sheep issuing from the 
 fold; light in all its effects of colour and shade and 
 brightness ; nature in all her varying moods ; the scenery 
 he has met with in France, Germany, the Low Countries, 
 above all, in his dear native land ; all that he has read in 
 history sacred or profane, or heard in legend and fable; 
 all he has admired in music, painting, sculpture; all he 
 has felt in his own stormy and chequered life — his hopes 
 and fears, his joys and suflFerings, in temptation, sin, and 
 repentance — all these find their place in Dante's " terza 
 rima;" each fills its own part, bears its own witness, and 
 serves to intensify the force, harmony, and beauty of the 
 whole poem. 
 
 Whence then has the poet this power? One system 
 only teaches man that all things come from One, and to 
 that One return, and that all are to help him to that one 
 End. The lessons which our Lord taught from nature — 
 from the flowers and wheat, the birds, sheep, fish, the tares 
 ^ Cf. Church, p. 141, et passim. 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE. xix 
 
 and the thorns, the vine, the fig, and the mustard, the 
 seed-time and harvest, these the Church and the Church 
 alone has ever taught. Nor is her teaching merely by rote. 
 The lives of her children, from the fathers of the desert 
 downwards, are replete with examples of the homage which 
 the lower world pays to holiness, and of the strange 
 sympathy and correspondence between even inanimate 
 nature and grace. Never was this more fully illustrated 
 than in the thirteenth century, which was so conspicuously 
 an age of faith. Before Dante, and in his time, St. Francis 
 and his companions, ^ notably the B. Jacopone, had already 
 consecrated the new-born Italian tongue to the service of 
 religion and faith ; and it is nature and the visible world 
 which inspires the Franciscan lyre. St. Francis, in his 
 Canticle of the Sun, calls upon his brother the Sun, and the 
 Wind; his sister the Moon, the Stars and the Water, "so 
 humble, precious, and pure;" on his mother the Earth, 
 who gives him food, and produces so many-coloured flowers 
 and herbs — to each and all he appeals as his brethren in 
 the vast choir of Nature to join their voices with his in 
 praising God. The Little Flowers of St. Francis read 
 like a response to his call. Flocks of birds assist in silence 
 at his sermon, and the fishes at that of his disciple St. 
 Antony. The vineyard, trampled down by the multitude 
 of his followers, fructifies anew at his bidding ; the wild 
 wolf of Gubbio kneels at his feet, and the wood pigeons 
 seek his blessing before they roost for the night. Wherever 
 we turn, similar manifestations present themselves. The 
 roses flowering in St. Elizabeth's mantle ; the orange tree 
 growing from St. Dominic's staff ; the manna, and lilies with 
 celestial perfume, which descend on St. Agnes at prayer ; the 
 fountain of healing water which bursts forth at her touch 
 — all the wonders of Mount Senario ; the miraculous fir tree 
 ^ Cf. Ozanam, Les Poetes Franciscains en Italie. 
 
XX EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 with each bough a cross ; the vine which buds in February ; 
 and the doves and lilies which salute the dying founder; 
 — all these, be they taken only as legends, testify to the 
 current belief that the " stones do indeed cry out," and the 
 senseless earth, and irrational creation, bear witness to their 
 God. Now doubtless Dante, wherever he had lived, would 
 have been a poet of nature ; but to suppose that he opened 
 men's eyes anew to the beauties of the visible world, or to 
 its higher teaching, is a mistake. His age was already 
 possessed of the richest store of natural imagery, which 
 was at once most popular, most religious, and of amazing 
 beauty. The materials, then, which he wanted were there 
 ready and to hand. How far he used them we do not 
 pretend to say. But if in the minds of those amidst whom 
 he dwelt, and for whom he wrote, the waterfowl,^ the 
 doves,2 the flowers,^ the bees,* and the fish,^ had already 
 witnessed to the power of the saints in life and death, 
 what more fitting images could be found to represent their 
 transports in glory : 
 
 " La gloria di Colui che tutto muove 
 Per I'universo penetra, e risplende 
 In una parte piii, e meno altrove." — Par. i. i. 
 
 Again, his historical knowledge, which sums up all that 
 he had read of pagan as well as Christian heroes, bears the 
 impress of the teaching he has received. From the first 
 ages, the Church encouraged the study of the classics, to 
 show the truths which even heathen philosophy could 
 discover, and what great deeds heathen heroes in the 
 natural order could perform. By their virtues the Bomans, 
 according to the fathers, merited to possess the dominion 
 of the world, which was, in the providence of God, the type 
 
 1 Par. xviii. 67. ^ Par. xxv. 21. ^ p^^^ ^ix. 20. 
 
 * Par. xxxi. 6. ^ Par. v. 97. 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE. xxi 
 
 and precursor of the kingdom of the Church. Thus the 
 traditions of imperial Rome were in a manner consecrated, 
 and passed by inheritance to Christian Italy. Every town 
 had some hero of antiquity connected with its site, or could 
 point to a ruin which spoke of former fame. Pisa claimed 
 Pelops as its founder, Padua boasted of the tomb of 
 Antenor, Rome itself was in its ruins still the city of 
 Augustus. While the noble families of Italy showed a 
 lineal descent from the ancient patrician stock, the 
 Trasteverini peasants believed themselves of Trojan origin. 
 The good dames, handling their distaffs, the poet says, 
 would relate to their maidens 
 
 " Old tales of Troy, and Fesole, and Rome," 
 
 — Par. XV. 119, 
 
 and recount, adds the Ottimo Commento, " that these three 
 cities were the first of the world." Dante thus stood 
 on classic ground, and from his childhood had learnt to 
 take for his first models of natural greatness the heroes, 
 legendary or real, of imperial Rome. His ideal Rome is 
 indeed the Eternal City, ** onde Cristo e Romano." But as 
 a man and a patriot, he must impel his countrymen to 
 noble deeds by the memory of their first forefathers, who 
 knew only, " to die bravely, or live free " (De Civ. Dei). 
 All the reverence he felt for that ancient world is seen in 
 the part he assigns to Virgil, who, heathen though he be, 
 represents reason and conscience, and therefore chides 
 him whenever he turns aside to what is base or unworthy, 
 and spurs him on to higher things. Such was the Catholic 
 and Christian conception of antiquity, in its degree like 
 the old dispensation, both by likeness and contrast, "a 
 schoolmaster " leading to Christ, and as such it appears in 
 the Commedia. 
 
 It will be seen then that Dante's genius, according to 
 
xxii EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 Dr. Hettinger, whose view we follow, lay not so much in 
 creating what was new, as in gathering up and recasting 
 the dominant ideas of his time, and in giving them unity 
 and form. He knows how to give them this unity, how to 
 retain all things that are good wherever they are seen, 
 how to embrace by the very sympathy and grasp of his 
 nature all things truly human, and so to win the affection 
 of his fellowmen ; because supernaturally he sees all things 
 in the light of God, and is so essentially Catholic, and, as 
 he terms his poem, "divine." 
 
 We now come to the style of the poem. Style is to the 
 poet what rhetoric is to the speaker. By his style he 
 presents his thoughts in a manner to persuade, attract, and 
 charm. Without Dante's style, Dante's matter might 
 have been simply as it has been called, " an Encyclopedia of 
 the knowledge of his time." Dr. Hettinger holds that for 
 terseness and force, variety and appropriateness of expres- 
 sion, and music of rhythm, Dante stands alon^e. Nor is he 
 singular in the high place he thus assigns him, as is seen 
 by the opinion of the critics whom he cites. Of English 
 Dante scholars, we will quote but one. Macaulay says of 
 his style, " I know nothing with which it can be compared. 
 The noblest models of Greek composition must yield to it. 
 His words are the fewest and best which it is possible to 
 use. The first expression in which he clothes his thoughts 
 is always so energetic and comprehensive, that amplification 
 would only injure the effect ; there is probably no writer 
 in any language who has presented so many strong pictures 
 to the mind. Yet there is probably no writer equally con- 
 cise. ... I have heard the most eloquent statesman of 
 the age remark, that next to Demosthenes, Dante is the 
 writer who ought to be most attentively studied by every 
 man who designs to attain oratorical eminence." 
 
 But only in its mother -tongue can the power of the 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE, xxiii 
 
 Commedia be fully felt ; " now surging as the stormy sea, 
 now soft as the evening breeze." The Vision of Dante and 
 the language in which it is clothed are of twin birth, and 
 they remain inseparably united. The Commedia belongs in 
 its fulness to Italy alone. All that its lovers find in it, its 
 strength and tenderness, the charm of its melody, and the 
 beauty of its images, its pathos so human yet so divine, its 
 earnestness and its faith, all these and much more can never 
 be adequately conveyed in any foreign garb. 
 
 And yet, though no translation can do full justice to the 
 original, the truths which Dante teaches may be studied 
 with profit in any tongue. They speak in all time, and to 
 every human heart, for they are, as he says, but rays from 
 the Light Eternal. Above all, in these later days, when 
 great and increasing is the multitude of undecided souls, 
 " anime tnstej^ ^ who, having lost " il ben dello intelletto," ^ 
 spend their days in doubt ; when men worship the heroes 
 of the hour and pursue unceasingly a banner which whirls 
 round with every breath,^ it is well to learn that, " in most 
 instances, current opinion leans to false," * and to discover 
 before too late the treachery of the Syren's glance.^ Wise 
 now the warning to look only to the truth-speaking eyes of 
 Beatrice, and to attempt naught without the aid of the 
 " Donna del Cielo " ^ which is needed as wings for flight. 
 But true too the promise that with her aid we can stand, if 
 need be, alone, and bravely and humbly can cross the "dark 
 wood," and cHmb the steep ascent, until 
 
 " pm-o e disposto a salire alle stelle," "^ 
 our eyes open on the Vision which never fades. 
 
 The Catalogue of the British Museum gives the names of 
 1 Hdl iii. 35. 2 m^ iii^ is, 3 jii^^ iii^ ^o^ 
 
 * Par. xiii 114. ^ Purg. xix. 13, 18. ^ Par. xxxii. 29. 
 ^ Purg. xxxiii. 145. 
 
xxiv EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 thirty translations and twenty works on Dante, published 
 in English during this century, while of the eighteenth 
 century appears but one composition on the same subject ; 
 a sufficient proof of the interest reawakened in the study 
 of the Commedia. But of these writings, not one is from 
 the pen of a Catholic author ; the publication therefore of 
 this English translation of Dr. Hettinger's JEssay seems 
 scarcely to need an apology. 
 
 Of the Essays on Dante, that by Macaulay already quoted 
 seems to have been one of the first which cleared away the 
 false judgment on the poem till then prevailing, brought 
 to light its real merits, and gave Dante his true place 
 amongst us. 
 
 Dean Church's Ussay, first published in the Christian 
 Rememhrancer, Jan. 1850, and republished in 1879, in a 
 separate form, has, more than any other work, given impulse 
 to the study of the Commedia. Our points of difference 
 with the author are already noted. As an introduction to 
 the poem, — pointing out Dante's power of description and 
 graphic skill, his minute and accurate delineation of nature, 
 and the earnestness and loftiness of his aim, — the Dean's 
 Essay presents all the merit which might be expected from 
 so accomplished a scholar, and is marked by that grace, 
 delicacy, and facility of expression which the author has 
 ever at command. 
 
 Of the prose translations of the Commedia, in the first 
 rank, are those of the Inferno by Dr. Carlyle; of the 
 Purgatorio and Paradiso by Mr. A. T. Butler. Mr. Butler's 
 translations are supplemented with notes untranslated from 
 the Summa and Aristotle. The verse translations in rhyme 
 by Wright and Longfellow are perhaps in most general 
 repute. Mr. Wright has, however, in defiance of the best 
 recent authorities, embodied in his notes Bossetti's obsolete 
 and virulent rhapsodies. Of the translations in terza rima, 
 
EDITOR'S PREFACE. xxv 
 
 the best known is that of J. E,. Sibbald, 1884; the latest is 
 by Dean Plumptre, only just published, December, 1886. 
 
 Of the various English versions of the Commedia, we 
 have preferred that of Gary, who is to our mind among 
 all competitors still facile princess. Blank verse can of 
 course give no resemblance to the sound or rhythm of 
 the original, but mere superficial resemblance, — and little 
 more than that is gained by most English imitations of 
 Dante's verse, — has only that likeness to its exemplar 
 which a wax figure bears to a living man, because made to 
 wear his clothes. The first impression deceives, but only 
 the first. A portrait, on the other hand, attempts no trick, 
 but presents on canvas the idea the painter retains of the 
 face and form depicted. A portrait has a truth of its own, 
 and a portrait by a master hand lives and speaks. And 
 Gary is, we think, a master as regards the Commedia. He 
 has studied Dante till he has made the poet's thought and 
 purpose his own, and he reproduces them with the earnest- 
 ness, reverence, and fidelity they demand. If we lose the 
 sound, we hear the truths of the original in all their solemn 
 dignity, and in language which could only find expression 
 from one who was himself, as Macaulay says, a poetic 
 genius. The accuracy of his philosophical and theological 
 terms could only have been obtained by a patient study 
 of St. Thomas. Macaulay says of Gary's translation, " It 
 is difficult to determine whether the author deserves most 
 praise for his intimacy with the language of Dante, or his 
 extraordinary mastery over his own." 
 
 The translation of the footnotes, especially the quotations 
 from the Summa^ has of course been an extremely difficult 
 task, since for many of the scholastic phrases no English 
 equivalent exists. The Editor is fully conscious of the 
 defective result of his best efforts ; but as the purpose of 
 the essay is to show by these quotations the sources of the 
 
xxvi EDITOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 Commediaj they could not be omitted, and untranslated 
 they would have been of little use to many readers. 
 
 The translations which have been consulted have been, 
 it is believed, duly acknowledged. That by F. J. Church 
 of the De Monarchia has been very frequently referred to, 
 but this and other translations have only been adopted as 
 far as seemed advisable, and in few instances are literally 
 quoted. Dr. Hettinger himself as a rule epitomises the 
 text of the De Monarchia. 
 
 The present version of Dr. Hettinger's Essay has been 
 considerably abridged, without loss, it is hoped, to the sub- 
 stance or argument of the original matter. The chapters 
 also have been rearranged with new headings, in place of 
 separate books, the German mode of division. The chapter 
 on the " Moral Order " has been omitted, its contents being 
 already given in other portions of the work. All matter 
 added by the Editor is bracketed. In the footnotes " C " 
 stands for Cary, " S " for the Summa. 
 
 In conclusion, the Editor has only to return his sincere 
 thanks to the friends who have bestowed much time and 
 toil on the translation and the revision of the following 
 pages. To their assistance is due whatever merit the 
 version may possess. The Editor also begs to record 
 his special obligation to the Rev. Father Keogh of the 
 London Oratory, for his careful correction of the whole 
 work, but especially of the scholastic portion. 
 
LETTER OF CARDINAL MANNING. xxvii 
 
 His Eminence the Cardinal-Archbishop of Westmiiister has 
 deigned to commend the English version of Dr. Hettingefs 
 work in the following letter : — 
 
 Archbishop's House, May 28, 1885. 
 
 My Dear Father Bowden, — You have conferred a true 
 benefit upon us by publishing Dr. Hettinger's work on 
 Dante. It will be not only a signal .help to readers of the 
 Divina Gommedia, but it will, I hope, awaken Catholics 
 to a sense of the not inculpable neglect of the greatest of 
 poets, who by every title- of genius, and by the intensity of 
 his whole heart and soul, is the master-poet of the Catholic 
 Faith. Excepting Ozanam's beautiful Dante et la Philo- 
 sophie Chretienne, — for I can hardly refer to Rossetti's 
 edition, — I know of no Catholic who has in our time made 
 a translation or a comment on Dante. It has fallen to non- 
 Catholic hands to honour his name. Perhaps it may be 
 because of certain burning words against the human and 
 secular scandals in the mediaeval world. Bellarmine has 
 long ago cleared away those aspersions from the Catholic 
 loyalty of Dante. 
 
 There are three books which always seem to me to form 
 a triad of Dogma, of Poetry, and of Devotion, — the Summa 
 of St. Thomas, the Divina Commedia, and the Faradisus 
 Animce. All three contain the same outline of the Faith. 
 St. Thomas traces it on the intellect, Dante upon the imagin- 
 ation, and the Faradisus Animce upon the heart. The poem 
 unites the book of Dogma and the book of Devotion, and 
 is in itself both Dogma and Devotion clothed in conceptions 
 of intensity and of beauty which have never been surpassed 
 or equalled. I^o uninspired hand has ever written thoughts 
 so high, in words so burning and so resplendent, as the last 
 stanzas of the Divina Commedia. It was said of St. Thomas, 
 
xxviii LETTER OF CARDINAL MANNING. 
 
 ^^ Post summam Tliomce nihil restat nisi lumen glorice.^' It 
 may be said of Dante, Post Dantis paradisum nihil restat 
 nisi visio Dei. 
 
 Nella profonda e chiara sussistenza 
 Dell' alto lume parvemi tre giri 
 Di tre colori e d' una contenenza. 
 
 E r un dall' altro, come Iri da Iri, 
 
 Parea reflesso, e '1 terzo parea fuoco. 
 Che quinci e quindi igualmente si spiri. 
 
 luce etema, che sola in te sidi, 
 
 Sola t' intendi, e da te intelletta 
 Ed intendente te ami ed arridi ! 
 • ••••• 
 
 Dentro da se del suo colore stesso 
 
 Mi parve pinta della nostra effige : 
 Perch^ il mio viso in lei tutto era messo. 
 
 Paradiso xxxiii. 115, &c. 
 
 These words are almost the last words of the Gloria in 
 Excelsis. Eelieve me always, yours affectionately, 
 
 HENRY E., Card.-Archbisliop. 
 
AUTHOE'S PEEFACE. 
 
 The Divina Commedia, with its triple web of poetry, 
 science, and religion, has, especially of late years, 
 become the heritage of all cultivated minds. But the 
 poem is based on a conception of the world now little 
 knovm, and therefore its real meaning is rarely under- 
 stood, and its best and highest truths are neither realised 
 nor appreciated. 
 
 The aim then of the following essay is to show the 
 essence and purport of Dante's Vision, to point out to 
 lovers of serious Christian poetry 
 
 " the lore conceal'd 
 Under close texture of the mystic strain " * — 
 
 to give an impulse to its study, and to furnish a few 
 hints to guide the student on his way. 
 
 An exhaustive commentary on the Commedia, or 
 another contribution to the mass of Dantesque erudition, 
 now so much in vogue in Germany, Italy, France, and 
 England, or a new key to its difficult passages, form no 
 part of the author's plan. On the contrary, he has 
 studiously refrained from any explanations save those 
 offered by the science of earlier times. Viewed thus 
 
 * EeU, ix. 63. 
 
XXX A UTHOR'S PREFA CE. 
 
 by tiie light of philosopliy and theology, the Commedia 
 is seen in its true character and purpose, while all 
 fanciful and forced interpretations necessarily disappear. 
 The author has naturally felt tempted to illustrate his 
 subject, more especially from the writings of SS. 
 Augustine, Bernard, Boethius, Bonaventure, Thomas 
 Aquinas, and from those of the monks of S. Victor, but 
 further quotations of this kind seemed unadvisable, 
 seeing the class of readers for whom this essay is chiefly 
 intended. 
 
 WURZBURG, 
 
 The anniversary of the poet' s death, 1886. 
 
CONTENTS, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Editor's Preface . . . v 
 Letter of Cardinal Manning xxvii 
 Author's Preface . . xxix 
 
 Chapter I. 
 
 Life and Writings of Dante. 
 
 The thirteenth century . . I 
 Triumph of Christianity . . 2 
 Coming strife .... 3 
 The Empire and the Church . 4 
 Corruption of Florence . . 5 
 Guelf and Ghibelline . . 6 
 Dante's family ... 7 
 
 His education .... 8 
 Friends and contemporaries . 9 
 Brunetto Latini . . .10 
 Dante's love of painting . .II 
 Of music and singing . .12 
 Favourable surroundings . 13 
 
 His love for Beatrice . .14 
 Purely spiritual . . .15 
 Temptation to inconstancy . 16 
 Remorse — vision of Beatrice . 1 7 
 A Franciscan Tertiary . .18 
 A soldier . . . .19 
 
 A statesman . . . .20 
 Embassy to Rome . . .21 
 
 Exile 22 
 
 Wanderings and hardships . 23 
 Great in adversity . . .24 
 Composes Commcdm . .25 
 
 Henry of Luxemburg 
 
 His ideal monarch . 
 
 Letter to Henry 
 
 Death of Henry 
 
 Offer of amnesty 
 
 Refusal . 
 
 Can Grande della Scala 
 
 Dante at Verona 
 
 And Ravenna . 
 
 Death . 
 
 His character by Villani 
 
 And Boccaccio 
 
 His virtues 
 
 And failings . 
 
 Pride and anger 
 
 Vita Nuova 
 
 Convito . 
 
 De Vulgari Eloquio 
 
 Be Monarchia . 
 
 Minor writings 
 
 Chapter IL 
 
 Idea and Form of the Poem. 
 
 Poem unappreciated 
 And why 
 
 Dante's Catholic training 
 Development of theology 
 Theology and the sciences 
 God the beginning . 
 And end of creatures 
 Sought by man 
 
 27 
 
 28 
 29 
 30 
 31 
 32 
 
 33 
 34 
 35 
 36 
 37 
 38 
 39 
 40 
 
 41 
 42 
 
 43 
 
 44 
 45 
 
 47 
 48 
 
 49 
 50 
 51 
 52 
 53 
 54 
 
xxxii CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 f As the Truth and the Good . 
 
 55 
 
 Because essentially Christian . 
 
 98 
 
 The poet's theme . 
 
 56 
 
 Date of its composition . 
 
 99 
 
 Sublime and difficult 
 
 57 
 
 Commentaries. 
 
 100 
 
 Often misunderstood 
 
 58 
 
 
 
 Sources of the poem 
 
 59 
 
 Chapter III. 
 
 
 Why " Commedia " 
 
 60 
 
 Hell. 
 
 
 Indescribable by any other title 
 
 61 
 
 
 
 Its comprehensiveness 
 
 62 
 
 Popularity of the Inferno 
 
 lOI 
 
 Its metrical form . 
 
 63 
 
 Hell created by the Holj 
 
 
 Various sources 
 
 64 
 
 Trinity 
 
 102 
 
 Key to the poem . 
 
 65 
 
 Its structure . 
 
 103 
 
 In the opening cantos 
 
 66 
 
 Site .... 
 
 104 
 
 Dramatis personse . 
 
 67 
 
 Contrasted with those of 
 
 
 Symbolism of the dates . 
 
 69 
 
 heaven 
 
 105 
 
 Of the wtx)d .... 
 
 70 
 
 Two divisions of hell 
 
 106 
 
 The three beasts . 
 
 71 
 
 Subdivisions . 
 
 107 
 
 Animal symbolism in Holy 
 
 
 Certain sins only described 
 
 ic8 
 
 Scripture 
 
 72 
 
 Cause of their selection . 
 
 109 
 
 The wolf and the panther 
 
 73 
 
 The threshold — the undecidec 
 
 
 The three Ladies . 
 
 74 
 
 and indolent 
 
 no 
 
 Mary, the Mediatrix 
 
 75 
 
 Upper Hell— sinners by defecl 
 
 . Ill 
 
 St. Lucy, prevenient grace 
 
 76 
 
 First circle— the unbaptized 
 
 112 
 
 Beatrice, co-operating grace 
 
 76 
 
 Heathen heroes 
 
 . 113 
 
 Virgil, reason . 
 
 77 
 
 Second circle . 
 
 . 114 
 
 His mission 
 
 78 
 
 The sensual 
 
 • 115 
 
 Its extent 
 
 79 
 
 Third circle — gluttons 
 
 . 116 
 
 Virgil, why chosen . 
 
 80 
 
 Fourth circle— avaricious anc 
 
 
 As prophet of a Redeemer 
 
 81 
 
 prodigal 
 
 . 117 
 
 Poet of the Roman Empire 
 
 82 
 
 Fifth circle — the violent . 
 
 . 118 
 
 Of the Divine justice 
 
 . 83 
 
 Sixth circle — heretics — City 
 
 
 De Witte's interpretation 
 
 . 84 
 
 Lucifer 
 
 . 119 
 
 Where erroneous 
 
 . 85 
 
 Sinners by excess, violence 
 
 
 Other interpretations 
 
 . 86 
 
 and fraud . 
 
 120 
 
 True meaning of the Oommedic 
 
 I 87 
 
 Seventh circle — the violen 
 
 b 
 
 Its unity .... 
 
 . 88 
 
 against their neighbour 
 
 . 121 
 
 Descriptive power . 
 
 • 89 
 
 Against themselves . 
 
 . 122 
 
 Richness of imagery 
 
 . 91 
 
 Suicides .... 
 
 . 123 
 
 Appositeness of simile 
 
 . 92 
 
 The violent against God . 
 
 . 124 
 
 Its terseness and rhythm 
 
 . 93 
 
 Blasphemers . 
 
 • 125 
 
 Variety of expression 
 
 . 94 
 
 Peccatores contra naturam 
 
 > 
 
 Faust .... 
 
 • 95 
 
 usurers 
 
 . 126 
 
 And the Iliad 
 
 . 96 
 
 Geryon, demon of fraud . 
 
 . 127 
 
 The Commedia superior . 
 
 . 97 
 
 Malebolge, evil pits 
 
 . 128 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The flatterers . 
 
 129 
 
 The negligent of penance 
 
 164 
 
 Siinoniacs 
 
 130 
 
 Four classes . 
 
 165 
 
 Divinera, soothsayers, astro- 
 
 
 The tempter and the angels 
 
 166 
 
 logers .... 
 
 131 
 
 Purgatory proper — the proud 
 
 167 
 
 Hypocrites 
 
 132 
 
 The Paternoster . 
 
 168 
 
 Thieves .... 
 
 133 
 
 Pride of birth, art, power 
 
 169 
 
 Evil counsellors 
 
 . 134 
 
 Second circle — the envious 
 
 170 
 
 Heresiarchs and rebel chiefs 
 
 135 
 
 Third circle —the wrathful 
 
 171 
 
 Falsifiers, forgers, liars, calum 
 
 
 Marco Lombardo 
 
 172 
 
 niators. 
 
 136 
 
 Fourth circle — the slothful 
 
 173 
 
 Giants — traitors 
 
 137 
 
 St. Thomas on love, true ano 
 
 
 Traitors to kindred, to country 
 
 
 false . . . . 
 
 . 174 
 
 to friends, to benefactors 
 
 138 
 
 False love, cause of sin . 
 
 175 
 
 Story of Ugolino 
 
 139 
 
 First movements indifferent 
 
 176 
 
 City of Judas — traitors tc 
 
 
 OflBce of conscience 
 
 177 
 
 benefactors, to God, and King 
 
 ' 143 
 
 The syren 
 
 178 
 
 Lucifer — antithesis to the Holji 
 
 
 Fifth circle — the avaricious 
 
 179 
 
 Trinity 
 
 144 
 
 Adrian V. . . . 
 
 180 
 
 Teaching of the Inferno — the 
 
 
 Eulogy of Boniface VIII. 
 
 i8i 
 
 retributive justice of God 
 
 145 
 
 Sixth circle — the gluttonous 
 
 182 
 
 Addressed first to men . 
 
 146 
 
 Forese Donati 
 
 183 
 
 Natural merit no plea 
 
 147 
 
 Seventh circle — the unchaste 
 
 184 
 
 
 
 The purifying flames 
 
 . 18s 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 
 
 Departure of Virgil 
 
 186 
 
 
 
 The Earthly Paradise . 
 
 187 
 
 Purgatory. 
 
 
 Beatrice reappears . 
 
 188 
 
 Purgatory, its site and form 
 
 149 
 
 Reproaches Dante . 
 
 189 
 
 Compared with Hell 
 
 150 
 
 His contrition 
 
 190 
 
 Its purifying purpose 
 
 151 
 
 Is immersed in the Lethe 
 
 191 
 
 The process of justification 
 
 152 
 
 And reconciled to Beatrice 
 
 192 
 
 Power of the keys . 
 
 153 
 
 He drinks of the Eunoe . 
 
 194 
 
 Satisfaction 
 
 154 
 
 
 
 Moral effect of penance . 
 
 155 
 
 Chapter V. 
 
 
 " The new man " 
 
 156 
 
 Pdvoidise. 
 
 
 Lethe and Eunoe — reviving 
 
 
 
 
 merit .... 
 
 157 
 
 Paradise difficult to mosi 
 
 
 The purgative way . 
 
 158 
 
 readers 
 
 195 
 
 Triple penalty of sin 
 
 159 
 
 The nine spheres 
 
 196 
 
 Pains of Purgatory, purifying 
 
 
 The nine orders of angels 
 
 197 
 
 and expiatory 
 
 160 
 
 Dante's treatment of Paradise 
 
 198 
 
 Voices and warnings 
 
 161 
 
 Ascent to the stars . 
 
 199 
 
 Cato guardian of ante-purgatorj 
 
 r 162 
 
 The moon, religious seculariseo 
 
 I 200 
 
 Convoy of holy souls 
 
 163 
 
 Mercury, ambitious humbled 
 c 
 
 . 201 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 202 
 
 203 
 204 
 205 
 206 
 208 
 
 Venus, sensual purified . 
 Natural dispositions and free 
 
 will .... 
 A saint's memory of past sin 
 The sun ..... 
 The great theologians 
 Vanity of earthly things . 
 Mars — champions of the faith . 209 
 Jupiter — just kings. . .210 
 Salvation for all . . .211 
 Examples of great princes . 212 
 Saturn — the contemplatives . 213 
 The degeneracy of the clergy . 214 
 Heaven of the fixed stars — 
 
 the Apostles . . .215 
 St. Peter, James and John . 216 
 The Empyrean . . .217 
 Beauty of Beatrice . . .218 
 The light of glory . . .219 
 The river of life . . . 220 
 The mystic rose . . .221 
 Its wondrous beauty . .222 
 St. Bernard succeeds Beatrice 223 
 The choirs of the blessed . 224 
 
 Our Lady prays for Dante . 226 
 The Beatific Vision . . 227 
 
 The HolyTrinity and the Word 
 
 Incarnate .... 228 
 Union with God . . . 229 
 
 Chapter VI, 
 Theology of the Poem. 
 
 Dante's reverence for St. 
 
 Thomas .... 230 
 And St. Bonaventure . .231 
 Dante, a scholastic and mystic 232 
 Fame as a theologian . . 233 
 His accuracy . . . '234 
 Matter, method, form of the 
 
 poem 235 
 
 Philosophy and theology . . 236 
 His favourite poets . . •237 
 
 PAGP 
 
 Admiration for Aristotle . 238 
 Boethius and Cicero . . 239 
 The planets and the sciences . 240 
 The Empyrean and theology . 241 
 Consolatio philosophice . . 242 
 Matter, form . . . .243 
 And end of wisdom . . 244 
 The limits of reason . . 245 
 Authority of faith . . . 246 
 Faith and reason not opposed . 247 
 Certain mysteries demonstrable 248 
 Grandeur of Divine truth . 249 
 Realistic treatment of the alle- 
 gory 250 
 
 Spiritual meaning — hiddenness 
 
 of the city of God . .251 
 Beatrice Dante's guide to God 252 
 Treatment of Pagan myths . 253 
 
 Chapter VII. 
 God and Creation. 
 
 'V 
 
 God 255 
 
 His nature .... 256 
 And attributes 
 
 The Holy Trinity . . .25 
 How described . . . 259 
 Creation . . . . " . 260 
 From love . . . .261 
 Creatures, mediate . . . 262 
 And immediate . . . 263 
 Providence .... 264 
 The angels .... 265 
 Their nature .... 266 
 The demons .... 267 
 The angelic hierarchies . . 268 
 Their various worship . . 269 
 And love of God . . . 270 
 Government of the heavens . 271 
 Angel guardians — Fortuna . 272 
 
 Man 273 
 
 His soul, intellectual . . 274 
 And immortal .... 275 
 

 CONTENTS. 
 
 XXXV 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Genesis of knowledge 
 
 . 276 
 
 Pilgrimages . 
 
 312 
 
 From sense perceptions . 
 
 • 277 
 
 Merit . . •. . 
 
 . 313 
 
 Natural things intelligible 
 
 be- 
 
 Grace .... 
 
 314 
 
 cause expressions of Divine 
 
 Correspondence to grace . 
 
 . 315 
 
 ideas . . * . 
 
 . 278 
 
 Grace given to all men . 
 
 316 
 
 Free-will. 
 
 • 279 
 
 Intercession of the Saints 
 
 ■ 317 
 
 How perfected 
 
 . 280 
 
 The Church . 
 
 . 318 
 
 The body immortal because 
 
 Christ's Bride — Scripture anc 
 
 
 created by God . 
 
 . 281 
 
 tradition 
 
 . 319 
 
 Creation of Adam . 
 
 . 282 
 
 The Sovereign Pontiff . 
 
 . 320 
 
 The Fall. 
 
 . 283 
 
 The chariot of the Bride . 
 
 • 321 
 
 Its consequences 
 
 . 284 
 
 Attendant virtues . 
 
 322 
 
 
 
 The Church infallible . 
 
 . 323 
 
 Chapter VIII. 
 
 
 Baptism, admission by . 
 
 . 324 
 
 Redemption and Justification. 
 
 Prevenient and 
 Awakening grace . 
 
 • 325 
 326 
 
 Means of redemption 
 
 . 285 
 
 Sacrament of Penance . 
 
 327 
 
 Possible and actual . 
 
 . 286 
 
 Contrition 
 
 . 328 
 
 The Incarnation 
 
 . 287 
 
 Indulgences . 
 
 329 
 
 A mystery of love . 
 
 . 288 
 
 Last things — shortness of life 
 
 330 
 
 The Passion . 
 
 . 289 
 
 The holy souls 
 
 . 331 
 
 Mary, man's chief aid 
 
 . 290 
 
 Need our prayers . 
 
 332 
 
 Example of Mary . 
 
 . 291 
 
 And pray for us 
 
 333 
 
 Her virtues 
 
 . 292 
 
 The blessed in glory 
 
 . 334 
 
 Her privileges . 
 
 • 293 
 
 Their knowledge 
 
 • 335 
 
 Succour in temptation . 
 
 • 294 
 
 Their vision indefectible . 
 
 336 
 
 Her praise in Heaven 
 
 • 295 
 
 Their joy and praise 
 
 337 
 
 Queen of all saints . 
 
 . 296 
 
 Degrees of bliss 
 
 338 
 
 Assumed and crowned 
 
 . 297 
 
 Their accidental glory 
 
 339 
 
 St. Bernard's prayer 
 
 . 298 
 
 Triple mode of increase . 
 
 340 
 
 " Vergine e madre " 
 
 . 299 
 
 The number of the predesti- 
 
 
 Christian virtues . 
 
 . 300 
 
 nate 
 
 341 
 
 Faith .... 
 
 • 301 
 
 Resurrection of the body de- 
 
 
 Causes of heresy 
 
 . 302 
 
 sired by the soul . 
 
 342 
 
 Hope and charity . 
 
 . 303 
 
 Merited by Christ . 
 
 343 
 
 The cardinal virtues 
 
 • 304 
 
 The bodies of the lost . 
 
 344 
 
 Action and contemplation 
 
 • 305 
 
 
 
 Vows .... 
 
 . 306 
 
 Chapter IX. 
 
 
 Nature of vows 
 Religious orders 
 
 . 307 
 
 . 308 
 
 Dante and Reform. 
 
 
 St. Dominic— St. Francis 
 
 • 309 
 
 Orthodoxy of Dante 
 
 345 
 
 Prayer . 
 
 . 310 
 
 Vindicated by the Church 
 
 346 
 
 The Paternoster . 
 
 • 311 
 
 Reform within the Church 
 
 347 
 
xxxvi 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Of Laity. 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 His Emperor almost Pope and 
 
 Clergy .... 
 
 
 349 
 
 King 
 
 Religious 
 
 
 350 
 
 Macchiavelli and Dante . 
 
 Prelates and Popes . 
 
 
 351 
 
 Be Monarchia II. . 
 
 Oflfice and power of the 
 
 Holy 
 
 
 Divine approval of the Empire 
 
 See 
 
 
 352 
 
 shown from history 
 
 Avarice of the Popes 
 
 
 353 
 
 De Monarchia III. . 
 
 Caused by the gift of 
 
 Con- 
 
 
 The Empire divinely instituted 
 
 stantine 
 
 
 354 
 
 And independent . 
 
 Dante's error . 
 
 
 356 
 
 Gift of Constantine 
 
 As to the origin 
 
 
 357 
 
 Popes only stewards, not pos- 
 
 And supremacy of the Empire 
 
 358 
 
 sessors .... 
 
 The De Monarchia on 
 
 the 
 
 
 Church's authority spiritual . 
 
 Index .... 
 
 • 
 
 359 
 
 Empire's, temporal and inde- 
 pendent .... 
 
 Chapter X. 
 
 
 
 Dominion, direct and indirect 
 
 The Church and the Empire. 
 
 Bellarmine .... 
 Gregorovius on Dante's abso- 
 
 Prerogatives of the Emperor . 
 
 360 
 
 lutism .... 
 
 Derived from his Papal 
 
 con- 
 
 
 Result of Dante's theory 
 
 secration . 
 
 
 361 
 
 Revolution .... 
 
 The Popes arbitrators 
 
 of 
 
 
 Though unforeseen by him 
 
 mediaeval Europe 
 
 
 363 
 
 Church's dominion . 
 
 The two swords 
 
 
 364 
 
 Indirect and spiritual 
 
 Dante's ideal Empire 
 
 
 365 
 
 And this Dante allows . 
 
 The one hope of Italy 
 
 
 366 
 
 The Popes, according to Dante, 
 
 Typified in Pagan Rome 
 
 
 367 
 
 supreme, infallible 
 
 The De Monarchia 
 
 
 368 
 
 Always to be honoured . 
 
 Perfect peace . 
 
 
 369 
 
 His devotion to St. Peter 
 
 Union . 
 
 
 370 
 
 Dante an aristocrat 
 
 Freedom 
 
 
 371 
 
 Fall of the Empire 
 
 Justice .... 
 
 
 372 
 
 Rise of the nationalities . 
 
 Obtained only 
 
 
 373 
 
 Dante's ideal realised only in 
 
 From an Emperor . 
 
 
 374 
 
 the Church .... 
 
 375 
 376 
 379 
 
 381 
 
 382 
 
 383 
 384 
 
 385 
 387 
 
 388 
 389 
 390 
 
 391 
 392 
 393 
 395 
 396 
 397 
 
 399 
 400 
 401 
 402 
 
 403 
 404 
 
 405 
 
 Index 409 
 
 Index of References to the Cowmedm .418 
 
THE SCOPE AND VALUE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 DIVINA COMMEDIA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 Pointing towards heaven, like a cathedral of the Middle 
 Ages, the Divina Gommedia towers above all similar works 
 of later date. It stands on a height, the culminating 
 point of a great historical period — a period when 
 civil society and the Imperial court, law and science, 
 poetry and art, had become as fully possessed of the 
 spirit of Christianity as the Church or the Papacy itself. 
 Thus the world had put on a new face, and a new order of 
 things was established. It was as if some creative breath 
 had passed over the ruins of the shattered Boman world, 
 and regenerated the life of man in all his ways, and to 
 the very depths of his soul. 
 
 This universal triumph of Christian principles had pro- 
 duced what we call Christendoro. All baptized persons, 
 as fellow- members of one communion, held one common 
 view of life, and worked together with kindred sympathy 
 for one common end. The reality of this union was shown 
 
 A 
 
2 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 most nobly in the Crusades, which, under the control and 
 leadership of the Popes, drove back the Crescent, and thus 
 rescued morality and freedom from the polygamy and 
 despotism of the Oriental Caliphs. Christendom sent 
 missioners to the farthest North and East. It founded 
 the great Dominican and Franciscan Orders, as well as 
 those of the Teutonic Knights and the Knights of St. John ; 
 it imparted new life to learning by the establishment of 
 universities; it gave to Grermany her poets, to Italy her 
 painters ; and in the cathedrals of the great towns, which 
 grew up under the shadow of the Church, Christendom 
 built itself memorials which will last for all time. 
 
 "Among the Western nations," says Vilmar, "the 
 spirit of Christianity had become in truth the national 
 spirit. No doubt its influence was most powerfully felt 
 by the higher classes and the clergy, but it had also 
 thoroughly penetrated the masses, and was to them no 
 longer a mere doctrine, but an existing fact, the very 
 element in which they lived and breathed. The faith was 
 man's best possession and the chief source of his joy. 
 There was a widespread happiness in the Church, a joy in 
 her interior and exterior glory, and a universal satisfac- 
 tion in her gifts, such as has never since prevailed. So 
 deeply rooted was this sense of spiritual peace, that after 
 two centuries of strife between Emperors and Popes it 
 remained undisturbed." 
 
 The ideal which this new-born Christian world had set 
 itself to realise was indeed sublime. But the noblest aims 
 have to be achieved by mortal and erring men. And alas ! 
 how great is the contrast between the ideal as it emanates 
 from its eternal source and its realisation in history and 
 in the light of common day. Thus even amid the grand 
 harmonies produced by Christian life in the thirteenth 
 century, the ear detects from time to time a discordant 
 note, the precursor of coming strife. Unity had reached 
 
THE TRIUMPH OF CHRISTIANITY, 3 
 
 its highest development, and the beginning of dissolution 
 was at hand. 
 
 This is the century which brought forth Dante, and the 
 pulse of his time beats in him. He is the impersonation 
 of his age, a living mirror of all that filled the minds and 
 stirred the hearts and wills of the nations. Standing on 
 the threshold between two worlds, he looked yearningly 
 back on the faded glories of the Empire, and clung to the 
 hope that, reunited with the Papacy , it would rise again 
 from the depths to which it had sunk, and so restore 
 " to the human family the everlasting peace of God." The 
 attacks of kings, especially of Philip the Fair, upon the 
 Sovereign Pontiff, the revolt of cities against the Emperor, 
 and their miserable and endless intestine quarrels, drew 
 from Dante lamentations, in themselves an unconscious 
 prophecy of the new era whose dawn was already visible. 
 The day indeed was fast approaching when the towns 
 should be freed from their feudal lords, the urban democra- 
 cies from the Imperial monarchy, and the separate nation- 
 alities, with their individual language, interests, and aims, 
 would break off from the vast community which had 
 hitherto been jointly ruled by Pope and Emperor. The 
 great struggle begun by Gregory YII. for the Church's 
 authority and independence, which alone could secure the 
 purity of the priesthood and eradicate the taint of simony, 
 was brought to a successful issue at the Concordat of 
 Worms in 1122. Her freedom of election to spiritual offices 
 was restored, absolute lay patronage in ecclesiastical ap- 
 pointments was repressed. Things spiritual and temporal 
 were divided. But harder conflicts than these were still to 
 be fought. The cries of " Guelf ! " and " Ghibelline ! " had 
 already been raised under Conrad, the first of the Hohen- 
 staufen kings. Since the coronation of Frederick II. as ^^ 
 Emperor of Germany in 1220, the supporters of the Impe- 
 rial prerogatives had been called Ghibellines, in opposition 
 
4 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 to Otto of Bavaria, the Guelf leader, who raised his standard 
 in behalf of the liberty of the Church and the independence 
 of the Italian cities. ^ 
 
 -^The contest raged on until the death of Conrad in 1268, 
 and the consequent extinction of the Hohenstaufens. This 
 event released the Church from the danger of being en- 
 slaved by a hostile Empire, which claimed all the rights of 
 ancient Rome and threatened the Papal States not only in 
 the North, but also from Sicily on the South. But a new 
 peril now loomed on the side of France. This was the 
 monarchical principle, which formed of each state separate 
 kingdoms, such as now exist. 
 
 Frederick II. had already availed himself of this policy 
 to arouse in Sicily a spirit of overweening national inde- 
 pendence, which aimed openly at the subjugation and en- 
 slavement of the Church. The " Babylonian captivity " of 
 the Popes in Avignon, which lasted from 1305 to 1377, 
 was already beginning to forecast its shadow. In Italy 
 itself the great party names of Guelf and Ghibelline had 
 sunk from their historical significance to serve only as a 
 cloak to the petty personal and family enmities aroused by 
 the endless dvic feuds. Dante bewails the melancholy 
 picture his country presents of mutual provocation, blood- 
 shed, and treachery : 
 
 " Ah, slavish Italy ! thou inn of grief ! 
 Vessel without a pilot in loud storm ! 
 Lady no longer of fair provinces, 
 But brothel-house impure ! . . . . 
 
 While now thy living ones 
 
 In thee abide not without war, and one 
 Malicious gnaws another ; ay, of those 
 
 ^ Hence Villani calls the Guelf cities, Milan and Florence, " the firm 
 and enduring rock of Italy's freedom." It was their feudal, not their 
 Imperial, masters whom the Italian cities strove to overthrow. 
 
SIGNS OF DECLINE, 5 
 
 Whom the same wall and the same moat contains. 
 Seek, wretched one ! around thy sea-coasts wide, 
 Then homeward to thy bosom tmn, and mark 
 If any part of thee sweet peace enjoy." — Purg. vi. 76. 
 
 No sooner had the towns succeeded in winning their 
 independence than they found themselves at the mercy of 
 the populace, and thence fell into the clutches of tyrants such 
 as Ezzelino, Yisconte, Malatesta, and others, who assumed 
 the titles of capitano del popolo or podestct. The corrup- 
 tion and disorganisation that ensued are described by 
 Dante's ancestor, Cacciaguida, who died in 1147 • 
 
 " Florence, within her ancient limit-mark, 
 "Which calls her stiU to matia prayers and noon,* 
 Was chaste and sober and abode in peace ; 
 She had no armlets and no head-tires then, 
 No purfled dames, no zone that caught the eye "^ 
 More than the person did. Time was not yet, 
 When at his daughter's birth the sire grew pale. 
 For fear the age and dowry should exceed. 
 On each side, just proportion. House was none 
 Void of its family : nor yet had come 
 Sardanapalus, to exhibit feats 
 Of chamber prowess. Montemalo ^ yet 
 O'er our suburban turret rose, as much 
 To be surpast in fall, as in its rising. 
 I saw Bellincion Berti * walk abroad 
 In leathern girdle and a clasp of bone. 
 And, with no artful colouring on her cheeks, 
 His lady leave the glass. The sons I saw 
 Of Nerli and of Vecchio, well content 
 
 ^ The abbey tower, with its clock, being still within the limits of the 
 ancient walls. 
 
 2 Because merely used for show. 
 
 3 From Montemalo (Montemario) Rome can be seen, as Florence 
 from Uccellatoio. 
 
 * Bellincion Berti de' Ravignani belonged to one of the principal 
 families, and is here named for all the others. 
 
6 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 With unrobed jerkin, and their good dames handling 
 
 The spindle and the flax. happy they ! 
 
 Each sure of burial in her native land, 
 
 And none left desolate a-bed for France.^ 
 
 One waked to tend the cradle, hushing it 
 
 With sounds that lull'd the parent's infancy : 
 
 Another, with her maidens, drawing oflf 
 
 The tresses from the distaff, lectured them 
 
 Old tales of Troy, and Fesole, and Rome. 
 
 A Salterello and Cianghella we 
 
 Had held as strange a marvel, as ye would 
 
 A Cincinnatus or CorneHa now," — Par. xv. 92. 
 
 Dante was born at a time when Italy contained within 
 itself all the world had of great or noble. The national 
 character, at once sympathetic and generous, violent and 
 passionate, great alike in its virtues and in its vices, had 
 freely developed under the joint rule of the Emperors and 
 the Popes. For two centuries Italy had been the stage 
 on which the world's history had been acted, and all the 
 capabilities and energies of her people had been called into 
 the fullest activity. No virtue was wanting — generous 
 self-sacrifice, a perfect spirit of detachment and penance, a 
 love of God and man amazing in its purity and intensity, 
 but, side by side with all this, egotism and treachery, 
 relentless cruelty and coarse sensuality were rampant and 
 unabashed. 
 
 The poet's birthplace was Florence, a city founded by the 
 Romans, and second only to Rome in the influen9e it exer- 
 cised on the history of Italy. At the beginning of the 
 twelfth century the place was torn by the rival factions of 
 the Guelfs and Ghibellines. The original cause of the feud 
 was the murder of Buondelmonti, a scion of an ancient 
 and powerful family, who, though betrothed to a daughter 
 
 ^ Business affairs took the Florentines to France, so that the women 
 who remained at home were bereft of their husbands, or, if they went 
 with them, died in a foreign land. 
 
HIS FAMILY. 7 
 
 of the house of Giantruffetti, had married another lady. 
 He was slain by the outraged Giantruffetti on his wed- 
 ding-day. Both parties summoned their adherents to arms, 
 but at the command of Frederick II., who sent German 
 horsemen into the city to support the Ghibellines, the 
 Guelfs were driven out, and their fortress-like houses and 
 palaces levelled to the ground. Soon after, the Ghibellines 
 were forced to succumb to their opponents, who had one by 
 one returned to the city. Once more, however, they rose, 
 assisted by King Manfred and the Siennese, and were vic- 
 torious at Montaperti in 1260; but when Manfred fell at 
 Benevento in 1266, the fortunes of the Ghibellines sank 
 again. 
 
 Dante's ancestors were Guelfs, and had in consequence 
 been repeatedly banished from Florence. His forefather, 
 Cacciaguida, was born there in 1091 (Par. xvi. 31); he 
 married Aldighiera of the Aldighieris, most probably a 
 Ferrarese lady, and her descendants were called, after her, 
 Aldigeri, Alaghieri, Aligeri, or AlighierL His father was 
 a professor of law, who married first Lapa di' Chiarissimo 
 Ciatuffi, and, after her death, Bella, whose family is not 
 named. She is only once mentioned by Dante, where 
 Yirgil says to him : 
 
 " O soul 
 Justly disdainful ! Blest was she in whom 
 Thou wast conceived." — Hell, viii. 42. 
 
 Her son Dante (short for Durante) was bom in May 
 1265. Before his birth, Boccaccio tells us, his Imother had 
 a dream. She dreamt that she found herself in a green 
 meadow, under a great laurel tree, beside a copious spring. 
 There she gave birth to a son, who fed only on the berries 
 that fell from the tree and drank from the clear stream. 
 In a short time he grew up to be a shepherd, and tried to 
 break off some sprays from the tree. Suddenly his mother 
 
8 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 saw him fall, and when he rose again, he had changed into 
 a peacock. " This," adds the narrator, " was that Dante of 
 whom we are now speaking ; this is that Dante who by 
 God's special grace has appeared in our time; this was 
 that Dante who first opened the way for the return of 
 the banished Muses to Italy. He was the first to bring to 
 light the beauty of the Florentine tongue, and to subject 
 it to the laws of art : by him dead Poesy was restored 
 to life." 1 
 
 Dante, however, congratulates himself on having been 
 born under a lucky constellation : ^ 
 
 " O glorious stars ! 
 O fight impregnate with exceeding virtue ! 
 To whom whate'er of genius liPteth me 
 Above the vulgar, grateful I refer ; 
 With ye the parent of all mortal life 
 Arose and set,^ when I did first inhale 
 The Tuscan air ; and afterward, when grace 
 Vouchsafed me entrance to the lofty wheel ^ 
 That in its orb impels ye, fate decreed 
 My passage at your clime. To you my soul 
 Devoutly sighs, for virtue, even now, 
 To meet the hard emprize that draws me on." 
 
 — Par. xxii. io8. 
 
 Dante's father died when he had only attained his ninth 
 year, and thus the care of his education devolved upon his 
 mother, Bella. The ordinary curriculum in those days 
 consisted of the Trivium and Quadrivium, the seven liberal 
 arts — grammar, rhetoric, dialectics, arithmetic, geometry, 
 
 ^ Vita di Dante, p. ii, ed. Venez. 
 
 ^ The constellation of the Gemini is pointed out by astrologers, as the 
 one under whose influence scholars, poets, and prophets came into the 
 world. 
 
 2 The sun was in the constellation of the Gemini at the time of 
 Dante's birth. 
 
 * The eighth heaven, that of the fixed stars. 
 
HIS EDUCATION. g 
 
 music, and astronomy.^ Many aspiring spirits were 
 attracted to the Universities of Padua and Bologna by the 
 higher philosophical studies there pursued, and, according 
 to Boccaccio and Benvenuto da Imola, Dante attended 
 both. 2 It seems improbable that he was acquainted with 
 Greek, notwithstanding the Greek words scattered here and 
 there through the Commedia. The knowledge of that lan- 
 guage was not attempted by ordinary students in his time. 
 The mental atmosphere which surrounded Dante in that 
 spring-tide of literature and art, which burst upon Tuscany 
 in the thirteenth century,) must have had quite as much 
 influence on his intellectual development as his regular 
 education. A host of distinguished names appear either 
 contemporaneously with or immediately before his own — 
 Guittone d'Arezzo, Guido Orlandi, Guido Lapo, Chiaro 
 Davanzati, Salvino Doni, Cino da Pistoja, Guido Cavalcanti, 
 Brunetto Latini. The latter, who died in 1294, was in a 
 special manner Dante's master and friend in his yovith, 
 and is in consequence immortalised in his poem : 
 
 " ' Were all my wish fulfill'd,' I straight repHed, 
 * Thou from the confines of man's nature yet 
 
 ^ Convito, ii. 14. The Doctrinale Puerorum, written at the end of the 
 twelfth century, and falsely ascribed to Boetius, gives us an insight into 
 the education of the boys of that time. Cf. Daniel, Die Klassichen 
 Studien in der cJiristlichen Gesellschaft, p. 106. The poems of Lucan, of 
 Statius, and above all of Virgil, who, in the midst of Paganism, prophesied 
 the coming of the Redeemer, were specially read by the young. 
 
 2 [There is reason to believe that Dante's love of learning at some 
 time of his life led him as far as Paris, and even to Oxford. This 
 latter fact rests on a passage in the Latin poems of Boccaccio, and on 
 the authority of Giovanni da Serravalle, Bishop of Fermo, who, as 
 Tiraboschi observes, though he lived a century later than Dante, might 
 have known his contemporaries. The Bishop, while he was attending 
 the Council of Constance, 1414, wrote an inedited commentary on the 
 Commedia, and, at the instance of Cardinal Amedio di Saluzzo and 
 of two English bishops, Nicholas Bubwith of Bath and Robert Halam 
 of Salisbury, who were also assisting at the Council, translated the 
 poem itself into Latin prose. Tiraboschi, Stor. delta Foesia Ital, vol. 
 ii. c. iv. p. 14. — C, Preface, p. xi.J 
 
lo THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 Hadst not been driven forth ; for in my mind 
 
 Is fix'd, and now strikes full upon my heart, 
 
 The dear, benign, paternal image, such 
 
 As thine was, when so lately thou didst teach me 
 
 The way for man to win eternity : 
 
 And how I prized the lesson, it behoves 
 
 That, long as life endures, my tongue should speak.' " 
 
 — Hell, XV. 79. 
 
 Brunette Latini was the composer of the Tresor, a kind 
 of encyclopedia of all sciences, including politics, written 
 in French ^ and also of the Tesoretto, an allegorical and 
 didactic poem in Italian, in part an abstract from the 
 larger work. Villani*^ the chronicler says of him, "There 
 died in Florence a worthy citizen, by name Brunette 
 Latini, who was a great philosopher and rhetorician, both 
 as a speaker and by his writings. He expounded Cicero's 
 Rhetoric, and wrote that good and useful book the Tesoro, 
 and also the Tesoretto, and many other philosophical 
 treatises. He was secretary to our commonwealth. We 
 have mentioned him because he was the first to bring 
 culture to the Florentines. He taught them the art of 
 speaking well, and to be guided in the affairs of the com- 
 monwealth by the rules of sound policy." He first intro- 
 duced Dante to classic literature. Boccaccio describes 
 Dante as thoroughly familiar with Yirgil, Horace, Ovid, 
 Statins, and all the other famous poets. He knew the 
 ^neid by heart and took it as his model : 
 
 ^' ' And art thou then that Virgil, that well-spring, 
 From which such copious floods of eloquence 
 Have issued ? ' I with front abash'd replied. 
 * Glory and light of all the tuneful strain, 
 May it avail me, that I long with zeal 
 Have sought thy volume, and with love immense 
 
 ^ Vincent of Beauvais, who died in 1264, had already written his great 
 work Speculum majus. 
 ^ Hist. lib. viii. c. x. 
 
HIS FRIENDS AND CONTEMPORARIES. ii 
 
 Have conn'd it o'er. My master thou, and guide ! 
 Thou ^ he from whom alone I have derived 
 That style, which for its beauty into fame 
 Exalts me.'" — Hell, i. 75. 
 
 Another old friend of Dante's was the poet Guido Caval- 
 canti, son of the philosopher and poet, Cavalcanti dei 
 Cavalcantl Dante praises his style, and calls him the 
 earliest of the friends of his youth. He was the first to 
 recognise his poetical gifts, and to him the Vita Nuova is 
 dedicated. But Guido died early, apparently in 1300. 
 How close their friendship was, is shown in the poem by 
 the surprise of Guide's father at meeting Dante unaccom- 
 panied by his son : 
 
 " If thou through this blind prison go'st, 
 Led by thy lofty genius and profound, 
 Where is my son, and wherefore not with thee ? " 
 
 — Hell, X. 57. 
 
 His eloquence is extolled in the lines : 
 
 " Thus hath one Guido - from the other snatch'd 
 The letter'd prize ; and he, perhaps, is bom, 
 Who shall drive either from their nest." 
 
 — Purj. xi. 96. 
 
 Cino da Pistoja, born in 1270, was a later friend. He 
 appears to have been a professor of law and at the same 
 time a poet, and, like Guido, to have won Dante's friendship 
 by responding to his first sonnets in a similar poem.^ In 
 his book De Vulgari Eloquio he several times calls Cino 
 his friend. 
 
 ^ *' Tu se' lo mio maestro, e '1 mio autore, 
 Tu se'solo colui," &c. 
 - [Guido Guincelli of Bologna was eclipsed by Guido Cavalcanti. 
 For a comparison between the rival merits of these two poets, see 
 C, Purg. xi. 93.] 
 
 3 " Cino da Pistoja e I'amico suo," — De Vulgar. Eloqu., i. 10, 13, 16. 
 
12 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 This century brought with it as great a revival in paint- 
 ing as in poetry. Dante mentions Oderigi of Agobbio as 
 a distinguished miniature painter, Franco Bolognese, as a 
 master in the same art, the painter Cimabue, and especially 
 extols Giotto di Bordone. The latter, who died in 1336, 
 was his intimate friend. Benvenuto da Imola states that 
 when Dante came to Padua, Giotto, who was decorating the 
 chapel of the Madonna dell' Arena in that town, received 
 him as his guest. The painting of Dante as a young man,^ 
 discovered in 1 840 on the wall of the Chapel of the Podest^ 
 in Florence, is by his hand. We gather from a passage in 
 the Vita Nuova ^ that Dante was himself a painter. Accord- 
 ing to Leonardo Aretino, his second biographer, he excelled 
 in this art. The accuracy with which he describes all 
 details of proportion in the construction of the three king- 
 doms of his other world seems to indicate the fine sense 
 of form and practised eye of an artist, and would tend to 
 corroborate this statement. 
 
 Both Leonardo and Boccaccio say that Dante loved and 
 understood music and singing. This is indeed implied in 
 many passages in the Divina Commedia,^ and confirmed by 
 the fact that both in Italy and Germany at that period lyric 
 poetry was always intended to be sung. All canzoni were 
 actually sung, and sonnets were accompanied on the guitar. 
 Among the great singers of that day, Casella was one of 
 Dante's most intimate friends ; and according to the oldest 
 commoi^tators, it was he who set the poet's songs to music. 
 Thus he is made to appear in the first circle of Purgatory, 
 to greet the new arrivals, and entrances them by the 
 sweetness of his singing : 
 
 ^ [The frontispiece of this work is from Giotto's portrait.] 
 - " On the first anniversary of the day on which this lady (Beatrice) 
 entered into life eternal, I was engaged in designing an angel from her 
 image as stamped on my memory." — Vita Nuova, § 35. 
 
 3 Hell, iii. 22, v. 27 ; Purg. ii. 45, ix. 134, xii. 103 ; Par. viii. 19, 
 xiv. 26, XX. 133, xxiii. 98. 
 
HIS GIFTS AND ACCOMPLISHMENTS, 13 
 
 "It answered : ' Thee as in my mortal frame 
 I loved, so loosed from it I love thee still, 
 And therefore pause : but why walkest thou here ?* 
 
 Then I : ' If new law taketh not from thee 
 Memory or custom of love-tuned song, 
 That whilom all my cares had power to swage ; 
 Please thee therewith a little to console 
 My spirit, that, encumber'd with its frame. 
 Traveling so far, of pain is overcome.' ^ 
 ' Love that discourses in my thoughts,' he then 
 Began in such soft accents, that within 
 The sweetness thrills me yet. My gentle guide. 
 And all who came with him, so weU were pleased. 
 That seem'd nought else might in their thoughts have 
 room." — Purg. ii. 84. 
 
 Belacqua, who was a singer and guitar-maker, is also 
 mentioned by the poet (Purg. iv. 102). 
 
 Thus all the circumstances of Dante's youth were singu- 
 larly favourable — great natural gifts and untiring energy, 
 loving and large-minded teachers, a circle of friends who 
 were proficients in all the arts and sciences of the day, 
 a social position which secured him from all pressure of 
 care or penury. " For though," says Leonardo Are tin o, " he 
 was not wealthy, yet neither was he poor. He possessed 
 a moderate patrimony, sufficient to maintain him comfort- 
 ably ; houses in Florence, property in Camerata, in Piacenza, 
 and in Piano di Ripoli ; abundance of handsome household 
 furniture. He himself was a noble person, graceful and 
 dignified, and of an agreeable countenance. And although 
 he was a scholar, he did not therefore withdraw himself 
 from the world, but associated freely with other young 
 men, and excelled in all their exercises. And it was won- 
 derful how, though he was always studying, yet he never 
 seemed to do so, but lived pleasantly with his companions," 
 
 ^ [" Amor che nella mente mi ragiona." The first verse of a canzone 
 m the Convito of Dante, apparently set to music by Casella. — C] 
 
14 ' THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 In the poem Beatrice describes his youth as full of gladness 
 and rich in all the gifts of nature and grace : 
 
 " I^ot alone 
 Through operation of the mighty orbs, 
 That mark each seed to some predestined aim, 
 As with aspect or fortmiate or ill 
 The constellations meet ; but through benign 
 Largess of heavenly graces, which rain down 
 From such a height as mocks our vision, this man 
 Was, in the freshness of his being,^ such, 
 So gifted virtually, that in him 
 All better habits wondrously had thrived." 
 
 — Purg. XXX. no. 
 
 An event befell Dante in his boyhood which powerfully 
 influenced his whole after life. This was his ideal love for 
 Beatrice. His devotion to her lasted till death, and in a 
 highly spiritualised form appears in the Divina Commedia. 
 He tells us himself how his attachment began. ^ " She was 
 about entering on her ninth year, and mine was drawing 
 to a close. Her dress on that day was of a most noble 
 colour, a subdued and comely red,^ girdled and adorned in 
 such a sort as best suited with her tender age. . . . From 
 that time forth, I say, that love held sovereign empire over 
 my soul, which had so readily been betrothed unto him ; 
 and through the influence lent him by my imagination, he 
 at once assumed such imperious sway and masterdom over 
 me, that I could not choose but do his pleasure in all 
 things. Oftentimes he enjoined me to strive, if so I might 
 behold this youngest of the angels ; wherefore did I during 
 my boyish years frequently go in search of her; and so 
 praiseworthy was she, and so noble in her bearing, that of 
 
 ^ Nella sua Vita Nuova, the poet's work so called, written in his 
 youth, is by some supposed to be here alluded to. 
 
 '^ Vita Nuova, § 3. This must, therefore, have occurred in May, 1274. 
 
 3 Red is the colour assigned by the Church ritual to the Holy Spirit, 
 the spirit of love. 
 
DANTE AND BEATRICE. 15 
 
 her might with truth be spoken that saying of the poet 
 Homer — 
 
 ' She of a god seemed bom, and not of mortal man.' " 
 
 Beatrice was the daughter of Falco Portinari, a wealthy 
 and respected Florentine, who in his latter years founded 
 the Hospital of Santa Maria Nuova. Nine years later 
 Dante met Beatrice again, and she addressed some words 
 of salutation to him. Upon this he wrote his first sonnet 
 and sent it to some of the most eminent poets of his time. 
 Soon after she was married to a rich Florentine, Simon de 
 Bardi ; but this did not disturb Dante, who still continued 
 to compose sonnets in her praise. In 1290 she died, at 
 the age of twenty-four. 
 
 If we consider Dante's depth of feeling and the early 
 development of his richly gifted nature, the strong impres- 
 sion made by Beatrice on the boy of nine need not sur- 
 prise us. His love for her was wholly ideal ; it impelled 
 him ever to what was great and noble. Through her he 
 raised himself "above the common herd" {Hell, ii. 105); 
 she, again, taught him to love virtue {Purg. xxx. 123), and 
 from " slave to freedom brought " him {Par. xxxi. 75). The 
 fact of his devotion to her as his ideal continuing both after 
 her marriage and his own with Gemma Donati in 1293 is 
 open to misapprehension, but is fully explained by the 
 usages of mediaeval chivalry, which the Troubadours had 
 brought from France to Italy. The homage which knights 
 and minstrels paid to their ladies had nothing to do with 
 merely human love or natural ties. Dante and Beatrice 
 met in a region which was purely spiritual, and though 
 the customs of chivalry may have often been perverted, in 
 the case of Dante his whole career and character forbid the 
 suspicion of anything but what was pure and noble. The 
 tone of his poetry points to the same conclusion. It 
 bears no trace of the light-hearted gallantry common to 
 
1 6 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 the Provengal minstrelsy, but is marked by a religious 
 earnestness evidently inspired by the hymns of St. Francis, 
 of the B. Jacopone, and of the other poets of the Franciscan 
 Order, with whom he was closely allied. As St. Francis 
 worshipped God in nature and called upon the sun, moon, 
 and stars to give Him honour, so Dante saw in Beatrice a 
 creature of the divine goodness and beauty, and gave glory 
 to God in her. 
 
 Thus the death of Beatrice could make no essential dif- 
 ference in their mutual relations. It is true, as Boccaccio 
 says, that her death so deeply affected him that those 
 around him feared for his life. But his love for her, far 
 from dying, only became more wholly spiritualised. All 
 his higher life fastens itself on Beatrice. She is to him 
 the symbol of the Divine Wisdom and Love ; she leads him 
 into Paradise and shows him the secrets of the life beyond 
 the grave. Love is the key-note of his life ; its sustain- 
 ing hand raises him even to the vision of God. The veil 
 drops from his eyes ; he gazes on the uncreated beauty 
 before him, and in the ocean of light and love eternal his 
 soul is satiated and at rest. 
 
 " But yet the will roU'd onward, like a wheel 
 In even motion, by the Love impell'd 
 That moves the sun in heaven and all the stars." 
 
 — Par. xxxiii. 133. 
 
 Two and a half years had elapsed since the death of 
 Beatrice when the temptation to unfaithfulness came to 
 him. He himself has described it for us. " Having sat 
 for some space sorely in thought because of the time that 
 was now past, I was so filled with dolorous imaginings that 
 it became outwardly manifest in mine altered countenance. 
 Whereupon feeling this, and being in dread lest any 
 should have seen me, I lifted mine eyes to look, and then 
 perceived a young and very beautiful lady, who was gazing 
 
TEMPTATION TO INCONSTANCY. 17 
 
 upon me from a window, with a gaze so full of pity that 
 the very sum of all pity appeared gathered together in her. 
 And seeing that unhappy persons, when they beget com- 
 passion in others, are then most moved to weeping, as 
 though they also felt pity for themselves, it came to 
 pass that mine eyes began to be inclined to tears. . . . 
 It happened after this, that whensoever I was seen of 
 this lady, she became pale and of a piteous countenance, as 
 though it had been with love ; whereby she reminded me 
 many times of my own most noble lady, who was wont 
 to be of a like paleness. And I know that often, when I 
 could not weep, nor in any way give ease unto mine anguish, 
 I went to look upon this lady, and the mere sight of her 
 seemed to bring tears to my eyes. ... At length, by the 
 constant sight of this lady, mine eyes began to be gladdened 
 overmuch with her company." 
 
 In the Convito ^ this lady is allegorically represented as 
 Philosophy, in which Dante found consolation after the 
 death of Beatrice. But it is quite clear from many pas- 
 sages in the Divina Commedia, from Beatrice's reproaches 
 (Purg. XXX., xxxi.), his own confessions, and his letter to 
 Count Malaspina, that the lady was a real person, and that 
 he felt the pleasure afforded by her society as a temptation 
 of inconstancy to his ideal. He found, however, a better 
 solace, and a means of withdrawing himself from this 
 dangerous occasion, in the study of philosophy and theo- 
 logy,2 to which he now devoted himself in the monastic 
 schools. But it was only after a prolonged conflict that 
 he was again master of himself. "Against this adversary 
 of reason," he tells us at the close of the Vita Nuova, 
 " there rose up in me on a certain day, about the ninth 
 hour, a strong visible phantasy, wherein I seemed to behold 
 the most precious Beatrice, habited in that red raiment 
 which she had worn when I first beheld her; also she 
 1 Convito, ii. 13. 2 /j,^^^ 
 
 B 
 
1 8 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 appeared to me of the same tender age as then. Where- 
 upon I fell into a deep thought of her; and my memory- 
 ran back, according to the order of time, on all those 
 matters in the which she had borne a part ; and my heart 
 began painfully to repent of the desire by which it had 
 so readily let itself be possessed during so many days, 
 contrary to the constancy of reason. And so I drove away 
 disordered desire, and turned with my whole mind once 
 more to the most noble Beatrice." At the end of the 
 Vita Nuova comes this remarkable confession : " After 
 writing this sonnet, it was given unto me to behold a very 
 wonderful vision, wherein I saw things which determined 
 me that I would say nothing further of this most blessed 
 one, until such time as I could discourse more worthily of 
 her ; and to this end I labour all I can, as she well knoweth. 
 Wherefore, if it be His pleasure through whom is the life 
 of all things, that my life continue with me a few more 
 years, it is my hope that I shall yet write concerning her 
 what hath not before been written of any woman. After 
 the which may it seem good unto Him who is the Master 
 of grace, that my spirit should go hence to behold the 
 glory of its lady, to wit, of that blessed Beatrice, who ever 
 gazeth continually on His countenance, qui est per omnia 
 scecula benedidits. Laus Deo" Thus it is evident that the 
 idea of the Commedia had already dawned on the mind of 
 the poet, though its accomplishment belongs to the latter 
 half of his life. 
 
 Buti,^ who wrote a commentary on the Divina Commedia 
 sixty years after the death of Dante, says that he entered 
 the Order of St. Francis, but only for a time, and left 
 before taking the vows. Others assert, with more pro- 
 bability, that he belonged to the Third Order of this Saint, 
 which embraces all ranks and classes, and allows its 
 members to pursue their ordinary avocations in the world. 
 . 1 Balbo, Vita di Dante, p. 95. 
 
MILITARY SERVICE. 19 
 
 Amongst the Tertiaries already enrolled were kings and 
 queens, St. Louis of France, St. Elizabeth of Hungary, 
 and brave soldiers, such as Guido de Montefeltro, Lanci- 
 lotto and others of equal fame. The special predilection 
 for St. Francis and St. Clare which the poet manifests 
 throughout the Commedia^ and his wrath against those 
 who had impeded the inward development of the Order, 
 appear to indicate some close connection -svith it. Indeed, 
 his enrolment as a Tertiary seems explicitly stated in the 
 following lines : — 
 
 "I had a cord that braced my girdle round, 
 Wherewith I erst had thought fast bound to take 
 The painted leopard." ^ — Hell, xvi. 106. 
 
 In any case, the Franciscans of Ravenna claimed his body, 
 and his name is entered in the roll of their dead. 
 
 It is probable that the poet's residence in Paris falls 
 about this time, though Boccaccio assigns to it a later date. 
 His mention of the master, Sigebert^ {Par. x. 132), who 
 died before 1300, of the physician Peter de la Brosse 
 {Purg. vi. 23), Philip the Bold's favourite, and his descrip- 
 tion of the Rhone at Aries {Hell, ix. iii), are clear indica- 
 tions that he had spent some time in France. It was in 
 the course of these studies that Dante gained that fami- 
 liarity with the Holy Scriptures which is discernible in all 
 his writings. The . scenery, the imagery, the language of 
 the Commedia, and especially of Purgatory and Paradise, 
 are scriptural throughout. It is to this that the poem 
 owes its depth of thought, and that sacred character, 
 that breath of supernatural life which fills the soul with a 
 holy joy, such as the work by its mere artistic perfection 
 could never have produced. 
 
 Dante was not only a man of warm heart and reflective 
 
 1 This animal symbolises sensuality. 
 
 * [A monk of the Abbey of Gemblours. His chief work, the 
 Chronica, is intended to justify, from history, the Ghibelline claims.] 
 
20 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 mind, but in active life he had few equals. The fall and 
 tragic end of Conrad at Naples, the Sicilian Yespers, the 
 contests of the Guelfs and Ghibellines, Ugolino's rise and 
 terrible death, the sanguinary strifes of his own native 
 city, all combined to inflame his " soul of fire " with a desire 
 to take an active part in the destinies of his country. 
 During the conflicts of the Guelfs of Florence, his party 
 both by birth and conviction, and the Ghibellines of Arezzo, 
 Dante proved his courage and military skill. In 1289 a 
 battle was fought at Campaldino between the two parties. 
 "In that great and memorable battle," says Leonardo 
 Aretino,^ " Dante, a youth of good report, was under arms, 
 and exposed to great danger whilst fighting bravely in 
 the first line of horse. The engagement began with an 
 attack of cavalry, in which the Florentines were routed by 
 the impetuous charge of their opponents, and fell back in 
 disorder on the infantry. This, however, eventually caused 
 the defeat of the Aretins, for their victorious horse, in 
 the heat of the pursuit, left their infantry so far in reai-, 
 that they could never again combine forces." Campal- 
 dino furnishes the subject for a beautiful episode in the 
 Divina Commedia? The poet also marched against Pisa 
 with the Lucchesi, to whom Florence had sent a contin- 
 gent of some thousand auxiliaries, including four hundred 
 horse. The Pisan fortress of Caprona surrendered after an 
 eight days' siege, and the cowardice of the garrison left a 
 deep impression upon Dante's memory : 
 
 " Thus issuing from Caprona, once I saw 
 The infantry, dreading lest his covenant 
 The foe should break, so close he hemm'd them round." 
 
 — Kell, xxi. 92. 
 
 From this date began Dante's political career. Pro- 
 voked by the arrogance of the nobles, the people in 1293, 
 
 ^ Vita di Dante, p. 50. ^ Purg. v. 90. 
 
POLITICAL LIFE. 21 
 
 under the leadership of Giano della Bella, passed the 
 so-called "decrees of justice," which excluded the nobles 
 from municipal offices. Peace was concluded with Pisa and 
 Lucca, and thus security was restored, but only for a time. 
 Corso Donati, the turbulent and haughty chief of the 
 Guelfs, succeeded by artifice and calumny in procuring the 
 condemnation of the popular leader Giano della Bella. His 
 house was burnt, and Giano himself driven into exile. But 
 Corso's attempt to reinstate the nobles in their ancient 
 privileges was frustrated by the opposition and menacing 
 attitude of the people. . Many of the nobles, abandoning 
 all hope of overthrowing the power of the people, suffered 
 their names to be inscribed in the popular guilds. Among 
 these was Dante. In 1295 he was enrolled in the Guild 
 of Physicians and Apothecaries, for which he was well 
 qualified by his scientific education. He now began to 
 take an active part in the administration of his native city, 
 and his biographer Leonardo briefly informs us " that he 
 was much employed in the service of the Republic." 
 
 In 1300 Dante rose to the head of affairs as one of the 
 six Priors who were annually chosen for the government of 
 Florence. Each of the six exercised his office in turn for 
 two months. But fresh dissensions arose to which Dante 
 was eventually sacrificed. The contest between the Bianchi, 
 so called from Bianca, wife of one of the Cancellieri, and 
 the Neri, had spread from Pistoja to Florence. The 
 Donati became the leaders of the Neri, whilst the Cerchi, 
 who belonged to the new nobility, sided with the Bianchi. 
 In June 1300, Boniface VIII. sent Cardinal Matteo 
 d'Aquasparta to Florence with instructions to negotiate 
 peace. His mediation was, however, rejected, and the leaders 
 of both parties were banished, although, with the excep- 
 tion of Corso Donati, they were ultimately recalled. 
 Charles of Yalois now entered Italy with five hundred 
 horse, to proclaim peace in the name of the Pope. Where- 
 
22 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 upon the Florentines sent an embassy, of which Dante 
 formed part, to Boniface YIII. at Rome, to protest against 
 the French interference. It was then, according to Boc- 
 caccio, that the poet uttered the proud boast, " If I go, 
 who will remain behind ? If I stay, who will go ? " During 
 his sojourn in Rome Dante's fate was decided at Florence. 
 Corso Donati captured the city by force, threw open its 
 gates to Yalois and his followers, and the Neri seized the 
 reins of government. On the 27th of January 1302 Dante 
 was condemned, with three other leaders of the Bianchi. 
 " In order that they should reap what they had sown, and 
 receive the just award of their deeds," each was condemned 
 to a fine of eight thousand pounds, and, as traitors and 
 deceivers, they were for ever excluded from all offices of 
 state. On the loth of March in the same year it was 
 further enacted, as the fine had not been paid, that, if 
 taken, all three should be burnt alive. This was a mere 
 pretext to ensure their perpetual banishment from Florence, 
 for the houses of the accused had been already demolished 
 and their property confiscated. Moreover, Dante, being 
 absent, was altogether ignorant of the former sentence 
 against him. It is probable that Pope Boniface VIII. was 
 cognisant of the designs of the Neri, and that he favoured 
 their success, as the most powerful partisans of the Guelf 
 cause ; but he certainly took no part in the cruel proceed- 
 ings which followed the entry of the French into Florence. 
 
 At Sienna, on his way back from Rome, Dante learnt his 
 fate. The gates of his native city were for ever closed 
 against him. His wife. Gemma Donati, with his five 
 children, was still there. As a kinswoman of Corso 
 Donati, she had saved some property, probably, according 
 to Boccaccio, under pretext that it formed part of her 
 dowry, and she remained in Florence, since her banished 
 husband could no longer maintain her. 
 
 Dante's earnest efforts to avert French intervention, his 
 
BANISHMENT. 23 
 
 freedom from party spirit, which had led him to banish 
 the leaders of both factions, and his upright character, had 
 brought this fate upon him. But the exile was conscious 
 of his innocence j therefore Brunetto Latini thus addresses 
 him : — 
 
 " But that ungrateful and malignant race, 
 Who in old times came down from Fesole, 
 Ay, and still smack of their rough mountain-flint, 
 Will for thy good deeds stiU show thee enmity. 
 Nor wonder ; for amongst ill-savour'd crabs 
 It suits not the sweet fig-tree lay her fruit. 
 Old fame reports them in the world for blind, 
 Covetous, envious, proud. Look to it weU : 
 Take heed thou cleanse thee of their ways. For thee, 
 Thy fortune hath such honom* in reserve 
 That thou by either party shall be craved 
 With hunger keen : but be the fresh herb far 
 From the goat's tooth." — Hell, xv. 61. 
 
 In the first book of his Convito ^ the poet thus describes 
 the homeless and wandering life which he was henceforth 
 to lead : — " After it had pleased the citizens of that most 
 fair and favoured daughter of Rome, Florence, to cast me 
 forth from her sweet bosom, where I was brought up to the 
 prime of life, and where, with all peace to her, I long with 
 all my heart to rest my weary soul and finish the time 
 allotted me, I have passed through almost all the regions 
 to which this language extends, a wanderer, almost a beggar, 
 displaying against my wUl the stroke of fortune, which is 
 ofttimes wont unjustly to be imputed to the person stricken. 
 Truly I have been a ship without sail or helm, carried about 
 to divers harbours, gulfs and shores, by that parching wind 
 which sad poverty breathes ; and I have seemed vile in the 
 eyes of many, who perchance, from some fame, had imagined 
 of me in other form ; in the sight of whom, not only did my 
 
 * Convito^ L 3. 
 
24 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 presence become nought, but all work of mine less prized, 
 both what had been and what was to be wrought, " ^ 
 
 Yet the longing after his beloved Florence never died 
 within him. Even in the very last years of his life he 
 wrote these touching lines : 
 
 " If e'er the sacred poem, that hath made 
 Both heaven and earth copartners in its toil, 
 And with lean abstinence through many a year 
 Faded my brow, be destined to prevail 
 Over the cruelty, which bars me forth 
 Of the fair sheepf old, where, a sleeping lamb, 
 The wolves set on and fain had worried me ; 
 With other voice and fleece of other grain, 
 I shall forthwith return, and, standing up 
 At my baptismal font, shall claim the wreath 
 Due to the poet's temples." — Par. xxv. i. 
 
 Like Greece of old, Italy was the land of proscriptions. 
 Among those who met with an exile's fate, Dante was one 
 of the greatest. Misfortunes neither paralysed his energies 
 nor damped his courage, but, on the contrary, gave strength 
 to his character. Through exile he became great, and his 
 noble nature shines brighter against the dark background 
 of his ruined happiness. We cannot, however, deny that 
 intense bitterness and profound indignation against Jiis 
 enemies characterised him throughout life, and found utter- 
 ance in words which posterity may excuse, but can never 
 justify. 
 
 The Bianchi and their confederates the Ghibellines fled 
 first to Sienna, but that city favoured the Guelfs, and its 
 inconstancy was proverbial : 
 
 " Was ever race 
 Light as Sienna's ? Sure not France herself 
 Can show a tribe so frivolous and vain." 
 
 — Hell, xxix. 117. 
 
 1 Cf. Church, Dante, p. 76. 
 
HARDSHIPS OF HIS EXILE. 25 
 
 Hence their stay there was brief. We find them shortly 
 after at Arezzo, and Dante with them. Again they were 
 driven by the unfriendly attitude of the podesta, Uguccione 
 della Faggiuola, to take refuge at Forli. Here Scarpetta 
 degli Ordelaffi received them kindly, and placed himself at 
 their head that he might restore them to Florence by force 
 of arms ; but they were defeated at Pulicciano by the Neri. 
 Thus Dante's hopes were disappointed. For the second 
 time, the confederates undertook to attack Florence, in con- 
 junction with the powerful cities of Bologna, Pisa, and 
 Pis to j a. Treachery and intrigue, however, combined to 
 frustrate the enterprise. A third attempt was made by 
 the advice of Cardinal Nicholas del Prato, whose media- 
 tion the Neri had rejected. The confederates had already 
 advanced into the Piazza San Marco at Florence, when 
 again the undertaking was brought to nought by their dis- 
 sensions and rashness. 
 
 Commentators find an allusion to these events, which 
 happened in 1304, in the following bitter lines : 
 
 " But that shall gall thee most, 
 Will be the worthless and vile company, 
 With whom thou must be thrown into these straits. 
 For all ungrateful, impious all, and mad. 
 Shall turn against thee : but in a Httle while, 
 Theirs, and not thine, shall be the crimson'd brow." 
 
 — Par. xvii. 60. 
 
 Kow began the poet's homeless wanderings, predicted by 
 his ancestor Cacciaguida : ^ 
 
 " Thou shalt prove 
 How salt the savour is of others' bread. 
 How hard the passage, to descend and climb 
 By others' stairs." — Par. xvii. 57. 
 
 ^ [Cacciaguida, a Florentine knight, the first of Dante's ancestors of 
 whom anything certain is known. He was born about 1090, and died 
 lighting under Conrad III. — C. 
 
26 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 For eighteen years Dante had borne an exile's lot ; he 
 was now a poor man, povero assai, as Leonardo Aretino 
 declares, although the scion of an eminent and honourable 
 family, and allied by marriage to one of the most distin- 
 guished houses of Florence. That the Divina Commedia, the 
 highest creation of his genius, should have been the work 
 of this very period of his life is a striking proof of Dante's 
 moral and intellectual greatness. It is probable that he 
 went first to Bologna, then to Padua, where his name 
 appears in 1306 as witness to a contract. During the 
 same year we find him in Lunigiana, in the north of 
 Tuscany, as the guest of the Marquis Malaspina,^ one of 
 his intimate friends. Meanwhile the Bianchi had again 
 taken up arms against Florence. Dante himself took part 
 in one of the assemblies convened for this purpose. But 
 once more the discord which prevailed among the confede- 
 rates proved fatal to their success. From this time the 
 poet separated himself from his party and became " a 
 party by himself alone." All had changed; he alone re- 
 mained the same, and never ceased to pursue his end, the 
 deliverance of Italy and of the human race. He now with- 
 drew wholly into himself, and what, as an exile, was beyond 
 his power by act, he strove to effect by his words. And 
 those words, like a prophet's, have through centuries 
 aroused his nation to noble deeds. 
 
 It is probable that the poet found at the court of 
 Malaspina his friend Cino di Pistoja, who had also been 
 banished from Pistoja with the Bianchi in 1307. Cino 
 repaired to France in 1309, whither, according to Boccaccio, 
 Giovanni da Serravalle, G. Yillani, and Dante also went 
 about this time.^ On his way through Liguria, Dante is 
 
 ^ [As Marcello Malaspina had been Dante's political opponent, his 
 hospitality is the more generous. His wife, Alagia, is praised by the 
 poet in Purg. xix. 140. — C] 
 
 2 Other writers place Dante's journey to Paris before the time of his 
 banishment. 
 
HIS IDEAL EMPEROR. 27 
 
 said to have confided to the care of Hilarius, the Prior of 
 Santa Croce del Corvo, XJguccione's brother, the first part of 
 the Divina Commedia^ which he had just completed, with the 
 request that Hilarius would transmit it to Uguccione della 
 Faggiuola. A letter from Hilarius to Uguccione, which 
 mentions this transaction, is still extant, though its authen- 
 ticity has been called in question. When asked by the 
 Prior what he sought with him, Dante is said to have 
 answered, "Peace." 
 
 In the year 13 10 we find Dante again in Italy. Henry, 
 Count of Luxemburg, had been elected Emperor of Ger- 
 many in 1308. In him Dante saw a second Moses, destined 
 to save Italy. Therefore he writes as " the humble and 
 unjustly banished Italian, Dante of Florence, to the prince 
 and lord of Italy," and, in terms of what we must call 
 exaggerated homage and praise, implored the Emperor to 
 redeem his country. Since the Hohenstaufens, Italy had 
 been without an Emperor, and in this fact Dante saw the 
 cause of all her misery : 
 
 " Look how that beast to f elness hath relapsed, 
 From having lost correction of the spur, 
 Since to the bridle thou hast set thine hand, 
 O German Albert ! ^ who abandon'st her, 
 That is grown savage and unmanageable 
 When thou should'st clasp her flanks with forked heels. 
 
 Come, and behold the oppression of the nobles, 
 And mark their injuries, and thou mayest see 
 What safety Santafiore ^ can supply. 
 Come and behold thy Rome, who calls on thee, 
 Desolate widow, day and night with moans. 
 My Csesar, why dost thou desert my side ? " 
 
 — Furg. vi. 95. 
 
 ^ [The Emperor, Albert I., the predecessor of Henry of Luxemburg, 
 succeeded Adolphus in 1298, and was murdered in 1 308. — C] 
 
 2 [A place between Pisa and Sienna. The Count of Santafiore had 
 been murdered by his countrymen on account of his arrogance. See 
 Purg. xi. 58.- C] 
 
28 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 By this time the state of Italy had become intolerable. 
 Party strife, bloodshed, crime and anarchy prevailed 
 throughout the peninsula from the Alps to the borders of 
 Naples. The free republics were distracted by continual 
 revolutions, whilst the feudal lords tyrannised over their 
 subjects, and were always in arms against each other and 
 against the people. Whereas Italy for ages past had 
 resented as invasions all former descents of the Northmen 
 upon Rome, Dante saw in the German kings of the 
 Romans the divinely-appointed deliverers of Italy, whose 
 sacred duty it was to re-establish the empire on this side 
 of the Alps.^ His ideal of a world-wide monarchy, which 
 should restore peace and unity to his country and to Chris- 
 tendom, was a persistent idea of the Middle Ages, and 
 found in him its most gifted and enthusiastic advocate. 
 Even in the twelfth century the royal chronicles of Germany 
 regarded Italians and Germans, not as enemies or oppo- 
 nents, but as brethren. 2 It is not then strange that a 
 patriot like Dante should call upon the Emperor to create 
 an united Italy even by force of arms. " I saw thee," 
 writes the poet to Henry, "and I heard thy words of 
 clemency and kindness on that day, when my hands 
 touched thy feet and my lips rendered thee homage. Then 
 my soul rejoiced within me. . . . Up, then, overthrow this 
 Goliath (Florence) with the sling of thy wisdom and the stone 
 of thy might ; the Philistines shall flee and Israel shall be 
 delivered." The lofty position which he assigns to the 
 
 ^ Gregorovius, Geschichte dcr Stadt im Mittelalter, vi. 19. *' Among 
 the various forms of government which come before us in the history 
 of Italy, that of the Emperor was undoubtedly the best suited to its needs. 
 It preserved the unity of the country as a whole, without destroying 
 the individuality of its various states, and defended it from without, 
 while it preserved order within. The fact that the title of the German 
 ruler was Csesar, and that he could only be crowned Caesar at Rome, 
 made him less of a foreigner in the eyes of the Italians, and his rule 
 less derogatory to the national pride." Cf. T. Ficher, Das deutsche 
 Xaiserreich, p. 84, 1 86 1, 
 
 ^ Hofler, Kaiserthum und Papsthum, p. 19, 1874. 
 
DEATH OF HENRY. 29 
 
 Emperor on account of his divinely instituted authority 
 makes Dante seek for a parallel to the crime of rebellion 
 against him in the sin of Judas, or even of Lucifer himself. 
 No sooner was Henry invested with the iron crown on 
 January 6, 131 1, than the Lombard cities, exasperated by 
 his exactions, rose in arms against him. Lodi, Crema, 
 Cremona, and Brescia threw off their allegiance, and were 
 only subdued after sanguinary conflicts. Henry was 
 crowned in the Lateran, but finding himself unequal to 
 the defence of Rome, retreated to Pisa. The hardships of 
 the campaign, the fever-laden atmosphere, the disappoint- 
 ments he met with, had combined to undermine his health. 
 He died at Buonconvento, near Sienna, on the 24th 
 of August, 13 1 3. Florence had not been conquered; her 
 gates still remained barred against the poet, who had 
 repeatedly exhorted her to promise fealty to the Emperor. 
 To his ideal Emperor Dante dedicated a dirge in his Para- 
 dise, in which he beholds the crown destined for the soul of 
 the " Great Harry " ^ laid upon his throne in heaven : 
 
 " In that proud stall, 
 On which, the crown, already o'er its state 
 Suspended, holds thine eyes — or e'er thyself 
 Mayst at the wedding sup, — shaU rest the soul 
 Of the great Harry, he who, by the world 
 Augustus hail'd, to Italy must come. 
 Before her day be ripe." — Par. xxx. 131. 
 
 After the Emperor's death, Uguccione della Faggiuola, 
 formerly podesta of Arezzo, became governor of Pisa^ and 
 conquered Lucca. With him we find Dante in the year 
 1 3 14. It is probable that he had previously sojourned for 
 a time at Santa Croce di Fonte Avellana, a Camaldolese 
 
 ^ [" Henry of Luxemburg was wise, just, and gracious, brave and 
 intrepid in arms, a man of honour, and a good Catholic ; and though 
 of no high descent, yet was he of a magnanimous heart, much feared 
 and held in awe ; and, if he had lived longer, would have done the 
 greatest things." — Villani, lib. ix. cap. i. — C] 
 
30 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 monastery, situated in the north of the Apennines. In 
 13 15 Uguccione and his confederates won the battle of 
 Montecatini against Florence. In consequence of this 
 victory Dante was again condemned to banishment and 
 death, and the sentence was also extended to his sons. 
 But in 1 31 6 both Lucca and Pisa revolted against Uguccione 
 and forced him to fly. Thus deprived of his patron, Dante 
 repaired first to his friend the younger Malaspina, in the 
 Lunigiana, then to Can Grande della Scala at Verona, with 
 whom Uguccione had already taken refuge. 
 
 Before these events the poet's hopes of his return to 
 Florence had been revived, only in order to be more cruelly 
 disappointed. All Tuscany, except Lucca, whose power was 
 no longer a source of disquietude, had now become Ghibel- 
 line. Guido da Battifolle, Dante's friend, was governor of 
 Florence. Shortly after, an amnesty was granted to the 
 banished Florentines, certainly upon hard conditions. On 
 the Feast of St. John Baptist, patron of the city, the amnes- 
 tied citizens, bearing lighted tapers, followed in procession 
 the picture of the Saint, to whom, upon payment of a fine, 
 they were "presented," One of Dante's nephews and other 
 friends urged him to accept this amnesty, whilst another of 
 his kinsmen, a religious, undertook to act as mediator. But 
 Dante refused to return to Florence upon terms so degrad- 
 ing. The greatness of his soul breathes in his reply. It 
 runs thus : "I have received your letter with all due 
 reverence and affection, and, after mature reflection, I 
 acknowledge with gratitude that you have my return much 
 at heart. I am the more beholden to you because a ban- 
 ished man has few friends. Should my answer be other 
 than certain faint-hearted persons desire, do you, at least, I 
 beseech you, weigh it carefully before you judge me. What I 
 gather from your letters and those of my nephew and others 
 is, that if I agree to submit to the fine and the disgrace of the 
 *ofltering,' I shall obtain pardon and may forthwith return 
 
REFUSAL OF THE AMNESTY. 31 
 
 to Florence. To say the truth, Father, I find both con- 
 ditions ludicrous, and especially ill-advised by those who 
 have proposed them. For your letter, which is more 
 sensible and considerate, does not even mention them. 
 This, then, is the glorious recall which is to restore Dante 
 to his country, after having endured an exile of almost 
 fifteen years ! Is this the reward of an innocence which 
 is manifest ? of the toil and fatigue of unremitting study ? 
 Far be from a man, conversant with philosophy, the base- 
 ness of heart to submit to be * presented ' in chains, like a 
 Ciolo or other malefactors ! Far be it from a preacher of 
 justice to compromise injustice with money, and treat his 
 persecutors as if they were his benefactors ! No, Father ; 
 this is not the way in which I can return to my country. 
 But should any other way be found, either by yourself or 
 others, in course of time, which does not detract from 
 Dante's fame and honour, I shall not hesitate to follow it. 
 Should no such way be opened by which I may enter 
 Florence, I will never enter it again. Why should I ? 
 Can I not everywhere enjoy the light of the sun and the 
 stars'? Can I not everywhere under heaven meditate 
 upon the truths most dear to me, without first rendering 
 myself inglorious, nay, infamous to the people and state of 
 Florence ? Bread at least will not fail me." ^ The letter 
 was written in 13 16 or early in 131 7, and with this fare- 
 well the poet quitted Tuscany for ever. 
 
 Can Grande della Scala, surnamed the Great, after the 
 deaths of his brothers Alboin and Bartolommeo,^ became 
 sole lord of Yerona, viceroy of the Empire, and commander- 
 in-chief of the Ghibelline league in Lombardy. Even as 
 a young man his military fame had won for him a distin- 
 guished position. At his court both Guelf and Ghibelline 
 
 ^ Bartolommeo had accorded protection to the poet during the com- 
 mencement of his exile. 
 
 2 Cf. Wright's Dant€y p. xix. 
 
32 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 found a hospitable welcome. To him Dante now looked 
 as the deliverer of Italy, as, since the death of the Emperor, 
 there was no hope of aid from Germany. In Can Grande 
 he beheld him, who as 
 
 " That greyhound comes, who shall destroy 
 Her ^ with sharp pain. He will not hf e support 
 By earth nor its base metals, but by love, 
 Wisdom, and virtue ; and his land shall be 
 The land 'twixt either Feltro." ^—Hell, i. 98. 
 
 And again : 
 
 " First refuge thou must find, first place of rest 
 In the great Lombard's courtesy, who bears, 
 Upon the ladder perch'd, the sacred bird.^ 
 He shall behold thee -with such kind regard 
 That 'twixt ye two, the contrary to that 
 Which falls 'twixt other men, the granting shall 
 Forerun the asking. With him shalt thou see 
 That mortal, who was at his birth imprest 
 So strongly from this star,^ that of his deeds 
 The nations shall take note. His unripe age 
 Yet holds him from observance, for these wheels 
 Only nine years have compast him about. 
 But ere the Gascon ^ practise on great Harry, 
 Sparkles of virtue shall shoot forth in him, 
 In equal scorn of labours and of gold. 
 His bounty shall be spread abroad so widely. 
 As not to let the tongues, e'en of his foes. 
 Be idle in its praise. Look thou to him, 
 
 ^ The vice of avarice, represented under the form of a she-wolf. 
 
 - [Verona, the country of Can Grande della Scala, is situated between 
 Veltro, a city in the Marca Trevigiana and Monte Feltro, in the territory 
 of Urbino. Perhaps allusion is also made to a prophecy, ascribed to 
 Michael Scot, that the " Can (dog) of Verona should be lord of Padua 
 and of all the Marca Trevigiana," which was fulfilled in 1329.— C] 
 
 ^ [The Can Grande coat of arms was a ladder and an eagle.] 
 
 * [Can Grande was born under the influence of the planet Mars, but 
 at this time only nine years old. — C] 
 
 ^ [Richard de Got, Archbishop of Bordeaux. He became Pope under 
 the title of Clement V. in 1305, and transferred the Holy See to 
 Avignon in 1308. He died in 1314. — C] 
 
VERONA AND RAVENNA. 33, 
 
 And his beneficence : for he shall cause 
 
 Reversal of then* lot to many people ; 
 
 Rich men and beggars interchanging fortunes." 
 
 — Par. xvii. 68. 
 
 After so many wanderings, as far as an exile can ever 
 be said to have either, Dante found with Can Grande home 
 and rest. His sons were now with him, and Pietro, the 
 eldest, devoted himself to the study of law, and settled 
 permanently at Yerona. Dante's sojourn here lasted about 
 four years, only broken by short visits to the neighbouring 
 towns, and among others to Mantua. In this latter city he 
 received an invitation to defend his thesis on "The two 
 elements of land and water ; " and accordingly, on January 
 20, 1320, he held a conference on the subject in St. Helen's 
 Chapel at Yerona, before the assembled clergy. Soon 
 afterwards, Dante left Yerona and settled at Ravenna. 
 Some attribute his change of abode to a quarrel between 
 the proud Lord of Yerona and the poet, who also was fully 
 conscious of his own value. Petrarch^ relates that Dante 
 had irritated his patron, to whose query, " why he himself 
 and the people took more delight in actors and buffoons 
 than in his conversation," the poet replied, ** Similis 
 simili gaudet " — " Like loves like." According to others, 
 the difference was owing to an unseemly jest ^ which the 
 parasites played off upon him. Dante's retort was a 
 severe reproof, which hit his princely patron.^ Others 
 again assume that poverty, such as Dante confesses in his 
 letter to Can Grande, drove him from Yerona to Ravenna. 
 
 ^ Rerum Mcmorab. xi. 4. 
 
 * Cinzio Giraldi, Hecatomiti. Dec. vii. nov. 6. 
 
 ' They had concealed a boy under the table, who heaped together 
 before Dante's seat all the bones thrown down by the guests, according 
 to the custom of those times. As they rose from table. Can Grande, 
 feigning surprise at the sight, exclaimed, " What a quantity of meat 
 Dante consumes ! " To which he replied, " Were I a dog (Cane), you 
 would not find so many bones." Dante complains of the coarse tone 
 which pervaded the courts of that period. Convito, il 11. 
 
 C 
 
34 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 But these are mere surmises. We have Dante's own 
 declaration in his letter to Can Grande that he is bound 
 to him by sacred ties of friendship. Possibly the absence 
 of Scaliger at the siege of Padua, or an invitation from 
 Guido Novello da Polenta, Lord of Ravenna,^ or both 
 together, may have determined the poet to accept the 
 hospitality of the latter. The peace of this city of ruins, 
 the gloom of its pine forests on the shores of the ever- 
 restless Adriatic, may well have harmonised with the weary 
 pilgrim's frame of mind. 
 
 "At that time," says Boccaccio, "the ancient and re- 
 nowned city of Ravenna was governed by Guido da Polenta, 
 a noble knight, versed in all branches of science, who 
 honoured great men, that is, those distinguished above 
 others by their attainments. Now when he learnt Dante's 
 desperate condition in the Romagna, he hastened to wel- 
 come him at his court with all due honour, amply providing 
 for his wants, and maintained him during several years 
 until his death." Yet Guido Novello was a Guelf, and 
 Dante the inspired bard of the empire ; the friendly rela- 
 tions, therefore, which united the two men, speak volumes 
 for their nobility of soul. 
 
 Here Dante completed the third part of his Divina 
 Commedia, dedicating it with a prefatory epistle to the 
 "noble, victorious, and great Can della Scala." His sons 
 Pietro and Giacopo came hither to him. Many of his 
 friends were already dead — Beatrice, Guido Cavalcanti, 
 Henry VII., Uguccione — and his own days were on the 
 decline. More than ever his thoughts turned to the life 
 eternal, whose mysteries he had glorified in the Paradiso. 
 A poetical paraphrase containing the Penitential Psalms, 
 
 ^ [The son of Ostasio da Polenta, so called from a castle of that name 
 near Brittonoro. Guido made himself master of Ravenna in 1265, was 
 deposed in 1 322, and died at Bologna the year following. He was 
 himself a poet of name. Cf. Hell, xxvii. 38.] 
 
THE POET'S DEATH. 
 
 35' 
 
 the Credo, Ave Maria, Pater Noster, the Ten Command- 
 ments, and Seven Deadly Sins is ascribed to him. 
 
 Yet once more he was destined to be torn from his life 
 of quiet contemplation. In order to negotiate an under- 
 standing between Yerona and Yenice, the poet undertook, 
 in 13 2 1, an embassy to the latter city. But his efforts 
 were fruitless ; he was not even admitted to an audience. 
 No sooner had he returned to Ravenna than he was 
 attacked by a grave malady. Boccaccio relates, that " after 
 he had humbly and devoutly received all the last holy 
 sacraments according to the rites of the Church, and had 
 made his peace with God, he gave back his weary soul 
 to his Creator on the 14th day of September, being the 
 feast of the Exaltation of the HoJy Cross, to the great grief 
 of Guido and the people of Bavenna. All his earthly 
 troubles ended, he was doubtless received into the arms of 
 his noble Beatrice, with whom we trust he now enjoys 
 everlasting bliss in the presence of Him Who is the 
 Supreme Good." Dante had reached the age of fifty-six 
 years and four months. 
 
 Thus died Dante. Measured by man's standard, he was 
 unfortunate from his youth upwards. He lost his first love ; 
 his services to his country were ill-requited ; he himself, 
 accused of fraud and imposture, was condemned to be 
 burnt ; an exile, poor and homeless, he wandered in foreign 
 lands. But he was never untrue to himself ; he never lost 
 faith in his ideal, nor was false to his principles ; nor did 
 he ever cease to love and to labour for his country, for 
 science, for freedom and religion. 
 
 The body of the poet was solemnly interred in the Lady 
 Chapel at the Friars Minor ; it was borne to the grave by 
 the noblest of Ravenna. Guido Novello himself pronounced 
 the funeral oration in Dante's dwelling. He had pro- 
 posed to erect a monument worthy of the poet's fame, 
 but this design was frustrated by his banishment from 
 
36 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 Ravenna in the following year. Dante's epitaph was 
 written by Giovanni di Virgilio. The exasperation pro- 
 duced by the poet's attacks on the French party amongst 
 the Cardinals (the " Cahorsines and Gascons ") was nearly 
 leading to a violation of his grave. In 1322 the imperious 
 Cardinal Legate, Bertrand du Poyet, a " Cahorsine," ^ then 
 governor of the Romagna, threatened to break open Dante's 
 tomb and scatter his ashes to the winds. Fortunately his 
 plan was thwarted by Ostasio da Polenta, Lord of Ravenna. 
 Dante's monument has been repeatedly adorned and rebuilt ; 
 by Bernardo Bembo, father of the celebrated Cardinal Bembo, 
 in 1483 ; by the Cardinal Legate Domenico Corso in 1693 ; 
 and again by the Cardinal Legate Valenti-Gonzago in 1780. 
 In vain ungrateful Florence claimed the ashes of her great 
 poet. The character of Dante has been well described both 
 by Villani and Boccaccio. " This Dante," says Yillani, " was 
 proud of his learning, somewhat self-willed and morose. 
 Like most philosophers, he was stern, nor did he readily 
 converse with unlearned men. But it is due to his other 
 virtues, to the erudition and ability of so eminent a citizen, 
 that his memory should be immortalised in this chronicle, 
 although the sublime works that he left behind, more than 
 suffice to attest his merit, and redound to the glory of our 
 city." 
 
 " Our poet," says Boccaccio, " was of middle stature, and 
 in his advancing years stooped somewhat as he walked. 
 His demeanour was grave and composed, his dress at that 
 time simple and dignified, as became his age. His face was 
 oval, his nose aquiline, his eyes large rather than small, 
 his under-lip somewhat projecting ; his complexion was dark, 
 his beard and hair thick, black, and curly ; his whole aspect 
 was earnest and thoughtful. Now it happened, when the 
 
 ^ [Dante calls the French partisans "Cahorsines and Gascons" {Par. 
 xxvii. 53), from Jacques d'Ossa, a native of Cahors, who filled the Papal 
 chair in 13 16, after it had been two years vacant, and assumed the 
 name of John XXII., and from Clement V., a Gascon. — C. in loc] 
 
CHARACTER AND APPEARANCE. 37 
 
 fame of his poem had spread far and wide, that Dante 
 passed before a door in Verona where several women were 
 sitting. One of them whispered softly, but loud enough for 
 him to hear, * See, this is he who descends into hell, and 
 comes back again to bring tidings of those who are down 
 below.' ' Indeed,' answered another, * thou sayest truly ; 
 for dost thou not see how the heat and smoke below have 
 crisped his hair and bronzed his cheeks.' Dante was re- 
 markable for the order and regularity of his life in public 
 and private, no less than for his courtesy and good-breeding. 
 At table he was strictly temperate ; he always kept within 
 the appointed time, and never exceeded what was needful. 
 Although he appreciated delicate viands, yet he seldom 
 partook of them in preference to his usual simple fare. 
 Indeed, he censured those who made the choice and prepa- 
 ration of dainties their chief concern ; * Such persons,' he 
 said, 'do not eat to live, but live to eat.' In his studies 
 and other affairs which he had at heart, none ever sur- 
 passed his diligence, so that his wife and family sometimes 
 complained of this. He seldom spoke, unless called upon 
 to do so, and then only after due reflection, and in a manner 
 befitting the subject in hand. Yet, when requisite, he was 
 eloquent and rapid in delivery, and his words were admir- 
 ably chosen. He loved solitude and seclusion from society, 
 in order that his meditations might be undisturbed. If 
 engrossed by some absorbing subject whilst in company of 
 others, he was wont first to think it out fully, or else to dis- 
 miss it altogether, before answering any question. This 
 occurred not infrequently whilst he was at table, or walking 
 out with his friends. So ardent a student was he, that 
 during those hours which he devoted to study, he never suf- 
 fered himself to be distracted by news brought him. Thus, 
 on one occasion at Sienna, he sat down before a bookseller's 
 shop to read an important work which he had just purchased, 
 whilst before him, on the piazza, a fair was being held. The 
 
38 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 dances and games of the youths and maidens had attracted 
 a crowd of spectators. Amid the tumult of voices the poet 
 remained quietly seated, without ever raising his eyes from 
 his book. Thus he sat from nones until the vesper hour ; 
 and when asked, why he kept aloof from the joyous festival 
 before him, Dante replied, that he had heard nothing of 
 it. He possessed a creative genius of the highest order, 
 a retentive memory and a penetrating intellect. He was 
 more solicitous of honours than became his undoubted 
 merit, and had also a high estimate of his own worth. But 
 this excellent man bore all his adverse fortunes with true 
 fortitude, nor did he ever yield to impatience or bitterness, 
 except in his political trials." 
 
 In his immortal work the poet has portrayed his own 
 character for all posterity. He is bold, but restrained by 
 duty ; ^ proud,2 but frank and without dissimulation ; pas- 
 sionate and implacable in his hatred of evil,^ but scorning 
 all mean revenge ; * in his speech, thoughtful, convincing, 
 and truthful.^ Although he smiles at the follies of man- 
 kind, yet he mourns over the sufferings which they entail.^ 
 He respects all authority,'^ and is full of reverence for the 
 Church.^ He craves pardon for the boldness of his speech, 
 although its sole aim is the public good. Flattery he 
 abhors,^ and admires constancy in suffering, even when 
 found among the lost souls.^^ Unwearied in study,ii he 
 despises riches, and whilst ambitious of fame, is ever 
 ready to acknowledge his faults. ^^ Despising the caprices 
 of fortune, he is calm amid adversity .^^ He delights in 
 enlarging his knowledge of men and things, although he 
 
 ^ Par. xvii. 23. ^ Pur/j. xiii. 126. ' Hell, viii. 42. 
 
 * Purg. XX. 86. ^ Purg. ii. 8. ® Hell, xxx. 129, 
 
 7 Purg. ii. 39. » Par. v. 76 ; HeU, xix. 18. 
 
 9 Hell, xviii. 100. i« Hell, xviii. 82. 
 
 1^ Purg. XXV. 4, xxix. 38, xxxi. 141. 
 
 ^2 Hell,, ii. 107 ; Purg. i. 59, ix. 98, xxx. 1 09. 
 ^3 jjM XV. 94. 
 
VIRTUES AND FAILINGS. 39 
 
 values old friends beyond all others.^ Everywhere he 
 searches out all that is great and elevated in human nature, 
 and does it homage; he fears nothing so much as the 
 censure of noble minds. 2 He esteems a dignified demeanour 
 in voice, look, and manner.^ To his native city * he clings 
 with an unchangeable affection, which no wrongs can 
 efface ; to his friends he is bound by faithful love,^ to his 
 benefactors by undjdng gratitude.^ As a pious Catholic,^ 
 he constantly meditates upon death ;^ he is fervent in 
 prayer,^ and is devout to the ever-blessed Virgin, St. Lucy, 
 and the Saints. ^^ 
 
 Such was Dante. As Balbo describes him, he was essen- 
 tially Italian of the Italians beyond all his countrymen. 
 Throughout his poetry the name of Italy recurs, as the 
 supreme earthly object of his aspirations and of his love. 
 The characteristic of his life was faith in an ideal system 
 of the world based upon Christianity, and deriving from 
 Christianity its significance, its aims, and its motives. 
 Every trial leads him to God as the one Omnipresent Being, 
 the primal cause of all things, and their last end; and 
 until his death he remained true to this ideal, whose light 
 transfigures all he loves — Beatrice, his country, freedom, 
 and humanity. Hence his deep reverence for truth, which 
 he never bartered for temporal interests. Hence his first 
 principle, that he who seeks knowledge for worldly gain 
 has no claim to be called a philosopher. In fine, his manly 
 
 1 Purg. ii. 85. 
 
 2 Bell, XXX. 133. 
 
 2 Hell, xxiii. 73, iv. 107 ; Purg. iii. ii, iii. 85. 
 
 * Par. XV. 92, xvi. 23. 
 
 ** Par. viii. 48, ^ Par. xvii. 84, iv. 1 16, 
 
 ~ Par. xxvi. 54, xxv. 46-79, xxiv. 47 ; De Monarch, iii. 3 ; Con- 
 vito, ii. 6. 
 
 * Hell, xxxi. 100 ; Purg. xxiv. 75. 
 
 ^ Par. xxxi. 87, ii. 28, xiv. 81, xx. lOi, xxxii. 134. 
 ^0 Conv. iii. 5; Bell, iL 97; Par. xxiii. 85; Purg. jiassim; Viia 
 Nuova, § 5. 
 
40 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 undaunted courage, his steadfast diligence in his work, his 
 untiring zeal, his certainty of success, all spring from the 
 fact, that he views earthly events in the light of eternity, 
 and trusts in the power and wisdom of Him who controls 
 the destinies of nations. 
 
 Yet Dante was human. The portrait of himself, which 
 he has drawn in his works, reveals two dark shadows — 
 pride and anger. But he atones for these faults by his 
 humble self -accusation : 
 
 " Mine eyes, said I,^ 
 May yet be here ta'en from me ; but not long, 
 For they have not ofiended grievously 
 With envious glances. But the woe beneath ^ 
 Urges my soul with more exceeding dread ; 
 That nether load already weighs me down." 
 
 — Purg. xiii. 123. 
 
 From this and other passages, especially from his peni- 
 tent confession before Beatrice (Purg. xxxi. 62), we joyfully 
 arrive at the conviction, that the poet had first traversed 
 in his own soul, the journey which he describes through 
 Hell and Purgatory, and had thus risen from hatred of 
 sin to penance, to the love of God and to happiness in Him. 
 
 The haK-length portrait of Dante, painted by Giotto in 
 the Chapel of the Podestk at Florence, fully answers to the 
 character which he has sketched of himself in his writings. 
 The countenance is that of a young man in his thirtieth 
 year; the expression of the features full of deep melan- 
 choly, as if foreshadowing his hard fate. A bust of Dante, 
 from a cast taken after death, is in the possession of the 
 Torrigiani family ; both this and the two likenesses of the 
 poet by Raphael, in the "Parnassus" and the "Disputa," 
 bear the same unmistakable impress of a mighty genius. 
 
 Dante's earliest poems were in the lyric form. Several 
 
 ^ In the second Cornice, the prison of the envious. 
 ^ Where the proud were punished. 
 
" VITA NUOVA " AND ''CONVITOr 41 
 
 of tliese compositions ai-e collected together in his Vita 
 Nuova (" New Life " ^), a youthful work of the poet, written 
 whilst he was still at Florence, and dedicated to his elder 
 friend, Guido Cavalcanti, who died in 1300. The Vita 
 Nuova is the record of the new life, which was awakened 
 in him by his meeting with Beatrice, and his ideal love 
 of her. It consists of lyrical pieces, sonnets, ballads, and 
 songs, interspersed with prose ; partly narrations of those 
 incidents in his life which inspired his poetry, partly 
 explanatory of them. Here Dante already proves himself 
 a master in the use of his mother tongue. His prose is 
 clear, pure, and vigorous ; his lyrics are characterised by 
 genuine and deep feeling, lofty conceptions of life and of 
 the world, by chaste and spiritualised affections, as well as 
 by the religious tone which pervades the whole. In these 
 his lesser poems, the musical rhythm, the wealth of noble 
 ideas, his powerful and original imaginatioii, presage the 
 future author of the Divina Commedia. 
 
 The Convito, " Banquet," a name probably suggested by 
 Plato's Symposium, resembles the Vita Nuova in its exter- 
 nal form. Here also a prose commentary accompanies the 
 poetry which it illustrates. The Convito is divided into 
 four books, but was never completed. The plan of the 
 work was that of an encyclopaedia, embracing the whole 
 range of contemporary science, and written in the vulgar 
 tongue, to bring it within reach of unlettered persons. 
 Thus he says in the introduction : ^ " O happy those few 
 who sit at the table where the bread of angels is eaten, 
 and miserable those who partake of food in common with 
 beasts. Yet since each man is by nature the friend of his 
 fellow, and as every friend laments over his friend's need, 
 therefore those who feast at so high a table are not with- 
 out pity towards those, whom they behold straying in the 
 
 ^ According to Fraticelli, "youth," or "young life." 
 - ConvitOy i. I. 
 
42 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 pastures of cattle and feeding upon grass and acorns. And 
 inasmuch as pity is the mother of charity, those who 
 possess knowledge are evfer ready to share their glorious 
 abundance with the truly poor, and thus they become the 
 living fountains through whose streams the natural thirst 
 of which we have spoken is quenched.^ . . . Therefore I 
 now propose to prepare ... a feast for all. The viands 
 at this banquet will be set out in fourteen different 
 manners, that is, will consist of fourteen canzoni, the 
 materials of which are love and virtue. Without the bread 
 that accompanies them, they would not be free from some 
 shade of obscurity; but the bread, that is, the explanation, 
 will be that light which will bring forth all their colours, 
 and display their full meaning to the view." ^ 
 
 The three canzoni, to whose interpretation the work is 
 devoted, date from about 1300, whilst the prose commen- 
 tary may be assigned to a period subsequent to Dante's 
 banishment, probably about 1309. We look in vain for 
 any classification of the immense learning here displayed, 
 since the whole work is subordinated to the several alle- 
 gorical meanings of each canzone. The different parts 
 have no systematic connection, and questions on the most 
 diverse sciences are intermixed. But the Convito shows 
 us some of the raw material eventually developed in the 
 Divina Commediay and gives much valuable information 
 as to its purport. It is Dante's special merit that his 
 enthusiastic love of his country led the poet to write in 
 the vulgar tongue, in preference to the stiff scholastic 
 language, till then universally employed.^ " For without 
 
 ^ " The natural thirst, ne'er queneh'd but from the well 
 Whereof the woman of Samaria craved." — Purg. xxi. i. 
 2 Gary's Dante, p. xxx. 
 
 =* The Inferno was originally begun in Latin. The opening was as 
 follows : — 
 
 *' Ultima regna canam fluido contermina mundo 
 Spiritibus quae lata patent, quse praemia solvunt 
 Pro meritis cuicunque suis." — Boccaccio, p. 32, ed. Nap. 1856. 
 
"DE VULGARI ELOQUIOr V 43 
 
 familiar intercourse," he says, "it is impossible to gain 
 the knowledge of men, and the Latinist can in no country 
 hold converse with so many persons as he who speaks the 
 vulgar tongue, which is used familiarly by all, and there- 
 fore to the masses the Latinist remains a stranger." ^ 
 
 In the Convito, science for the first time speaks the lan- 
 guage of the people, but is still religious. It descends 
 into the arena of common life, whilst maintaining the closest 
 union with the Church. The daring intellect of the poet 
 handles the most difiicult problems, but within the depths 
 of his soul he guards his humble faith. The philosophy 
 of the "heavenly Athens" is the goal to which all his 
 learning tends, in faith, hope, and love.^ 
 
 Dante had already declared in the Convito his intention, 
 with the Divine assistance, of producing a work upon the 
 vulgar tongue. This he fulfilled in the treatise entitled 
 De Vulgari Eloquio. Written during his exile, and most 
 probably simultaneously with the Convito^ it remains un- 
 finished. Out of the four books which the author pur- 
 posed to write, two only were composed. Dante was the 
 first to treat of this subject; he wrote in Latin, in order 
 that his book might be accessible to the learned, who 
 despised the vulgar tongue. He draws this distinction 
 between popular and grammatical languages — that the for^ 
 mer are learnt in the nursery independently of all rules, 
 the latter only after long and persevering diligence. This 
 dissertation is prefaced by an inquiry into the common 
 origin of language. He next proceeds to speak of the 
 Romance languages in general, and of Italian and its 
 different dialects in particular; of poetry in its various 
 forms, and of the vernacular vulgar tongue through which 
 it finds expression. It was Dante's intention to discuss 
 these questions more fully in the third and fourth books. 
 It is true that many of his propositions are untenable ; 
 ^ Convito, i. 6. ^ Ibid., iii. 14.^ 
 
44 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 notably, those which he afterwards retracted relating to the 
 origin of language, those on the formation of the Romance 
 languages, and on the importance of the Tuscan dialect in 
 the formation of Italian. Still the work is one of consider- 
 able value, because through it, and especially in its connec- 
 tion with his great poem, Dante thus early created for his 
 people a common language, which has remained without 
 essential change to the present day.^ 
 
 According to Boccaccio, Dante's De MonarcTiia owes its 
 origin to the Emperor Henry VII. 's expedition against 
 Rome, and was probably written within the year 131 2; 
 but according to De Witte, it was compiled before 1300. 
 In regard to the historical and political views of its author, 
 the De Monarchia is Dante's most important work. It con- 
 tains the programme of the Ghibellines, set forth by the 
 most moderate of their party ; by one who does not even 
 wish to be nimibered among them, and it shows to what 
 extravagances some of their extreme partisans were carried. 
 The treatise is divided into three books ; in the first, Dante 
 maintains the need of an universal empire ; in the second, 
 he contends that this empire is the inalienable right of 
 the Roman people; in the third, that it is immediately 
 dependent upon God. We shall examine its contents more 
 closely when we consider Dante's political theory. 
 
 Fourteen letters ascribed to Dante have been discovered ; 
 one of them, however, appears to be spurious. They are 
 written chiefly in Latin. The following are among the most 
 important : The epistle of dedication to Can Grande della 
 Scala, often quoted, which contains a prefatory explana- 
 tion of the Divina Commedia ; the letters to the Emperor 
 Henry VII., to the princes of Italy and the Florentines, 
 
 ^ So Thomas (in Aristot. Politic, ed. Farm., torn. xvi. p. 369) distin- 
 guishes between cultivated and barbarous races, in that, with the former, 
 the vulgar tongue is also a written language (habere literalera locu- 
 tionem in suo vulgari idiomate). 
 
MINOR WRITINGS. 4$ 
 
 and the letter to a friend in Florence already mentioned, 
 in which the poet refuses the proposed amnesty. Dante 
 also wrote two Eclogues, addressed to Giovanni di Yirgilio, 
 
 The treatise De Duohus Elementis Aquae, et Teiroe, to which 
 we have already referred, is an inquiry into the position 
 and form of the two elements, earth and water. It con- 
 cludes with an avowal of the insufficiency of all human 
 learning. " Men must cease to search into things which are 
 above them, and limit their inquiry to those within their 
 reach. Thus they will attain, as far as may be, to the 
 eternal and divine, and will not presume to inquire into 
 what they cannot comprehend. They should listen to the 
 words of Job : * "Wilt thou comprehend the ways of God, 
 and wilt thou find out the perfection of the Almighty ? ' 
 (Job xi. 7.) To the Psalmist : ' Thy knowledge is become 
 wonderful to me; it is high, and I cannot reach to it' 
 (Ps. cxxxviii. 6). To Isaiah, who declares, in the name of 
 God : * As the heavens are exalted above the earth, so are 
 My ways exalted above your ways ' (Isa. Iv. 9). To St. 
 Paul : * the depth of the riches of the wisdom of the 
 knowledge of God ! How incomprehensible are His judg- 
 ments, and how unsearchable His ways ! ' (Rom. xi. 33.) 
 Lastly, they must listen to the voice of the Creator Himself, 
 who says, ' You shall seek Me, and shall not find Me, and 
 where I am, thither you cannot come ' (St. John vii. 34.) 
 And let this suffice for the inquiry into the truth before us." 
 
 A poetical paraphrase of the Seven Penitential Psalms, 
 the Apostles' Creed, the Ten Commandments, the Seven 
 Deadly Sins, with the Pater Noster and Ave Maria, entitled 
 the Poefs Creed, is attributed to Dante, but its authen- 
 ticity is very doubtful. " These verses of Dante," says 
 Balbo, " are certainly not his best, yet they are not at all 
 unworthy of him. Perhaps they were written at an 
 earlier period of his life." ^ Questionable as is the authen- 
 ^ Vita di Dante, p. 420. 
 
4"6 THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF DANTE. 
 
 ticity of these verses, still less reliance can be placed 
 on the story that Dante composed them to prove his ortho- 
 doxy, and thus escape from the persecutions which he had 
 suffered at the hands of the Friars Minor. "There are 
 some who are determined, at any price, to have an anti- 
 christian Dante ; therefore they make him say what is vile 
 and false, and make him do so from fear." ^ 
 
 Each of Dante's works discovers for us a special aspect 
 of his intellectual life. In the Vita Nuova we see the 
 lyric poet; in the ConvitOy the philosopher; in the De 
 Vulgari Eloquio, the philologist ; in the De Monarchia, the 
 statesman ; in his Confession of Faith, the Christian. But 
 in the Divina Commedia, Dante is all these in one, — poet, 
 scholar and politician, man and Christian. 
 
 ^ Vita di Dante, p. 420. 
 
( 47 ) 
 
 CHAPTER IT. 
 
 THE IDEA AND FORM OF THE " DIVINA COMMEDIA." 
 
 " The Cathedral of Sti-asburg had stood for centuries in all 
 its majesty," writes Steffens, " yet men passed by and saw 
 it not." At length Goethe discovered its beauties, as it 
 were afresh, and called attention to them. In like man- 
 ner, Dante's poem remained almost a closed book to suc- 
 cessive generations, which were alike incapable of compre- 
 hending its symbolism or of admiring its external beauty.^ 
 During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Italy 
 itself produced only one commentary on the Divina Corn- 
 media j whilst from 1629 to 1716 no new edition was 
 issued. Such a state of things is happily of the past. 
 From 1806 to 1868, two hundred and thirty-eight editions 
 besides several commentaries have been published. 
 
 The cause of this indifference in the past is not hard to 
 understand Italians, who delighted in Petrarch's amatory 
 sonnets, in soft arcadian measures, and jejune pastoral 
 idylls, could care but little for the manly and thoughtful 
 verse of one whom posterity has rightly named "the 
 philosopher of poets and the poet of philosophers." Nor 
 was the literary taste in France, Germany, and England 
 of a higher stamp. Voltaire, who was regarded as the 
 supreme critic of his time, termed Shakespeare " a drunken 
 
 ^ E. Witte, Dante- Forschungcn, 1869, p. 10. See also Bibliographia 
 Dantesca, compiled by Viscount Colomb de Batines, Florence, 1847 ; 
 and Ferrazzi, ManutUe Dantesco, Bassano, 1 865-7 L 
 
48 THE IDEA OF THE ''COMMEDIAr 
 
 savage;" and his opinion of Dante was scarcely more 
 favourable. He sees in the Divina Commedia " a bizarre 
 work, sparkling indeed with natural beauties, but in which 
 the author only occasionally rises above the bad taste of 
 his time and of his subject." ^ Even Lamartine only saw 
 in Dante ^^un poete personnel et local." 2 Among Germans, 
 Bouterweck is conspicuous in his adverse criticism of the 
 poem.^ 
 
 On the other hand, the judgment pronounced on the 
 Divina Commedia by Huber does not exceed the just meed 
 of praise. " There is no single poem," he says, " in the 
 whole range of human compositions which for importance 
 of subject, elevation of thought, earnestness of conviction, 
 or corresponding perfection of execution, can bear com- 
 parison with Dante's great epic." With his eye fixed on 
 the spiritual side of creation, Dante shows us the age in 
 which he lived, in the light of divine grace and justice, and 
 in so doing holds up the mirror for all time; and thus 
 viewed, nothing stands by itself. What seems most indi- 
 vidual and transitory finds its counterpart, with wondrous 
 harmony, in the universal and eternal. The former i^ 
 indeed but the type of the latter, and the most sublime 
 ideas are brought before us in living forms, clothed in 
 plastic fulness. In no mere shadowy outlines does Dante 
 trace for us the other world. His Hell does not fade into 
 Homer's chimerean mists, nor does his Paradiso dissolve 
 into Klopstock's " veil woven of rays of primeval light ; " 
 but hell and heaven stand before us in outlines solid, bold, 
 and incisive. 
 
 Here a second point should be considered. The earliest 
 poetry of other modern nations was often of a purely 
 
 ^ Essai sur les Mceurs. 
 
 ^ Le Sikde, Dec. 10, 1857. Chateaubriand also calls the Commedia 
 "una production bizarre " {Gdnie du Christianisme, ii. 2). 
 
 ^ F. Bouterweck, Gesckichte der Poesie und Beredmmkeit sdt dem 
 Ende des 13. Jahrhunderts, Gottingen, 1801, vol. i. p. 95. 
 
DANTE'S CATHOLIC TRAINING. 49 
 
 secular character, and not unfrequently distinctly irre- 
 ligious.^ Italian poetry, on the contrary, was from the 
 first thoroughly Christian. St. Francis of Assisi's Can- 
 tide of the Sun^ struck the first note of poetry in the 
 mother tongue, and was the prelude to the Comniedia. 
 Other poets, like Klopstock and Milton, have chosen Chris- 
 tian themes ; but, apart from the fact that they wrote much 
 less, of the Christian idea as a complete system which 
 governs and sanctifies every sphere of human action, they 
 had no notion. They knew nothing — and this is most im- 
 portant — of positive dogma, as promulgated by the Church 
 and accepted by the consciences of the faithful. Its de- 
 scription was, therefore, utterly beyond them. Dante, onL 
 the contrary, is the poet of the Christian and Catholic con- 
 ception of the universe. Catholic dogma is the divine light 
 which inspired his mighty genius and illuminated the 
 three kingdoms of Hell, Purgatory and Paradise. 
 
 Now Catholic dogma, which was at first conveyed in the 
 form of popular instruction, and deposited, often only in 
 the germ, in Scripture and tradition, had been for more 
 than a thousand years before Dante's time the study of 
 the Fathers and teachers of the Church, from Athanasius 
 and Augustine dowi\ to the poet's contemporaries, St. 
 Thomas Aquinas, St. Bonaventure, Hugo, and Richard of 
 St. Victor. All that Greece and the West possessed of 
 intellectual acumen and depth of thought, had been em- 
 
 ^ [Four of the first disciples of St. Francis were renowned as sacred 
 poets. Pacificus, known in the world as the poet-king, was converted 
 by St. Francis, and sanctified his art by setting to more exact rhythm 
 the improvised canticles of the Saint. St. Bonaventure, the Seraphic 
 Doctor, composed many hymns and paraphrased the Psalms in honour 
 of Our Lady. Brother Giaconini of Verona was the author of two 
 poems on Hell and Purgatory, which Dante may have read ; and B. 
 Jacopone of Todi wrote the Stabat Mater Dolorosa, the Stabat Mater 
 Gloriosa, and many poems in Italian, As a penitent, poet and mystic, 
 he Was one of the most remarkable men of his age.] 
 
 2 Cantico de le Creature communente detto de lo Frate Sole is the 
 title. 
 
50 THE IDEA OF THE " COMMEDIA." 
 
 ployed in its investigation, confirmation, and development. 
 This was due to the innate desire of making revealed 
 dogmas more intelligible to the minds of men, the obliga- 
 tion, at times, of defending the faith against the assaults 
 of heresy, and the need of finding adequate terms for 
 the expression of divine mysteries. Thus, one by one, the 
 stones were chiselled with which was raised, under the 
 Church's guiding hand, the structure of Catholic theology, 
 every part of which is firmly knit together, and built up 
 into an organic and spiritual edifice. Viewed merely in 
 its outward aspect, the theology of the Church stands like 
 some grand cathedral, marvellous in the harmony of the 
 whole, in the perfect proportion of its parts, and in the 
 loving care evinced in the smallest details. 
 
 Dante, then, wrote as a theologian, as a " poetic Thomas 
 Aquinas ; " and we find that he makes that Saint introduce 
 him into the circle of the twelve great doctors, who shine 
 in the sun's firmament, and declare their place and signi- 
 ficance in the science of theology : 
 
 " Thou fain would'st hear, what plants are these, that bloom 
 In the bright garland, which admiring, girds 
 This fair Dame round, who strengthens thee for heaven. 
 I, then, was of the lambs that Dominic 
 Leads, for his saintly flock, along the way 
 Where well they thrive, not swoln with vanity. 
 He, nearest on my right hand, brother was 
 And master to me ; Albert of Cologne 
 Is this, and of Aquinum, Thomas I. 
 If thou of all the rest would'st be assured, 
 Let thine eye, waiting on the words I speak, 
 In circuit journey round the blessed wreath." 
 
 —Par. X. 88. 
 
 Now the theology of St. Thomas ^ represented the result 
 of the labours of past ages, and into its service all human 
 and natural science had been pressed. The divine origin, 
 mutual relation and special scope of the various sciences 
 
 1 S. i. q. 2, a. 2. 
 
THEOLOGY AND THE SCIENCES. 51 
 
 are described by St. Bonaventure, another of Dante's 
 teachers, in the following well-known passage : — 
 
 " From God, the Primal Light, all illumination in a fourfold 
 ray descends. There are the lower, the outer, the inner and the 
 higher lights. The loiver light of sense, knowledge, Uluminates 
 us as to the natural form of corporeal objects, through our per- 
 ceptions of sense, that is, through the lower side of our nature. 
 The outer light of mechanical art, which illuminates us in respect 
 to artificial forms, includes all productions and manufactures for 
 man's bodUy needs and comfort, and is thus distinguished from 
 the inner hght of philosophy, which Uluminates man's soul within 
 with regard to intelligible truth. Truth is threefold : ( i .) Truth 
 of language, or rational truth, expresses the conceptions of the 
 mind, which is the function of grammar, or moves to beUef, 
 which is that of logic, or incites to love and hatred, which is the 
 function of rhetoric. (2.) Truth of things, or natural truth, deals 
 physically, with their generation and corruption in the order of 
 nature ; mathematically, with their abstract forms as our intellect 
 conceives them ; metaphysically, with the primal ideas of all things 
 as they exist in the mind of God, from whom they first proceed. 
 (3.) The truth of morals refers to the whole range of duties, to the 
 individual, or to those of the family, or of the state. The fourth 
 or higher light illmninates in respect to those truths which dis- 
 pose to salvation (salutaris). It leads to higher objects by 
 manifesting those things which are above reason, and is found, not 
 by human search, but by inspiration from the Father of Lights. 
 All Holy Scripture has a triple sense : the first teaches us what 
 we are to believe — the eternal generation and incarnation of 
 Christ ; the second teaches morals and gives us a rule to live by ; 
 the third shows us the end of both — the union of the soul with 
 God. Doctors should toil diligently for the first, preachers for 
 the second, contemplatives for the third." 
 
 St. Bonaventure then shows the analogy of these six dif- 
 ferent classes of knowledge with the six days of creation : 
 
 " Six in number are the illuminations in this life, and they 
 fade at eventide, because all knowledge shall be destroyed, and to 
 them succeeds the seventh day, the day of rest, the illumina- 
 tion of glory which never sets." ^ 
 
 ^ Be Ecductione Artium ad Theologiam. 
 
.\S2 THE IDEA OF THE ''COMMEDIA." 
 
 According to the Schoolmen, then, all things earthly, 
 every expression of human knowledge and art, are rays of 
 light from God, the eternal truth and love. This is the 
 foundation of Christian philosophy, and this forms the 
 central idea of the Commedia : 
 
 " That which dies not, 
 And that which can die, are but each the beam 
 Of that idea which our Sovereign Sire 
 Engendereth, loving ; for that lively light 
 Which passeth from His splendour, not disjoin'd 
 From Him, nor from His love triune, with them, 
 Doth, through His bounty, congregate itself, 
 Mirror'd as 'twere in new existences, 
 Itself unutterable, and ever one. 
 Descending thence unto the lowest powers,' 
 Its energy so sinks, at last it makes 
 But brief contingencies ; for so I name 
 Things generated, which the heavenly orbs, 
 Moving, with seed or without seed, produce. 
 Their wax, and that which moulds it, dijffer mach : 
 And thence with lustre, more or less, it shows. 
 The ideal stamp imprest." — Par. xiii. 51. 
 
 Thus Beatrice instructs the poet that 
 
 " Among themselves aU things 
 Have order, and from hence the form which makes 
 The universe resemble God." — Par. i. 100. 
 
 ^ "There is some first Being who is essentially ens and bonum, and 
 this first Being we call God. All other things can be said to have 
 being and good in so far as they partake of them from tJiis first Being 
 by a kind of similarity, though in a very remote and imperfect manner." 
 — S. i. q. 6, a. 4. " The divine essence can be known, not only as it is in 
 itself, but also as it is in creatures, according to the different degrees in 
 which they share its likeness. Now as the species of each creature is 
 determined by its degree of resemblance to the divine essence, so God, 
 in knowing the exact manner in which His essence is imitable in the 
 creature, knows also its proper nature, and has the idea of each 
 creature present before Him." — S. i. q. 15, a. i. "All creatures in this 
 visible world lead the soul of the wise and contemplative man to the 
 eternal God, inasmuch as they are the signs, the images, the show of 
 that art which is at once the efficacious cause, the one exemplar, and the 
 ordainer of all things." — S. Bonav. Itinera)'. Mentis ad Deum, cap. 2. 
 
GOD AND CREATURES. $2 
 
 To the spiritual soul, therefore, the order of this world 
 is but a mirror of the Divine image : 
 
 " In this the higher creatures see the printed steps 
 Of that eternal worth, which is the end 
 Whither the line is drawn." ^ — Par. i. 102. 
 
 And for that hereafter every creature yearns; "all 
 things transitory are but a type of the unending ; " there 
 all destinies end ; the final decision is fixed, the veil drops. 
 Thither, where alone is true life, all life gravitates : 
 
 " All natures lean 
 In this their order, diversely, some more, 
 Some less approaching to their primal source. 
 Thus they to different havens are moved on 
 Through the vast sea of being, and each one 
 With instinct given, that bears it in its course. 
 
 Nor only creatures, void of intellect, 
 Are aim'd at by this bow, but even those, 
 That have intelligence and love are pierced. 
 
 And thither now, as to our seat 
 Predestined, we are carried by the force 
 Of that strong cord, that never loses dart 
 But at fair aim and glad."^ — Par. i. 105. 
 
 ^ " Recognising, then, the Creator by means of those things which are 
 created (Rom. i. 20), we ought also to imderstand the existence of a 
 Trinity, of which every creature, as far as it is worthy to do so, bears 
 the impress. For in this Trinity is the first origin of all things, per- 
 fect beauty, and blessed joy." — S. Avg. de Trin. lib. vi. " In all creatures 
 is found impressed a likeness to the Trinity, in the sense that we find 
 in every creature things which necessarily lead us to the Divine 
 Persons as their cause. For every creature subsists in its individual 
 being [esse), has a form which determines its species, and has relations 
 to something else." — S. i. q. 45, a, 7. 
 
 - " God, Whom everything loves that is capable of loving, whether it 
 has intelligence or not." — S. Aug. Soliloq. i. i. St, Thomas's argument is 
 that all things have a stronger natural inclination for that from which 
 they proceed, or of which they form part, than for themselves. Thus 
 the hand spontaneously meets a blow to preserve the body. And as 
 
54 THE IDEA OF THE ^^COMMEDIA." 
 
 Man is impelled to attain to the sight of God by the 
 thirst for knowledge which is implanted in his soul, 
 and is the source even of his doubts. This desire is un- 
 quenchable, and urges him on step by step, till he gains 
 the Eternal Truth : 
 
 " Well I discern, that by that truth alone 
 Enlighten'd, beyond which no truth may roam, 
 Our mind can satisfy her thirst to know ; 
 Therein she resteth, e'en as in his lair 
 The wild beast, soon as she hath reach'd that bound. 
 And she hath power to reach it ; else desire 
 Were given to no end. And thence doth doubt 
 Spring, like a shoot, around the stock of truth ; 
 And it is natiu-e which, from height to height, 
 On to the sumimit prompts us." ^ — Par. iv. 1 1 9. 
 
 As the desire for truth is part of our nature, so also is 
 the craving for happiness. But since our knowledge is at 
 first imperfect and the soul without experience and in- 
 struction, things of little worth appear to her great, and 
 are the primary objects of her desires. Dante describes 
 in words at once thoughtful and pathetic, and yet philo- 
 sophically exact, the development of the will in man : 
 
 reason imitates nature, a brave citizen exposes himself to death to save 
 the state. He continues : " Since God Himself is the Universal Good, 
 and under this good are contained the angels, man, and every creature, 
 for every creature derives its nature from Him, it follows that naturally 
 angels and man love God with a love prior to and greater than that they 
 bear themselves." — S. i, q. 60, a. 5. " To love God above all things is 
 in a certain way natural to man, and also to every creature, not only 
 rational, but irrational, and even inanimate, according to the kind of 
 love of which the creature is capable." — S. i. 2. q. 109, a. 3. 
 
 ^ From this desire of knowing the truth, Dante, with St. Thomas, 
 deduces the possibility of knowing God, and even of seeing Him, 
 though the latter can only be accomplished by the help of grace. 
 "Man desires by nature to know the cause of the effects which he 
 perceives, and it is this desire which begets wonder. If, then, the 
 created intellect were unable to arrive at the First Cause of all things, 
 a desire implanted by nature would remain for ever unsatisfied." — S. i. q, 
 12, a. I. " The created intellect is enabled to see God, the divine essence, 
 as He is, by a gift, not of nature, but of grace." — S. i. q. 12, a. 4. 
 
THEIR BEGINNING AND END, 55 
 
 " Forth from His plastic hand, who charm'd beholds 
 Her image ere she yet exist, the soul 
 Comes like a babe, that wantons sportively, 
 "Weeping and laughing in its wayward moods, 
 As artless and as ignorant of aught 
 Save that her Maker, being One who dwells 
 With gladness ever, willingly she turns 
 To whate'er yields her joy. Of some sHght good 
 The flavour ^ soon she tastes, and, snared by that, 
 With fondness she pursues it, if no guide 
 Recall, no rein direct her wandering course." 
 
 — Furg. xvi. 86. 
 
 Whatever seems desirable in creatures is so only because 
 of their likeness to God, the Exemplar and the Source of all 
 good. On earth the just apprehend Him as the Supreme 
 Good by reason and faith, but the blessed in Paradise im^ 
 mediately, for they behold unveiled the holiness and per- 
 fection of the divine nature : 
 
 . ..." In this palace is the weal, 
 That Alpha and Omega is, to all 
 The lessons love can read me. 
 
 Philosophy .... hath arguments, 
 And this place hath authority enough. 
 To imprint in me such love : for of constraint, 
 Good, inasmuch as we perceive the good. 
 Kindles our love ; and in degree the more 
 As it comprises more of goodness in't. 
 The essence then, where such advantage is. 
 That each good, found without it, is nought else 
 But of His light the beam, must needs attract 
 The soul of each one, loving, who the truth 
 Discerns, on which this proof is built." ^ 
 
 — Far. xxvi. 19. 
 
 ^ Convito, iv. 12. 
 
 2 " Everything that exists can be said to be good with a divine good- 
 ness, inasmuch as it proceeds from God, Who is the primal Exemplar, 
 the efficient and the final Cause of all goodness, and in this sense good- 
 ness in all things is one." — S. i. q. 6, a. 4. 
 
56 THE IDEA OF THE ''COMMEDIA:' 
 
 Thus when Eternal Truth, the Supreme Goodness, the 
 Divine Beauty are disclosed to the poet, his strains cease : 
 
 " At this point, o'erpower'd, I fail ; 
 Unequal to my theme, as never bard 
 Of buskin or of sock hath fail'd before. 
 
 Not from that day, when on this earth I first 
 Beheld her charms, up to that view of them. 
 Have I with song applausive ever ceased 
 To f oUow ; but now follow them no more ; 
 My course here boimded, as each artist's is, 
 When it doth touch the limit of his skill." ^ 
 
 — Par. XXX. 22. 
 
 Dante has undertaken to glorify, as none had before, the 
 mystery of the Godhead. He knows the strange and 
 arduous nature of his task, and exclaims, as he is about to 
 enter Paradise : 
 
 " All ye,, who in small bark have following sail'd, 
 Eager to listen, on the adventurous track 
 Of my proud keel, that singing cuts her way, 
 Backward return with speed, and your own shores 
 Revisit, nor put out to open sea, 
 
 ^ St. Augustine defines the happiness of Heaven to consist in the 
 vision, love, and enjoyment of God, corresponding to the three 
 theological virtues of faith, hope, and charity. The reason for this 
 triple division is thus given by St. Thomas : — " Delectatio results from 
 the repose which the appetite finds in a good possessed ; and since 
 beatitude is nothing else than the possession of the sovereign good, 
 it cannot exist without delight accompanies it." — S. i. 2. q. 2, a. i. 
 " Delectatio consists in a certain repose of the will, and it is the goodness 
 alone of the object which can cause the will therein to find its rest." 
 — Ibid. a. 2. " The perfect knowledge of the end corresponds to the 
 imperfect knowledge (of faith), the presence of the end to the habit of 
 hope ; but the delight in this presence results from love, as has been 
 shown. . . . Hence the three essential constituents of beatitude are 
 visio, which is the perfect knowledge of our intelligible end ; compre- 
 hensio, which implies the presence of that end ; delectatio or fruition, 
 from which the repose of the loving soul in the object loved." — Ibid. 
 a. 3. 
 
THE POEM NECESSARILY OBSCURE. 57 
 
 Where losing me, perchance ye may remain, 
 Bewilder'd in deep maze. The way I pass, 
 Ne'er yet was run." — Par. ii. i. 
 
 Those only, he warns ns, may venture to follow him, 
 who have early renounced the fleeting life of the senses and 
 consecrated themselves to the contemplation of heavenly 
 things : 
 
 " Ye other few, who have outstretch'd the neck, 
 Timely for food of angels, on which here 
 They hve, yet never laiow satiety ; 
 Through the deep brine ye fearless may put out 
 Your vessel ; marking well the furrow broad 
 Before you ia the wave, that on both sides 
 Equal returns." — Far. ii. 1 1 . 
 
 In these words Dante signifies the transcendent char- 
 acter of his work and its future destiny. A poem whose 
 purpose is to solve the problems of the universe can only 
 be understood after patient study. The eternal truths it 
 contains are set forth in scholastic terms or in the language 
 of Catholic mysticism, whilst the subject itself and its 
 mode oltreatment alike present to most readers almost 
 insuperable difficulties. Dante, as his epitaph says, was a 
 theologian, a master in dogmatic lore — " Theologus Dantes, 
 nuUius dogmatis expers." Many persons, after reading a 
 few stanzas, come across passages which are either obscure 
 or distasteful to modern refinement, and, losing patience, 
 throw the book aside. Others are deterred from its per- 
 usal by the fact that the Commedia requires a greater 
 intellectual effort than the current literature, the " belles 
 lettres of the day;" whilst others, again, attracted by the 
 grandeur of its conception, the magic charm of its lan- 
 guage, and its noble sentiments, have either interpreted 
 its obscure passages in a rationalistic or unsound mystical 
 sense, or have seen in it only an exposition of their own 
 political views. If such a student of Dante as Frederic 
 
58 THE IDEA OF THE ''COMMEDIA:' 
 
 Schlosser admits that he had read the Divina Commedia 
 twelve times and could not grasp its meaning, allowance 
 may easily be made for the various erroneous judgments 
 passed upon the poem. The " vision " shares the fate of all 
 masterpieces of art, whose beauties are hidden from the 
 superficial observer, whilst to the earnest student they 
 disclose ever new and unexpected perfections. " What 
 treasures must not that poem possess," observes Witte, 
 "whose strains fascinated alike the youthful Schelling 
 at twenty- eight and the aged Schlosser at eighty-four!" 
 It is not alone the passing gratification of the fancy, but 
 the pure and sublime sentiments it evolves, which captivate 
 ever more and more those who know it well. The best 
 side of a man's inner life is stirred, the intellect is nourished 
 by lofty thoughts, and, thus awakened to higher things, he 
 finds that deep peace which religion combined with true 
 philosophy can alone bestow. 
 
 The form of the poem is that of a vision, or rather a 
 series of visions, vouchsafed to the poet in the threefold 
 realms of the other world, and which he is to announce to 
 his fellow-men : 
 
 " Conscience, dimm'd or by its own 
 Or others' shame, wiU feel thy sajdng sharp. 
 Thou, notwithstanding, all deceit removed, 
 See the whole vision be made manifest." 
 
 — Par. xvii. 120. 
 
 Records of similar visions were by no means rare in 
 Dante's age. Among them we may mention, in Germany, 
 those of St. Mechtildis, sister of St. Gertrude, a contem- 
 porary of the poet, a.d. 1310 ; of St. Hildegarde, a.d. 1197 ; 
 of St. Elizabeth of Schonau, a.d. 1162 ; in Sweden, those 
 of St. Bridget, A.D. 137 1 ; in Italy, the vision of the Bene- 
 dictine monk Alberic of Monte Cassino, in the twelfth 
 century; in France, St. Paul's Descent into Hell, an 
 unedited poem of the eleventh century ; in Ireland, St. 
 
SIMILAR VISIONS. 59 
 
 Patrick^s Purgatory,^ and the Voyage of St. Brendan, of 
 which there is a later version of the eleventh century. 
 Of an earlier date are those related by St. Boniface, a.d. 
 755; by Venerable Bede,^ a.d. 735, and by St. Gregory 
 the Great in the fourth book of his Dialogues. Most of 
 these preceded the Divina Commedia. The Church, by her 
 ritual, kept before the eyes of her children symbolical and 
 mystical representations of the other world, and impressed 
 them on their minds as living realities by the sculptures 
 and paintings which were found everywhere, from the 
 
 ^ St. Patrick's Purgatory is the name given to a cave on an island of 
 Lough Derg, co. Donegal, which cave, tradition said, had been declared 
 by the Saint to be an entrance into the other world. In 1 1 53 the 
 Knight Owen, who had led a wild life in King Stephen's army, 
 obtained leave to revisit his country, and passed a day and night in 
 penance in St. Patrick's Cave. A poem of that century describes how 
 during his confinement the knight passed through Hell, Purgatory and 
 Heaven, and what befell him in each place. By the beginning of the 
 thirteenth century St. Patrick's Purgatory had become famous through- 
 out Europe. It was introduced into an Italian roniance, Guerrino 
 detto il Merchino, attributed to a Florentine, Andrea Patria, of the 
 fourteenth century, and was dramatised by Calderon in the seventeenth. 
 In the Patent Rolls of the Tower of London of the year 1 358 are 
 testimonials given by Edward III. to two nobles, an Hungarian and 
 a Lombard, of their having faithfully performed the pilgrimage, and of 
 their having passed a day and a night in the cave. In 13 17, Raymond, 
 Viscount of Perilhos, Knight of Rhodes, and Chamberlain to the 
 King of France, with twenty men and thirty horses, obtained a safe- 
 conduct from Richard II. to visit the cave, and on his return wrote a 
 narrative of what he had seen. His experiences are similar to those 
 of Sir Owen. See Wright's St. PatHcFs Purgatory, a book of consider- 
 able research, but disfigured by the virulent and ignorant bigotry it 
 displays. 
 
 2 The Vision of St. Fursey, a.d. 635 (Bede, lib. iil ch. 19). Born of 
 a royal Irish family, he became a monk and a missionary. In a sick- 
 ness he seemed to die and to be carried by angels through Hell to 
 Paradise. He lived twelve years after this vision, and bore upon his 
 shoulder and cheek the scar left by the burning touch of a lost soul. 
 ''The Vision of Cuningham" (lib. v. ch. 12). He was the head of a 
 family of Northumbria, and was miraculously restored to life the 
 morning after his death. He too seemed to have passed through Hell, 
 l^urgatory and Heaven. In consequence of the vision, he gave two- 
 thirds of his fortune to his wife and children, and bestowed the third 
 on tl>e monastery of Melrose, near which he led a life of silence and 
 penance till his death. 
 
66 THE IDEA OF THE '^ COMMEDIAJ' 
 
 cathedral to the wayside shrine. So, again, the favourite 
 subjects of dramatic art were scenes from the world to 
 come. According to Yillani, at a great representation of 
 this kind in Florence in 1304, the bridge over the Arno 
 broke down beneath the weight of the assembled crowd, 
 and many lives were lost. Dante's treatment of this pre- 
 existing matter gives striking proof of his originality. He 
 recognised the dominant ideas of his time, and was himself 
 under their influence ; nor, except by their means, could he 
 hope to move his fellow-men. But the subject-matter thus 
 selected for him by the popular taste of the day was dis- 
 solved, purified and refined in the crucible of his genius, 
 until, as with a sculptor's skill, out of the rude clay he 
 moulded a masterpiece of art, at once the product and the 
 mirror of his age, yet in the fullest sense his own creation. 
 In like manner the Greeks of old saw not only their own 
 past, but Homer himself reflected in his works. 
 
 Dante styles his poem simply a Comedy. The title of 
 Divine was added by posterity, because it treats principally 
 of God and the divine judgment. The dedication of the 
 Paradiso to Can Grande of Yerona, where Dante himself 
 explains the intention and meaning of his poem, begins 
 thus * " Incipit Comoedia Dantis Allagherii, Morentini 
 natione non moribus." He then proceeds to state the reason 
 for this title. " In order to understand this, you must know 
 that comedy is derived from xw,a?j, that is, village, and 
 u)b7i, a song; thus it signifies a pastoral song. Now 
 comedy is a certain kind of poetic narrative differing from 
 all others. As regards its matter, it is distinguished from 
 tragedy, which in the commencement begets admiration 
 and tranquillity, but in the conclusion shame and remorse 
 (hence its name of r^dyog, that is, goat; for, in a certain 
 sense, it is a goat's song, and unclean as such), as may be 
 seen in the tragedies of Seneca. Comedy, on the contrary, 
 begins sadly and ends happily, as we see in the comedies 
 
COMPREHENSIVENESS OF THE POEM. 6i 
 
 of Terence. So also there is a wide difference between the 
 language of tragedy and that of comedy ; one is noble and 
 elevated, the other simple and homely, as Horace has it in 
 his poetry. Hence it is plain why the present work is 
 called a ' comedy,' for the beginning is dreadful and repul- 
 sive, as its subject, which is Hell, but the end, which treats 
 of Paradise, is prosperous, desirable and pleasant, and the 
 style employed is simple and homely, being in the vulgar 
 tongue, which even women understand." 
 
 The Gommedia forms a trilogy, consisting of three poems 
 (canzoni) Hell, Purgatory and Heaven, each of which 
 contains again a series of cantos (canti)^ Dante's reasons 
 for the title which he gave to his poem are scarcely satis- 
 factory to our present modes of thought and speech. Some 
 of the older and more pedantic commentators, such as 
 Gozzi, would have called it the Danteid, in imitation of the 
 ^neid and the Odyssey. Undoubtedly the Divina Corn- 
 media possesses some characteristics of an epic poem, as 
 it is primarily a representation of Dante's own fortunes, in 
 which the great religious, moral and political interests of 
 mankind are portrayed, whilst it embraces both heaven 
 and earth in its ever -varying scenes. Yet it is not, strictly 
 speaking, an epic, since the poet appears not merely as a 
 narrator, but as an actor and spectator. He interrupts 
 and enlivens the flow of his narrative by the dramatic 
 movement of his personages; nor, as Schelling observes, 
 have the subjects represented any natural sequence. Still 
 less is it a drama in the proper sense, for its action has 
 no definite limits, and the connecting chain, which is the 
 narrative of Dante's individual history, is inadmissible 
 in such a form of composition. It is not a didactic 
 
 1 " And now the verse proceeds to torments new, 
 Fit argument of this the twentieth strain 
 Of the first song, whose awful theme records 
 The spirits whelm'd in woe." — Hdl, xx. i. 
 
62 THE IDEA OF THE ''COMMEDIA:' 
 
 poem, although the chief aim of the author was to in- 
 struct : 
 
 " And, to the mortal world when thou retum'st, 
 Be this reported." — Par. xxi. 86. 
 
 " So that, having view'd 
 The glories of our court, thou may'st therewith 
 Thyself, and all who hear, invigorate 
 With hope, that leads to blissful end." — Par. xxv. 45. 
 
 " Yet beseech thee, point 
 The cause out to me, that myself may see, 
 And unto others show it." — Purg. xvi. 61. 
 
 For the end of his teaching is kept in the background, 
 so that the poem apparently exists simply for itself. " It 
 is, therefore, none of these various kinds of poetry, either 
 singly or combined ; i-ather it has an original and organic 
 individuality, unlike every other. Nor is any arbitrary 
 blending together of these diverse poetic elements admis- 
 sible. " ^ The Divina Commedia is, in truth, the poetic ency- 
 clopaedia of Western civilisation. It is not the epic of one 
 hero or of one nation, but of humanity — of the lost and 
 the redeemed, of Babylon as well as of the heavenly 
 Jerusalem. The external design combines boldness of 
 invention and symmetry of detail with numerical mysti- 
 cism. Each of the three kingdoms has three times three, 
 that is, nine gradations. The three principal divisions of 
 the poem each contain thirty-three cantos, besides the 
 introductory canto ; thus the complete number is one hun- 
 dred, that is, ten times ten.^ 
 
 In regard to the choice of a metre for his verse, Dante 
 starts from the principle that poetry is inseparable from 
 song. Poetry is only " an oratorical poem set to music." 
 Each stanza is adapted to receive a certain tone. With 
 
 ^ Schelling. Hildchrand, Etudes Italiennes, Paris, 1868. 
 2 The number ten signifies completeness. 
 
ITS METRICAL FORM. 63 
 
 him verse is not poetry unless wedded to song. In Ger- 
 many, also, during the Middle Ages, ballads were never 
 intended to be merely recited ; verse and tune were bound 
 together, and this alone constituted a ballad. When a 
 poet brought out a ballad, he gave it its form by adapting 
 it to a melody, either original or borrowed from an older 
 song. Thus the melody materially influenced the com- 
 position of the poem." The metre chosen by Dante was the 
 triple rhyme, terzina or terza rima. It consists, in the 
 first place, of eleven-syllabled iambics, " which, on account 
 of the length of their periods and their compass, he pre- 
 ferred for the sense, connection and words." These 
 iambics are formed into strophes, stanze, of three lines 
 (terze rime), triplets linked together continuously by the 
 central line, which always rhymes with the first and third 
 lines of the following stanza. The chain thus formed is 
 terminated at the end of each canto by a verse (ritornello), 
 rhyming with the middle line, being added to the last 
 ferzina of the canto. The euphony of this form of verse, 
 linked together by the double rhyme in Italian, is unattain- 
 able by any translation. The scheme is this — 
 
 I. Terzine. II. Terzine. III. Terzine. Last Terzine. Ritomello. 
 a h c y z 
 
 bed z 
 
 a h c y 
 
 Let us now return again from the outward form of the 
 poem to its inward sense. Many modem writers have 
 blindly ignored the fact, that Dante was a man of very 
 definite convictions in religion, science and politics, and 
 that to understand his poem you must go back to his time. 
 Hence, as De Witte observes, " they have forced into the 
 precious texture of the poem the most discordant features 
 of modern thought." As to its real sense, Dante's own 
 words to Can Grande are sufficiently explicit. He says, 
 
64 THE IDEA OF THE ''COMMEDIA." 
 
 "To understand its contents, it is to be noted that this 
 work has not only one single meaning, but many meanings 
 (polysensuw)} For the first meaning is that of the letter; 
 another is that of things signified by the letter. The first 
 of these is called the literal sense ; the second, the allego- 
 rical or moral. An example of this mode of treating a 
 subject may be found in those words of the hundred and 
 third Psalm, " In exitu Israel de-^gypto." By the letter, 
 only the going out of the children of Israel from Egypt in 
 the time of Moses is described j the allegory represents our 
 redemption through Christ. The moral sense signifies the 
 conversion of the soul from the mourning and the misery 
 of sin to the state of grace; and the anagogic sense 
 typifies the passing of the holy soul from the bondage of 
 this corruption to the liberty of everlasting glory. And 
 these mystical meanings, though called by different names, 
 may all be termed allegorical, as distinguished from the 
 literal or historic sense. 
 
 Hence it is plain that the subject must be twofold, 
 corresponding to the twofold meaning. And we must 
 consider the subject of this work, first, as it is to be under- 
 stood literally, then, as it is to be taken allegorically. 
 Among the Fathers and commentators this distinction of a 
 fourfold meaning is common. Dante uses the well-known 
 verse of the Schoolmen in his explanation of the " In exitu 
 Israel : " 
 
 " Litera gesta docet, qu?e credas allegoria 
 Morales, quid agas, quid spares, anagogia." 
 
 According to St. Augustine, in expounding Holy Scrip- 
 ture, we must distinguish between what is defined as 
 
 ^ Ep. ad Can Grande, 6, 7. This letter, perhaps not authentic in its 
 present form, represents unquestionably Dante's sentiments. ConvitOf 
 tr. 2, c. I ; Dante, p. 99, third letter to Can Grande. 
 
KEY TO THE POEM. 65 
 
 eternal truth or related as history, predicted as tuture 
 or ordained as moral law. Dante includes the threefold 
 deeper meaning of his narrative under the generic name 
 " mystic or allegorical sense," and on this principle explains 
 his poem. " The subject, then, taken in its literal sense, is 
 the state of souls after death, on which the whole work 
 turns. But considered allegorically, the subject is man, 
 and the rewards or punishments he meets with from divine 
 justice, according as by his own free acts he deserves well 
 or ill. The literal sense, therefore, is merely the form, 
 in which he embodies the supreme ideas of God's govern- 
 ment, the purpose of the world and of man, and the aims 
 of Church and State. Thus Cacciaguida bids the despond- 
 ing poet take courage, boldly to announce the truth : 
 
 " What though, when tasted first, thy voice shall prove 
 Unwelcome ; on digestion, it will turn 
 To vital nourishment. The cry thou raisest, 
 Shall, as the wind doth, smite the proudest sunmiits, 
 Which is of honour no Hght argument. 
 For this, there only have been shown to thee, 
 Throughout these orbs, the mountain and the deep, 
 Spirits, whom fame hath note of. For the mind 
 Of him, who hears, is loth to acquiesce 
 And fix its faith, miless the instance brought 
 Be palpable, and proof apparent urge." — Par. xvii. 125. 
 
 In all masterpieces of nature and art, the leading idea of 
 the whole work is, by constant repetition, impressed upon the 
 mind. Thus the two opening cantos of the Inferno furnish 
 ns with a key to the poem, and should be first studied. 
 
 Having reached the "middle way of life," the poet finds 
 himself in a wild and gloomy wood, without knowing how 
 he came there : 
 
 " How first I enter'd it I scarce can say. 
 Such sleepy dulness in that instant weigh'd 
 My senses down, when the true path I left." 
 
 — Hell, i. 10. 
 £ 
 
66 THE IDEA OF THE '' COMMEDIA.'' 
 
 After anxious wanderings, lie arrives at the foot of a 
 mountain, whose summit is illumined by the sun. Cheered 
 by the sight, he begins the ascent ; when a panther with 
 spotted coat appears in the path, so that he hesitates to 
 advance. Yet, encouraged by the " matin dawn " and the 
 " sweet spring season," he hopes to escape the beast with 
 its gaily spotted skin.^ But a new terror seizes him as in 
 view a lion comes, followed by " a she- wolf," who in her 
 leanness seemed 
 
 " Full of all wants 
 
 She with such fear 
 
 O'erwhelmed me, at the sight of her appall'd, 
 That of the height all hope I lost." — Hell, i. 47. 
 
 As, step by step, he is driven back into the gloomy wood, 
 he is met by one who calls to him, but whether he be 
 *' spirit or living man " he knows not. The figure declares 
 itself to be Yirgil, and asks Dante wherefore he returns to 
 so great misery, instead of ascending " the pleasant mount," 
 cause and source of all delight. The poet reverently ad- 
 dresses Yirgil as his master and patron, from whom he 
 derived that style which for its beauty had exalted him 
 *' into fame," and prays him to deliver him from this dread- 
 ful beast, the she-wolf. Yirgil replies : 
 
 " Thou must needs 
 Another way pursue, if thou would'st 'scape 
 From out that savage wilderness. This beast 
 At whom thou criest, her way will suffer none 
 To pass, and no less hindrance makes than death ; 
 So bad and so accursed in her kind, 
 That never sated is her ravenous will, 
 Still after food more craving than before. 
 To many an animal in wedlock vile 
 She fastens, and shall yet to many more, 
 
 ^ " Di CLuella fera la gaietta pelle." — Inferno, i. 42. 
 
HESITATION AND DECISION, ^-f 
 
 Until that greyhound come, who shall destroy 
 Her with sharp pain. He will not life support 
 By earth nor its base metals, but by love, 
 Wisdom, and virtue ; and his land shall be 
 The land 'twixt either Feltro. In his might 
 Shall safety to Italia's plains arise. 
 
 He, with incessant chase, through every town 
 ShaU worry, until he to HeU at length 
 Restore her, thence by Envy first let loose." 
 
 —Hell, i. 88. 
 
 Virgil offers himself as Dante's guide through " eternal 
 space," through Hell and Purgatory, although a "spirit 
 worthier than himself," Beatrice, will appear to lead the 
 pilgrim into Paradise. Dante accepts his offer and foUows 
 the poet : 
 
 " Onward he moved, I close his steps pursued." 
 
 — Hell, i. 132. 
 
 But Dante soon feels that his decision was rash. He has 
 received no mission from on high, nor is he worthy to 
 descend, like ^neas, into the lower world, or to be " rapt 
 into Paradise " like St. Paul. The former was sent to the 
 shades to learn and to predict the future of Borne, as the 
 seat of the Empire and the Papacy : 
 
 " Both which, if truth be spoken, were ordain'd 
 And stablish'd for the holy place, where sits 
 Who to great Peter's sacred chair succeeds." 
 
 — Kellj ii. 24. 
 
 The latter, St. Paul, was ordained, by what he saw, 
 
 " To bring us back assurance in that faith 
 Which is the entrance to salvation's way." 
 
 — Hdl, ii. 31. 
 
 Yirgil then informs Dante that he had been sent hj 
 Beatrice, who told him that St. Jjucy had come to her 
 
68 . THE IDEA OF THE ''COMMEDIA:' 
 
 from the " Blessed Lady," who was moved to pity Dante's 
 case. The assurance that three ladies so highly blest 
 care and plan for him in the court of Heaven, inspires the 
 poet with fresh courage : 
 
 " As florets by the frosty air of night 
 Bent down and closed, when day has blanch'd their leaves. 
 Rise all unfolded on their spiry stems, 
 So was my fainting vigour new restored." — Hell, ii. 127. 
 
 Thus encouraged, Dante follows his guide, his lord, and 
 master, along the "deep and woody way." 
 
( 69 ) 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 SYMBOLISM AND CHARACTERISTICS OP THE " COMMEDIA." 
 
 And now let us examine the allegory in detail, and first 
 the dates chosen. 
 
 With the words of the Prophet in his mind, " I said, 
 in the midst of my days, I shall go to the gates of hell " 
 (Isai. xxxviii. lo), Dante descends to the lower regions 
 in his thirty-fifth year, which is to him, " the midway of 
 life."^ The pilgrimage which follows occupies ten days. 
 On the night of Holy Thursday, March 24-25, 1301, he 
 enters the " gloomy wood ; " on the morning of Good 
 Friday, March 25, the day of the Incarnation, he stands 
 before the sunlit " mount of delight ; " on the evening of 
 Good Friday he enters Hell with Yirgil ; on the evening of 
 Holy Saturday they reach the Giudecca, its lowest circle. 
 At half-past one o'clock on Easter morning, they stand 
 before the entrance of the great cavern which leads to the 
 other hemisphere ; on Easter Monday, an hour and a half 
 before daybreak, on the opposite side of Hell, at the foot of 
 the Mount of Purgatory, they again see the stars. From 
 Monday to Friday in Easter Week, Dante passes through 
 
 ^ "For this reason," he says, "our Lord died in His thirty-fifth 
 year, because it did not become the Divinity to suffer decay." — Conv. 
 iv. 23. So also St. Thomas : " Until we all meet . . . unto a perfect 
 man, unto the measure of the age of the fulness of Christ" (Ephes. 
 iv. 13). *' Christ rose at the prime of life, which begins about the age 
 of thirty, as Augustine says, Civ. Dei, xxii. 15." — S. iii. Supp. 71, a. i. 
 [JEtas juvenilis, "prime of life," extended with the Romans from 
 twenty to forty years of life, and was the period at which they were 
 considered fit for military service.] 
 
70 SYMBOLISM AND CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 Purgatory ; on the Friday and Saturday he traverses the 
 seven heavens ; and on Sunday, Low Sunday, he ascends 
 to the empyrean. 
 
 Thus, of the whole ten days, four nights and three days 
 are spent in Hell, four days and three nights in Purgatory, 
 and three days and three nights in Heaven. From his 
 entrance into Purgatory till his final admission to the 
 Beatific Vision, seven days elapse, the mystical meaning of 
 which number is " rest in God." ^ 
 
 Now March 25, the Feast of the Annunciation, was 
 in that year, according to Florentine computation, both 
 Good Friday and New Year's Day 1301, the season at 
 which God completed His work of creation, and of the 
 full moon, when day and night were equal. On this day 
 then, Dante, the representative of the human race, had 
 wandered from the straight way, and the New Year is to 
 herald in his new birth. The wood is the intellectual, 
 moral and political ruin of mankind, the state of revolt 
 from God.2 Conscious of his error, Dante seeks to arise 
 and to ascend the Mount of Beatitude,^ which is illuminated 
 by the rays of the rising sun; but the three dominant 
 
 ^ " In six days are these works said to have been perfected, because by 
 the number six, the perfection of the works was signified. But on the 
 seventh day the rest of God is set forth, and thus its consecration is 
 announced. So that God did not sanctify this da}' by His works, but 
 by His rest, which has no evening, for it is not a creation." — De Civ. 
 Dei, xi. 30, 31. Cf. Hugo of St. Victor, Allegor. in Genesis, i. 9. 
 
 ^ Convito, iv. 24. 
 
 3 " The first desire of everything, and the first implanted by Nature, is 
 to return to its beginning. Now, as God is the Maker and the Beginning 
 of our souls, which are like to Himself, according to the words, ' Let us 
 make man in our own image and likeness,' the soul desires, above all 
 things, to return to Him ; and, as a pilgrim, the first time he journeys 
 on a road, thinks each house he sees in the distance the inn where he 
 is to rest, and, on finding his mistake, hopes again in the next, and so 
 on from house to house, till at last the inn is reached ; so our soul, on 
 entering the new and untravelled way of life, looks indeed to the 
 highest good as to its goal, but mistakes each thing which bears any 
 semblance of good for its final aim ; . . . the smallest good appears to it 
 %{> be great, and attracts at first its desire. Thus we see children fix their 
 
BIBLICAL SYMBOLISM. 71 
 
 passions, lust, pride and avarice, bar the way. He is 
 about to conquer the panther of sensuality, when the lion 
 of pride comes upon him, followed by the most dangerous 
 of beasts, the she-wolf of avarice. 
 
 The threefold root of sin, as defined by the Apostle, is 
 represented under the figure of the three beasts. ^ A de- 
 finite animal symbolism is employed by the Holy Scrip- 
 tures in both the Old and New Testament, and was further 
 developed in the early Church. Novatian says that the 
 Mosaic law, by its classification of clean and unclean animals, 
 made them a mirror of human virtues and vices.^ In 
 Jeremias, the three beasts chosen by Dante appear together : 
 " Wherefore a lion out of the wood hath slain them, a wolf 
 in the evening hath spoiled them, a leopard watcheth for 
 their cities; every one that shall go out thence shall be 
 taken" (Jer. v. 6). "When fierce by nature, a man is a 
 lion," says St. Chrysostom ; ^ "when rapacious, a wolf." 
 St. Peter (i. v. 8) describes Satan as a roaring lion, and 
 in the writings of St. Augustine and St. Anselm especially, 
 we find the lion representing the enemy of God and of 
 justice, the evil one, the tempter;* and as Satan sinned 
 
 hearts, first on an apple, then, as they grow, on a little bird, and 
 then on smart clothes, then on a horse, then on a wife, and then on 
 wealth ; at first in moderation, and then more, and yet more. The 
 beginning of all desire, and, as it were, its last point, is God. . . . But 
 we can lose our way to Him, as we can lose our road on earth ; for as 
 to a city, there can be but one best and straightest way, and one way 
 only which leads us always farther from it, and other ways are only 
 more or less divergent, so is it in human life. There are diverse ways, 
 of which one is most true, and one most false, and other ways are more 
 or less true, or jnore or less false. And as he who goes straightest to 
 the city attains his desire and finds rest after his labours, so he who 
 journeys in the contrary direction never finds what he seeks, and is 
 never at rest." — Convito, iv. 12. 
 
 ^ Convito, iv. 24. "The concupiscence of the flesh, and the con- 
 cupiscence of the eyes, and the pride of life." — I St. John ii. 16. 
 
 ^ De Cibis Judaicis, c. iii. 7. 
 
 3 In Lazar. vi. 5 ; In Orat. Domin. iv. 3. 
 
 * Enarrat. in Ps. ix. 27, xxi. 14 ; Enarrat. ii. in Ps. xxi, 22, in Ps. 
 Ixxxviii. Serm. ii. 7. 
 
72 SYMBOLISM AND CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 through pride, so the lion is the type of that spiritual pride 
 which separates man from God. The wolf is used as the 
 symbol of avarice and cunning by the prophets Ezechiel 
 and Sophonias,^ and by our blessed Lord Himself. Swine ^ 
 and dogs are selected as the images of lust, both by 
 Holy Scripture and by the early Fathers ; for whilst in the 
 West the dog represents fidelity, in the East, both among 
 Jews and Greeks, he typifies all uncleanness.^ Dante finds 
 in the same three dominant passions the origin of all the 
 party strife in Italy. He tells us that 
 
 " Avarice, envy, pride, 
 Three fatal sparks, have set the hearts of all 
 On fire." — Hell, vi. 74. 
 
 Avarice, typified by the wolf, is let loose from Hell by 
 Envy, to desolate the world.* 
 
 " He with incessant chase, through every town 
 Shall worry, until he to Hell at length 
 Restore her, thence by Envy first let loose." 
 
 — Hellf i. 106. 
 
 Already in the Gonvito Dante had described the insidious 
 nature of temptations to avarice, and the pernicious effect 
 of their sin. "Those things," he says, "which do not at 
 first sight show their defects, are the more dangerous, for 
 it is often impossible to guard against them. They are like 
 a traitor, who puts on the face of a friend, and under the 
 mask of friendship hides his impious hate. Hence the 
 increase of riches is dangerously deceptive, for they indeed 
 
 ^ Ezech. xxii. 27 ; Sophon. iii. 3 ; Acts of Apostles xx. 29 ; St. Matt, 
 vii. 15. 
 
 2 St, Matt. vii. 6, viii. 31 ; Ep. Barnab. p. 20. 
 
 ^ Isai. Ivi. II. Aug., De Serm. Domin. in Monte, ii. 69. "Both 
 animals, the dog and the pig, are unclean." In Boethius, De ConsoL 
 iv. 273, the image of the wolf and swine is also employed. 
 
 * "But by the envy of the devil, death came into the world" 
 (Wisd. ii. 24), i.e., the envy of Eve. 
 
THE THREE BEASTS. y^ 
 
 show us what they promise, but give the reverse. ... In 
 place of rest and refreshment, they give a racking, feverish 
 and intolerable thirst ; in place of content, new aims and 
 increase of desires, and, moreover, great anxiety and fear 
 of losing what is already gained. . . . What but this new 
 heaping up of goods daily endangers, nay, destroys cities, 
 countries, individuals ? The first purpose of both laws, the 
 civil and ecclesiastical, I mean, is to prevent this covetous- 
 ness, which increases as riches are amassed " (iv. 12). 
 
 In Italy, therefore, as throughout the world, this vice of 
 avarice is the chief cause of human misery. " This all- 
 infecting malady," 
 
 " Accurst be thou, 
 Inveterate wolf ! whose gorge ingluts more prey 
 Than every beast beside, yet is not fill'd, 
 So bottomless thy maw." — Furg. xx. 10. 
 
 In the creed of Zoroaster, the wolf is the symbol of 
 ^schino, the evil spirit. So also in German mythology, 
 Fenrir the wolf is the son of Loki, Wodan's foe. Accord- 
 ing to St. Thomas,^ envy brings seven leading vices in its 
 train ; hence Dante says of the she-wolf : 
 
 " To many an animal in wedlock vile 
 She fastens." — Hell, i. 96. 
 
 With regard to the third beast, the type of lust, the 
 dog could not be employed as its symbol, since the grey- 
 hound was chosen as the figure of the deliverer,^ who was 
 
 1 S. ii. 2. q. 118, a. 8. 
 
 2 This hero was foretold under the figure of a greyhound, Veltro. 
 He was to be born between Feltro and Montefeltro in Romagna, 
 and to drive back the she-wolf into Hell. Dante, with a play on 
 the name, may have meant his friend Can Grande, Prince of Verona, 
 who would save Italy, then distracted by the Emperor's absence. 
 Cf. Far. xvii. 78. Dante also calls the followers of Orsini, in allusion 
 to the name Orso, orsatti, little bears. Others understand it to reffT 
 to Uguccione della Faggiuola or to some great Emperor. According 
 to Bohmer, we have here a reference to the hound in the ballad of 
 Koland, who attacks his master's assailants. 
 
74 SYMBOLISM AND CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 to drive back the she-wolf to Hell. The poetic action fur- 
 ther required the choice of the panther, rather than of the 
 swine, since the latter could not be supposed to arrest the 
 poet's steps : 
 
 "A panther strove 
 
 To check my onward going ofttimes, 
 
 With purpose to retrace my steps, I turn'd." 
 
 — Hell, i. 30. 
 
 It is probable, also, that the " gay coat " of the panther 
 signij&ed the sensuous attractions of unchastity. The 
 choice was doubtless suggested by Apoc. xiii. 2, where the 
 beast upon which the unclean Babylon is seated has the 
 form of a leopard or panther. 
 
 Dante ascribes his deliverance from the wild and gloomy 
 wood, "the valley of suffering," to a noble and blessed 
 Lady, who suggested and aided his pilgrimage to eternal 
 light. This is none other than "Mary, the mother of 
 God," the impersonation of divine mercy, which graciously 
 presents itself to the wandering sinner, and bids him 
 repent. Her name is not mentioned, for neither hers nor 
 that of her Divine Son are pronounced in Hell, but of Mary 
 alone can the poet sing : 
 
 " In high heaven a blessed Dame 
 Kesides, who mourns with such effectual grief 
 That hindrance, which I send thee to remove, 
 That God's stem judgment to her will inclines." 
 
 — Hell, ii. 93. 
 
 In the circle of the blessed, her place is nearest to God ; 
 " most like her Divine Son in glory " {Par. xxxii. 85), she 
 is inundated with infinite bliss. St. Bernard invokes her 
 intercession, that the poet may attain to the vision of the 
 divine majesty, since to her prayers the Eternal Father 
 grants the graces of faith and penitence. 
 
 Thus, at the opening of the Divina Commedia, the Blessed 
 
THE THREE LADIES. 75 
 
 Virgin appears as the Mediatrix who obtains for the poet the 
 first grace of repentance ; and at its close, it is through her 
 he gains the final grace, that of the Beatific Vision. Here 
 Dante enunciates the fundamental principle of Catholic 
 faith, that without preventing grace, man can neither turn 
 to God, nor desire or will any supernatural work, nor attain 
 the sight of God in Heaven.^ The "noble and gracious 
 Lady " turns to Lucia : — 
 
 " Her she thus bespake : 
 Now doth thy faithful servant need thy aid, 
 And I commend him to thee." — Hell, ii. 97. 
 
 Here again we have a real historical personage before us, 
 the glorious virgin-martyr of Syracuse, venerated alike in 
 the Catholic Liturgy and in the poet's fatherland. Dante 
 is called the faithful servant of St. Lucia, on account of 
 his special devotion to her. According to some early com- 
 mentators, he had recourse to her when suffering from his 
 eyes, and has here dedicated a graceful ex voto to his 
 patroness. 2 St. Lucia symbolises, as her name implies, 
 supernatural light, the grace of illumination, which must 
 precede every meritorious act of the wiU.^ She is the " foe 
 of all cruelty," being the handmaid, not of justice, but of 
 
 ^ Cone. Trid. sess. vi, can. 3 ; S. i. 2. q. 109, a. i. "Every move- 
 ment is referred back to the first simple mover, who is God." 
 
 2 [The legend runs, that the Saint was molested by a youth who 
 professed to be in love with her on account of the beauty of her eyes. 
 To save her purity, she plucked them out and sent them on a golden 
 dish to the youth, who was converted by this act of self-sacrifice. The 
 Blessed Virgin, by her intercession, restored the Saint's eyesight. This 
 story is not mentioned in her Acts, quoted by St. Aldhelm, which are 
 earlier than the seventh century (v. Butler, Dec. 13), nor by any early 
 ■WT-iters of St. Lucy's Life. The same story is related of a virgin of 
 Alexandria, in Rosweide ( Vitce Patrum, lib. x. cap. 60), and of Blessed 
 Lucia Francesi la Casta in the Diaino Domeninicano, Dec. 3.] 
 
 ' God moves the soul of man in turning it to Himself, and there- 
 fore a movement of the mind is required ; but the first act by which 
 man turns to God is faithi S. i. 2. q. 113, a. 5. 
 
76 SYMBOLISM AND CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 *' preventing grace," whose behest she obeys. She therefore 
 bears away the poet in his sleep to the gate of Purgatory, 
 where he is to expiate his past errors. Although the 
 initial movement of grace — " gratia operans " — ^precedes 
 human effort, in order to complete the work of sanctifi- 
 cation, man's co-operation is needed. This is obtained by 
 co-operating grace, typified in Beatrice.^ Lucia therefore 
 hastens to Beatrice's throne in Paradise and thus addresses 
 her: 
 
 " Thou true praise of God, 
 Beatrice ! why is not thy succour lent 
 To him, who so much loved thee, as to leave 
 For thy sake aU the multitude admires ? " 
 
 — Hell, ii. 103. 
 
 Her name, Beatrice, expresses that beatitude which is our 
 ultimate end; her person and .action typify the twofold 
 means by which that end is to be attained — the super- 
 natural knowledge of God, enlightening the understanding, 
 and grace, the supernatural strength of the will. There- 
 fore Dante designates her as, " she who led me unto God." 
 {Par. xviii. 4.) Her throne in heaven is next to that of 
 Bachel, the type of contemplative life absorbed in God. 
 It is Beatrice who solves the poet's doubts. Her beauteous 
 eyes survey all, and shine more brightly as, one by one, 
 she unfolds each new mystery, and her pupil and herself 
 draw nearer to the Divine presence. Through her, Dante 
 soars above all earthly things, first here by faith, and at 
 last in Heaven by the perfect knowledge of God : 
 
 1 " Man cannot prepare himself for grace, save by the gratuitous aid 
 of God interiorly moving him." — S. i. 2. q. 109, a. 6. " In that effect 
 (of grace) in which our mind does not move itself, but is moved by God, 
 and He is the sole mover, the operation is attributed to Him, and the 
 grace is therefore called operating — gratia operans. Habitual grace, in 
 as far as it heals and justifies the soul and makes it pleasing to God, is 
 called operating grace, but as the principle of meritorious act, it is 
 called co-operating grace." — S. i. 2. q. iii. a. 2. 
 
THE MISSION OF VIRGIL. 77 
 
 " There will be seen 
 That, which we hold through faith, not shown by proof. 
 But in itself intelligibly plain." — Far. ii. 43. 
 
 The second part of Faust ends in the same way. Faust 
 having died without faith, is mercifully pardoned through 
 Mary, at the prayer of Margaret, the beloved of his 
 youth, because he had striven ; and the Chorus Mysticus 
 sings : ^ 
 
 '^ All things transitory 
 
 But as symbols are sent ; 
 
 Earth's insufficiency 
 
 Here grows to event ; 
 
 The indescribable, 
 
 Here it is done ; 
 
 The woman soul leadeth us 
 
 Upward and on." — Bayard Taylor^s trans. 
 
 The last verse is very inferior to Dante's grand words, 
 " I'amor che muove il sole e I'altre stelle : " 
 
 " By the love impell'd, 
 That moves the sun in heaven and all the stars." 
 
 — Far. xxxiii. 135. 
 
 It is Beatrice who sends Yirgil, for grace presupposes 
 nature, and theology natural science. ^ Theology indeed, 
 and especially the theology of the blessed, which reposes 
 on the vision of God, far transcends all merely human 
 knowledge ; but reason and science subserve the purposes 
 
 ^ [We need scarcely point out the falseness of Goethe's doctrine of the 
 salvation of one who dies impenitent and without faith, nor his utter 
 ignorance of the Christian doctrine of repentance.] 
 
 2 " If this sacred science borrows anything from the philosophical 
 sciences, it does so to better illustrate its teaching. It uses them, 
 not because of any defect or insufficiency of its own, but because of 
 the defect of our understanding, which is easily led, by the know- 
 ledge it has through reason attained of the other sciences, to those 
 things which are above reason, and which are taught in this science." 
 — S. i q. I, a. 5. 
 
7S SYMBOLISM AND CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 of eternal truth and prepare the way for it.^ Therefore 
 Beatrice descends to Hell, and asks Virgil to conduct her 
 beloved as far as he can penetrate, when she herself will 
 undertake his guidance : 
 
 " A dame, so blest 
 Arid lovely I besought her to command, 
 Call'd me ; her eyes were brighter than the star 
 Of day, and she, with gentle voice and soft, 
 Angehcally tuned, her speech address'd : 
 O courteous shade of Mantua ! thou whose fame 
 Yet lives, and shall live long as nature lasts ! 
 A friend, not of my fortune, but myself, 
 On the wide desert in his road has met 
 Hindrance so great, that he through fear has tuni'd. 
 
 Speed now. 
 And by thy eloquent persuasive tongue, 
 And by all means for his deliverance meet, 
 Assist him. So to me will comfort spring." 
 
 ^Hell, ii. 54. 
 
 Virgil hastens to meet the erring poet, and encourages 
 him to undertake his escape from the savage wood ; for 
 the light of reason can see clearly the loathsomeness of sin, 
 the punishment due, and the consequent need of penance.'-^ 
 Along this way Virgil conducts Dante, solving by argu- 
 ments from reason his doubts and difficulties, until he 
 resigns his client to Beatrice, at the entrance of the earthly 
 Paradise. 
 
 ^ "For philosopLy consists in the love, study, and friendship of 
 wisdom ; not indeed of that which regards the knowledge of certain 
 special arts and manufactures, but that wisdom which, wanting nothing, 
 is the living mind, and sole primal reason of all things. But this love 
 of wisdom in the intelligent soul is an illumination and a certain 
 attraction and c-all from that pure wisdom, so that the study of wisdom 
 seems to be the study of the divinity, and its friendship with the 
 pure soul." — Boethius, In Porphyr. Dialog, i. 
 
 ^ Cf. Plato's Gorgias. — " There are some judgments of God, to which 
 the human reason bv its own path can arrive." — l)e Monarch, ii. 8. 
 
THE LIMITS OF REASON. 79 
 
 Here Virgil takes leave of him : 
 
 " And thus he spake : Both lh*es, my son, 
 The temporal and eternal, thou hast seen ; 
 And art arrived, where of itself my ken 
 No further reaches. I, with skill and art, 
 Thus far have drawn thee. Now thy pleasure take 
 For guide. Thou hast o'ercome the steeper way, 
 O'ercome the straiter. 
 
 Expect no more 
 Sanction of warning voice or sign from me, 
 Free of thy own arbitrement to chuse, 
 Discreet, judicious. To distrust thy sense 
 Were henceforth error. I invest thee then 
 With crown and mitre, sovereign o'er thyself." 
 
 — Purg. xxvii. 126. 
 
 With Dante's entrance into the earthly Paradise begins 
 a higher supernatural state of being, wherein Virgil, by 
 the teaching of speculative and practical reason, is altogether 
 unable to distinguish aright ; for, as Dante says, with 
 the schoolmen, all knowledge is based upon accurate dis- 
 tinction.^ The poet now requires Virgil's guidance no 
 longer, as his will is healed from the wound of concupi- 
 scence which inclined it to evil, and is upright. He 
 finds himself in that state which theologians term " status 
 iategritatis ; " that is, he is drawn by nature itself to what 
 is good, and has only to follow its teaching. ^ 
 
 As Virgil's mission was, by philosophy and earthly 
 science in general, to serve as a guide to a higher know- 
 
 1 " By the intellect comparing and distinguishing." — Thorn, i. Peri- 
 herm. lect. 3. " The most beautiful bough that springs from the root 
 of reason is that of distinction " (discrezione). — Convito, iv. 8. 
 
 2 " In a state of integral nature [natura integra) as regards his powers 
 of action, man could will and do naturally the good proportioned to his 
 nature, such as that of acquired virtue, but not what exceeds these 
 faculties, such as the good of virtue infused." — S. i. 2. q. 1 10, a. 2. 
 Cf. q. 109, a. 3 ; q. 63, a. I. 
 
8o SYMBOLISM AND CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 ledge and to the possession of eternal truth, Dante styles 
 him "Thou who every art and science valuest" (Hell, 
 iv. 69), " The gentle sage who knew all " (Hell. vii. 3), 
 "The sea of all intelligence" (Hell, viii. 6), who will guide 
 his client " Far as his lore avail " (Purg. xxi. 33.). Thus 
 Virgil says : 
 
 " What reason here discovers, I have power 
 To show thee ; that which lies beyond, expect 
 From Beatrice, faith, not reason's task." 
 
 — Purg. xviii. 44. 
 
 Reason directs each individual man to faith, and through 
 faith to sight. Reason and faith would bring us to our 
 true end, but our passions lead us astray, and man needs 
 the guidance of two divinely ordained authorities — the 
 Emperor and the Pope ; the former for his temporal wel- 
 fare, the latter for his eternal salvation.^ Virgil was chosen 
 as the type of reason leading to faith, for all Christian 
 antiquity saw in him a prophet of Christ. In his fourth 
 Eclogue, the yearnings of his age for a Redeemer are 
 expressed in almost scriptural terms : 
 
 *' The last great age, foretold by sacred rhymes, 
 Renews its finished course : Satumian times 
 Roll round again, and mighty years, begun 
 From their first orb, in radiant circles run ; 
 The base degenerate iron ofispring ends, 
 A golden progeny from Heaven descends. 
 
 The father banished virtue shall restore, 
 
 And crimes shall threat the guilty world no more. 
 
 The goats with strutting dugs shall homeward speed, 
 And lowing herds secure from Hons feed ; 
 His cradle shall with rising flowers be crowned. 
 The serpent's brood shall die ; the sacred ground 
 
 ^ Pe Monarch, iii, 16. 
 
PROPHECY OF VIRGIL. 8i 
 
 Shall weeds and poisonous plants refuse to bear 
 Each common bush shall Syrian roses wear. 
 
 The Fates, when they this happy web have spun, 
 Shall bless the sacred clue and bid it smoothly run. 
 Mature in years, to ready honours move. 
 O of celestial seed ! O foster son of Jove ! 
 See labouring Nature caUs thee to sustain 
 The nodding frame of heaven, and earth, and main ; 
 See to their base restored, earth, seas, and air. 
 And joyful ages, from behind, in crowding ranks appear." 
 
 — Eclog. iv. 5-63. 
 
 As Virgil then represents those noble heathen, who re- 
 cognised the need of a divine revelation and longed for the 
 blessings of Christianity, the poet Statius thus addresses 
 him: 
 
 " Thou didst, as one 
 Who, joumejdng through the darkness, bears a light 
 Behind, that profits not himself, but makes 
 His followers wise, when thou exclaimed'st, ' Lo, 
 A renovated world, justice returned. 
 Times of primeval innocence restored. 
 And a new race descended from above.' 
 Poet and Christian both to thee I owed." ^ 
 
 — Purg. xxii. 67. 
 
 Secondly, Yirgil is the poet of the Roman Empire, which 
 was designed by God to lead men to temporal happiness by 
 the precepts of reason, as the Papacy was to guide them to 
 eternal bliss by the teaching of faith. ^ The ^neid did 
 not merely make his reputation as a poet, but was the 
 expression of his belief in the purpose of Divine Pro- 
 
 ■^ It is most probable that the prophecy of a Redeemer related by 
 Josephus, Bell. Jiid. vii. 31, by Tacitus, Hist v. 13, by Suetonius, 
 Vesp. c. 4, and by Dio Cassius, Ixvi., impelled Virgil to write this 
 eclogue, only with this difference, that he looks for the Redeemer to 
 come, not from the East, but from Rome itself. Cf. Isaias vii., ix. 
 
 2 JleU, I 74-85 ; ii. 15-30. 
 
 F 
 
82 SYMBOLISM AND CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 vidence that the Roman Empire, by its greatness and 
 universal dominion,^ should restore peace to the world. ^ As 
 the jurisdiction of the Empire was over things temporal, 
 not eternal, its purpose could be attained by the precepts 
 of reason. In other words, this universal monarchy, thus 
 divinely ordained, was a human institution in the sphere 
 of natural advantages and powers. But as reason and free- 
 will, by and for which the Empire was founded, are God's 
 gifts to man, therefore it proceeded from Him, and was 
 destined to be developed into a world-wide dominion. 
 
 Virgil was also chosen by the poet as the representative 
 of philosophy and reason, both in the sphere of science and 
 of moral and civil life, for he had described, as none other 
 had, the torments of the guilty souls in Tartarus and 
 borne witness to the need of penance. Thus he becomes 
 Dante's guide through the lower world. 
 
 " These are the realms of unrelenting fate, 
 And awful Rhadamanthus rules the state ; 
 He hears and judges each committed crime, 
 Inquires into the manner, place, and time ; 
 The conscious wretch must all his acts reveal 
 (Loth to confess, unable to conceal), 
 From the first moment of his vital breath 
 To his last hour of unrepenting death. 
 
 You see before the gate what stalking ghost 
 
 Commands the guard, what sentries keep the post ; 
 
 More formidable Hydra stands within, 
 
 Whose jaws with iron teeth severely grin ; 
 
 The gaping guK low to the centre lies, 
 
 And twice as deep as earth is distant from the skies. 
 
 The rivals of the gods, the Titan race, 
 
 Here, singed with lightning roll, within the unfathomed 
 
 1 Be 3fonarch. ii. 3, 4, 7. 
 2 " Saturnian kingdoms." — Ibid. i. 2. 
 
HEATHEN BELIEF IN HELL. 83 
 
 Here lie the Aloean twins (I saw them both), 
 Enormous bodies of gigantic growth, 
 Wlio dared in fight the Thunderer to defy, 
 Afiect his heaven, and force him from the sky ; 
 Salmoneus suffering cruel pains I found 
 For emulatiog Jove, the rattling sound 
 Of mimic thunder and the glittering blaze 
 Of pointed lightnings and their forky rays. 
 
 There Tityus was to see, who took his birth 
 
 From Heaven, his nursing from the f oodf ul earth ; 
 
 Here his gigantic limbs, with large embrace, 
 
 Enfold nine acres of infernal space ; 
 
 A ravenous vulture in his opened side 
 
 Her crooked beak and cruel talons tried, 
 
 Still for the growing liver digged his breast, 
 
 The growing liver still suppHed the feast. 
 
 Ixion and Pirithous I could name, 
 
 And more Thessalian chiefs of mighty fame ; 
 
 High o'er their heads a mouldering rock is placed, 
 
 That promises a fall and shakes at every blast. 
 
 They lie below, on golden beds displayed, 
 
 And genial feasts with regal pomp are made ; 
 
 The Queen of Furies by their sides is set. 
 
 And snatches from their mouths the untasted meat. 
 
 Which, if they touch, her hissing snakes she rears. 
 
 Tossing her torch and thundering in their ears. 
 
 Then they who brother's better claim disown, 
 
 Expel their parents and usurp the throne. 
 
 Defraud their clients, and, to lucre sold. 
 
 Sit brooding on unprofitable gold, 
 
 Who dare not give, and e'en refuse to lend 
 
 To their poor kindred or a wanting friend, 
 
 Vast is the throng of these." — j^n. vi. 566. 
 
 The explanation of the poem, which we have given, is the 
 tradition of filve hundred years. Man, in the person of 
 Dante, is its subject. He is hindered by sin from advancing 
 in the path of virtue, until Divine Wisdom, Beatrice, having 
 taken Reason, Virgil, into her service, goes forth to rescue 
 
84 SYMBOLISM AND CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 him. Deeply moved by the terrible penalties of Hell and 
 its lessons of the hideousness of sin, Dante is purified by 
 contrition and penance, and at length conducted by Beatrice 
 into the joys of Paradise. 
 
 Yery similar to this interpretation, although differing 
 in one essential point, is that of the worthy Nestor of 
 German commentators on Dante, Witte,^ with whom Hugo 
 Delf,2 Wegele,^ and others agree. According to Witte, 
 the Vita Nuova, the Conviio, and the Divina Commedia 
 form a trilogy which expresses Dante's spiritual develop- 
 ment. The Vita Nuova, in which he extols the gracious 
 Beatrice, and in her the pure love of God, is the record 
 of childlike piety unclouded by doubt. In the Convito, 
 the poet honours philosophy as his sympathising " Donna 
 Gentile," who seeks to console him for the loss of Beatrice. 
 But her radiant eyes shed no guiding light, for a divine 
 revelation from God can alone guide him to his goal. 
 Bound by pride and self-love to this fleeting life, without 
 faith, hope, or love, alienated from the Christian religion, 
 and a prey to evil passions, he is driven back by savage 
 beasts from the heights illumined by the sun of truth. At 
 last awakened by grace, he sees the sinfulness of his pre- 
 sumptuous questionings, and repents of having harboured 
 the pride of philosophy. The old faith, the old love for 
 Beatrice are reawakened, and the day on which the Saviour 
 redeemed mankind is likewise the day of his redemption. 
 Thus, according to Witte, also, the idea of the poem is both 
 religious and moral, but with this difference, that in Dante's 
 philosophical bent he sees the cause of his transgression. 
 And on this point, though correct as to the design in 
 
 ^ Page 54, et passim. 
 
 2 Jahrbuch der Dante Gescllschaft, iii. 59. 
 
 ^ This author has, however, changed his opinion in the second edition 
 of his work on Dante (Jena, 1865, p. 93). See on the other side, Ruth, 
 Stildien iiber Dante, 1853, p. 230, and especially Klaczko, Revue Contcm- 
 2Jorainc, 1 854, No. xvi. 
 
ERRONEOUS INTERPRETATIONS. 85 
 
 general, Witte is in error. His ignorance of the inner life 
 of the Catholic Church, as the joint product of earth and 
 Heaven, and of its ordered development from Adam down- 
 wards, prevents his understanding aright the Divina Corn- 
 media in relation to philosophy. ^ For, in fact, Dante's love 
 for philosophy,^ the " Donna Gentile " of the Convito, who 
 there consoles him, is essentially the same as his love for 
 theology, the "Donna Gentilissima " of the Divina Corn- 
 media, whose eyes shine more brightly as she brings her 
 beloved nearer to the throne of Grod. Beatrice indeed 
 declares that natural science is as far from the wisdom of 
 faith, as earth from Heaven. Yet they are not opposed ; 
 both find their proper place in the teaching of theologians : 
 
 " Behold your art, from the divine 
 As distant, as the disagreement is 
 
 'Twixt earth and Heaven's most high and rapturous orb." 
 
 — Purg. xxxiii. d>j. 
 
 The historical and political interpretations constitute a 
 second class, which includes many later Italian and Ger- 
 man commentatoi's, commencing with Dionisi towards the 
 end of the last century. Since 1820, the conflicting poli- 
 tical parties in Italy have borrowed the poetical mani- 
 festoes of their principles from Dante's pages.^ According 
 to these critics, the subject of his poem is the victory of 
 the Empire over the partisans of the Guelfs and of the 
 Popes, and, as its result, radical reform in legislation, 
 government, and all civil institutions. According to 
 Fraticelli, the wood, in which Dante strayed, signifies 
 either his political undertakings, or, according to Marchetti, 
 
 ^ Schiindelen, Theologie und PhilosopJiie hei Dante, Bonn Litei'atur- 
 blatt, 1869, No. 25. 
 
 11. I 
 
 ^ Particularly Rosetti, Dello Spirito Antipapale della Div. Com.y 
 London, 1852. Witte calls this book " brilliant nonsense," Vecchioni, 
 Delia JntelUgenza della Div. Com. Napoli, 1832. E. Aroux, Dante 
 lleretique, Eevolutionaire et Socialiste, 1854. 
 
86 SYMBOLISM AND CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 his exile, which was their consequence. The latter author 
 sees in the panther, Florence ; in the lion, France ; in the 
 she-wolf, the Guelf party with the Pope at its head. Ros- 
 setti derives Guelf from wolf. This interpretation con- 
 tradicts itself. For how could the Guelf be said to have 
 come into the world " through the envy of the devil " ? 
 Besides, Dante accuses equally both Ghibellines and Guelfs 
 of injustice, and by no means does he condemn all Guelfs 
 {Hell, xvi. 15) ; so that " 'tis hard to see who most offend " 
 (Par. vi. 106). Dante is only a Ghibelline, in so far as he 
 wishes to see the Empire sufficientlv prosperous to restore 
 peace; but he also sets limits to its authority, both by 
 proclaiming the independence of individual states, and by 
 insisting on the profound reverence due from the Empire 
 to the Pope. He censures Ezzelino the Ghibelline; he 
 commends Malaspina the Guelf. The ferocious champions 
 of Frederic's party and the advocates of Louis of Bavaria 
 alike regarded Dante as a priest-ridden slave. But through- 
 out his whole life he was far above all party factions. He 
 places Ghibellines in Hell and Guelfs in Heaven, and in 
 his own exile fled for refuge to Guido da Polenta, a lead- 
 ing Guelf. Had the Commedia been written by some 
 fanatic partisan of the Ghibellines to serve their ends, 
 it would have been despised by contemporaries and long 
 since forgotten. 
 
 Nor should we forget that for centuries the older 
 commentators, as we before observed, knew of no such 
 meaning. How then could the purpose of the poet have 
 been so completely hidden from all with whom he lived, 
 and in whose mother-tongue he wrote ? Surely those who 
 were thus familiar with him and his times are his safest 
 critics ! 
 
 The two interpretations, that is, the moral and religious, 
 or the historical and political meaning, are both well- 
 grounded ; neither excludes, but each illustrates the other. 
 
THE TRUE MEANING. 87 
 
 Dante himself declares that the purpose of his great poem 
 was to point out man's way to temporal and eternal hap- 
 piness. Reason and free-will, by overcoming his lower de- 
 sires, lead man to temporal happiness, and gradually raise 
 him to a state of moral freedom, through the exercise of 
 the natural virtues of prudence, justice, temperance, and 
 fortitude. Faith alone, which prepares the way for the 
 supernatural virtues of hope and love, enables man to 
 attain his final end, the vision of God. Yet as man does 
 not live alone, nor for himself only, but in society,^ and 
 thus only can attain his end, the inquiry naturally sug- 
 gests itself, what form of government is designed by God 
 in the order both of the natural and supernatural life? 
 Politics, therefore, hold an essential place in the scheme 
 of the Commedia. Moreover, man being corrupted by ori- 
 ginal sin,2 is incapable by himself of attaining this twofold 
 end. Now in the universal monarchy developed in the 
 Roman Emperor, Dante recognises the most perfect form 
 of civil life ; for it holds the lower desires in check by 
 spur and bridle, administers justice, leads man to his 
 earthly goal, and prepares the way for his supernatural 
 happiness. To this higher life, which belongs to man as 
 a citizen of a supernatural kingdom, he is guided by the 
 Pope, the Yicar of Christ and successor of St. Peter, 
 the head of the Church and of Christendom. As both 
 Church and State are ordained by God to guide man to 
 his twofold end, errors in either must be a grave evil, and 
 lead him astray from the straight path. Thus questions 
 of philosophy and morals, of civil and ecclesiastical govern- 
 ment, all find a place in Dante's poem. 
 
 Next, as to the poetical merit of the Commedia. The 
 grandeur of Dante's vision lies in its perfect harmony. 
 
 1 De Monarch, i. 3. 
 
 2 " The fall of our first parents was the turning-point at which all 
 our going astray began." — De Monarch, i 16. 
 
88 SYMBOLISM AND CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 The heavens contain many spheres, each of which has its 
 separate existence, its definite laws, forms, and powers. 
 Yet the higher and the lower are in no way opposed, but 
 depend on and influence each other, as members of one 
 great whole : 
 
 " Thus do these organs of the world proceed, 
 As thou beholdest now, from step to step ; 
 Their influence from above deriving, 
 And thence transmitting downwards." — Par. ii. 1 20. 
 
 So also in the terrestrial world. Its various kinds of being 
 have their individual existence ; but all are ordained on a 
 successive scale of development and gradation, the source 
 of their unity and order. The natural and supernatural 
 kingdoms form the chief divisions of the universe. To the 
 former belongs all that man is by himself, all that he 
 knows, strives after, and achieves. The latter includes all 
 that he derives from above. Of himself, man has only 
 the knowledge which comes through reason and the power 
 of his natural will. The wisdom of faith and the power of 
 grace are alike from above. Each of these two orders has 
 three members. To nature belong reason, natural morality, 
 and the state ; to grace, faith, supernatural virtue, and 
 the Church. And upon the harmony of these members 
 depends the truth, perfection, and order of life, and there- 
 fore also of peace and happiness. 
 
 Thus everything finds with Dante its fitting place and 
 significance. Nothing is excluded or disparaged to serve 
 a higher end. The material world points to the spiritual ;^ 
 history to its instructive development ; the ancient heritage 
 to the Christian revelation ; the fatherland to the Church. 
 And the secret of this marvellous harmony is that the poet 
 sees all things in God, the one source of unity, "where all time 
 and place are present." Nor does he stand as a cold-hearted 
 solitary, apart from and beyond his times. He is the son of 
 
HIS HUMAN SYMPATHY. 89 
 
 his fatherland, himself not exempt from its prevailing sins, 
 and subject to human frailties, which prevent him from 
 rising above the attraction of things present, to those which 
 endure and are eternal. Hence his words to Beatrice : 
 
 " Thy fair looks withdrawn, 
 Things present with deceitful pleasure turn'd 
 My steps aside." ^ — Purg. xxxi. 31. 
 
 And his contrite address to the spirit of his friend 
 Forese Donati : 
 
 " If thou recall to mind 
 "What we were once together, even yet 
 Remembrance of those days may grieve thee sore." 
 
 — Pur^. xxiii. 115. 
 
 His sympathy with everything human,^ his frank con- 
 fession of error and sins, his sense of the danger of earthly 
 attachments, make, as we have said, his life's story the 
 history of mankind. He seems, indeed, to have anticipated 
 and to have realised Goethe's wish : 
 
 " Whate'er is portioned 'mong mankind, 
 In my own intimate self shall I enjoy, 
 With my soul grasp all thoughts most high or deep, 
 Heap on my heart aU human joys and woes. 
 Expand myseK, until mankind becomes 
 A part as 'twere of my identity." ^ — Aiistei-^s trans. 
 
 How terribly true to nature is his description of the 
 characteristics of blasphemous, obdurate pride : 
 
 ^ An axiom of the schools : *' Praesentia movent animum." 
 
 - So Ruth, p. 1 75 et passim. 
 
 3 " Was der ganzen Menschheit zugetheilt ist, 
 Will ich in meinem innern Selbst geniessen 
 Iklit meinem Geist, das Hochst und Tiefste greifen, 
 Ihr Wohl und Weh auf meinen Busen haufen 
 Und so mein eigen Selbst, zu ihrem Selbst erweitern." — Faust. 
 
90 SYMBOLISM AND CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 " Say who 
 Is yon huge spirit, that, as seems, heeds not 
 The burning, but lies writhen in proud scorn, 
 As by the sultry tempest immatured ? 
 Straight he himself, who was aware I ask'd 
 My guide of him, exclaim'd, ' Such as I was 
 When living, dead such now I am. If Jove 
 Weary his workmen out, from whom in ire 
 He snatch'd the lightnings, tnat at my last day 
 Transfix'd me ; if the rest he weary out 
 At their black smithy labouring by turns 
 In Mongibello, while he cries aloud, 
 * Help, help, good Mulciber ! ' as erst he cried 
 In the Phlegroean warfare ; and the bolts 
 Launch he, full aim'd at me, with all his might, 
 He never should enjoy a sweet revenge.' " 
 
 — Hell, xiv. 43. 
 
 Contrast with this, the picture of sacred love under the 
 figure of St. Bernard : 
 
 " I saw instead a senior at my side, 
 Kobed, as the rest, in glory ; joy benign 
 Glow'd in his eye and o'er his cheek diffused. 
 With gestures such as spoke a father's love." 
 
 — Far. xxxi. 55. 
 
 The poet is transported at the sight : 
 
 " So gazed I then 
 Adoring, for the charity of him 
 Who, musing in this world, that peace enjoy'd. 
 Stood liveHly before me." — Par. xxxi. 100. 
 
 In his episodes Dante gives life to his idea by descrip- 
 tions of actual events. Without distorting history, he 
 transfigures his heroes by revealing their inner motives, 
 and enriches each well-known story with pictures of his 
 own creation. 
 
 To the marvellous treasures of the Divina Commedia, art 
 
RICHNESS OF THE IMAGERY. 91 
 
 owes its highest inspirations. From Giotto and Bernardo 
 Orcagna^ to Luca Signorelli, Filippo Brunellesco, Fra 
 Angelico, Michael Angelo, Raphael, Tintoretto, down to 
 the modern creations of Cornelius, Koch, Flaxman, and 
 Dore, its influence is seen. By a few touches of his 
 master-hand, each character is clearly depicted. Observe 
 his description of Sordello, a man who scorned everything 
 mean : 
 
 " We soon approach'd it. thou Lombard spirit ! 
 How didst thou stand, in high abstracted mood, 
 Scarce moving with slow dignity thine eyes. 
 It spoke not aught, but let us onward pass, 
 Eyeing us as a Hon on his watch." — Furg. vi. 62. 
 
 In the richness and force of his imagery Dante stands 
 alone. His figures seem to live and move, and are marked 
 by a perfection of detail which shows the practised eye of 
 the artist, naturalist, and sportsman, yet likewise that un- 
 equalled play of phantasy which the subject demands. His 
 similes are always novel, yet always apposite. This is true 
 even of the Inferno^ where the imagery, borrowed from the 
 animal world, is often of a savage, and even of a repulsive 
 type. Among the plants on the Mount of Purgatory grows 
 
 ^ [" Each of the five great painters of Italy, who were called upon to 
 paint the awful scene of the Last Judgment, borrowed the imagery of 
 Dante and reproduced his teaching. Yet how different has the subject 
 become in ttie several hands of Giotto, Orcagna, Fra Angelico, Michael 
 Angelo and Tintoret. Each threw the colouring of his own individual 
 mind over the great subject of his contemplation, and became no less 
 the reflex of his age and the phase of thought which pervaded it, 
 than the scholars of Dante." — Art Schools of Medieval Christendom, by 
 A. Owen, edited by Professor Ruskin, ch. vi. p. 191. 
 
 " Sandro Botticelli, 1437-15 15, of Florence, summoned by Sixtus IV. 
 to superintend the works of the Sistine Chapel, worked with Perugino 
 there, a student of Dante, on whose work he began a commentary, 
 and for a printed edition of the Divina Commedia he executed a series 
 of illustrations. This was published in 1488, and was one of the first 
 books ornamented with copper engravings. He also illustrated with 
 his own hand a MSS. of the Divina Commedia, now in possession of 
 the Duke of Hamilton." — Ihid. chap, vii, p. 236.] 
 
92' SYMBOLISM AND CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 the bulrush, with which the poet encircles his brow ; the 
 thorn, which seems withered, but buds afresh in spring ; 
 and the lily, whose pure calyx opens to the sun. In the star- 
 lit realm of Paradise shines the light which is the symbol 
 of the Godhead. Dante has described at once all that is 
 most sublime and most base, most beautiful and most re- 
 volting ; love and the purest virtues, hate and the darkest 
 crimes ; perfect sanctity and vilest sin ; the raptures of the 
 blessed and every gradation of torment in Hell. All these 
 he has described and set forth in symbol and simile, whilst 
 over all floats the ideal atmosphere in which the poet 
 breathes. With him the sublime never becomes pompous, 
 nor the tender and lovely insipid. How exquisite is his 
 description of waiting in hope : 
 
 " E'en as the bird who midst the leafy bower 
 Has in her nest sat darkling through the night 
 "With her sweet brood, impatient to descry 
 Their wished looks, and to bring home their food 
 In the fond quest, unconscious of her toil, 
 She, of the time prevenient, on this spray 
 That overhangs their couch with wakeful gaze 
 Expects the sun, nor ever till the dawn 
 Removeth from the east her eager ken." 
 
 — Par. xxiii. i. 
 
 So also the sense of escape from a great peril : 
 
 " As a man mth difficult short breath, 
 Forespent with toiling, 'scaped from sea to shore, 
 Turns to the perilous wild waste and stands 
 At gaze." — Hell, i. 21. 
 
 The worthlessness of fame : 
 
 " The noise 
 Of worldly fame, is but a blast of wind. 
 That blows from diverse points, and shifts its name, 
 Shifting the point it blows from 
 
TERSENESS AND RHYTHM OF STYLE. 93 
 
 Your renown 
 
 Is as the herb, whose hue doth come and go ; 
 And His might withers it, by whom it sprang 
 Rude from the lap of earth." — Purg. xi. 98. 
 
 Only Shakespeare and Tacitus possess, with Dante, that 
 mysterious power of laying hold of the reader, and concen- 
 trating his ideas and emotions on one single point. But 
 Dante surpasses Shakespeare in passion, Tacitus in gran- 
 deur, and both in simplicity. " In the Divina Commedia,''^ 
 says A. Yon Humboldt, "the remarkable conciseness of 
 the style intensifies both the earnestness and the depth 
 of the impression produced. Like blocks of stone in a 
 Cyclopean wall, sentence upon sentence, word upon word, 
 are piled up. Truly does Macaulay term the style " incom- 
 parable." ^ Sometimes a single sentence describes a whole 
 character, as in the description of Celestine V. : ^ 
 
 " I saw 
 And knew the shade of him, who to base fear 
 Yielding, abjured his high estate." — Hell, iii. 55. 
 
 Or take his own horror at the sight of Hell : 
 
 " I, through compassion fainting, seem'd not far 
 From death, and like a corse fell to the ground." 
 
 —Hell, V. 137. 
 Or, again, the despair of Ugolino : 
 
 " On either hand through agony I bit." 
 
 — Hell, xxxiii. 55. 
 
 In these lines we hear the heavy fall of the body, we see 
 the rage of the wretched man. In the description of Hell 
 the verses sound like a wail of lamentation, now wild and 
 rude, now stern and terrible; very rarely are the dark 
 figures relieved by more gracious images, such as the 
 
 ^ Essay on Dante. 
 
 - [Not then canonised, nor was the supernatural motive of his 
 abdication necessarily recognised.] 
 
94 " SYMBOLISM AND CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 episode of Francesca da Rimini. The inscription over the 
 entrance produces a sensation of awe and terror which no 
 translation can convey : 
 
 " Through me you pass into the city of woe ; 
 Through me you pass into eternal pain ; 
 Through me among the people lost for aye. 
 Justice the Founder of my fabric moved ; 
 To rear me was the task of Power divine, 
 Supremest Wisdom, and primeval Love. 
 Before me things create were none, save things 
 Eternal, and eternal I endure. 
 All hope abandon, ye who enter here." — Hell, iii. i. 
 
 On the other hand, the poet introduces us into Purgatory 
 with words of gentle consolation : 
 
 " Sweet hue of eastern sapphire, that was spread 
 O'er the serene aspect of the pure air. 
 High up as the first circle, to mine eyes 
 Unwonted joy renew'd soon, as I 'scaped 
 Forth from the atmosphere of deadly gloom. 
 That had mine eyes and bosom fill'd with grief." 
 
 —Purg. i. 13. 
 
 The opening words of the Paradiso breathe light and 
 love, and are instinct with the peace of Heaven : 
 
 " His glory, by whose might all things are moved. 
 Pierces the universe, and in one part 
 Sheds more resplendence, elsewhere less." — Par. i. i. 
 
 In accordance with the horror of the subject, the Inferno 
 is the most forcible in expression and severe in diction ; its 
 very words ^re gloomy and terrifying. The moans of the 
 lower world are silenced, and a deep stillness reigns in 
 Purgatory, whilst the heights of Paradise are radiant with 
 colour, and there indeed is a very harmony of the spheres.^- 
 But only in his own tongue can we know how Dante 
 
 1 Schelling. 
 
'FAUST'' AND THE "ILIAD." 95 
 
 speaks with words, now mighty as the surging sea, now 
 soft as the evening breeze rustling in the waving pine-tops. 
 All attempts to reproduce in a translation the magic of 
 his verse must fail ; for the language itself was his own 
 creation. It made him the father of Italian literature, 
 and Italy, till then far behind France and Germany, be- 
 came first in poetic art. 
 
 But the Divina Gommedia bears alike the impress of its 
 age and of the faults of its age. The introduction of learned 
 disquisitions into the framework of his poem is foreign to 
 our tastes, but this defect is more than compensated by 
 his marvellous power in clothing " things ineffable " in 
 poetic imagery. The form of his verse has also been cen- 
 sured ; pedants have taken exception to the use of words 
 then familiar and boiTOw^ed from the Latin hymns of the 
 Church. The boundaries between Latin and the vulgar 
 tongue (lingua volgare) in that age were not accurately 
 defined, and Latin, as the language of the Church and of 
 literature, was then held in high esteem, and was by no 
 means a dead language. 
 
 Two works only, in ancient and modern times, can claim 
 comparison with the Divina Commedia — Homer's Iliad 
 and Goethe's Faust. The nearest in matter and form, 
 though still its inferior, is Faust. It is the only German 
 poem of universal compass which unites, under the figure 
 of Faust, man's present efforts and his final end. It is a 
 comedy, but, as Schelling remarks, far more in the sense 
 of Aristophanes, and divine in another and more poetic 
 acceptation of the word. But granted that Goethe in 
 genius and culture was Dante's equal, both as a poet and 
 in other respects, yet he lacked the creative power neces- 
 sary to develop his idea. His ideal world is purely allegori- 
 cal, and his images of it, though artistically drawn, are 
 arbitrary and well-nigh unintelligible. Most poets clothe 
 their ideas in allegorical forms, whose unreality is apparent 
 
96 SYMBOLISM AND CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 throughout, and the iUusion entirely fails. Dante's figures, 
 on the contrary, have a real existence, independent of their 
 allegorical significance, and they themselves, more than their 
 antitypes, speak to our imagination. With him we tread 
 upon sure ground and are surrounded by realities.^ Goethe's 
 world, displayed in Faust, may be richer in ideas, more varied 
 in form, than that of Dante, but the problem of the universe 
 which he proposes to unriddle is never solved. Wreck and 
 dissolution of body and soul alike are, with Faust, the only 
 end of this life. Dante, on the other hand, sees one eter- 
 nal purpose traced and developed in all things, and man 
 through the Redeemer, winning his way to God. Nor can 
 the fragmentary form of Faust compare with the organised 
 completeness of Dante's poem.^ 
 
 Homer's epic, at first sight, seems incontestably superior 
 to the Divina Commedia. Like Dante, Homer created a 
 language for his countrymen, and thus gave them life as 
 a nation. His poem also was the parent of art, and the 
 model for every species and every style of poetry. Homer's 
 creation, no less than Dante's, reflects the world in which 
 he lives, its ideas, its joys and sorrows, its hopes and fears, 
 its outer and inner life. The Hellenic world, with its 
 childlike, na'ive ideas of Heaven and earth, its human gods, 
 the unceasing combats of its heroes, its simple forms 
 of private and public manners, comes home and speaks 
 to us all. In every land Homer's epic is a school-book. 
 The Divina Commedia, on the contrary, stored as it is 
 with scholastic science and historic facts, is accessible only 
 to a scholar. Yet the Divina Commedia being based on 
 Christianity, from which all proceeds and to which all 
 tends, that sun "who leads all wanderers safe through 
 every way," ^ must rank far above Homer's poem. Chris- 
 
 ^ Compare A. Von Schlegel, W. 2 Aiisg. 3 Bd. p. 226. 
 
 - Cf. Huber, Jakrhuch der deutscJien Dante- Gesellschaft, ii. 50. 
 
 3 Hell, i. J 7. 
 
SUPERIORITY OF THE '' COMMEDIAr' gy 
 
 tianity created a new invisible world, animated by all 
 those pure and powerful motives, which most nearly 
 affect the heart of man, and this world of soul and 
 spirit Dante has described to us, from the first convic- 
 tion of sin and smart of penance to the final joy of the 
 blessed. 
 
 Regarded from another point of view, the Divina Corn- 
 media^ as a Christian study, has a higher significance than 
 any other poem. Schelling, Schlosser, and others see in every 
 great poet a twofold Hfe — one belonging to all countries 
 and times, the other bearing the peculiar stamp of his age.^ 
 This is true, although not in Schlosser's sense, that the most 
 diverse minds " can grasp at once the manifold significance 
 of the Divina Commedia,'' irrespective of the poet's indivi- 
 dual meaning ; for he was simply the mouthpiece of man's 
 higher intellect, which, like the divine works in the external 
 world, is necessarily many-sided. 
 
 In Dante's poem, we must discriminate between symbols 
 which are of universal application and those which refer 
 exclusively to one particular age, because both the idea 
 and matter are essentially Christian, and the Christian 
 view of the world is alone universal. Whatever heathenism 
 had of truth or morality, Christianity made its own. What- 
 ever humanism now demands as the proof of a true religion, 
 Christianity in principle has ever preached. When Jesus 
 Christ became very Man, all that is truly human became 
 Christian. True humanity and Christianity are but dif- 
 ferent names for one and the same thing — the human race 
 elevated and made divine by the truth and grace of Christ. 
 And this is the burden of Dante's song. Christian dogma 
 is no mere passing glimpse of the Divine and Eternal Truth, 
 but is the incarnate Lord Himself, Who, in a higher sense 
 than that of Dante : 
 
 ^ "Wegele, p. 577 et passim; Schlosser, Studies on Dante, ch. 44. 
 
 G 
 
98 SYMBOLISM AND CHARACTERISTICS. 
 
 " Hath made 
 Both Heaven and earth co-partners in his toil." 
 
 — Far. XXV. i. 
 
 He spoke all truth. His words are the expression and 
 confirmation of all that man seeks, or can give him rest. 
 The moral laws which Christ laid down as the rule of man's 
 inner life, are but the formulas of those eternal laws by 
 which all human communities are governed. On the volun- 
 tary obedience of men to those eternal laws depends, 
 under Providence, the history of nations, as on the necessary 
 submission of irrational creatures to these same laws rests 
 the order of the universe. Schlosser then is right, in that 
 Christianity, proceeding from God, the source of all truth, 
 the prototype of all good, contains the forces of a civili- 
 sation which is universal for all times and all stages of 
 development. Christian truths are unchangeable, but 
 with the progress of mankind and new epochs of civilisa- 
 tion, they receive ever deeper meanings and fuller appli- 
 cations. 
 
 Therefore, in a higher sense than Homer, Dante is the 
 poet of humanity. For in him, in the whole scope of his 
 thought and feeling, the redeemed race of man, raised by 
 Christ to an infinitely higher grade of existence, finds the 
 expression of its innermost life. Posterity then pays him 
 a just tribute of admiration ; and rightly does his great 
 countryman, Michael Angelo, Dante's equal in another 
 sphere of art, thus speak of him : 
 
 " He came from Heaven, and had, whilst mortal, sight 
 Both of where just, where gracious pimishment 
 Is given ; whence, living, back to God he went, 
 And of all seen brought us the truth and Hght, 
 A shining star, who made my birth-nest bright 
 With fame not earned, by rays upon it sent. 
 This world could give him no equivalent ; 
 Thou, God, who mad'st him, only canst requite. 
 
DATE OF ITS COMPOSITION. 99 
 
 Dante I mean ; his works were ill and late 
 Known by that herd, devoid of thanks and sense, 
 Which scants its favours only to the best ; 
 Yet would that I were he, mine too his fate ; 
 For liis hard exile, with his excellence, 
 I would exchange all this world's happiest." 
 
 — Flumptre's trans. 
 
 Critics differ as to the date of the Divina Commedia. At 
 the close of the Vita Nuova the poet had already announced 
 that his praise of Beatrice would be such as " hath never 
 been said of any woman." This was probably written in 
 1300, and his words, and the vision which he there men- 
 tions, coincide with the plan of the Divina Commedia. But 
 Dante declared further that he would " study to the utmost 
 of his power," and this "for some years." He knew that 
 poetic talent alone would not suffice, and that knowledge 
 must go hand in hand with art. The Convito and the 
 De Vidgari Eloquio show that his studies were chiefly in 
 philosophy, theology, and philology. Dante could not have 
 given the time required for such studies in the years suc- 
 ceeding his banishment in 1300. The Inferno must, there- 
 fore, have been composed at a somewhat later date.^ 
 
 This view is confirmed by various passages in the poem — 
 the reference to Can Grande, the deliverer of Italy (Hell^ 
 i. 100), and the mention of the age of Pope Clement V.y 
 who died in 13 14. The Purgatory was finished in 13 19, for 
 the poet speaks of it as completed in his first Eclogue to 
 Giovanni di Yirgilio. On the other hand, the Paradiso was 
 not finished till his last years, so that his life and his life's 
 work together reached their term. 
 
 In the restoration of the text of the Divina Commedia^ 
 K. Witte has rendered excellent service. His ediziona 
 
 1 According to Balbo, p. 287, and others, the Inferno was completed 
 in 1308 or 1309. 
 
ICO SYMBOLISM AND CHARA CTERISTICS. 
 
 critica, conscientiously carried out according to the true 
 principles of criticism, lays down a firm basis for future 
 commentators. Professorships founded for the explication 
 of the Divina Commedia gave rise from the first to ex- 
 haustive commentaries; among which those of Boccaccio, 
 Francesco da Buti, Guinforto degli Bargigi are conspicuous. 
 Of the older commentators, Benvenuto da Imola is remark- 
 able for historical comprehensiveness, Petrus Dantis for 
 theological depth. Among the earliest commentaries are 
 those of Ottimo, Jacopo della Lana, and Anonimo Fioren- 
 tino. That of Ottimo was written twelve years, that of 
 Delia Lana but six years, after the poet's death. 
 
 Among later commentators, the most important are, in 
 Italy, G. Giuliani, Nicolo Tommaseo, Berardinelli, F. 
 Scolari ; in Germany, Buth, Blanc, Scartazzini, Philalethes 
 (King John of Saxony), Wegele, and Witte. Of German 
 translations, the best are those in blank verse by Kan- 
 negiesser, Kopisch, Josephine von Hoffinger, Blanc, Tanner, 
 Elner, Bartsch, Notter, and especially that of Streckfuss.^ 
 
 ^ [For some notice of Eiiglisli literature on Dante, see Editor's 
 Preface.] 
 
( loi ) 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HELL. 
 
 There are but few to whom Dante's Inferno is wholly 
 unknown, or who do not remember some at least of its 
 sublime and affecting pictures. Even those who study the 
 whole poem prefer the Inferno both to the Purgatorio and 
 Paradiso. The mighty genius of the poet here fixes our 
 gaze on figures, often appalling indeed and terrible, but so 
 true and lifelike, that once seen, they are never wholly 
 forgotten. Not that the imagery of the Paradiso is less 
 definite and impressive, but the symbolism of the Inferno 
 deals with suffering and pain, and with these we are fami- 
 liar; we know by bitter experience the torments of heat and 
 cold, and the anguish of a broken heart. These punish- 
 ments are indeed the symbols of sin, but we understand the 
 symbol, and alas ! also the sin, which it symbolises. When 
 we descend into this awful lower world, and in these tor-» 
 mented spirits see expressed every species of evil, each! 
 must feel his own guilt. Francesca da Bimini's tale of woe 
 brings to our lips the poet's own confession, " At hearing 
 which, downward I bent my looks." ^ Paradise, it is true, 
 is the goal of our hopes, but it lies beyond our experience. 
 And though Heaven, like Hell, begins in this life, and by 
 grace dwells now in the human heart ; yet how hard it is 
 to rise above our miseries to those pure heights, and 
 descry, even from afar, the poet's vision of God ! None 
 
 ^ Hell, V. 107. 
 
T02 HELL, 
 
 but a spirit like that of Dante, elevated and chastened by 
 conflict and suffering, could so depict the joy, the ardent 
 and loving aspirations, the heavenly beauty of saints in 
 glory ; and only amid unceasing wrestling and striving after 
 higher things can we hope to feel as he felt. 
 
 Hell, the city of woe and of eternal, hopeless torment, 
 is the abode of all who have departed this life in a state of 
 mortal sin. Before the existence of man, Hell was created 
 for the fallen angels, and will eternally endure. It is a 
 work of the justice of the Triune God. The omnipotence of 
 the Father strikes down all who oppose His will; the wisdom 
 of the Son ordains chastisements proportionate to the 
 sinner's deserts ; and the charity of the Holy Ghost demands 
 their infliction, as part of that eternal moral order which 
 all creatures must acknowledge, whether in the joy of the 
 blessed, or in the impotent, despairing rage of the damned : i 
 
 " Justice, the founder of my fabric, moved ; 
 To rear me was the task of Power divine, 
 Supremest Wisdom, and primeval Love." ^ 
 
 — Hell, iii. 4. 
 
 Within its portals are eternal darkness, fiery heat and 
 icy cold : 
 
 ^ Plato expresses the same idea in. the Gorgias, where Socrates 
 argues, that to do wrong and not to suffer for it, is the greatest of 
 evils, for this is to perpetuate the wrong. So St. Augustine : " And 
 when a vitiated nature is punished, besides the good it has in being 
 ia nature, it has this also, that it is not unpunished. For this is just, 
 ;and everything just is good." — De Civ. Dei, xii. 3. So again St. Thomas : 
 " Whatever rises up against any order must necessarily be put down by 
 .that order, and by him who is its head." — S. i. 2. q. 87, a. i. 
 
 2 Although the external works of the Holy Trinity belong to all 
 three Persons, omnipotence, wisdom, and love are attributed respec- 
 tively by appropriation to the Father, Son, and Spirit (i Cor. i. 24). 
 '" Power has the nature of a beginning, whence it is compared to the 
 Heavenly Father, Who is the beginning of the whole Divinity. But 
 Wisdom is like to the Heavenly Son, inasmuch as He is the Word, 
 which is nothing else than the 'conceptus' of wisdom. Goodness, 
 being the nature and object of love, is compared to the Divine Spirit, 
 Who is Love." — S. i. q. 39, a. 8. 
 
CREATED BY THE HOLY TRINITY. 103 
 
 " Woe to you, wicked spirits ! hope not 
 Ever to see the sky again. I come 
 To take you to the other shore across, 
 Into eternal darkness, there to dwell 
 In fierce heat and in ice." — Hell, iii. 78. 
 
 Hither, where " guilt hath no redemption," ^ at the heels 
 of an infuriate beast, are dragged the lost souls, whose 
 individual personal sin alone has wrought their ruin : 
 
 "Ah me! 
 Almighty Justice ! in what store thou heap'st 
 New pains, new troubles, as I here beheld ! " 
 
 —Hell, vii. 18. 
 
 For the sake of things that perish, they have forsaken 
 the eternal, imperishable love, and their torments are 
 deservedly eternal : 
 
 " He hath in sooth good cause for endless grief. 
 Who, for the love of thing that lasteth not, 
 Despoils himself for ever of that love." 2 — Par. xv. 8. 
 
 The structure of Hell in the Commedia results from the 
 poet's view of the fabric of the universe in general, and of 
 our earth in particular. Lucifer, with his followers, having 
 rebelled against God, was hurled down to the then unin- 
 habited earth. On the Western hemisphere, opposite our 
 own, a broad stretch of land rose above the sea. There 
 fell Lucifer. The earth, as he reached it, recoiled in horror 
 and was covered as with a veil by the ocean. This upheaval 
 of the land towards our hemisphere created the vast vacuum 
 of Hell ; upon the surface, near Jerusalem, rose Calvary, 
 the Mount of Expiation. Since then, according to the old 
 
 ^ Purg. xxiv. 83. 
 
 - "They sinned against the Eternal Good when they despised 
 eternal life." — S. Supp. q. 99, a. i. And St. Augustine says, " He who 
 destroys in himself a good that might have been eternal, creates 
 thereby an evil which is eternal." — Civ. Dei, xxL 12. 
 
I04 HELL. 
 
 geographers, half the earth's surface, the wide expanse from 
 the Pillars of Hercules to the East Indies, has been 
 covered by the sea, across which no ship has ever sailed. 
 Cast down headlong by God and weighted by his load 
 of sin, Lucifer struck the earth with such force that he 
 pierced it to its centre. The upper part of his gigantic 
 frame stuck fast in one hemisphere, the lower half in the 
 other. The portion of land thus projected by his fall 
 formed on the opposite side, in mid-ocean, the Mount of 
 Purgatory and of the earthly Paradise, where, since Adam's 
 expulsion, no mortal foot has trod : 
 
 " On this part he fell down 
 From heaven ; and th' earth, here prominent before, 
 Through fear of him did veil her with the sea, 
 And to our hemisphere retired. Perchance, 
 To shun him, was the vacant space left here, 
 By what of firm land on this side appears, 
 That sprang aloof." — Hell, xxxiv. 115. 
 
 Thus antipodal to the Mount of Purgatory is Jerusalem, 
 the city of expiation and of redemption, where sin was 
 blotted out and the curse removed from the earth. Jeru- 
 salem and Golgotha on one side, confront the Mount of 
 Paradise and Purgatory on the other. Their position at 
 the two extremities of the earth's diameter, which traverses 
 the seat of Lucifer and the entrance of Hell, has a deep 
 symbolism. Jerusalem is situated in the centre, not of 
 Christendom, but of the inhabited world ; for the other half 
 of our hemisphere, from Jerusalem eastwards, is peopled 
 by Mahometans and heathen. Only the western half, as 
 far as the Atlantic Ocean, is Christian. Its centre is Pome, 
 the tomb of the holy Apostles Peter and Paul, the chair of 
 their successors, the central point of the Church and of 
 Chr istendom. 
 I As love, like fire, strives to mount upwards, so is sin by 
 I its own weight driven down. Thus Lucifer, after he had 
 
 
ITS STRUCTURE AND SITE. 105 
 
 sinned, necessarily fell to earth's lowest centre; and, as 
 the heavens move round the earth,^ it is at the extremest 
 point of separation from God, His life, light, and love, 
 Jjiat the evil one lies paralysed in cold and darkness. 
 The shape of Hell is that of an immense inverted cone or 
 crater, which, diminishing in ever-narrowing circles, termi- 
 nates in a point, the centre of the world and the seat of 
 that " emperor, who sways the realm of sorrow." 2 The 
 heavenly spheres, on the other hand, widen from the earth 
 upwards, the nearer they approach the throne of God, 
 " that Almighty King who reigns above," ^ until they 
 reach that throne itself, the empyrean which embraces the 
 universe. As the beatified souls in nine spheres, and the 
 angelic choirs in nine orders, mount up towards God, so 
 also in nine circles the lost souls are hurled down, deeper 
 and deeper, according as their guilt has wrought in them 
 a greater likeness to Satan. So also as God governs the 
 heavenly spheres through His servants, Satan rules his 
 realm through his inferior ministers. The figures of mytho- 
 logy, Charon, Minos, the Furies, Centaurs, Harpies, giants, 
 and the like, are the demons, guardians, and inhabitants 
 of the different circles of Hell. At one end of half the 
 earth's diameter is the bottom of Hell, at the other its 
 mouth. The narrowing circles, separated from each other 
 by ravine and rock, descend in terraces, and are each the 
 abode of a distinct class of sinners. Entering Hell from 
 Florence, the poet passes through each circle from right 
 to left, often mysteriously borne downwards, across fearful 
 chasms and abysses, through streams of fire and blood, 
 until at length he has traversed its whole circuit. Through 
 this region of the lower world flow four streams, Acheron, 
 Styx, Phlegethon, and Cocytus, which are in reality the 
 same river under different names. This river is fed by the 
 
 ^ According to the Ptolemaic S3'stem. 
 
 - licU, xxxiv. 27. ^ Hell, i. 120. 
 
io6 HELL. 
 
 tears wh'cli sin causes to flow, and by the blood which 
 tyrants and murderers have shed. The waters flow down in 
 secret channels, to serve below as instruments of torment. 
 
 Within the gate of Hell, but on this side Acheron, is the 
 first circle, where dwell the undecided and the indolent, with 
 those souls who knew not Christ, and therefore could not 
 attain to the Beatific Vision. As they have lived without 
 sin, their only pain is an unsatisfied longing for the revela- 
 tion of Christ. The Inferno proper is divided into two 
 principal regions, upper and lower Hell. The latter is the 
 City of Dis, Lucifer or Satan. The basis of these divisions 
 is fixed by the difference between sin and sin. 
 
 First, Dante, in common with St. Thomas and Aristotle, 
 distinguishes between sins of human frailty and sins of 
 malice.^ The former are punished in the upper, the latter"^ 
 in the lower Hell, the special abode of the wicked. To the 
 former class belong the luxurious, gluttons, and drunkards, 
 the avaricious, prodigals, the wrathful, and heretics. Sins 
 of malice can be committed either by force or by fraud. ^ 
 Either way, wrong is done ; therefore the city of Lucifer 
 * contains both classes of sinners.^ But sins of fraud are 
 greater than sins of violence, because they proceed from 
 abuse of the intellect, man's noblest gift. Accordingly, 
 
 ^ " "We must first treat of ignorance, which is the cause of sin on the 
 part of the reason, and this diminishes or lessens the sin." — S. i. 2. q. 
 76, init. *' Secondly, of frailty or passion, which is the cause of sin on 
 the part of the sensitive appetite. Thirdly, of malice, which is the 
 cause of sin on the part of the will." — a. 4. But sins of frailty can 
 be grave, for " reason by deliberating can prevent, or at least resist 
 passion." — q. 77, a. 8. Sins of malice are in a threefold way graver 
 than sins of frailty: (i) "Since (the sin) consists chiefly in the will, 
 the more the sinful movement proceeds from the will alone, the more 
 does its gravity increase. ... (2) The habit by which a man sins from 
 malice is a permanent disposition (whereas passion passes quickly 
 away). ... (3) The sinner is evilly disposed towards the end itself, 
 which is the very principle of his evil action ; whereas in sins of . 
 weakness the end is but momentarily forgotten. " — q. 48, a. 4. 
 
 ^ "Injury is done in two ways, by force or fraud." — Cicero, De 
 Offic. i. 13. 
 
 •* Aristotle, Ethics, vii. 7. 
 
ITS TWO DIVISIONS. 107 
 
 the violent belong to the first division of lower Hell. 
 They include those who have used violence against 
 their neighbour, as murderers and tyrants; against his 
 property, as robbers; against themselves, as suicides, or 
 against their own property, as gamblers; against God, 
 as blasphemers, or against His property, that is, against 
 created nature, as peccatores contra iiaturam, and usurers.^ 
 To the second division belong the fraudulent. They are 
 divided into ten classes — seducers, flatterers, simoniacs, 
 soothsayers, corrupt officials, hypocrites, thieves, evil coun- 
 sellors, the sowers of schism and strife, forgers. All 
 these in general have sinned against the divine command 
 of brotherly love. Far more aggravated is fraud against / 
 those to whom we are bound by special ties, temporal/' 
 or spiritual; hence treachery, the abuse of confidence, i^ 
 is the most heinous kind of fraud ; and the lowest depth v^ 
 of Hell contains those false to kindred and fatherland, ' 
 to friends and benefactors, to the Emperor and to God.^ • 
 Here Yirgil reminds his charge of the Aristotelian classifi- 
 
 ^ The taking of any interest upon money lent was prohibited by the 
 Mosaic law and by the laws of the Church. Exod. xxii. 25 ; Levit. 
 XXV. 36 ; Deut. xxiii. 19 ; C. xiv. q. 3 ; 4 in 6*° de Usuris (5. 5). 
 St. Thomas teaches, that to do so is intrinsically unjust, because that is 
 sold which is not. There are certain things, he says, of which consump- 
 tion is inseparable from their use, as wine and food ; and others which 
 can be used without being consumed, as a house to live in. The use 
 of a house can be lawfully charged for, without selling the house itself, 
 but to charge for the wine and also for its use is to charge for the 
 same thing twice over, or to charge for that which is not. Now 
 money is invented for the purpose of exchange, and its proper use is 
 its consumption or circulation ; hence to charge for its use is unlaw- 
 ful. Usury comes from the use charged for. Cf. S. ii. 2. q. 78, a. i. 
 [The altered practice of the present day is not based on a change of 
 principle. Titles have always been admitted on which money might 
 be received for the loan of money, and which, comparatively rare in 
 other days, are now of universal occurrence.] 
 
 2 The old Roman law also regarded treachery as the most heinous 
 of crimes, and punished it with extreme severity, as in the case of the 
 Alban dictator, Mettius Fuffetius, who was drawn to pieces by four 
 horses. Liv. Hist. i. 28. Livy adds, "This was the first and last 
 instance among the Romans of punishment being inflicted without 
 
y> 
 
 ro8 HELL, 
 
 cation of crime, in which brutishness is considered less 
 culpable than formal malice.^ 
 
 , But Dante did not intend to enumerate in order every . 
 species of sin. On the contrary, he freely selects certain i/^ 
 sins, and places them graphically before us in these two 
 fundamental divisions. Here are his own words : 
 
 " Of all malicious act abhorr'd in Heaven, 
 The end is injury ; and all such end 
 Either by force or fraud works other's woe. 
 
 ut fraud, because of man peculiar evil, 
 To God is more displeasing ; and beneath, 
 The fraudijlent are therefore doom'd to endure 
 Severer pang. The violent occupy 
 All the first circle ; and because to force 
 Three persons are obnoxious, in three rounds, 
 Each withiQ other separate, is it framed. 
 To God, his neighbour, and himself, by man 
 Force may be offer'd ; to himself I say, 
 And his possessions, as thou soon shalt hear 
 At full. Death, violent death, and painful wounds 
 Upon his neighbour he inflicts ; and wastes, 
 By devastation, pillage and the flames. 
 His substance. Slayers, and each one that smites 
 In malice ; plunderers, and all robbers, hence 
 The torment undergo of the first round. 
 In different herds. Man can do violence 
 To himself and his own blessings : and for this, 
 He, in the second round must aye deplore 
 With unavailing penitence his crime. 
 Whoe'er deprives himself of life and light, 
 In recklesa lavishment his talent wastes, 
 And sorrows there where he should dwell in joy. 
 
 regard to the laws of humanity. In every other case we may justly 
 boast that no other nation has shown greater mildness." 
 
 ^ " Three species of things are to be avoided in morals," Aristotle 
 says, "incontinence, malice, brutishness; but brutishness is a less 
 evil than malice, though more formidable, for it does not so much 
 deprave the best in man, as evince a complete absence of it." — 
 EJiics, vii. I. 
 
THE SINS PUNISHED. 109 
 
 To God may force be offer'd, in the heart 
 Denying and blaspheming His high power, 
 And Nature with her kindly law contemning. 
 And thence the inmost round marks with its seal 
 Sodom and Cahors, and all such as speak 
 Contemptuously of the Godhead in their hearts. 
 ' Fraud, that in every conscience leaves a sting, 
 May be by man employ'd on one, whose trust 
 He wins, or on another who withholds 
 Strict confidence. Seems as the latter way 
 Broke but the bond of love which Nature makes, 
 Whence in the second circle have their nest, 
 Dissimulation, witchcraft, flatteries, 
 Theft, falsehood, simony, all who seduce 
 To lust, or set their honesty at pawn. 
 With such vile scum as these. The other way 
 Forgets both Nature's general love, and that 
 Which thereto added afterward gives birth 
 To special faith. Whence in the lesser circle, 
 Point of the universe, dread seat of Dis, 
 The traitor is eternally consumed.' 
 
 ' Dwell not in thy memory 
 The words, wherein thy Ethic page describes 
 Three dispositions adverse to Heaven's will. 
 Incontinence, malice, and mad brutishness. 
 And how incontinence the least ofiends 
 God, and least guilt incurs ? If well thou note 
 This judgment, and remem-ber who they are. 
 Without these walls to vain repentance doom'd, 
 Thou shalt discern why they apart are placed 
 From these fell spirits, and less wreakful pours 
 Justice divine on them its vengeance down.' " 
 
 — Hell J xi. 23. 
 
 Let us now accompany the poet, under Yirgil's guidance, 
 in his wanderings through Hell. The day is already spent ; 
 it is the evening of Good Friday, the day of our Lord's 
 death : 
 
 " We are come 
 Where I have told thee we shall see the souls, 
 
no HELL. 
 
 To misery doom'd, who intellectual good 
 Have lost." — Hell, iii. 15. 
 
 He is horrified at the sounds and sights which meet 
 Jbim : 
 
 " Here sighs, with lamentations and loud moans, 
 Resounded through the air pierced by no star, 
 That e'en I wept at entering. Various tongues, 
 Horrible languages, outcries of woe. 
 Accents of anger, voices deep and hoarse. 
 With hands together smote that swell'd the sounds, 
 Made up a tumult, that for ever whirls 
 Round through that air with soHd darkness stain'd. 
 Like to the sand that in the whirlwind flies." 
 
 — Hell, iii. 21. 
 
 Here we find the undecided, cowards and indolent, " who 
 lived without praise or blame," with that faint-hearted 
 band of angels who neither fought for God with the good 
 angels, nor against Him. " Heaven drove them forth," nor 
 the " depth of Hell receives them." ^ These are despicable 
 souls, upon whom Virgil disdains to waste another word. 
 ^' Speak not of them, but look and pass them by." 2 Among 
 them he sees a Pope, St. Celestine V.,^ who had renounced 
 his high dignity : 
 
 " Who, to base fear 
 Yielding, abjured his high estate." — Hell, iii. 56 
 
 " These wretches, who ne'er lived, 
 Went on in nakedness, and sorely stung 
 By wasps and hornets, which bedew'd their cheeks 
 With blood, that, mix'd with tears, dropp'd to their feet, 
 And by disgustful worms was gathered there." 
 
 — Hell, iii. 60. 
 
 This is the punishment of base-minded, slothful souls. 
 Their number surpasses the poet's utmost imagination ; for; 
 
 1 Hell, iii. 34, 49. ^ Hell, iii. 51. ^ See Footnote 2, p. 53. 
 
THE UNDECIDED AND INDOLENT. iii 
 
 ever stung by noxious insects and loathing themselves, 
 they pursue a banner which unceasingly whii'ls round with 
 every wind, and is ever in flight. 
 
 The poet advances till his steps are arrested by the river 
 Acheron. An old man, Charon,^ with shaggy cheeks, 
 " around whose eyes glared wheeling flames," is here wait- 
 ing for the lost souls, whom he ferries across : 
 
 " To the curst strand, that every man must pass 
 Who fears not God." — Hell, iii. loo. 
 
 The lost spirits, " faint and naked," sorely wailing, draw 
 near: 
 
 " As f aU off the light autmnnal leaves, 
 One stni another following, till the bough 
 Strews all its honours on the earth beneath ; 
 E'en iu Uke manner Adam's evil brood 
 Cast themselves, one by one, down from the shore, 
 Each at a beck, as falcon at his call.^ 
 Thus go they over through the umber'd wave ; 
 And ever they on the opposing bank 
 Be landed, on this side another throng 
 StiU gathers." — Hell, iii. 104. 
 
 1 So Virgil : 
 
 " There Charon stands, who rules the dreary coast, 
 A sordid god : down from his hoary chin 
 A length of beard descends, uncoml)ed, uncleaned, 
 His eyes like hollow furnaces on fire ; 
 A girdle foul with grease binds his obscene attire." 
 
 — jEneid, vi. 413. 
 
 ^ " An airy crowd came rushing where he stood, 
 "Which filled the margin of the fatal flood ; 
 Husbands and wives, boys and unmarried maids. 
 And mighty heroes' more majestic shades, 
 And youths entombed before their fathers' eyes, 
 With hollow groans, and shrieks, and feeble cries ; 
 Thick as the leaves in autumn strew the woods, 
 Or fowls, by winter forced, forsake the floods 
 And wing their hasty flight to happier lands, 
 Such and so thick the shivering army stands, 
 And press for passage with extended hands." 
 
 — jEncid, vi. 422. 
 
112 HELL. 
 
 The gloomy region " trembling shakes," lightnings flash 
 through the darkness, and Dante falls senseless to the 
 ground. He is awakened by a "crash of heavy thunder," 
 and finds himself on the other side of Acheron, on the 
 brink of an abyss, whence come sounds of "plaints un- 
 utterable." i 
 
 Even his guide turns " all pale of look," as he precedes 
 him into the first circle. This is the place of those who 
 have died without baptism. ^ Here no plaint is heard, 
 but only low sighings from multitudes, " many and vast; " 
 these suffer no torment, but their longings ever remain 
 unsatisfied. Yirgil explains their state : 
 
 " Ere thou pass 
 Farther, I would thou know, that these of sin 
 Were blameless ; and if aught they merited, 
 It profits not, since baptism was not theirs, 
 The portal to thy faith. If they before 
 The gospel lived, they served not God aright ; 
 And among such am I." — Hell, iv. 30. 
 
 But not here, in the limhus infantum, are our first 
 parents or the patriarchs of Israel, for they had been 
 delivered by "a mighty One (our Lord), with victorious 
 trophy crowned." Here Dante sees, separate from all the 
 rest, the shades of the four great poets of antiquity, 
 Homer, Horace, Ovid, and Lucan. They greet Yirgil on 
 his return to the lower world with Dante, and even receive 
 the latter as the sixth member of their group : 
 
 1 Hell, iv. 9. 
 
 2 [St. Thomas and the great majority of theologians teach that 
 infants dying unbaptized are simply excluded from Heaven, and being 
 free from personal guilt, suffer no pain of sense, which is its penalty. 
 St. Thomas says, "As they are not made capable (proportionate) of 
 possessing the vision of God, they no more grieve for its loss than a 
 bird does that it is not an emperor or a king. Moreover, though not 
 united to God in glory, they are joined to Him by the share they 
 possess of natural goods, and are able to rejoice in Him by natural 
 knowledge and love," — S. App. q. i, a. 2.] 
 
HEATHEN HEROES. 113 
 
 " But greater honour still 
 They gave me, for they made me of their tribe ; 
 And I was sixth amid so leam'd a band." 
 
 — Hell, iv. 95. 
 
 Nor is Dante's consciousness of his own worth incon- 
 sistent with his constant praise of humility, as the mother 
 of love and all true greatness. He was but proclaiming, in 
 the face of his enemies, that his native city had lost in him 
 one whose gifts were from God, and who therefore cared 
 not for popular applause. Accompanied by this band of 
 poets, Dante arrives at a proud castle, " seven times with 
 lofty walls begirt." 1 Within its seven gates, "on the 
 green enamel of the plain," rises a hill, " open, bright, and 
 lofty," from whence he surveys its inhabitants : 
 
 " There dwelt a race, who slow their eyes around 
 Majestically moved, and in their port 
 Bore eminent authority : they spake 
 Seldom, but all their words were tuneful sweet." 
 
 — Hell, iv. 107. 
 
 Here Dante recognises Hector and -<Eneas, Caesar with 
 ** eagle eye," Electra, Camilla, Lucretia, Cornelia, and, " sole 
 apart retired," Saladin, the " Soldan fierce," sole represen- 
 tative of the Oriental race. Higher up, amidst a second 
 group, appears Aristotle, "the master of the sapient throng." 
 Next to him Socrates and Plato, with the other philosophers 
 and sages of antiquity, Avicenna and Averroes,^ " who made 
 that commentary vast." In these two groups, Dante does 
 honour to the natural good qualities of the heathen, in 
 
 1 According to some, this symbolises the seven natural virtues, viz., 
 the three intellectual virtues, wisdom, science, understanding ; and 
 the four moral virtues, prudence, temperance, justice, and fortitude. 
 According to others, the seven elementary subjects of education, the 
 Trivium and the Quadrivium, are signified. See p. 8. 
 
 2 Celebrated for his translation and commentary of Aristotle. 
 See account of Averroes, ch. viiL 
 
 H 
 
114 HELL. 
 
 accordance with the teaching of the Church, which admits 
 their possession of certain moral virtues.^ 
 
 We now descend with him into the second circle : 
 
 " There Minos stands, 
 Grinning with ghastly f eatm-e : he, of aU 
 Who enter, strict examining the crimes, 
 Gives sentence, and dismisses them beneath, 
 According as he foldeth him aromid. 
 
 With his taU so oft 
 Himself encircles, as degrees beneath 
 He dooms it to descend." — Hell, v. 4. 
 
 Here "all light is silent." Shrieks and lamentations pierce 
 through the darkness ; " the stormy blast of hell with rest- 
 less fury drives the spirits on," and whirls them round : 
 
 " I understood, that to this torment sad 
 The carnal sinners are condemn'd in whom 
 Reason by lust is sway'd.^ As in large troops 
 And multitudinous, when winter reigns. 
 The starlings on their wings are borne abroad ; 
 So bears the tyrannous gust those evil souls. 
 On this side and on that, above, below, 
 It drives them : hope of rest to solace them 
 Is none, nor e'en of milder pang." — Hell, v. 38. 
 
 Here appear Achilles, Helen with Semiramis, Dido and 
 Cleopatra, Paris and Tristan.^ But Dante is especially 
 
 1 "The fathers of the Council of Trent attribute to fallen man 
 free-will, representing it, however, as very much weakened, and in 
 consequence teach that not every religious and moral action of man 
 is necessarily sinful, although it be never in itself and by itself 
 acceptable to God, nor anywise perfect." See Mohler, Symbolism, 
 V. i. p. 65, Robertson's trans. 2d ed. Cone. Trid., sess. vi. can. 7. 
 
 2 St. Thomas enumerates among the consequences of carnal sins, 
 blindness of soul, inconsiderateness, precipitation, inconstancy (S. ii. 
 2. q. 153, a. 5), all which are represented by the restless storm and 
 darkness. 
 
 ^ A knight of King Arthur's Round Table. 
 
THE SENSUAL. 115 
 
 struck by two spirits who cling together, Francesca da 
 Rimini and her brother-in-law Paolo. Betrothed to Paolo, 
 she had been married instead to his brother Lanciotto.^ In 
 the following lines, which reveal with matchless truth the 
 depth and madness of her love, Francesca tells her story : 
 
 " If thou art bent to know the primal root, 
 From whence our love gat being, I will do 
 As one, who weeps and tells his tale. One day 
 For our dehght we read of Lancelot, 
 How him love thrall'd. Alone we were, and no 
 Suspicion near us. Ofttimes by that reading 
 Our eyes were drawn together, and the hue 
 Fled from our alter'd cheek. But at one point 
 
 Alone we feU. . . , 
 
 The book and writer both 
 
 Were love's purveyors. In its leaves that day 
 "We read no more." — Hell, v. 121. 
 
 Guerrazzi criticises Dante for making Francesca, and not 
 Paolo, a man, the narrator of their guilt ; yet this simple 
 avowal, in words so tender and delicate, such as only a 
 woman could use, makes us sympathise to a certain extent 
 with her bitter anguish. We feel with Dante : 
 
 " Francesca, your sad fate 
 Even to tears my grief and pity moves." 
 
 — Hell, V, 113. 
 
 The second circle of Hell is the largest of all, for Dante 
 probably remembered the saying, so common among the 
 Saints, that of all sins punished in Hell, that of which 
 Francesca accuses herself is the most universal. The con- 
 cluding effect of her tale is thus described : 
 
 " While thus one spirit spake. 
 The other wail'd so sorely, that, heart-struck, 
 
 ^ [The reading of the romance of Sir Lancelot was the occasion of 
 their sin. They were surprised by Lanciotto and put to death. 
 Dante alludes to this poem again in Paradiso, xvi. 13 ] 
 
ii6 HELL, 
 
 1, through compassion fainting, seem'd not far 
 From death, and like a corse fell to the ground." 
 
 —Hell, V. 135. 
 
 The poet revives in the third circle : 
 
 " In the third circle I arrive, of showers 
 Ceaseless, accursed, heavy and cold, unchanged 
 For ever, both in kind and in degree. 
 Large hail, discolour'd water, steely air. 
 Through the dun midnight air stream'd down amain : 
 Stank all the land whereon that tempest fell." 
 
 — Hell, vi. 106. 
 
 The three-headed Cerberus tears and rends the spirits 
 who here lie howling "as curs," and "with one side the 
 other screening, oft they roll them round." He bars the 
 progress of the poet, until Yirgil quiets him with a handful 
 of earth : 
 
 " E'en as a dog, that, yelling, bays for food 
 His keeper, when the morsel comes, lets fall 
 His fury, bent alone with eager haste 
 To swallow it." — Hell, vi. 27. 
 
 Under this figure we recognise the gluttons, among 
 whom Dante finds a Florentine, Ciacco. This torment, 
 Virgil says, will be still more increased after the general 
 judgment. 
 
 On the descent, leading to the fourth circle, stands Pluto, 
 the god of riches, who forbids their entrance. He suc- 
 cumbs at Virgil's mention of the Archangel Michael, 
 whose sword " on the adulterer struck the vengeful blow : " 
 
 " As sails full spread and bellying with the wind 
 Drop, suddenly collapsed, if the mast split. 
 So to the ground down dropp'd the cruel fiend." 
 
 — Hell, vii. 13. 
 
 Two separate divisions of the fourth circle contain the 
 
THE AVARICIOUS AND THE PRODIGAL. 117 
 
 avaricious and prodigal: they howl aloud as they roll 
 enormous weights; at each half circle they dash against 
 each other : 
 
 " And each one forthwith 
 Roll'd them back, voluble, turning again. 
 Exclaiming these, ' Why boldest thou so fast ? ' 
 Those answering, ' And why castest thou away ? ' "' 
 
 — J5e«, vii. 28. 
 
 Thus each, incessantly wheeling round, attacks and re- 
 coils, and in their punishment is symbolised their sin : 
 
 " Behold," says Virgil, " my son ! how brief, how vain. 
 The goods committed into Fortune's hands. 
 For which the human race keep such a coil I 
 Not all the gold that is beneath the moon, 
 Or ever hath been, of these toil-worn souls 
 Might purchase rest for one." — Hell, vii. 62. 
 
 By a rugged path they descend to the fifth circle. Here 
 are the violent, " naked, and with mire o'erspread," in the 
 Stygian marsh : 
 
 " They with their hands alone 
 Struck not, but with the head, the breast, the feet. 
 Cutting each other piecemeal with their fangs." 
 
 — Hell, vii. 115. 
 
 The sullen ^ lie immersed in boiling slime : 
 
 " Sad once were we. 
 In the sweet air made gladsome by the sun. 
 Carrying a foul and lazy mist within." — Hell, vii. 124. 
 
 1 St. Thomas, following Aristotle (Eth. iv. 5), distinguishes three 
 kinds of wrathful men {iracundi) : i. The enraged {acuti), those who 
 fly quickly into a passion and for the least cause. 2. The sullen 
 (amari). 3. The obstinate {difficUes). In the two latter classes anger 
 lasts for a long time. In the sullen, the sadness remains shut up in 
 their hearts, for they evince no outward sign of irritation, and are, 
 therefore, never open to advice. In the obstinate, the vehement desire 
 of revenge keeps their anger aUve. S. ii. 2. q. 185, a. 5. 
 
n8 HELL, 
 
 They cannot speak, but the poet becomes aware of their 
 suffering existence by the bubbling of the noisome waters 
 which their gurgling and sighing brings to the surface. 
 Among the proud here punished, Dante especially notes 
 many princes and great men of the world : 
 
 " There above, 
 How many now hold themselves mighty kings, 
 Who here like swine shall wallow in the mire. 
 Leaving behind them horrible dispraise ! " 
 
 — Hell, viii. 47, 
 
 Phlegyas hastens from the other shore to greet the 
 wanderers. As they sail across the lake, lost souls rise 
 above the seething waters with arms outstretched to the 
 poet, but are thrust back by the boatman. Dante now 
 discerns from afar the city of Lucifer. Its towers glow 
 with furnace *heat ; its walls of iron are surrounded by 
 deep trenches; thousands of demons guard its entrance; 
 on its lofty pinnacles appear the Furies : 
 
 " Around them greenest hydras twisting roll'd 
 Their volumes, adders and cerastes crept 
 Instead of hair, and their fierce temples bound." 
 
 — Hell, ix. 41. 
 
 They call on Medusa, that the sight of her may change 
 the poet into stone ; but Virgil thus warns him : 
 
 " Turn thyself round, and keep 
 Thy countenance hid ; for if the Gorgon dire 
 Be shown, and thou should'st view it, thy return 
 Upwards would be for ever lost." — Hell, ix. 56. 
 
 Dante, horror-struck, clings to his guide, and Virgil 
 covers his eyes with both his hands. The earth trembles ; 
 loud-crashing thunder rolls. Virgil uncovers Dante's eyes, 
 
HERETICS. 119 
 
 and an angel appears, before whom the demons flee in 
 terror. Dryshod he crosses the Styx ; the gate flees open 
 at the touch of his wand, and then in silence he disappears. 
 Dante himself calls our attention to the deeper meaning 
 of this allegory ; to the 
 
 "Lore conceal'd 
 Under close texture of the mystic strain." 
 
 — Hell, ix. 63. 
 
 The city contained those who have sinned against the 
 faith. Yirgil could not gain admittance unaided, for reason 
 alone cannot open man's heart to faith. The Furies and 
 Medusa, that is, a bad conscience and obdurate, stony 
 scepticism, are ever the cause of unbeUef. 
 
 The poets enter between the lofty battlements and a 
 long range of tombs. This is the sixth circle, that of the 
 heretics. There, in coffins of flames with uncovered lids, 
 lie the heresiarchs, with their followers of every sect. As 
 they proceed discoursing, Farinata degli Uberti, a renowned 
 leader of the Florentine Ghibellines, hearing Dante's voice, 
 suddenly "from his girdle upwards " arises from his tomb. 
 He reminds the poet of his triumphs against Dante's 
 ancestors, the Guelfs : 
 
 " His breast and forehead there 
 Erecting, seem'd as in high scorn he held 
 E'en HeU."— iZ"eZ;, x. 35. 
 
 Here lie buried Pope Anastasius 11.,^ and the Emperor 
 
 1 Some commentators, Pozziali, Lombardi, and Tommaseo, think that 
 Dante confounded Pope Anastasius with the Emperor, his contem- 
 porary and namesake ; but it seems more probable that Pope Anastasius 
 is here meant, and that Dante condemned him for favouring the 
 heresy of Photinus, on account of a passage in Gratianus {Deer. I, 
 dist. 19. 9), a book accounted in the Middle Ages as a high authority. 
 Dr. Dollinger exposes Dante's error, and says of the Pope, " He was 
 innocent and blameless as regards dogma." Cf. Fapstfabdn, p. 124 
 et seq. 
 
I20 HELL. 
 
 Frederic 11.,^ also many who, with Epicurus and his school, 
 denied the immortality of the soul : 
 
 "Who t^b the body make the spirit die." — Hell, x. i6. 
 
 Such is the fitting punishment of these souls. At the 
 last day their cofiins will be closed, and they will be for 
 ever buried in darkness and separated from God. The 
 poet here introduces another touching episode into the 
 ghastly picture. Whilst Farinata discourses with Dante 
 on the changeful fortunes of their native city, the father 
 of Guido, the friend of Dante's youth, Cavalcanti, the 
 Guelf, uplifts himself. After searching vainly if there are 
 others in the poet's company, he addresses Dante with 
 tears : 
 
 " If thou through this bhnd prison goest, 
 Led by thy lofty genius and profound, 
 Where is my son ? and wherefore not with thee ? " 
 
 — Hell, X. 57. 
 
 From an expression used by Dante, the father gathers 
 that his son is dead, falls back, and is seen no more. 
 
 In their twofold species, as sins of violence and of fraud, 
 heresies form the transition between sins of infirmity and 
 sins of malice. For heresy is at once rebellion, or violence 
 against God, and also fraud, because the heretic makes 
 divine truth subservient to his own human opinion, and thus 
 leads the multitude astray. This class of sins belongs to the 
 sixth circle, since the root of all heresy is pride and sen- 
 suality. 
 
 ^ Dante here only expresses the judgment of his time on Frederic 
 II. That it was well founded is proved by the latest researches on the 
 subject by Renter, Geschichte der Aujkldrung im Mittelalter, ii. p. 287. 
 
 2 " The sects and heresies both belong to the works of the flesh, not 
 indeed with regard to the act of infidelity considered in relation to its 
 proximate object, but as regards their cause, which is the desire of 
 an unlawful end, arising from pride or covetousness ; or from some 
 delusion of the imagination ; for, as Aristotle says, the imagination is 
 a source of error ; and it belongs in a way to the flesh, as its acts pre- 
 suppose a bodily organ." — S. ii. 2. q. 9, a. i ad 3. 
 
MURDERERS. 121 
 
 On reaching the seventh circle, the poet enters lower 
 Hell, the abode of those who sin from malice. The descent 
 is by a precipitous chasm, full of rocky crags, formed by 
 the earthquake which convulsed all Hell at the descent of 
 our Lord, "who carried off from Dis the mighty spoil." ^ 
 On the summit of the rent cleft lies the outstretched form 
 of the Minotaur, who is the guardian of the seventh circle, 
 and the type of blind rage : 
 
 " Like to a bull, that with impetuous spring 
 Darts, at the moment when the fatal blow 
 Hath struck him, but, unable to proceed, 
 Plunges on either side ; so saw I plunge 
 The Minotaur." — Hell, xii. 21. 
 
 Here in three rounds are chastised those who have done 
 violence against their neighbour, themselves, and God. The 
 poet thus deplores their folly : 
 
 "Obhndlust! 
 O foolish wrath ! who so dost goad us on 
 In the brief life, and in the eternal then 
 Thus miserably o'erwhelm us." — Hell, xii. 46. 
 
 The murderers are submerged in a torrent of boiling 
 blood, in depth according to the measure of their guilt. 
 Centaurs, " with keen arrows armed," shoot at any who 
 attempt to raise themselves out of it. Here are also the 
 tyrants ^ " who were given to blood and rapine." 
 
 Among these are Alexander ^ and Dionysius of Syracuse 
 
 ^ Hell, xii. 37. 
 
 2 Dante defines [De Monarch. L 12) a tyrant as one " who drives 
 mankind into slavery," and he follows St. Thomas, who thus distin- 
 guishes tyrants from kings : " The kingdom is not for the king, but 
 the king for the kingdom. For God has established them to rule and 
 govern their kingdom, and to preserve each one in his right, and such 
 is the end of government ; if they act otherwise, and pervert their 
 advantage to their own interest, they are not kings, but tyrants." — De 
 Regim. prin. iii. 2. 
 
 •* It is doubtful whether Alexander the Great, or the Tyrant of 
 Pherae in Thessaly, is here spoken of. 
 
122 HELL. 
 
 in ancient, Attila and Ezzelino in modern, times. The 
 Centaur Nessus carries the poet across the stream of 
 blood, and points to a spirit, by " itself apart," plunged up 
 to the throat in the boiling wave. He is Guy de Montfort, 
 who in 127 1 stabbed Henry, son of Kichard of Cornwall, 
 at Yiterbo, during the holy sacrifice of the Mass : 
 
 " He in God's bosom smote the heart 
 Which yet is honour'd on the bank of Thames." 
 
 — Hell, xii. 119. 
 
 The second round of this circle forms the place of 
 punishment for the suicides, those who have laid violent 
 hands on themselves. They outraged God and nature by 
 destroying their bodies, and now are for ever deprived 
 of them, their souls being imprisoned in trees. Nothing 
 remains to them but sensation, that they may suffer eter- 
 nally for their crime. The suicides form a vast forest, 
 inhabited by Harpies : 
 
 " Not verdant there 
 The foliage, but of dusky hue ; not light 
 The boughs and tapering, but with knares deform'd 
 And matted thick ; fruits there were none, but thorns 
 Instead, with venom fill'd. 
 
 Here the brute Harpies make their nest ; 
 Broad are their pennons, of the human form 
 Their neck and countenance, arm'd with talons keen 
 The feet, and the huge belly fledge with wings : 
 These sit and wail on the drear mystic wood. 
 
 On all sides 
 I heard sad plaintings breathe, and none could see 
 From whom they might have issued. In amaze 
 
 Fast bound I stood 
 
 Thereat a little stretching forth my hand. 
 From a great wilding gather'd I a branch. 
 And straight the trunk exclaimed, 'Why pluck'st thou 
 me?' 
 
SUICIDES. 12^ 
 
 Then as the dark blood trickled down its side, 
 These words it added : ' Wherefore tear'st me thus ? 
 Is there no touch of mercy in thy breast ? 
 Men once were we, that now are rooted here, 
 Thy hand might weU have spared us, had we been 
 The souls of serpents.' As a brand yet green 
 That burning at one end from the other, sends 
 A groaning sound and hisses with the wind 
 That forces out its way, so burst at once 
 Forth from the broken splinter words and blood. 
 I, letting fall the bough, remain'd as one 
 Assaii'd by terror." — Hell, xiii. 3. 
 
 Among the souls here banished is Piero delle Vigne, 
 Chancellor of the Emperor Frederic II., " who held both 
 keys to Frederic's heart." Denounced by the courtiers 
 through envy, " that common vice and pest of courts," he 
 fell into disgrace and committed suicide. Thus he narrates 
 his fall and his punishment : 
 
 " When departs 
 The fierce soul from the body, by itself 
 Thence torn asunder, to the seventh gulf 
 By Minos doom'd, into the wood it falls. 
 No place assigned, but wheresoever chance 
 Hurls it ; there sprouting as a grain of spelt. 
 It rises to a sapling, growing thence 
 A savage plant. The Harpies, on its leaves 
 Then feeding, cause both pain, and for the pain 
 A vent to grief .^ We, as the rest, shall come 
 For our own spoils, yet not so that with them 
 We may again be clad ; for what a man 
 Takes from himself it is not just he have. 
 Here we perforce shall drag them, and throughout 
 The dismal glade our bodies shall be hung. 
 Each on the wild thorn of his wretched shade." 
 
 1 While the hole in the bark is open, the imprisoned soul can sob 
 through the cavity. 
 
124 HELL, 
 
 Others, who have squandered their fortunes and then 
 slain themselves, flee naked and breathless through this 
 forest of thorns, pursued by "black female mastiffs, 
 gaunt and fleet," by whom they are overtaken, " rent 
 piecemeal," and their tortured limbs borne away. 
 
 On leaving the forest, a desolate sandy heath is entered, 
 where wander numerous " flocks " of naked spirits : 
 
 " O'er all the sand fell, slowly wafting down, 
 DUated flakes of fire, as flakes of snow 
 On Alpine summit when the wind is hush'd. 
 
 So fell the eternal fiery flood, wherewith 
 The marble glow'd underneath, as under stove 
 The viands, doubly to augment the paia. 
 Unceasing was the play of wretched hands, 
 Now this, now that way glancing, to shake off 
 The heat, still faUing fresh." — Hell, xiv. 25. 
 
 We are now in the third round, the Hell of those who 
 have used violence against God, blasphemers, peccatores 
 contra naturairif and usurers. Here lies, helpless and con- 
 torted, Capaneus, one of the seven kings "who girt the 
 Theban walls with siege" and "held God in disdain." ^ 
 Hurled to the ground and transfixed by the lightnings of 
 divine justice, he still gazes upward in proud scorn, and 
 exclaims to the poet : 
 
 " Such as I was 
 When Hving, dead, such now I am. If Jove 
 Weary his workmen out, from whom in ire 
 He snatch'd the Hghtnings, that at my last day 
 Transfix'd me ; if the rest he weary out, 
 At their black smithy labouring by turns, 
 In Mongibello, while he cries aloud, 
 ' Help, help, good Mulciber ! ' as erst he cried 
 In the Phlegrean warfare, and the bolts 
 
 1 Cf. Statius, Theh. x. 845 et seg. 
 
BLASPHEMERS. 12; 
 
 Launch he, full aim'd at me, with all his might, 
 He never should enjoy a sweet revenge." ^ 
 
 — Hell, xiv. 47. 
 
 Virgil in reply reproves his blasphemy : 
 
 Thou art more punish'd in that this thy pride 
 Lives yet imquench'd : no torment, save thy rage 
 Were to thy fury pain proportion'd full." 
 
 — Hell, xiv. 59. 
 
 Lucifer, in Byron's Cain, makes speech similar to that of 
 Capaneus : 
 
 " No ! by Heaven, which He 
 Holds, and the abyss, and the immensity 
 Of worlds and life, which I hold with Him — No ! 
 I have a victor — true, but no superior. 
 Homage He has from all — ^but none from me : 
 I battle it against Him, as I battled 
 In highest Heaven. Through all eternity, 
 And the unfathomable gulfs of Hades, 
 And the interminable realms of space. 
 And the infinity of endless ages, 
 AU — all, will I dispute ! and world by world, 
 And star by star, and universe by imiverse, 
 Shall tremble in the balance, tUl the great 
 Conflict shall cease, if ever it shaU cease — 
 Which it ne'er shall till He or I be quenched." ^ 
 
 — Act n. Scene 2. 
 
 * His words recall a similar passage in the Prometheus Vinctus, 
 line 994 : 
 
 " Let then the blazing levin flash be hurled 
 With white-winged snowstorm and with earth-bom thunders ; 
 Let him disturb and trouble all that is ; 
 Nought of these things shall force me to declare 
 Whose hand shall drive Him from His sovereignty." — Plumptre's 
 Trans. 
 
 2 So St. Thomas : " The evil (reprobate) will never repent, strictly 
 speaking, of their sins, for the evil will to sin remains in them." — S. 
 Supp. q. 98, a. 2. 
 
126 HELL. 
 
 Dante here recognises, in spite of his "parch'd looks, 
 smirched with fire," his master, Brunetto Latini, who had 
 been accused after death of a sin dishonouring alike to God 
 and nature. Strong as was still Dante's affection for him, 
 with inflexible justice he places Brunetto in Hell, among 
 many other learned men condemned for the same crime. 
 Yet most touchingly do his words express the scholar's 
 gratitude and love for his master : 
 
 " In my mind 
 Is fix'd, and now strikes full upon my heart, 
 The dear benign paternal image, such 
 As thine was, when so lately thou did'st teach me 
 The way for man to win eternity ; 
 And how I prized the lesson, it behoves 
 That long as life endures, my tongue should speak." 
 
 — Hell, XV. 8r. 
 
 On the extreme brink of this seventh circle are the 
 usurers; they are seated, because they enriched themselves 
 without effort, by the labour of others ; but they are tor- 
 mented, both by a rain of fire which they strive in vain to 
 ward off, and by the burning soil. Bound the neck of each 
 hangs an empty pouch, in mockery, and perpetual con- 
 demnation of their futile labours. 
 
 As the wayfarers approach the eighth circle, they hear 
 the roar of a mighty torrent, the Phlegethon. Here, at 
 Virgil's bidding, Dante loosens and gives him his girdle, 
 which he casts into the abyss. At this signal the monster 
 Geryon,^ the ruler of this circle, that of the fraudulent, 
 rises from the depths. His form is characteristic. Like 
 the Harpies, he is half-man, half-beast, but in him the 
 animal part is of a far lower type. The Centaur has the 
 form of the noble horse, the Harpy partly that of a bird. 
 
 ^ According to the fable, Geryon was a giant-king with three bodies, 
 who fed his oxen on the flesh of his friends, whom he treacherously 
 murdered : he was slain by Hercules. Hesiod, Theogon. 287. 
 
THE DEMON OF FRAUD. 127 
 
 But this symbol of fraud combines the nature of the creeping 
 snake and deadly scorpion, the lowest types of anioial life. 
 His countenance is that of an honest man, his body that of 
 a writhing serpent with parti-coloured shining skin; his 
 glittering tail ends in an envenomed fork ; his sharp claws 
 are concealed beneath soft hair. The whole figure is typical 
 of the beginning, the middle, and the end of fraud. For 
 the impostor seeks to captivate his victim by his gracious 
 aspect, whilst he winds his coils around him, and at last 
 darts out the fatal sting. This image is partly taken from 
 mythology, partly from Holy Writ. In Genesis the serpent 
 is described, as " more subtle than any of the beasts of the 
 earth," and in the Apocalypse we read, " And the shapes of 
 the locusts were like unto horses prepared unto battle ; and 
 on their heads were as it were crowns like gold, and their faces 
 were as the faces of men. And they had hair as the hair of 
 women, and their teeth were as lions. And they had breast- 
 plates as breastplates of iron, and the noise of their wings 
 was as the noise of chariots and many horses running to 
 battle. And they had tails lilm to scorpions, and there were 
 stings in their tails." ^ 
 
 The way and means by which Virgil allures Geryon 
 upwards with the coiled girdle of the poet, is altogether 
 original. According to some, it is the symbol of vigilance : 
 " Be your loins girt," &c. ; or of justice : " And justice 
 s^allbe the girdle of his loins ; " or, again, of force : "When 
 thou wast younger, thou didst gird thyself, and didst walk 
 where thou wouldest." ^ Possibly there is an allusion to 
 the cord of the Franciscans, which, as we have already 
 observed, Dante is said to have worn in his early youth, 
 but laid aside before the end of his noviciate ; hence, the 
 throwing down of the cord may signify Dante's plunge into 
 political life. If we accept the incident as historically true, 
 
 1 Genesis iii. i ; Apoc. ix. 7, &c. 
 
 2 Luke xii. 35 ; Isaias xi. 5 ; John xxi. 18. 
 
128 HELL. 
 
 it may mean that Geryon was to be allured by tbe hope of 
 getting into his power a Franciscan, false and faithless to 
 his rule. The cord, however, finds its best interpretation 
 in the self -mortification by which Dante had hoped " fast- 
 bound to take the painted leopard " of lust, but which, 
 when absorbed in worldly cares and passions, he cast aside. 
 The prayer with which the priest girds himself in his girdle 
 for Mass is, in this latter sense, " Gird me, Lord, with 
 the girdle of chastity, and extinguish in my loins the poison 
 of lust, that in me may abide the virtue of continence and 
 chastity."! 
 
 The descent of Hell becomes more precipitous and the 
 circles narrower, as they approach the abode of the fraudu- 
 lent. The monster Geryon, forced to lend the " aid of his 
 strong shoulders " to Yirgil and Dante, bears them down into 
 the abyss : 
 
 " Not greater was the dread when Phaeton 
 The reins let drop at random, .... 
 Than was my dread when round me on each part 
 The air I view'd, and other object none 
 Save the fell beast. He slowly sailing 
 Wheels his downward motion, unobserved of me, 
 But that the wind, arising to my face, 
 Breathes on me from below. Now on our right 
 I heard the cataract beneath us leap 
 With hideous crash ; whence bending down to explore, 
 New terror I conceived at the steep plunge ; 
 For flames I saw, and wailings smote mine ear. 
 So that, all trembling, close I crouch'd my limbs." 
 
 — Hell, xvii. 102. 
 
 They now find themselves in the eighth circle, called by 
 Dante, Malebolge, "evil pits." Before them is a wide 
 circular plain, outstretched between the precipice over 
 which the Phlegethon plunges, and the deepest abyss of hell. 
 
 ^ So also Philalethes. Cf. Scartazzini in he. 
 
FLATTERERS. 129 
 
 Of shelving form, it is traversed by ten circular and con- 
 centric trenches, each of which is girt by a wall of rock 
 Across each foss is thrown a bridge of rock, which serves 
 as its portal, and each contains a different class of the 
 fraudulent. The meaning of this image is clear. The 
 violent who sin openly are placed in a wide plain, whilst 
 the fraudulent are hidden in deep clefts ; the more crafty 
 the deceit, the deeper the foss. As a more hardened heart 
 is required for fraud than for violence, these holes are 
 hewn in rocks hard as iron.^ Here the travellers pro- 
 ceed from right to left. In the upper circles, the spiral 
 paths proceed from the left, to signify the open way of 
 evil ; in this circle, they wind from the right, to indicate 
 that pretence of good which leads all the more surely down 
 to the abyss. 
 
 In the first chasm Dante meets the panderers and the 
 seducers, who defile past in long lines, in opposite directions, 
 on either side of the trench, and are unceasingly lashed 
 onward by demons. In the second trench are buried the 
 flatterers. It is more profound than the first, for flattery 
 is a more hidden evil.^ So deep is this foss, that the poet 
 has to mount the highest point of the bridge, to see the lost 
 souls within. This is a picture of kingly courts and those 
 higher circles of society, where flattery most abounds, and 
 is most full of peril. As during life the flatterers have, by 
 their praise of sin, like dogs, licked all that is foul, they are 
 now immersed to the mouth in loathsome filth.^ The stench 
 is stifling, and with wide-stretched nostrils they snort for 
 
 1 IleU, xviii. i. 
 
 2 Flattery, according to St. Thomas, is opposed to charity in three 
 ways. I. By reason of the matter, when we praise any one for the 
 crime he has committed. 2. By reason of the intention, when the 
 purpose of the flattery is to injure another in body or soul. 3. By 
 reason of the occasion, when the flattery becomes the occasion of 
 another's sinning, even though this were not intended by the speaker. 
 S. ii, 2. q. 115, a. 2. 
 
 3 Bdly xviii. 113. 
 
 I 
 
130 HELL. 
 
 breath, while with both hands they strike their head and 
 face. Among these also are the harlots, such as Thais : 
 
 " Who there doth rend her with defiled nails, 
 Now crouching down, now risen on her feet." 
 
 — Hell, xviii. 128. 
 
 These two sins, alike shameful and degrading to the 
 dignity of man, are rightly classed together. 
 
 At the third bridge of rocks, Dante is terrified by the 
 sight of human feet, projecting in many places from the 
 stones below : 
 
 " On either foot 
 The soles were burning, whence the flexile joints 
 Glanc'd with such violent motion as had snapt 
 Asunder cords or twisted withes." — Hell, xix. 26. 
 
 These are the Simoniacs,^ whose quivering limbs " ex- 
 pressed their pang." By sale or barter, they have degraded 
 spiritual things and the priestly office for greed of gold, and 
 have thus made the highest gifts subserve the lowest ends. 
 They are therefore plunged head foremost into these holes, 
 those of the same class being buried together. As example 
 is an incentive to vice, the guilt of the first and bottommost 
 sinner is greatest, and each in turn is forced down lower by 
 the last comer. Among these Simoniacs are several Popes, 
 whom Dante accuses, with burning words, of simony and 
 nepotism. Yet he qualifies his harsh language by adding : 
 
 " If reverence of the keys restrain'd me not, 
 Which thou in happier time didst hold, I yet 
 Severer speech might use." — Hell, xix. 104. 
 
 St Thomas teaches 2 that the Pope, like any other man, 
 can fall into the sin of simony, and the higher his station, 
 the greater his sin. He is the supreme administrator of 
 the Church's property, but not its lord and possessor. 
 
 * Acts of the Apostles, viii. 9. ^ S. ii. 2. q. lOO, a. I ad 7. 
 
DIVINERS. 131 
 
 In the fourth trench, with slow and mournful step, a great 
 procession files slowly past : 
 
 " Earnest I look'd 
 Into the depth, that open'd to my view, 
 Moisten'd with tears of anguish, and beheld 
 A tribe, that came along the hollow vale. 
 In silence weeping : such their step as walk 
 Quires, chanting solemn litanies, on earth. 
 As on them more direct mine eye descends, 
 Each wondrously seem'd to be reversed 
 At the neck-bone, so that the countenance 
 Was from the reins averted ; and because 
 None might before him look, they were compell'd 
 To advance with backward gait. Thus one perhaps 
 Hath been by force of palsy clean transposed, 
 But I ne'er saw it, nor believe it so." — Hell, xx. 4, 
 
 At this sight the poet weeps, but is reproved by Virgil : 
 
 " What, and art thou, too, witless as the rest P 
 Here pity ^ most doth show herself alive, 
 When she is dead. What gmlt exceedeth his, 
 Who with Heaven's judgment in his passion strives ? " ^ 
 
 — Hell, XX. 25. 
 
 Those who thus defile past, are the diviners, soothsayers, 
 and astrologers, who strove by criminal means to penetrate 
 
 1 Pietci has two senses — the love of God {pietas, pieid) and pity 
 (pi tie). 
 
 ^ St. Catherine of Sienna expresses the same thought: "As the 
 Saints have united their wills entirely to the will of God, they 
 recognize in the punishments inflicted, the just judgments of God, and 
 grieve not thereat." — Dialog, c. 41. So again St. Bernard: "The 
 love of the flesh must be absorbed in the love of the spirit, and our 
 disordered affections changed into others that are divine." — De Dilig. 
 Deo, 3. St. Thomas thus explains the feelings of the Saints towards 
 the lost souls: "A thing can be a joy in two ways. I. For itself, 
 when one rejoices in the thing {per se) as such, and in this way the 
 Saints do not rejoice in the sufferings of the wicked, 2. Indirectly 
 {per accidens), on account of something else joined to it ; thus the 
 Saints will rejoice in the sufferings of the wicked, considering in them 
 the order of divine justice." — S. Supp. q. 94, a. 2. 
 
132 HELL. 
 
 into the future, and are now for ever condemned to turn 
 their faces backwards. 
 
 In a foss, overshadowed with a " marvellous darkness," 
 are placed the corrupt officials. They are plunged into a sea 
 of boiling pitch, from which, whenever they strive to emerge, 
 they are attacked and torn by demons. The capricious, 
 malignant, and treacherous nature of the fiends, who out 
 of sheer malice thus torment their victims, fitly answers to 
 the corrupt practices of the condemned. 
 
 Of ' no/ 
 " For lucre there an ' ay ' is quickly made." ^ — Hell, xxi. 40, 
 
 Finally, the wayfarers are themselves deceived and beset 
 by one of these mocking fiend s.2 
 
 Virgil now conducts the poet down to the sixth trench : 
 
 " There in the depth we saw a painted tribe, 
 Who paced with tardy steps around, and wept, 
 Faint in appearance and o'ercome with toil, 
 Caps had they on, with hoods, that fell low down 
 Before their eyes, in fashion like to those 
 Worn by the monks in Cologne. Their outside 
 Was overlaid with gold, dazzling to view. 
 But leaden all within," and of such weight, 
 That Frederic's ^ compared to these were straw. 
 O everlasting wearisome attire ! " — Hell, xxiii. 58. 
 
 These are the hypocrites.* In life they affected a tardy 
 gait, with eyes sanctimoniously cast down; in Hell also 
 they pace with steps measured and sad, bowed down under 
 the weight of their punishment. Across their path lies the 
 high priest Caiphas. In concert with the Pharisees, out 
 
 ^ Del no, per il danar, vi si fa ita. 
 2 Hell, xxi. no, 128. 
 
 2 Under Frederic II. persons condemned for high treason were 
 encased, it is said, in a leaden shroud and then burned alive. 
 ^ Matt, xxiii. 27, vii. 16. 
 
HYPOCRITES, 133 
 
 of feigned zeal for religion, he had decreed the death of our 
 Lord, and now lies crucified himself upon three short stakes, 
 which project from the stony ground. With him, in like 
 manner^, suffer Annas and the other guilty chiefs of the 
 Sanhedrim. The hypocrites, as they pass round, trample 
 them for ever underfoot. 
 
 Wearied to death is the poet, who is forced to clamber 
 over huge masses of rock, in order to reach the two lowest 
 chasms. But Virgil thus encourages him : 
 
 " For not on downy plumes, nor imder shade 
 Of canopy reposing, fame is won, 
 Without which whosoe'er consumes his days, 
 Leaveth such vestige of himself on earth. 
 As smoke in air or foam upon the wave. 
 Thou therefore rise : vanquish thy weariness 
 By the mind's effort, in each struggle f orm'd 
 To vanquish, if she suffer not the weight 
 Of her corporeal frame to crush her down." 
 
 — Hell, xxiv. 46. 
 
 Dante then descends into the seventh trench ; but what 
 a sight opens before him ! 
 
 " I saw a jcrowd within 
 Of serpents terrible, so strange of shape 
 And hideous, that remembrance in my veins 
 Yet shrinks the vital current. 
 
 Amid this dread exuberance of woe 
 
 Ran naked spirits, wing'd with horrid fear ; 
 
 No hope had they of crevice where to hide. 
 
 Or hehotrope ^ to charm them out of view. 
 
 With serpents were their hands behind them bound, 
 
 Which through their reins infix'd the tail and head, 
 
 Twisted in folds before." — Hell, xxiv. 79. 
 
 ^ " Senza sperar pertugio o elitropia." Literally, to find the stone 
 called heliotrope, which was supposed to render its possessor invisible. 
 Boccaccio, Dccam. viii. 3. 
 
134 HELL. 
 
 These are the thieves, who are pursued, encircled, and 
 transfixed by serpents. The reptile-torturers represent 
 their sinful deeds and crafty ways. The thief is stripped 
 of his own nature — his last possession — and transformed 
 into a serpent ; what his thieving habits made him, he has 
 in fact become. Suddenly the serpent assaults him, and 
 " more closely than the ivy clings to the tree " coils round 
 him ; they are fused together like wax, and mutually trans- 
 formed, the serpent into the man, the man into the serpent. 
 
 Here also Dante discovers several of his countrymen, and 
 thus in bitter irony upbraids his native city : 
 
 " Florence, exult ! for thou so mightily 
 Hast thriven, that o'er land and sea thy wings 
 Thou beatest, and thy name spreads over Hell ! 
 Among the plunderers, such the three I found 
 Thy citizens ; whence shame to me, thy son, 
 And no proud honour to thyself redounds." 
 
 — Hell, xxvi. I. 
 
 The eighth cleft discloses flames innumerable, which 
 ascending upwards, devour the souls of those who have 
 abused the higher gifts of intellect, by the evil counsels they 
 have given. Their souls lie concealed, as was their advice, 
 which prompted to evil deeds. Among them, Dante recog- 
 nises Ulysses and Diomede, who stole the palladium from 
 the Temple of Minerva, the goddess of Wisdom. These two 
 represent all who have misused the higher gifts of the 
 intellect. Here also appears Guido da Montefeltro, who,^ 
 after having renounced the world and become a Franciscan, 
 was said to have counselled Boniface YIII. to a breach of 
 faith with the Colonna. 
 
 1 The allusion is to a stor}', according to which Guido advised the 
 Pope to guarantee the garrison of Palestrina their safety, but not to 
 keep his promise (" di promettere assai, e di mantener poco '), for 
 which the Pope granted him the remission of all his sins. The story 
 is not mentioned by any contemporary writer, and is described by 
 Tommaseo as a " romanzo storico," which could only have originated 
 in the mutual caluuuiies of the Guelfs aud Ghibellincs. 
 
SOWERS OF HERESY AND REVOLT. 135 
 
 Guido tells Dante, that when he was numbered with the 
 dead : 
 
 " Then came 
 St. Francis for me : but a cherub dark 
 He met, who cried, ^ Wrong me not ; he is mine, 
 And must below to join the wretched crew 
 For the deceitful counsel which he gave. 
 E'er since I watched him, hovering at his hair. 
 No power can the impenitent absolve ; 
 Nor to repent, and will, at once consist, 
 By contradiction absolute forbid.' 
 O misery ! how I shook myself when he 
 Seized me, and cried, ' Thou haply thought'st me not 
 A disputant in logic so exact ! ' " — Hell, xxvii. 108. 
 
 In the ninth cleft, the heretics and leaders of rebellion 
 are tormented by a demon, who, with his sword, hews their 
 bodies asunder, and cuts off their tongues and hands. Their 
 members are thus divided, because whilst living they dis- 
 turbed unity, and separated those who were one in religion 
 and politics. When they have passed round the circle, 
 their wounds are healed ; but the demon's sword again 
 strikes them, and thus their sufferings are for ever 
 renewed. The body of Mahomet, the "great sectary," is 
 rent asunder from head to foot. Caliph Ali, who founded 
 a new Mahometan sect, is seen with his head split open ; 
 and those who have set father against son, have their heads 
 severed from the spine. Schismatics, either in word or 
 deed, have their tongues and hands cut off. Fra Dolcino, 
 an advocate of so-called Church reform and of plurality of 
 wives, who was still living when the Inferno was written, 
 is forewarned by Mahomet that he must shortly follow him 
 hither. Here also is the tribune Curio. Expelled from 
 Rome by the Senate, he sought Caesar at Ariminum, and 
 finding him deep in thought, doubtful whether or no to 
 pass the Rubicon, and invade his native land, exclaimed, 
 
136 HELL, 
 
 " Do not hesitate ; delay is always fatal to the soldier/' ^ 
 which thereby enkindled a civil war. Here also is Mosca 
 Lamberti, who advised the murder of Buondelmonti, and 
 engaged Florence in the strife of Guelfs and Ghibellines. 
 
 Finally, in the tenth chasm are the falsifiers. They are 
 divided into falsifiers of metals — forgers and coiners ; falsi- 
 fiers of speech — liars and calumniators; and falsifiers of 
 individuals, those who deceitfully impersonated false char- 
 acters. They lie covered with filth, and tormented by the 
 most loathsome diseases : 
 
 " As were the torment, if each lazar-house 
 Of Valdichiana, in the sultry time 
 Twixt July and September, with the isle 
 Sardinia and Maremma's pestilent fen. 
 Had heaped their maladies all in one f oss 
 Together ; such was here the torment : dire 
 The stench, as issuing streams from fester'd limbs." 
 
 — Hell, xxix. 44. 
 
 Hern are the coiners in the last agonies of dropsy ; the 
 calumniators, such as Putiphar's wife, in burning fever; 
 they mutually abuse and strike each other. The fever- 
 stiicken and dropsical are drawn with astonishing truthful- 
 ness, and bring before us figures from the hospitals, which 
 Dante probably frequented. As he lingers, watching the 
 strife, he is warned by Yirgil to hasten onward : 
 
 " And if again 
 Chance bring thee where like conference is held, 
 Think I am ever at thy side.*^ To hear 
 Such wrangling is a joy for vulgar minds." 
 
 — Hell, XXX. 142. 
 
 We have reached the ninth and lowest circle, which con- 
 tains those who have been guilty of treachery. Through 
 
 ^ "Tolle moras ; nocuit semper diflferre paratis." — Lucan, Pkars. lib. 
 i. V. 281. 
 
 '■^ To chide thee. 
 
GIANT-TRAITORS. 137 
 
 the " gross and gloomy atmosphere " Dante dimly discerns 
 forms which appear to be lofty towers. He asks : 
 
 " Master, what land is this ? " 
 Virgil replies : 
 
 " Thou hast widely err'd 
 
 In thy imagining 
 
 These are not towers, 
 
 But giants. In the pit they stand immersed." 
 
 Hell, xxxi. 21. 
 
 The huge size of the giants symbolises the enormity of 
 their crimes. "With half of their bodies above the water, 
 they stand round the brink of the " well," that is, the deep 
 abyss which leads down to the last circle. Dante, as he 
 gazes at them, rejoices that Nature no longer produces 1 
 such beings as these, in whom " brute force and evil will I 
 are back'd by subtlety." They are types of all who by/ 
 treachery^ and force have, sinned against God, and the two I 
 divinely ordained r ulers o f men, the Pope and the Emperor. I 
 Here is Nimrod, to whom the poet attributes the building | 
 of the Tower of Babel. As that outrage was punished by 
 the confusion of tongues, Nimrod's speech is inarticulate 
 and unintelligible. Enraged that mortals should dare to 
 descend into these regions, he sounds his horn, and Hell 
 trembles at the blast. Here are Ephialtes, who thought to 
 storm Heaven by heaping Olympus, Ossa, and Pelion one 
 upon another ; Briareus, with a hundred arms ; Antaeus, in- 
 vincible on his mother-earth, but who, borne aloft by Her- 
 cules, was thus vanquished by him. Antaeus takes the 
 wanderers in his arms, and places them at the bottom of 
 the circle. 
 
 The Cocytus, the fourth stream of Hell, here forms a 
 vast sea of ice, " whose frozen surface liker seem'd to glass 
 than water." ^ The atmosphere is grey and gloomy; a 
 ^ Hell, xxxii. 2^. 
 
138 HELL. 
 
 piercing cold pervades the narrow space ; within its fonr 
 divisions, the traitors are plunged in depths, varying accord- 
 ing to the blackness and unnatural character of their 
 crime. These wretched souls, the farthest removed from 
 God, lie stiffened in cold egotism, ice-bound, and knit 
 to2"ether so fast that 
 
 " Plank unto plank hath never cramp closed up 
 So stoutly." — Hell, xxxii. 47. 
 
 Their tears are frozen as they flow, and thus form a veil. 
 Hence Alberigo's entreaty : 
 
 " From this face remove 
 The hardened veil, that I may vent the grief 
 Impregnate at my heart, some little space, 
 Ere it congeal again." — Htll, xxxiii. 109. 
 
 Meanwhile they burn with mutual rage and hate, 
 and with fiendish malice relate to the poet the crimes of 
 their fellows. But they are fully conscious of the baseness 
 of their treachery, and whilst in the upper circles of Hell 
 the lost souls still long to be remembered on earth, the 
 traitors desire that their names may never there be 
 uttered. 
 
 The first division is Caina, the city of Cain ; it contains 
 the traitors to their kindred. The second division, Ante- 
 nora, so-called from An tenor the Trojan, who betrayed 
 his native city to the Greeks, holds traitors to their country. 
 The third division is Ptolomaea, so-called from Ptolemy, 
 who treacherously murdered Judas Maccabeus and his sons 
 at a feast, to which he had invited them. This is the 
 prison of traitors to their friends. Within the fourth 
 division, Giudecca, the city of Judas, are confined traitors 
 to their benefactors. 
 
 Through the dark ice-bound lake, trembling with horror, 
 the poet advances. In the first two divisions, the wretched 
 
TRAITORS TO KINDRED. 139 
 
 sinners lie with faces to the ground; in the other two — a 
 still harder penance— with faces upturned : 
 
 " There, very weeping suffers not to weep, 
 For at their eyes, Grief, seeking passage, finds 
 Impediment, and roUing inward, turns 
 For increase of deep anguish : the first tears 
 Hang cluster'd, and like crystal vizors show. 
 Under the socket brimming all the cup." 
 
 — Hell, xxxiii. 94. 
 
 This second division is peopled by the poet with person- 
 ages noted in the history of Italy and Florence, and in the A 
 feuds of the Guelfs and Ghibellines. On the borders od 
 Antenora and Ptolomsea he is confronted by a terribl^ 
 spectacle. In one hole, two figures are frozen together ^ ^ 
 one of these, as he lies uppermost, hides the other from view^ ^ 
 and, like some hungry dog, gnaws his skull. The former is\ {/■ 
 Count TJgolino della Gherardesca ; the latter. Archbishop \ 
 Ruggieri of Pisa. The poet inquires Ugolino's name, and [/ 
 bribes him to answer by the promise, not of fame for him- 
 self, but of infamy for his enemy : 
 
 " O thou who show'st so beastly sign of hate 
 'Gainst him thou prey'st on, let me hear, said I, 
 The cause, on such condition, that if right 
 Warrant thy grievance, knowing who ye are, 
 And what the colour of his sinning was, 
 I may repay thee in the world above." 
 
 — Hell, xxxii. 1 30. 
 
 " His jaws uplifting from their fell repast, 
 That sinner wiped them on the hairs o' the head. 
 Which he behind had mangled, then began : 
 ' Thy will obeying, I call up afresh 
 Sorrow past cure ; which, but to think of, WTings 
 My heart, or ere I tell on't. But if words, 
 That I may utter, shall prove seed to bear 
 Fruit of eternal infamy to him. 
 The traitor whom I gnaw at, thou at once 
 
140 HELL. 
 
 Shalt see me speak and weep. Who thou mayst be 
 I know not, nor how here below art come : 
 But Florentine thou seemest of a truth 
 When I do hear thee. Know I was on earth 
 Count Ugolino, and the Archbishop he 
 Ruggieri. W^hy I neighbour him so close, 
 Now list." — Hell, xxxiii. i . 
 
 Ugolino, Count della Gherardesca, chief of the Guelfs 
 and lord of Pisa, shared that dignity with Nino Viseonti, 
 \ his nephew. In order to maintain his power, Ugolino 
 treacherously broke the truce with Genoa, and thus pre- 
 vented the Pisans there captive, and whom he feared, re- 
 \ gaining their liberty. Meanwhile the old party of the 
 r Ghibellines rose in arms under Ruggieri degli Ubaldini, 
 \ Archbishop of Pisa, with Gualandi, Sismondi, and Lan- 
 \ franchi, and with them, to be rid of his powerful rival 
 I Yisconti, Ugolino now sought an alliance. In the intoxica- 
 tion of power, he murdered in a fit of rage one of his own 
 kinsmen, who was also the Archbishop's nephew. When 
 the corpse of the murdered man was brought before the 
 Archbishop, he is said to have exclaimed, " This cannot be 
 my nephew. The Count had no motive that I know of, for 
 putting my nephew to death." His revenge, however, was 
 only delayed to a more opportune moment. The treaty 
 of alliance was signed, and Yisconti banished. But upon 
 Ugolino's refusal to share his power with the Archbishop, 
 a civil war ensued, in which the former was defeated and 
 taken prisoner, with his two sons, Gaddo and Uguccione, 
 and two grandsons, Nino and Anselmuccio. All five were 
 imprisoned, and left to die by starvation in the Tower de' 
 Gualandi. At the end of eight days, the door was unbarred, 
 and the victims buried with their feet still in fetters.^ Such 
 
 ^ In consequence of this crime the Archbishop was thrice summoned 
 to Rome, and condemned in contumaciam. Baldo, Vita dl Dante, 
 L 6. 
 
 \ 
 
COUNT UGOLINO. 141 
 
 is the historical basis for the following stanzas, which Goethe 
 ranks among the sublimes t creations of poetry : 
 
 " That through effect of his ill thoughts, 
 In him my trust reposing, I was taken 
 And after murder'd, need is not I teU. 
 What therefore thou canst not have heard, that is, 
 How cruel was the mm-der, shalt thou hear. 
 And know if he have wrong'd me. A small grate 
 Within that mew, which for my sake the name 
 Of famine bears, where others yet must pine, 
 Already through its opening several moons 
 Had shown me, when I slept the evil sleep 
 That from the future tore the curtain off. 
 This one, methought, as master of the sport. 
 Rode forth to chase the gaunt wolf and his whelp 
 Unto the mountain which forbids the sight 
 Of Lucca to the Pisan. With lean brachs 
 Inquisitive and keen, before him ranged 
 Lanfranchi with Sismondi and Gualandi, 
 After short coiuse, the father of the sons 
 Seem'd tired and lagging, and methought I saw 
 The sharp tusks gore their sides. When I awoke 
 Before the dawn, amid their sleep I heard 
 My sons — for they were with me — weep and ask 
 For bread. Right cruel art thou, if no pang , 
 
 Thou feel at thinking what my heart foretold ; 
 And if not now, why use thy tears to flow ? 
 Now they had waken'd, and the hour drew near 
 When they were wont to bring us food ; the mind 
 Of each misgave him through his dream, and I 
 Heard, at its outlet underneath lock'd up 
 The horrible tower : whence, uttering not a word, 
 I look'd upon the visage of my sons. 
 I wept not : so all of stone I felt within. 
 They wept : and one, my Uttle Anselm, cried, 
 ' Thou lookest so ! father ; what ails thee ? ' Yet 
 I shed no tear, nor answered all that day 
 Nor the next night, until another sun 
 Came out upon the world. When a faint beam 
 Had to our doleful prison made its way, 
 
142 HELL. 
 
 And in four countenances I descried 
 
 The image of my own, on either hand 
 
 Through agony I bit ; and they, who thought 
 
 I did it through desire of feeding, rose 
 
 O' the sudden, and cried, ^ Father, we should grieve 
 
 Far less, if thou would'st eat of us : thou gavest 
 
 These weeds of miserable flesh we wear, 
 
 And do thou strip them off from us again.' 
 
 Then, not to make them sadder, I kept down 
 
 My spirit in stillness. That day and the next 
 
 We all were silent. Ah, obdurate earth ! 
 
 Why open'dst not upon us ? When we came 
 
 To the fourth day, then Gaddo at my feet 
 
 Outstretch'd did fling him, crying, ' Hast no help 
 
 For me, my father ? ' There he died ; and e'en 
 
 Plainly as thou seest me, saw I the three 
 
 Fall one by one 'twixt the fifth day and the sixth. 
 
 Whence I betook me, now grown blind, to grope 
 
 Over them all, and for three days aloud 
 
 Call'd on them who were dead. Then, fasting got 
 
 The mastery of grief." — Hell, xxxiii. i6. 
 
 The moonlight through the narrow opening of his prison 
 alone marks the time. In a dream Ugolino sees his 
 pnemies, as thirsty bloodhounds, gnaw from his bones the 
 living flesh, signifying the pangs of hunger of which he 
 and his must die. Escape is hopeless. Lucca, to whom 
 he had betrayed the Pisan fortresses, will not attempt his 
 rescue. His sons dream also of their coming doom, and 
 ■weep and call for bread. 
 
 The hollow blows of the hammer tell him that his prison, 
 like a coffin, is being nailed down. He alone hears and 
 understands the sounds. He does not speak, but gazes on 
 his children dying before his eyes; the intensity of his 
 suffering is revealed in that look. " Thou lookest so, 
 father ; what ails thee ? " asks Anselm. Still silent, he is 
 as one turned to stone. Another day dawns and discovers 
 their five famished faces ; in despair he gnaws his hands. 
 
TRAITORS TO BENEFACTORS. 143 
 
 His sons think he is striving to appease his hungei', and 
 with entreaties offer their flesh to feed him. " Father ! 
 we should grieve far less, if thou would'st eat of us ! " 
 Their words bring Ugolino to himself. That day and the 
 next they all were silent, the father utterly crushed, the 
 sons wrestling with death. The catastrophe approaches. 
 On the fourth day, Gaddo, whom, as the youngest, death 
 claims the first, falls prostrate at his father's feet. He 
 asks not for bread, for the pangs of hunger are past, but his 
 father's silence and supineness are strange and terrible, and, 
 with the almost reproachful plaint, " Hast no help for me, 
 my father ? " he dies. His four loved children thus cruelly 
 one by one expire. At length his own end draws near ; he 
 is blind, but regains his speech, and for two whole days 
 calls aloud to his children. He staggers round, groping 
 over each in turn, sustained by his very anguish. At last 
 " fasting got the mastery of grief." Ugolino's narrative is 
 ended. It had but inflamed his rage and pain. With 
 redoubled fury he fastens again upon his foe. 
 
 We have reached the fourth division, the city of Judas. 
 Here are the traitors to their benefactors, who are wholly 
 immersed in the icy flood : 
 
 " Whelm'd underneath, transparent, as through glass, 
 Pellucid the frail stem. Some prone were laid ; 
 Others stood upright, this upon the soles, 
 That on his head, a third with face to feet 
 Arch'd like a bow." — Hell, xxxiv. 12. 
 
 Here, in the midst of the Giudecca, and in the very 
 centre of the earth, is the seat of Satan. The archfiend was 
 precipitated from Heaven into this abyss, by the crushing 
 weight of his guilt. The most radiant of God's angels, 
 " eminent in beauty once," in return for this plenitude of 
 divine gifts, rebelled against his Creator. The one source 
 of all evil, in his giant form and hideous aspect he appears 
 
144 
 
 HELL. 
 
 the incarnation of sin. The poet but partially describes his 
 huge proportions ; the rest we must imagine. He stands 
 out breast-high from the ice-bound Cocytus : the upper por- 
 tion of his gigantic form, towering upwards into infernal 
 space, has three faces, one fiery red, another of pallid hue, 
 the third coal-black. These represent the three then known 
 quarters of the globe, Europe, Asia, and Africa, for in them 
 all this " Emperor, who sways the realm of sorrow," has 
 slaves. His triple face is also in a sense a monstrous and 
 infernal antithesis to the Most Holy Trinity, whom Dante 
 on the threshold of Hell describes as supreme Power, 
 Wisdom, and Love. Hence one face is red with rage, the 
 rage of the violent against God. Another is black as night, 
 for the pall of ignorance has extinguished the light of grace. 
 The third is ghastly white, where pallid envy has blanched 
 the bright hue of love. Once pre-eminent among the 
 Seraphim, like them he has three pairs of mighty wings, 
 but they are hideous and like those of a bat. When he 
 unfolds them to raise himself from his fetters, the icy 
 currents they produce freeze the lake still harder : 
 
 " At six eyes he wept : the tears 
 Adown three chins distill'd with bloody foam. 
 At every mouth his teeth a sinner champ'd, 
 Bruised as with ponderous engine ; so that three 
 Were in this guise tormented. But far more 
 Than from that gnawing, was the foremost pang'd 
 By the fierce rending, whence ofttimes the back 
 Was stript of all its skin. ' That upper spirit, 
 Who hath worst punishment,' so spake my guide, 
 * Is Judas, he that hath the head within 
 And plies the feet without. Of th' other two, 
 Whose heads are under, from the murky jaw 
 Who hangs, is Brutus ; lo ! how he doth writhe 
 And speaks not. The other Cassius, that appears 
 So large of limb.' " — Hell, xxxiv. 49. 
 
 As Church and State are the two divinely appointed 
 
TEACHING OF THE INFERNO. 145 
 
 institutions for man's guidance/ therefore Judas, who 
 betrayed Christ, the Divine Founder of the Church, and 
 Brutus and Cassius, who betrayed Caesar, the founder of 
 the Empire, are the vilest of all traitors. They are 
 tormented by him who first of all betrayed Almighty 
 God Himself,— Satan, the arch traitor, from whom all 
 treachery in the world proceeds, and upon whom rests the 
 whole weight of its guilt. 
 
 From this central point the wanderers now mount up- 
 wards to the other hemisphere, toiling along a dark and 
 rocky hollow, whose tortuous windings typify the arduous 
 struggle out of sin : 
 
 " Till on our view the beautiful lights of Heaven 
 Dawned through a circular opening in the cavo; 
 Thence issuing, we again beheld the stars." 
 
 — Hell, xxxiv. 131. 
 
 With the word "stars," as the true goal of the just, 
 each one of the three poems, the Inferno, PurgatoriOj and 
 Paradiso concludes. 
 
 And now, why has the poet brought before us these 
 awful images of the lost souls in torment ? In order that 
 we may gaze upon evil in its true aspect, ^ the crimes of • 
 Emperors and Popes, of rich and poor, of high and low, 
 of individuals and of nations, and the unfailing retribution 
 which overtakes them. Therefore in the prominent figures 
 of history, especially of Italy, from ^neas down to the p 
 conflicts of the Guelfs and GhibelUnes, Dante s hows us t he ' 
 hideousness of sin and its fearful chastisements. And 
 his choice of the objects of God's vengeance is dictated by 
 no local, narrow, personal, or party feeUng ; he had taken 
 his stand apart. ^ Guelfs and Ghibellines meet with equal 
 justice at his hands ; he places Farinata degli Uberti, the 
 
 ^ De Monarch, iii. 16. 
 
 2 "The mighty shall be mightily tormented." — Wud. vi. 7. 
 
 3 " Fatta parte per se stesso." 
 
 — K 
 
146 HELL. 
 
 Ghibelline leader, by the side of Cavalcante the Guelf, 
 Ugolino with Ruggieri, Boniface VIII. with the Emperor 
 Frederic II., and Ubaldini, the Ghibelline Cardinal, who 
 is said to have sacrilegiously exclaimed, " If I ever had a 
 soul, I lost it in the Ghibelline cause." ^ 
 
 Another characteristic follows from the foregoing. 
 There is scarcely a female figure in the Injerno ; of 
 heathen women there are only the most depraved — Thais, 
 Cleopatra, Myrrha ; of Christian women, one alone, 
 Francesca da Eimini; while in the Purgatorio we find 
 ^any noble women of Roman and Grecian history. Yet the 
 poet could as easily have drawn with a few incisive strokes 
 the portraits of faithless and cruel women, as Marozia and 
 Brunehild ; but his mission was to man, not to woman, and 
 his words were primarily addressed to those in high places, 
 to the leaders of the people. In their abuse of the power 
 entrusted to them, Dante sees the root of all those evils 
 under which Italy and mankind groaned. Not that he 
 ignores the hidden, but powerful, influence of Christian 
 women upon the morals and the development of nations, 
 for he had himself experienced it ; and in Beatrice, he had 
 devoted the whole force of his genius, and the melody of his 
 verse, to the glorification of Christian womanhood. 
 
 In the imagery of Hell, Balbo and many commen- 
 tators see reproduced the rude barbarous notions of the 
 Middle Ages. But surely they are mistaken. Dante drew 
 the main lines of his figures wholly from the Sacred 
 Scriptures. For example, he recognises natural good- 
 ness even in the lost, especially in his tutor, Brunetto 
 Latini, in the Chancellor Pietro delle Vigne, whom he 
 undertook to vindicate in the opinion of posterity. Only 
 in the lowest circles of Hell, where the will hardened in 
 guilt, so nearly approaches the Satanic nature, does he 
 withhold his pity. The predominant thought throughout 
 1 Cf. Fraticelli on Inf. x. 20. 
 
TRIUMPH OF DIVINE JUSTICE. 147 
 
 the various^ circles of the lost souls is none other than that 
 expressed in Holy Writ : " The wicked shall be punished 
 according to his own devices" (Wisd. iii. 10). "A 
 greater punishment is ready for the more mighty " (Wisd. 
 vi. 9). Indeed, chastisement itself is only the consequence 
 of sin, the true offspring of its sinful parent, the one evil 
 in the physical, as sin is the one evil in the moral world. ^ 
 
 Now, did Dante himself believe his Hell to have a real 
 existence, or did he regard it simply as the creation of his 
 imagination, reflecting as in a mirror the condition of the 
 wicked upon earth ? ^ ^e must make this distinction. 
 The actual images of its torments are the poet's own 
 work; but the idea of the retributive justice of God 
 eternally rejecting the impenitent sinner, the notion of the 
 punishment varying with the sin, are doctrines intimately 
 and necessarily bound up in the poet's belief in God, and 
 with it they stand or fall. Now Dante was a thorough 
 man, but before all a thorough Christian. One single 
 mortal sin, therefore, suffices to plunge even the patriot, 
 the philosopher, the statesman into Hell, however dis- 
 tinguished he may have been in life, or honoured in death. 
 This triumph of divine justice, ^ before which all that is 
 
 1 Cf. S. i. 2. q, 87, a. i, ^ As Ruth holds, p. 261, et passim. 
 
 3 " Now the proper office of punishment is twofold : he who is rightly 
 punished ought either to become better and profit by it, or he ought to 
 be made an example to his fellows, that they may see what he suffers, 
 and pray and become better ; those who are punished by God and men, 
 and improved, are those whose sins are curable ; still the way o£ 
 improving them, as in this world, so also in another, is by pain and 
 suffering ; for there is no other way in which they can be delivered 
 from their eviL But they who have been guilty of the worst crimes, 
 and are incurable by reason of their crimes, are made examples ; for 
 as they are incurable, the time has passed at which they can receive 
 any benefit to themselves. But others get good when they behold them^ 
 for ever enduring the most terrible, and painful, and fearful sufferinga 
 as the penalty of their sins ; there they are, hanging up as examples in, 
 the prison-house of the world below, a spectacle and a warning to all 
 unrighteous men who come hither." — Plato, Gorgias, § 526, Jowett's 
 trans. 
 
148 ' HELL. 
 
 best in man, his feelings of compassion, of love, must bow 
 in silence, constitutes the greatness of the Commedia : 
 
 " Justice the Founder of my fabric moved." — Hell, iii. 4. 
 
 The power of the Father, the wisdom of the Son, the 
 love of the Holy Ghost co-operated to produce the eternal 
 torments of Hell. 
 
( 149 ) 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 The abyss of Hell was created, as we have seen, by the 
 fall of Satan and the rebel angels on to the terrestrial world. 
 The corresponding mass of earth, displaced by that fall and 
 projected in the western hemisphere, forms the Mount of 
 Purification. It is the only land visible above the then 
 untraversed sea, which covers that half of the earth's 
 surface. The summit is crowned by the earthly Paradise, 
 on which, since Adam's fall, no mortal eye has gazed. 
 Here in his original state of innocence and justice he dwelt, 
 until driven forth by his own act into the depths of misery, 
 which still encompass our earthly life. This Mount, the 
 scene of man's first sin, is the exact antipodes to Mount 
 Calvary,^ where was offered the sacrifice for his redemption, 
 and Paradise re-opened to the human race. But only by 
 effort and toil, by penal chastisement, and cleansing pen- 
 ance, can Paradise be regained. Accordingly, the place of 
 purification is described as a lofty and precipitous moun- 
 tain of conical form, surrounded on all sides by steep banks 
 shelving down to the sea.^ 
 
 Like Hell, Purgatory consists of three principal divisions. 
 The vestibule of Hell corresponds to that of Purgatory; 
 the circles of those who sinned through malice and frailty, 
 
 ^ Purg. iv. 65-71. 2 Purg. i. 114. 
 
150 PURGATORY. 
 
 to the penances of souls here purged from the seven deadly 
 sins ; Giudecca, the lowest abyss of Hell, finds its counter- 
 part in the heights of the earthly Paradise; and to the 
 nine circles of Hell correspond the nine degrees of puri- 
 fication, by which the souls in Purgatory are gradually 
 perfected. 
 
 Purgatory is the antithesis to Hell, the latter being a 
 conical cavity, Purgatory a conical mount. In Hell the 
 circles grow narrower and more appalling, as they descend 
 towards the seat of Lucifer ; the ascending steps which gird 
 the Mount of Purgatory shine more brightly and shed 
 more hope, as each upward stage is gained. The deeper 
 we descend into Hell, the more heinous are the sins 
 chastised, and fewer the number of the sinners ; but in 
 Purgatory, the higher we mount, the lighter are the sins 
 there expiated. In Hell, the lost are condemned eternally 
 to the torments of their respective circles ; the souls in 
 Purgatory, on the contrary, ascend one by one the succes- 
 sive steps of penance. In Hell, sensuality is the first sin 
 punished ; in Purgatory, it is the last for which satisfac- 
 tion is exacted. In Hell reigns night perpetual, illumined 
 only by the fiery battlements of the infernal city ; woes, 
 curses, and lamentations resound; gloomy caverns, lakes 
 of seething pitch, or hard frozen ice, alone meet the eye. 
 In Purgatory, the poet is cheered by the soft radiance of the 
 ;stars and the clear light of day ; sweet harmonies float 
 upwards, like an organ's distant strains ; shady groves and 
 flowery meads, watered by refreshing streams, enchant the 
 sight. Instead of Charon, with hard, forbidding mien, a 
 benignant angel conducts the pilgrims from the estuary of 
 the Tiber to the Mount of Purification. Finally, whilst 
 the victims of divine justice dash themselves in despair 
 against the dread portal of Hell, the redeemed spirits 
 intone songs of thanksgiving, as they safely land on the 
 purifying shore. In Hell, the sole end of suffering is 
 
THE PROCESS OF JUSTIFICATION. 151 
 
 punishment ; in Purgatory, suffering is rather " solace 
 than pain," ^ for it leads to bliss eternal. ^ 
 
 What then, in Dante's scheme, is the purpose of Purga- 
 tory ? His journey through Hell had inspired him with 
 the fear of God's wrath, with a desire to win, by daily 
 penance for his sins, the " sweet fruit " ^ which that stem 
 lesson should bear. This desire can be accomplished by 
 the means of grace which Christ has granted to His 
 Church. On the threshold of Purgatory the poet stands, 
 therefore, penitent and ripe for justification. 
 
 The first eight cantos describe his sojourn in the vesti- 
 bule of Purgatory, among those who may not yet ascend its 
 steps, because they were negligent in God's service, and 
 delayed their repentance until the hour of death. In the 
 ninth canto, the poet has reached the three steps which lead 
 to Purgatory itself. How he came thither he knows not, 
 until Virgil informs him : 
 
 " Fear not," my master cried, 
 " Assured we are at happy point. Thy strength 
 Shrink not, but rise dilated. Thou art come 
 To Purgatory now. Lo ! there the cliff 
 
 ^ Purg. xxiii. 66. 
 
 2 " I do not believe that it would be possible to find any joy com- 
 parable to that of a soul in Purgatory, except the joy of the blessed in 
 Paradise, — a joy which goes on increasing day by day, as God flows in 
 more and more upon the soul, which He does abundantly, in proportion 
 as every hindrance to His entrance is consumed away. . . . On the 
 other hand, they suffer pains so great that no tongue can describe 
 them " (ch. ii.) " When the soul leaves the body, and finds itself out of 
 that state of purity in which it was created, seeing the hindrance, and 
 that it can only be removed by Purgatory, it unhesitatingly plunges 
 therein ; and were no such means provided to remove the impediment, 
 it would forthwith beget within itself a Hell worse than Purgatory, on 
 finding itself thus impeded from reaching God, its last end." — ISt. 
 Catherine of Genoa, Treatise on Purgatory, ch. vii. " In these matters 
 concerning Purgatory, which have not been determined by the Church, 
 the sayhigs and revelations of the Saints are our best guide." — Ht. 
 Thorn, in iv. Sent., dist. 21. q. i, a. 
 
 ^ Helt, xvi. 62. 
 
152 PURGATORY. 
 
 That circling bounds it. Lo ! the entrance there 
 
 Where it doth seem disparted. Ere the dawn 
 
 Usher'd the daylight, when thy wearied soul 
 
 Slept in thee, o'er the flowery vale beneath 
 
 A lady came, and thus bespake me : ^ I 
 
 Am Lucia. Suffer me to take this man 
 
 Who slumbers. Easier so his way shall speed.' " 
 
 — Furg. ix. 42. 
 
 Thus in Lucia prevenient grace comes to the poet's assis- 
 tance, and enables him of his own free-will to make those 
 acts of faith, fear, hope, love, and repentance^ which 
 predispose him for justifying grace, and which are beyond 
 his natural power. ^ Dante, therefore, now is able to mount 
 the three steps which lead to the gate of Purgatory ; that 
 is, to perform the three acts of examen of conscience, con- 
 trition, and purpose of amendment. On the threshold sits 
 an angel, who represents the confessor ; kneeling before 
 him, the poet thrice strikes his breast, the sign of a sincere 
 confession. The angel holds the keys which he has received 
 from St. Peter ; ^ the silver key typifies the science by which 
 the confessor judges of the penitent's worthiness ; the 
 other, of gold, signifies the precious merits of Christ, 
 which purchased justifying grace for man. With these 
 keys, the gate is opened to the poet : 
 
 ^ " Men are disposed to the gift of justice itself, if stirred and aided 
 by divine grace, conceiving faith from hearing, they are freely moved 
 to God, believing those things to be true which are divinely revealed 
 and promised, and first of all, that the wicked man is justified by God 
 through His grace, by the redemption which is in Christ Jesus ; and 
 if, recognising they are sinners, from the fear of divine justice, by 
 which they are profitably terrified, they apply themselves to consider 
 God's mercy, they are built up in hope, trusting that God will be pro- 
 pitious to them for Christ's sake, and begin to love Him as the source 
 of all justice, and are therefore moved against sin by a certain hatred 
 and detestation of it, that is, by that penance which ought to be done 
 before baptism." — Cone. Trid. Sess. vi. cap. 6. Cf. Sess. vi. Can. 8. 
 
 2 «« Yov in sin a man is dead, as a corpse, into which the soul must 
 be breathed anew, in order to raise it to life." — S. i. 2. q. 109, a. 6. 
 
 2 Matt, xvi, 19. 
 
POWER OF THE KEYS. 153 
 
 " With the pallid first, 
 And next the bumish'd, he so ply'd the gate, 
 As to content me well." — Purg. ix. no. 
 
 Nor is this a merely fanciful metaphor. Of the twofold 
 office of the confessor, St. Thomas says, " As the acts of the 
 keys demand fitting dispositions in the penitent on whom they 
 are exercised, for by the keys the judge admits the worthy, 
 and excludes the unworthy, so he himself requires judici- 
 ous discernment, in order to decide on their fitness. And 
 for these two acts a certain power, or authority, is required. 
 Hence arises the distinction of the two keys. The one 
 refers to the judgment on the fitness of the penitent to be 
 absolved, the other to the absolution itself. These two 
 keys are not distinguished in the essence of the authority 
 (conferred), for both belong to the judge ex officio, but with 
 regard to his acts, of which one presupposes the other." ^ 
 Now that the sinner is pardoned and justified, Purgatory 
 has to fulfil its work in him by effacing all the relics of sin.^ 
 To these belong, first, its temporal punishment, which may 
 remain after the guilt is absolved. Therefore the angel 
 with the point of his sword, traces seven times the letter P 
 upon the poet's brow, which letters are to be effaced, one 
 by one, as he climbs the seven ascents of the Mount. Nor 
 is this all. The sinner has contracted habits of sin ; his 
 passions have become stronger, his moral force weaker, his 
 capacity for good works considerably lessened. This weak- 
 
 1 S. Supp. q. 17, a. 5. 
 
 ^ " The Holy Synod declares, that it is false and altogether foreign 
 to the Word of God, that guilt is never remitted by God without a 
 
 complete condonation of the punishment due Divine justice 
 
 seems to demand that those, who have sinned through ignorance before 
 baptism, should be received into grace upon conditions, other than are 
 imposed upon those, who having been once freed from the slavery of 
 sin and the devil, and having received the gift of the Holy Spirit, have 
 not feared knowingly to violate the temple of God and to grieve the 
 
 Holy Spirit Satisfactory punishment both heals the relics of 
 
 sin and destroys the vicious habits acquired by an evil life, by contrary 
 acts of virtue." — Cone. Trid., Sess. xiv. De Sad\ Poenit. cap. 8. 
 
154 PURGAT0RY. 
 
 ness of the soul must be healed, its moral strength gradually- 
 regained, the power of evil habits diminished by the peni- 
 tential process, which is described in the following lines : 
 
 " Such is this steep ascent, 
 That it is ever difficult at first, 
 But more a man proceeds, less evil grows. 
 When pleasant it shall seem to thee, so much 
 That upward going shaU be easy to thee. 
 As in a vessel to go down the tide. 
 Then of this path thou wilt have reach'd the end. 
 There hope to rest thee from thy toil." — Furg. iv. 85. 
 
 The poet, as he follows his guide up the steep ascent, 
 exclaims : 
 
 " I, wearied, thus began : ' Parent beloved ! 
 Turn and behold how I remain alone. 
 If thou stay not.' " — Purg. iv. 42. 
 
 But as he mounts higher, both desire and strength 
 increase : 
 
 " Within me straight 
 Desire so grew upon desire to mount, 
 Thenceforward at each step I felt the wings 
 Increasing for my flight." — Furg. xxvii. 1 20. 
 
 As he leaves each circle, and a P is removed by the 
 angel, the poet, though unconscious of the fact, feels his 
 strength renewed, and the angel's form appears ever 
 brighter and more beautiful : 
 
 " We climb the holy stairs : ' 
 
 And lighter to myseK by far I seem'd 
 Than on the plain before ; whence thus I spake : 
 ' Say, master, of what heavy thing have I 
 Been light en'd, that scarce aught the sense of toil 
 Affects me journeying ? ' ^ He in few replied : 
 
 ^ When one sin disappears — and pride, too, was Dante's chief sin — 
 all other sinful inclinations grow less. So St. Bonaventure. " When one 
 
VALUE OF PENANCE. 155 
 
 * When sin's broad characters, that yet remain, 
 Upon thy temples, though well-nigh efifaced, 
 Shall be, as one is, all clean razed out. 
 Then shall thy feet by heartiness of will 
 Be so o'ercome, they not alone shall feel 
 No sense of labour, but delight much more 
 Shall wait them, urged along their upward way,' 
 Then like to one, upon whose head is placed 
 Somewhat he deems not of, but from the becks 
 Of others, as they pass him by ; his hand 
 Lends therefore help to assure him, searches, finds, 
 And well performs such office as the eye 
 Wants power to execute ; so stretching forth 
 The fingers of my right hand, did I find 
 Six only of the letters, which his sword. 
 Who bare the keys, had traced upon my brow. 
 The leader, as he mark'd mine action, smiled." 
 
 — Purg. xii. 107. 
 
 Thus, gradually by penance, we are freed from the slavery 
 of sinful desires and habits, and regain moral freedom : 
 
 " In the search 
 Of liberty ^ he jomneys : that how dear. 
 They know who for her sake have life refused." 
 
 — Purg. i. 70. 
 
 But this freedom the poet only attains fully in the 
 heavenly Paradise : 
 
 "Of slave 2 
 Thou hast to freedom brought me : and no means 
 For my deliverance apt, hast left untried." ^ 
 
 — Par. xxxi. 75. 
 
 virtue increases, all increase, as we see in a lyre, in which to produce 
 a due proportion of sounds, all the strings must be tuned together or 
 harmony becomes discord." Oompend. Theol. v. 7. 
 
 1 He calls liberty elsewhere "the sweet fruit" {^Hell, xvi. 61), and 
 in Purgatory " peace " {Purg. xxiv. 139). 
 
 2 *' For by whom a man is overcome, of the same also he is the slave." 
 — 2 Pet. ii. 19. 
 
 ^ " The first principle of our freedom is freedom of will, and of this 
 many speak but few understand If the judgment moves the 
 
156 PURGATORY. 
 
 The strife which we experience between the flesh and 
 the spirit is due only to sin. ^ As man came forth from 
 his Maker's hand clothed with original justice, his body, 
 free from all disordered movement, was not a heavy fetter 
 on the soul, but its docile instrument. His lower appetites 
 and his affections, supernaturally purified, were alike sub- 
 ject to reason, which again was never obscured by ignorance, 
 but so enlightened by grace, that man possessed a clear 
 knowledge of God, of the world around him, and of him- 
 self. Lastly, his will, informed by charity, turned lovingly 
 and always to its Creator. 2 
 
 Such was man in Paradise, and such is Dante's ideal. 
 Accordingly the earthly Paradise is on the summit of the 
 Mount of Purification, to symbolise " the new man," freed 
 from sin, and "created according to God in justice and 
 holiness of truth." ^ As these gifts enable him to attain 
 the final goal of his pilgrimage, the heavenly Paradise, 
 Virgil thus addresses him : 
 
 " Both fires, my son, 
 The temporal and eternal, thou hast seen, 
 And art arrived, where of itself my ken 
 No further reaches. I, with skill and art, 
 Thus far have drawn thee. Now thy pleasure take 
 For guide. Thou hast o'ercome the steeper way, 
 
 appetite wholly, and is in no way forestalled by it, then is the judg- 
 ment free. But if the appetite in any way forestalls the judgment and 
 guides it, then the judgment is not free ; it is not its own ; it is captive 
 to another power." — Be Monarch, i. 12. 
 
 1 " I see another law in my members, fighting against the law of my 
 mind." — Bom. vii. 23 . 
 
 2 '* If any man does not confess that the first man, Adam, when he 
 transgressed the command of God in Paradise, immediately lost the 
 holiness and justice in which he had been established, and that the 
 whole Adam was by that offence, both in body and soul, changed to 
 worse, let him be Anathema." — Cone. Trid. Sess. v. art. i. Man's 
 nature was deeply wounded by the Fall ; ignorance took the place of 
 prudence, malice of justice, greed of temperance, weakness of fortitude. 
 
 ^ Ephes. iv. 24. 
 
. REVIVING MERITS. 157 
 
 O'ercome the straighter. Lo ! the sun ^ that darts 
 
 His beams upon thy forehead : Lo ! the herb, 
 
 The arboret and flowers, which of itself 
 
 This land pours forth profuse. Till those bright eyes ^ 
 
 With gladness come, which, weeping, made me haste 
 
 To succour thee, thou mayst or seat thee down. 
 
 Or wander where thou wUt.' Expect no more 
 
 Sanction of warning voice or sign from me, 
 
 Free of thy own arbitrement to chuse. 
 
 Discreet, judicious. To distrust thy sense 
 
 Were henceforth error.^ I invest thee then 
 
 With crown and mitre, sovereign o'er thyself." 
 
 — Purg. xxvii. 126. 
 
 The purification of the poet's soul is further symbolised 
 by his drinking of the streams of Lethe and of Eunoe. 
 By the former all recollection of his past sins is eternally 
 obliterated, while by the latter he recalls and retains for 
 ever in his memory the good works he has done.^ St. 
 Thomas thus explains how meritorious works, which have 
 become dead through sin, revive when grace is recovered. 
 " Works done in charity," he says, " are not blotted out by 
 God, but remain accepted by Him. The obstacle to their 
 merit comes from the human agent, and when this obstacle 
 is removed, God on His part grants whatever those works 
 had merited."^ He again '^ compares the simultaneous 
 remission of sin, and the infusion of grace by the act of 
 God to the rising sun, which at one and the same time 
 chases away the darkness and illuminates the air. Thus 
 also the same ray of grace which expels sin brings to light 
 former merits ; and Dante is theologically correct in making 
 
 1 "The symbol of God and of divine grace " (Conv. iii. 12). 
 
 2 The eyes of Beatrice {ffdl, ii. 116). 
 
 3 He may pursue the active or contemplative life. 
 
 "* "If men," says Augustine, "knew and practised justice, there 
 would be no need of written laws {ragione scrittay — Con. iv. 9. 
 ^ Purg. xxviii. 135. 
 « S. iii. q. 89, a. 5, 
 7 S. i. 2. q. 113, a. 7. . . 
 
158 PURGATORY. 
 
 the two streams, Lethe and Eunoe, spring from the same 
 mysterious source. 
 
 In his pilgrimage through Purgatory the poet is more 
 self-reliant than heretofore. He is on his way to man's 
 final end, eternal peace in God. To convert lost souls in 
 Hell was not his mission ; nor was he one of them. But 
 the sight of their torments was to stimulate him to penance 
 and amendment, the sinner's only way to salvation. The 
 purpose of his whole poem and of each part is indeed, as 
 he says in his letter to Can Grande, to lead men away 
 from the state of misery in which they live in this life, and 
 to guide them to a state of happiness. In Purgatory, then, 
 we have the type of the purgative way, the first stage 
 towards perfection, which must precede the illuminative 
 and unitive ways,^ represented in Paradise. By the 
 sacrament of baptism man is regenerated, but his spiritual 
 powers are still in a state of anarchy and disruption ; step 
 by step the stains of sin must be obliterated, and all that 
 is earthly and sensual subjugated to the spiritual, before 
 he can regain what he lost by sin — "the liberty of the 
 children of God." 2 
 
 Dante begins his ascent of the Mount of Purification 
 still under the guidance of Virgil ; for natural reason can 
 see both the hideousness of sin and the need of penance : 
 
 '" What reason here discovers, I have power 
 To show thee : that which lies beyond, expect. 
 From Beatrice." — Purg. xviii. 44. 
 
 Still Purgatory proper represents a supernatural state, 
 in which reason unaided, is no safe leader. It is only when 
 
 ^ Cf. Dionys. Areop. I)e. Myst. Tlieohg. 
 
 2 " But that Jerusalem, which is above, is free." — Gal. iv. 26. Accord- 
 ing to Hugo of St. Victor, Jerusalem signifies allegorically the Church ; 
 tropologically, the spiritual life. As Babylon had seven squares, the 
 seven deadly sins, so has Jerusalem also seven squares oppos^ to them, 
 the seven virtues. Institut. Monast. Serm. 39. ■ 
 
TRIPLE, PENALTY OF SIN. 159 
 
 Statius, a Roman poet and a convert to Christianity, joins 
 the wanderers, that they pursue their way with greater 
 confidence : 
 
 " The road, the which we chose 
 Less doubtful, as that worthy shade compHed." 
 
 — Purg. xxii. 123. 
 
 When they have reached the earthly Paradise, and the 
 poet's will has become " free, discreet, judicious," ^ Virgil 
 finally takes leave of him, and Beatrice, the type of 
 Heavenly Wisdom, appears. Prostrate before her, the poet 
 humbly confesses his sinfulness. She explains to him that 
 the Church, as is seen both in her gifts and her work, is 
 ordained to renew man's spiritual life and to reconduct him 
 to the Paradise he had lost. " All sin," says St. Thomas,'-^ 
 " is rebellion against the order established, and the repres- 
 sion of that rebellion by the order attacked constitutes the 
 punishment of sin. The human will being subjected to 
 three orders, is liable to a triple punishment. These orders 
 are, first, his own reason; second, his outward ruler, 
 spiritual or temporal ; third, the universal order of divine 
 government. . . . Each of these orders being disturbed by 
 the sin, . . . the sinner incurs a triple penalty — from him- 
 self in remorse of conscience; secondly, from his fellow- 
 men; thirdly, from God."^ This retributive justice is the 
 principle common to the punishments both of Hell and of 
 Purgatory : 
 
 " And to dignity thus lost 
 Is no return ; unless, where guilt makes void, 
 He for ill-pleasure pay with equal pain." — Par. vii. 78. 
 
 ^ Purg. xxvii. 140, xxx. 49. 
 
 2 S. i. 2. q. 89, a. I 
 
 3 [Bossuet shows how our Lord underwent this triple pain, — in the 
 agony of the garden, the remorse for sin ; in the various trials and 
 sufferings which followed, the punishment from creatures ; and in the 
 dereliction on the Cross, the final chastisement by God. Premier 
 Sermon, pour le Vendredi- Saint. "Posuit Dominus in eo iniquitatem 
 cmnium nostrum."— /«ai.liii. 6.] 
 
i6o PURGATORY. 
 
 Yet these punishments differ essentially in character. 
 Those of Hell are of a purely vindicative nature, and serve 
 to expiate the sinner's violations of the moral law, the 
 reflection of God's eternal wisdom and holiness. ^ The 
 sufferings of Purgatory, on the contrary, are primarily 
 expiatory, the temporal punishment which has to be borne 
 in this world or the next ; ^ but, secondarily, they serve to 
 purify the soul from its remaining infirmities. Evil habits 
 are broken through ; the whole inner man, with his dis- 
 positions and motives, is laid bare, in order that, by con- 
 tinual self-discipline and by the exercise of those virtues 
 most opposed to his natural inclinations, he may regain his 
 moral freedom. ^ Far otherwise is it in Hell. There the 
 lost soul must suffer for that sinful act, the ripe fruit of 
 the disposition from which it sprang. Throughout eternity 
 that sinful act remains, since it has never been effaced by 
 contrition and grace. And throughout eternity remains 
 also the disposition, ever breaking out afresh into sinful 
 act, to be the eternal torment of the lost souL Of his own 
 free-will the sinner placed himself under the yoke of the 
 sinful habit, which will for ever hold him fast bound in 
 guilt.* Hence, in the lowest circles of Purgatory, which 
 contain the greater number of penitent souls, are souls 
 stained by pride and envy. The sin may have been in 
 thought only, not in act, or, if in act, its guilt may have 
 
 ^ "It is not fit that God should allow anything disordered in His 
 kingdom ; . . . . and if the Divine Wisdom did not inflict these 
 pains, the universe itself, the order of which God should preserve, 
 would suffer a certain deformity from its violated beauty, and Divine 
 Providence would seem to fail." — Anselm. Cant. Cur Deus Homo, 
 i. 12. 
 
 3 Cone. Trid., Sess. xiv. de Sacr. Poenit. 
 
 3 " We must not forget that Purgatory symbolises the whole process 
 of man's regeneration." Ibid. 
 
 * " This man, of his own free-will, sold himself to the dominion of 
 
 iniquity I am bent crooked, he said, under its burden 
 
 Through willing to do evil, he has lost the power to do good 
 
 Thou art still under the yoke of iniquity." — August. Serm. xxx. 2. 
 
ITS VOICES AND WARNINGS. i6i 
 
 long since been washed away in the waters of baptism or 
 penance;^ but pride and envy are in themselves sinfid, 
 and beget a debt of penance. The stains, too, which they 
 form must be purged away and the soul made clean, by 
 acts of humiliation and brotherly love. 
 
 Thus Purgatory is not merely a place of suffering ; it is 
 also a school of higher moral teaching, a sanctuary of 
 humble, contrite prayer.^ In each circle pictures, graven 
 upon the rock or traced upon the ground, instruct the peni- 
 tent. Visions or voices recall for his instruction terrible 
 examples,^ gathered from history, sacred or profane,* of the 
 sins chastised, or suggest models of the opposite virtues ; 
 and as the purified spirit emerges from each successive 
 
 ^ Purg. xL 58, xiii. 123. 
 
 2 Furg. viii. 13, xxv. 118. 
 
 3 "We must here recall what has been said of that appetite which is 
 born in us from our first beginning. This appetite pursues certain 
 objects and flies from others, and in proportion as its pursuit and flight 
 are rightly directed does man arrive at perfection. In truth, this 
 appetite must be ridden by reason. For as an unbroken horse, how- 
 ever excellent its nature, for want of a good rider never goes well, so 
 this appetite, the irascible and concupiscent, however good in itself, 
 should obey reason, which guides it with rein and spur. Reason, like 
 a good horseman, checks the appetite by the rein of temperance when 
 it pursues a wrong object, and uses the spur of fortitude to make it 
 face what it seeks to fly." Cf. Conv. iv. 26. ' The sensitive appetite 
 being an inclination which follows the sense of apprehension, there 
 must be two appetitive faculties in every sensitive nature — one which 
 merely impels the animal to seek what is agreeable to the senses, and to 
 avoid things hurtful, and this is called the concupiscent {concupis- 
 cibilis) appetite ; the other, by which the animal resists all that 
 opposes it or would do it harm, and this is called the irascible, because 
 its tendency is to overcome obstacles." — S. i. q. 81, a. 2. The cardinal 
 virtue of temperance governs the concupiscent faculty ; that of fortitude 
 the irascible. Of these St. Thomas says : " Reason must regulate the 
 passions in proportion to the repugnance they exhibit to its sway, and 
 this is shown in two ways. First, when a passion impels to any act 
 contrary to reason, and then reason must repress it, and is therefore 
 called ' temperance ; ' secondly, when a passion, as the fear of danger 
 or toil, shrinks from what reason dictates, and then man needs to be 
 confirmed in his reasonable resolve, lest he depart from it, and this is 
 therefore called ' fortitude.' " — S. i. 2. q. 61, a. I, 
 
 * Furg. X. 31, xiii. 28, xv. 85, xviii. 117, xx. 42, xxii. 26, 64. 
 
 L 
 
i62 PURGATORY. 
 
 circle, it is greeted by that special beatitude which till now, 
 it was unworthy to possess.^ 
 
 At the foot of the Mount of Purification Dante is accosted 
 by a venerable old man, " worthy of reverence " in his look. 2 
 This is Cato of Utica, who sacrificed his life for his country's 
 freedom. The four stars of the Southern Cross, emblematic 
 of the four cardinal virtues, a constellation invisible in our 
 Northern climes, shed a bright radiance on his white hair. 
 The " noblest of the Romans," as Virgil,^ and some even of 
 the Fathers, considered him,* Dante ascribes his suicide to 
 divine inspiration. Wilful suicides are, as we have seen, 
 placed with murderers in the seventh circle of Hell ; but of 
 Cato Dante says in the Convito, " Oh, most holy breast of 
 Cato ! who dare speak of thee ? Thy best praise is silence. 
 For his life and that of other divine citizens show actions 
 so wonderful as to be only possible by the light of the 
 divine goodness, superadded to the goodness of nature."^ 
 [Therefore, as the righteous, austere champion of liberty, 
 Cato represents souls saved by the baptism of desire; 
 and as the witness b^ his blood to the priceless value 
 of moral freedom, which is to be gained in Purgatory by 
 penance and virtuous acts, he fitly keeps guard at its 
 entrance.^ 
 
 The poet's cheeks, which are suffused w^ith tears and 
 disfigured by the smoke of Hell, Virgil now bathes with 
 
 1 Purg. xii. 103, xv. 38, xvii. 67, xix. 50, xxii. 5, xxiv. 148, xxvii. 8. 
 ^ Purg. i. 31. 
 
 3 "Apart from these the happy souls he draws, 
 
 And Cato's holy ghost dispensing laws." — jEneid, viii. 889. 
 
 ^ The very prince of Roman wisdom, " ipse Romanse sapientise prin- 
 ceps " (Lactant. Instit. Divin. iv. 1 8), though his suicide is condemned 
 as a heinous crime. 
 
 ^ Conv. iv. 5. 
 
 ^ "To inflame the world with a love of freedom, Cato preferred 
 dying free to living a slave." — De Mon. ii. 5. A collection of maxims, 
 which agreed in many ways with those of the Bible, was in the Middle 
 Ages ascribed to Cato, and was inserted by Latini in his Tresor. 
 
A NTE-P URGA TORY, 1 63 
 
 dew, and girding him with the rush ^ of humility, makes 
 him ready to enter Purgatory. 
 
 It is the first break of day. Looking across the sea, 
 the poet perceives a distant light, which approaches swiftly. 
 " Again I looked, and saw it grown in size and brightness." 
 Silent they stand, until the " brightness that we first dis- 
 cerned opened the form of wings." Then, when Virgil per- 
 ceives that it is a bark steered by an angel, he exclaims : 
 
 " Down, down ; bend low 
 Thy knees ; behold God's angel ; fold thy hands. 
 . . . . Nor oar he needs, nor other sail 
 Except his wings, between such distant shores. 
 
 He drove ashore ia a small bark, so swift 
 And high, that in its course no wave was seen. 
 
 Within a hundred spirits and more there sat. 
 
 * In exitu Israel de Egypto ' 
 
 All with one voice together sang." — Purg. ii. 28. 
 
 These are the souls who, having died in a state of grace, 
 are being escorted by the angel from the estuary of the 
 Tiber to the Mount of Purgatory. Among them Dante 
 recognises his friend Casella, who sings one of Dante's 
 canzimi to a melody probably of his own composing : 
 
 " In such soft accents, that within 
 The sweetness thrills me yet. My gentle gmde, 
 And aU who came with him, so well were pleased. 
 That seem'd nought else might in their thoughts have 
 room." — Purg. ii. 109. 
 
 The poets reach Ante-Purgatory, where are detained 
 those who have neglected proffered grace. Of these, there 
 
 ^ The rush is the symbol of humility, because it makes no show, 
 having neither trunk nor leaves. It is further a type of grace, for it 
 grows again when it is plucked, just as grace succeeds to grace, and is 
 not lessened by being bestowed. 
 
j6+ PURGATORY. 
 
 are four classes. Those who died excommunicate but con- 
 trite are detained, for their neglect to be absolved, thirty 
 times as long as the term of their excommunication. ^ 
 Secondly, those who, presuming on God's mercy, delayed 
 their conversion till death, do penance for the period corre- 
 sponding to that of their delay. ^ Thirdly, the negligent 
 of the preceding class, who died by violence, remain here for 
 a term equal to that of their natural life.^ Fourthly, those 
 who, through the preoccupation of political cares, deferred 
 their repentance, are detained for twice that period.* This 
 division of Ante-Purgatory and Purgatory proper had a 
 real foundation in the canonical penances of the Primitive 
 Church. 
 
 The penitents were divided into four classes — the mourners, 
 the hearers, the prostrate, and the stationary {consistentes). 
 The first class of penitents, " the mourners," were forbidden 
 to enter the church, but stood without the porch, exposed 
 to all the inclemency of the weather, and imploring with 
 tears the prayers of the worshippers as they passed. " The 
 hearers " assisted at the prayers from the vestibule, but not 
 at the mass. "The prostrate" assisted at the Mass of 
 Catechumens, and left after the sermon, before the Preface. 
 " The stationary " remained for the sacrifice, but did not 
 go up to make their offering with the rest of the faithful, 
 and were not allowed to receive Holy Communion.^ 
 
 As the poet advances, he is met by Manfred, the Ghibelline 
 leader, son of Frederick II. Being excommunicated for 
 contumacy, he neglected to do penance, and died with his 
 censure unabsolved.^ 
 
 ^ Purg. iii. 131. ^ Purg. iv. 126. 
 
 3 Purg. v., vi. * Purg. vii. 91. 
 
 ^ Cf. Dollinger's Church History, vol. ii. p. 331, Cox, trans.; Eusebius, 
 H. E. V. 28 ; Hieronym. Epitaph. Fabiol. ', Cf. Trank, Die Buss-dis- 
 eiplin der Kirche, 1867, p. 560. 
 
 ^ Manfred was excommunicated by Urban V. for wresting the 
 kingdom of Sicily and Naples from his nephew Conradin, whom be 
 attempted to poison. He ravaged Italy with an army of Saracens 
 
NEGLECTED PENANCE, 165 
 
 Ascending a narrow cleft in the rocks, Dante encounters 
 the negligent of the second class — Belacqua the Florentine, 
 Buonconte da Montefeltro, Pia, the wife of Nello de 
 Pannochieschi, and others. Slowly defiling across the 
 heights, they chant the Miserere in " responsive strains." 
 Sordello of Mantua now greets his townsman, Virgil, with 
 " glad cheer," and conducts the wanderers to a lovely vale : 
 
 " Refulgent gold, and silver thrice refined, 
 And scarlet grain and ceruse, Indian wood 
 Of lucid dye serene, fresh emeralds 
 But newly broken, by the herbs and flowers 
 Placed in that fair recess, in colour all 
 Had been surpass'd, as great surpasses less. 
 Nor Nature only there lavish'd her hues. 
 But of the sweetness of a thousand smells 
 A rare and undistinguish'd fragrance made." 
 
 —Fiirg. vii. Ti>. 
 
 Here they sit down to await the dawn of day ; for being 
 in the darkness — ^that is, without the light of grace — they 
 cannot mount higher. Among the potentates here detained 
 they recognise the Emperor Budolph of Hapsburg, 
 
 " Who might have heal'd 
 The wounds whereof fair Italy hath died " 
 
 —Purg. viL 94 ; 
 
 and Charles of Anjou, Manfred's ^ Guelf opponent.^ 
 
 Night draws on. Dante, anxious but trustful, is con- 
 soled by the sweet harmonies of penitential prayer in 
 the strains of the Compline hymn. One of the spirits 
 had risen from its place, and with its hand an " audience 
 implored : " 
 
 and infidels, and was finally slain at Benevento, 1266. Dante makes 
 him die contrite. 
 
 ^ Purg. vii. 114. 
 
 - His dying prayer breathes the spirit of trae repentance: "Sire 
 Dieu, comme je crois vraiment que Vous etes mon Sauveur, ainsi je 
 Vous prie, que vous ayez raerci de mon 5.me." — ViUani, vii. 95. 
 
i66 PURGATORY. 
 
 " Both palms it join'd and raised, 
 Fixing its steadfast gaze toward the east, 
 As telling God, * I care for nought beside.' 
 ' Te Lucis Ante/ so devoutly then 
 Came from its lips, and in so soft a strain, 
 That all my sense in ravishment was lost. 
 And the rest after, softly and devout, 
 Follow'd through all the hymn." — Purg. viii. lo. 
 
 As it dies away, 
 
 " That gentle band silently next 
 Look up, as if in expectation held, 
 Pale, and in lowly guise." — Purg. viii. 22. 
 
 The Tempter, under the form of a serpent, draws near ; 
 but two angels, with "flame-illumined swords," broken and 
 blunted at their points,^ hasten to meet him, and the serpent 
 slinks away. 
 
 Dante now falls into a deep sleep, and awakes to find 
 himself alone with his guide : 
 
 " Sole at my side 
 My comfort stood : and the bright sun was now 
 More than two hours aloft ; and to the sea 
 My looks were tum'd. ' Fear not,' my master cried, 
 * Assured we are at happy point. Thy strength 
 Shrink not, but rise dilated. Thou art come 
 To Purgatory now. Lo ! there the cliff 
 That circling bounds it. Lo ! the entrance there. 
 Where it doth seem disparted. Ere the dawn 
 XJsher'd the daylight, when thy wearied soul 
 Slept in thee, o'er the flowery vale beneath 
 A lady came, and thus bespake me : * I 
 Am Lucia. Suffer me to take this man, 
 "Who slumbers. Easier so his way shall speed.' " 
 
 — Purg. ix. 39. 
 
 In the cleft of a rock, the poet sees a door approached by 
 
 ^ These pointless swords signify that God's justice is always tempered 
 by mercy, or that they are to serve for defence, not attack. 
 
THE THREE STEPS. 167 
 
 three steps of diverse colours; the lowest "marble white,'* 
 smooth and polished; the next, "more dark than sablest 
 grain," " cracked lengthwise and across ; " the third, of 
 massive porphyry, " red as the life-blood spouting from a 
 vein." These steps denote the three acts of examen of con- 
 science, contrition, and firm resolve, already referred to. On 
 the threshold, "a rock of diamond," sits an angel of God, 
 who marks with his sword seven P's upon the poet's brow, 
 and then unlocks the door with the keys intrusted to him : 
 
 " From Peter these 
 i hold, of him instructed" that I err 
 Rather in opening, than in keeping fast ; 
 So but the suppliant at my feet implore." 
 
 — Purg.ix. 119. 
 
 Dante now enters the second division of Purgatory, that 
 is. Purgatory proper, whose seven circles he successively 
 ascends, in order to expiate the stains of the seven deadly 
 sins. 
 
 Through a narrow rift in the rock, by a steep winding 
 path, the poet wearily toils upwards to the first circle, 
 which is in width thrice a man's stature. Behind it rises 
 a high cliff of marble, upon which are wrought, with 
 " quaintest sculpture," types in bas-relief of the virtue of 
 humility; the Annunciation of Mary, Oza and David 
 dancing before the ark, the Emperor Trajan granting the 
 widow's suit.i Here the proud are purified ; they stoop, like 
 Caryatides, under the weight of the huge blocks of stone : 
 
 " With the f eign'd posture, stirring ruth unf eign'd 
 In the beholder's fancy ; so I saw 
 These fashion'd, when I noted well their guise. 
 Each, as his back was laden, came indeed 
 Or more or less contracted : and it seem'd 
 
 1 Cf. Dio. Cass. xix. $ ; Paul Diacon. VU. S. Greffor. iv. 44 ; Thorn. 
 Supp. Ixxxi. 5. 
 
i68 PURGATORY. 
 
 As he, who show'd most patience in his look, 
 Wailing exclaimed : ' I can endure no more/ " 
 
 — Purg. X, 122. 
 
 The proud repeat the Pater Noster. This divine ex- 
 pression of our impotence and need contains in its seven 
 petitions the remedy for the seven deadly sins,i and is the 
 fitting utterance of the once proud soul in the first degree 
 of its purification. With bowed heads, as they pass on, 
 they gaze upon numerous examples of pride chiselled on 
 the rocky walls and pavement, taken from scriptural and 
 historical subjects, such as the fall of Lucifer, Niobe turned 
 to stone, the death of Saul, the fate of E/oboam, Sennacherib, 
 Ilion and others. 
 
 Overwhelmed by his sense of the nothingness of earthly 
 greatness, the poet exclaims : 
 
 " O powers of man ! how vain your glory, nipt 
 E'en in its height of verdure, if an age 
 
 Less bright succeed not 
 
 The noise 
 
 Of worldly fame is but a blast of wind. 
 
 That blows from diverse points, and shifts its name, 
 
 Shifting the point it blows from." — Purg. xi. 91, 98. 
 
 The different kinds of pride are here portrayed. First, 
 pride of birth, in Omberto, son of Guglielmo Aldo- 
 brandesco : ^ 
 
 " My old blood and forefathers' gallant deeds 
 Made me so haughty, that I clean forgot 
 The common mother ; and to such excess 
 "Wax'd in my scorn of all men, that I fell." 
 
 — Purg. xi, 61 
 
 ^ Cf. Hugo a S. Vict. Mucidat in Ahd. 19. 
 
 ^ [The Aldobrandeschi were Counts of Santafiore in the territory of 
 Sienna, and were in perpetual feud with the Siennese. Omberto, for 
 his overweening arrogance, was murdered by them in his castle at 
 Campagnatico in 1279. — C.] 
 
THE PROUD. 169 
 
 Next, Oderigi of Agobbio, the miniature painter, repre- 
 sents pride of art and talent : 
 
 " In truth, I had not been thus courteous to him, * 
 The whilst I lived, through eagerness of zeal 
 For that pre-eminence my heart was bent on. 
 Here, of such pride the forfeitiu-e is paid. 
 Nor were I even here, if, able still 
 To sin, I had not tum'd me unto God." 
 
 — Parg. xi. 85. 
 
 Provenzano Salvani of Sienna, chief of the Tuscan 
 Ghibellines, is the type of an ambitious popular leader. 
 According to Yillani,^ he was " multo presuntuoso di sua 
 volonta," but humbled himself by begging in the market- 
 place of Sienna for the ransom of a friend, and so atoned 
 for his ambition : 
 
 " This, he replied. 
 Is Provenzano. He is here, because 
 He reach'd, with grasp presumptuous, at the sway 
 Of all Sienna." — Parg. xi. 121. 
 
 The poet is now cleansed from the sin of pride, and an 
 angel with his wings brushes away the first P from his 
 forehead. Thus lightened, he scarcely feels the toil as he 
 
 ^ [According to Vasari, Oderigi and bis rival. Franco Bolognese, 
 here introduced, were employed at the same time by Boniface VIII.] 
 
 2 [Villani (vii, 31) relates some curious particulars of his fate. 
 " Messer Provenzano Salvani, the lord and conductor of the army, was 
 taken, and his head cut off and carried through all the camp fixed on 
 a lance. And well was accomplished the prophecy and revelation 
 made to him by the devil by way of witchcraft, but he understood it 
 not ; for having compelled him to answer how he should succeed in 
 the said engagement, he told him lyingly : ' Thou shalt go, fight, con- 
 quer, not die in the battle, and thy head shall be the highest in the 
 camp.' And he thought to have the victory, and from these words 
 thought to remain master of all, and noted not the fallacy when he 
 said ' conquer, not die.' And therefore it is great folly to trust such 
 counsel as that of the devil." He was slain after an engagement 
 with a mixed force of Florentines and French at Val d'Essa, in June 
 1269.— C] 
 
I70 PURGATORY, 
 
 mounts with Yirgil the stairs to the second circle, amid 
 the praises of humility here chanted by the penitents : ^ 
 
 " As, entering, there we tum'd, voices in strain 
 Ineffable sang : ' Blessed are the poor 
 In spirit ! ' Ah ! how far unlike to these 
 The straits of hell : here songs to usher us, 
 There shrieks of woe." — Ptirg. xii. 103. 
 
 In the second and narrower circle the envious do penance. 
 The rocks are of a grey and " sullen hue ; " the path is 
 smooth and level. Instead of the bas-reliefs which in the 
 first circle bespoke the virtue of humility, voices of spirits 
 here extol the love of our neighbour, whether friend or foe. 
 Clad in gannents dark as the surrounding rocks, they 
 recite in unison the Litany of the Saints : 
 
 " Of sackcloth vile 
 Their covering seem'd ; and, on his shoulder, one 
 Did stay another, leaning ; and all lean'd 
 Against the cliff. E'en thus the blind and poor, 
 Near the confessionals, to crave an alms, 
 Stand, each his head upon his fellow's sunk ; 
 So most to stir compassion, not by sound 
 Of words alone, but that which moves not less, 
 The sight of misery. And as never beam 
 Of noonday visiteth the eyeless man. 
 E'en so was Heaven a niggard unto these 
 Of his fair light : for, through the orbs of all, 
 A thread of wire, impiercing, knits them up, 
 As for the taming of a haggard hawk," 
 
 — Purg. xiii. 52. 
 
 Here the poet finds Sapia, a lady of Sienna, who having 
 been exiled by her countrymen, selfishly rejoiced at their 
 defeat. She thus describes her fate : 
 
 ^ " Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven." 
 — Matt. V. 3. Cf. Bonavent. BrevUoq. v. 6. 
 
THE WRATHFUL. 171 
 
 " Here 
 I cleanse away with these the evil life, 
 Soliciting with tears that He, Who is, 
 Vouchsafe him to us. Though Sapia named, 
 In sapience I excell'd not, gladder far 
 Of other's hurt, than of the good befel me." 
 
 — Purg. xiii. 98. 
 
 Next Guide del Duca ^ confesses that : 
 
 " Envy so parch'd my blood, that had I seen 
 A fellowman made joyous, thou had'st mark'd 
 A livid paleness overspread my cheek." — Purg. xiv. 85. 
 
 Dante is taught the contrast between " the highest good, 
 unlimited, ineiBt'able," and this selfish greed of earthly goods ; 
 
 for 
 
 " The more aspirants to that bliss 
 Are multiplied, more good is there to love,* 
 And more is loved." — Purg, xv. 70. 
 
 The second P is now effaced from Dante's forehead, and 
 the strain " Beati misericordes " ^ accompanies his upward 
 steps. 
 
 In the third circle the wrathful are purified. Tliey are 
 surrounded by a fog "so palpable and gross," that the 
 poet is led, like a blind man, by Yirgil. On the way, he 
 beholds in ecstatic vision examples of meekness — Mary with 
 Joseph finding her Divine Son in the Temple, Pisistratus 
 of Athens,^ the Protomartyr Stephen praying for his 
 murderers : 
 
 ^ [Of this Guido no details are known. — C] 
 
 2 Thus too St. Augustine : " So shall God he all in all, that since 
 God is love, by love it shall come to pass that what they severally have 
 shall be common to all. Each one is in himself the possessor when he 
 loves in the other, what himself possesseth not. So shall there not be 
 any invidiousness of unequal glory, since the unity of charity shall reign 
 *all in all.' " — Tract. Ixvii. 2, in Joan. 
 
 * "Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." — Matt. 
 V. 7. 
 
 * The wife of Pisistratus urged him to slay a youth, who had embraced 
 their daughter in public. His reply was, " If we slay those who love 
 
172 PURGATORY, 
 
 " Straight I heard 
 Voices, and each one seem'd to pray for peace, 
 And for compassion, to the Lamb of God 
 That taketh sins away. Their prelude still 
 Was * Agnus Dei ; ' and through all the choir, 
 One voice, one measure ran, that perfect seem'd 
 The concord of their song." — Furg. xvi. 14. 
 
 Among them Dante recognises Marco Lombard©,^ who 
 directs him through the gloom and begs for his prayers : 
 
 " ' Thy course tends right 
 Unto the summit : ' and, replying thus. 
 He added, ' I beseech thee pray for me. 
 When thou shalt come aloft.' " — Purg. xvi. 49. 
 
 Marco explains to the poet why " the world is even so 
 forlorn of good" and "swarms with every evil." Man is 
 a free agent, nor can the influence of the stars deprive 
 him of his free-will and responsibility : 
 
 " If this were so, 
 Free choice in you were none ; nor justice would 
 There should be joy for virtue, woe for ill. 
 
 Light have ye still to follow evil or good, 
 And of the will free power, which, if it stand 
 Firm and unwearied in Heaven's first assay, 
 Conquers at last, so it be cherish'd well. 
 Triumphant over all." — Purg. xvi. 70. 
 
 Marco also ascribes the deplorable condition of Italy, at 
 
 us, what must we do with those who hate us ? " Valer. Maxim. Facta 
 ac Dicta Mcmorab. vi. i. 
 
 ^ [This Marco was a Venetian gentleman, and Villani terras him " a 
 wise and worthy courtier." It is related of him, that being imprisoned 
 and not able to pay his ransom, he applied to his friend Riccardo da 
 Camino, lord of Trevigi, for relief. Riccardo set on foot a contribution 
 among several nobles of Lombardy, of which, when Maro was informed, 
 he indignantly said, that he would rather die than remain under obli- 
 gations to so many benefactors. It is added that Riccardo then paid 
 the whole out of his own purse. — C. in loc.^ 
 
THE SLOTHFUL. 173 
 
 that time, to the confusion of the temporal and spiritual 
 
 powers : 
 
 " Thus the cause 
 Is not corrupted nature in yourselves, 
 But ill-conducting, that hath tum'd the world 
 To evil." — Purg. xvi. 106. 
 
 As Dante proceeds, his imagination recalls terrible ex- 
 amples of anger, such as Aman, the cruel foe of Mordecai,i 
 and Amata, the wife of Latinus, who, maddened by the 
 Fury Alecto, committed suicide. ^ At length, amid the 
 softly whispered cadences of the " Beati pacifici," ^ the third 
 P is brushed away from the poet's brow, and the travellers 
 ascend to the fourth circle, where the slothful are doing 
 penance : 
 
 " The love of good, whate'er 
 Wanted of just proportion, here fulfils. 
 Here pHes afresh the oar, that loiter'd ill," 
 
 — Purg. xvii. 81. 
 
 Defect of love Yirgil thus declares to be the cause of 
 sloth. He then proceeds to explain that love is the prin- 
 ciple of all action, and the difference between love necessary 
 and free. His argument is taken from St. Thomas, who 
 teaches as follows : — " The natural inclination in anything 
 is called the natural appetite, and it follows from its natural 
 form." * "As natural knowledge is always true, so natural 
 
 ^ Esther v. 14. 
 
 ^ " Mad with her anguish, impotent to bear 
 The mighty grief, she loathes the vital air ; 
 She calls herself the cause of all this ill, 
 And owns the dire effects of her ungoverned will ; 
 She raves against the gods, she beats her breast, 
 She tears with both her hands her purple vest ; 
 Then round a beam a running noose she tied. 
 And, fastened by the neck, obscenely died." 
 
 — ^n. vii. 875. 
 
 3 " Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children 
 of God." — Matt. v. 9. 
 * S. i. q. 80 a. I. 
 
174 PURGATORY. 
 
 love is always right, since it is nothing else than a natural 
 inclination implanted by the Author of nature." ^ " The 
 first movement of the will and of every appetitive faculty 
 is love." 2 " Gravity itself , the principle by which every- 
 thing is set in motion towards its natural place, can, because 
 of this natural attraction (propter connaturalitatem), be called 
 in a sense natural love.' ' ^ " Love in rational creatures, being 
 free, can err ; for reason can represent to the will a merely 
 apparent as a real good ; but evil, as such, can never be the 
 object of the will. The root of freedom is in the will as its 
 subject, but in reason as its cause. For the power of the 
 will to turn to diverse objects comes from the capacity of 
 reason to form diverse conceptions of good." * " God being 
 the Universal Mover, moves the will of man towards its 
 object, which is the good ; and without this general impulse 
 man could not will anything. But man by reason deter- 
 mines to will this or that object, which is either a real good 
 or bears its semblance." ^ Hence the axiom of the schools, 
 that " omne agens agit propter bonum," " good is the end of 
 every action." These principles Yirgil thus enunciates : 
 
 " Creator, nor created being, e'er. 
 My son, (he thus began), was without love, 
 Or natural, or the free spirit's growth. 
 Thou hast not that to learn. The natural still 
 Is without error : but the other swerves, 
 If on ill object bent, or through excess 
 Of vigour, or defect. While e'er it seeks 
 The primal blessings, or with measure due 
 The inferior, no delight that flows from it, 
 Partakes of ill. But let it warp to evil, 
 Or with more ardour than behoves, or less, 
 Pursue the good ; the thing created then 
 Works 'gainst its Maker. Hence thou must infer, 
 
 ' Q. 60, a. I ad 3. = q 20, a. r. 
 
 ^ S. L 2. q. 26, a. 2. * S. i. 2. q. 17, a. i. ad 2. 
 
 ^ S. i. 2. q. 9, a. 6. 
 
LOVE TRUE AND FALSE. 175 
 
 Tliat love is germin of each virtue in ye, 
 
 And of each act no less, that merits pain. 
 
 Now since it may not be, but love intend 
 
 The welfare mainly of the thing it loves. 
 
 All from self-hatred are secure ; and since 
 
 No being can be thought to exist apart, 
 
 And independent of the first, a bar 
 
 Of equal force ^ restrains from hating that. 
 
 Grant the distinction just ; and it remams 
 
 The evil must be another's, which is loved. 
 
 Three ways ^ such love is gender'd in your clay. 
 
 There is who hopes (his neighbours' worth deprest) 
 
 Pre-eminence himself ; and covets hence. 
 
 For his own greatness, that another fall. 
 
 There is ^ who so much fears the loss of power, 
 
 Fame, favour, glory, (should his fellow mount 
 
 Above him), and so sickens at the thought. 
 
 He loves their opposite : and there is he. 
 
 Whom wrong or insult seems to gall and shame,* 
 
 That he doth thirst for vengeance ; and such needs 
 
 Must dote on others' evU. Here beneath. 
 
 This threefold love is moum'd. Of the other sort 
 
 Be now instructed ; that which follows good. 
 
 But with disorder'd and irregular course. 
 
 All indistinctly apprehend a bliss. 
 
 On which the soul may rest ; the hearts of all 
 
 ^ Thus St. Thomas : " By His essence God is goodness itself, which 
 no one can hate, for it is of the nature of good to be loved. Therefore 
 any one who sees God in His essence cannot possibly hate Him. . . . 
 But there are certain effects of God which are repugnant to a dis- 
 ordered will, as the infliction of punishment, and considered with 
 regard to these effects, God can be to some an object of hate." — ii. 2. 
 34, a. I. 
 
 ^ The sin of pride. " Pride is defined as love of one's own excellence, 
 because this love produces that disordered desire of excelling others, 
 which properly belongs to pride." S. ii. 2. q. 162, a. 3. 
 
 3 The sin of envy. " Envy is sadness felt on account of others' good. 
 The object of the sadness is ill done to oneself. But as the good of 
 others can be regarded as an evil to oneself, it becomes in this way the 
 matter for sadness."— S. ii. 2. 36, a. I. 
 
 * " Anger is a mortal sin when unjust vengeance is desired, because 
 it is thus opposed both to charity and justice." — S. ii. 2. 158, a. 3. 
 
176 PURGATORY. 
 
 Yearn after it ; and to that wished bourn 
 All therefore strive to tend. If ye behold, 
 Or seek it, with a love remiss and lax ; ^ 
 This cornice, after just repenting, lays 
 Its penal torment on ye. Other good 
 There is, where man finds not his happiness : 
 It is not true fruition ; not that blest 
 Essence,^ of every good the branch and root. 
 The love too lavishly bestow'd on this, 
 Along three ^ circles over us, is moum'd. 
 Account of that division tripartite 
 Expect not, fitter for thine own research." 
 
 — Furg. xvii. 87. 
 
 This love of the good is born in us, like the perception 
 of self-evident truth, and, as such, is therefore neither 
 meritorious nor reprehensible : 
 
 " From whence his intellect 
 Deduced its primal notices of things, 
 Man therefore knows not, or his appetites 
 
 1 The sin of sloth. " The impenitent slothful are in the forecourt of 
 Hell, along with those who lived without praise or blame." 
 
 ^ " Cor nostrum inquietum est, donee requiescat in te." " Our heart 
 is restless till it rest in Thee." — Aug. Conf. ii. I. "Man's beatitude 
 cannot possibly be in any created good, for beatitude is that perfect 
 good, which completely satisfies the appetite ; nor, if it left aught to 
 be wished for, would it be the last end. But the object of the will, 
 which is the appetitive faculty in man, is the universal good, as the 
 universal truth is the object of his intellect. Hence evidently nothing 
 can appease the human will save the universal good, which is not found 
 in anything created, for every creature possesses a participated good- 
 ness, but in God alone. Who alone, therefore, can satisfy the will of man." 
 — S. i. 2. q. 2, a. 8. Cf. Boethius, De Consol. Phil. iii. i. 
 
 ^ The three carnal sins of avarice, gluttony, and unchastity, which 
 Dante, being still under the dominion of the senses, can discover for 
 himself ; Virgil (Reason) having pointed out the preceding spiritual 
 sins. In this division of the seven deadly sins Dante differs from St. 
 Thomas (i. 2. q. 84, a, 7), but agrees with St. Gregory the Great 
 {Moral, xxxi. 55) and others. While St. Thomas represents pride as 
 a disordinate striving after pre-eminence, Dante, with St. Gregory, 
 makes it the desire to humiliate our neighbour, in which the proud 
 man finds a gain to himself. 
 
THE OFFICE OF CONSCIENCE, 177 
 
 Their first affections ; such in you, as zeal 
 In bees to gather honey ; at the first, 
 Volition, meriting nor blame nor praise." 
 
 — Purg. xviii. 52. 
 
 In the possession of the good, love finds its full rest ; ^ 
 but in order that it may seek the true good, and not evil, 
 its counterfeit, 
 
 '* Ye have that virtue in you, whose just voice 
 Uttereth counsel, and whose word should keep 
 The threshold of assent." — Furg. xviii. 60. 
 
 The office of conscience is therefore to estimate the object 
 of our preference in its relation to our final end, and to take 
 or reject it, as it furthers or hinders the attainment of that 
 end. 2 Upon this depends the freedom, or moral character, 
 of our actions : 
 
 " Here is the source 
 Wlience cause of merit in you is derived ; 
 
 ^ " According to Aristotle, the appetite moves in a circle {i.e., ends 
 where it begins). The desirable object {ipsum appetibile) produces in the 
 appetite a certain fitness for union with itself, which is a certain com- 
 placency in the appetite, and from this follows the movement to the 
 object desired. For the desirable object moves the appetite, deter- 
 mining the direction it is to take, and the appetite then tends towards 
 the actual attainment of the desired object The first modification 
 (immutatio) of the appetite by the desirable object is called love, which 
 is nothing else than the complacency of the appetite in that object. 
 From this complacency follows the movement towards the desirable 
 object, which is desire j and lastly rest (in its possession), which is joy." 
 — S. I 2. q. 26, a. 2. 
 
 2 " Twofold is the knowledge of the end, the perfect and the imper- 
 fect. The knowledge of the end is perfect, when we apprehend a thing 
 not only as our end, but also its nature as our final object, and the 
 relation which exists between the act and its end. Such knowledge 
 belongs solely to a rational creature. Imperfect knowledge of the end 
 consists in the mere apprehension of the object, prescending from its 
 nature, or the relation of the act to the end ; and this knowledge exists 
 in the brutes, by means of their senses and natural instinct {cestimatio.) 
 An act, then, is perfectly voluntary when the end is perfectly known ; 
 that is, when, on apprehending that end, a man can, after deliberating 
 on the end and the necessary means, be moved thereto or not." — S. 
 i. 2. q. 6, a. 2, 
 
 M 
 
178 PURGATORY. 
 
 E'en as the affections, good or ill, she takes, 
 Or severs, winnow'd as the chaff. Those men, 
 Wlio, reasoning, went to depth profoundest, mark'd 
 That innate freedom ; and were thence induced 
 To leave their moral teaching to the world. 
 Grant then, that from necessity arise 
 All love that glows within you ; to dismiss 
 Or harbour it, the power is in yourselves." 
 
 — Furg. xviii. 62. 
 
 The wanderers are here overtaken by a throng of the 
 slothful, who, rushing on, " by eagerness impelled of holy 
 love," recall loudly to each other eminent models of zeal — 
 Mary hastening to the hill country to visit Elizabeth, Caesar 
 hurrying to subdue Ilerda. The rearmost spirits, on the 
 other hand, shout out memorable historical examples of the 
 punishment of sloth. 
 
 Dante has not yet traversed the fourth circle when he 
 falls asleep, and in a dream sees a " woman's shape " 
 approaching, 
 
 " With lips that stammer'd, eyes aslant, 
 Distorted feet, hands maim'd, and colour pale." 
 
 — Fitrg. xix. 8. 
 
 This old hag is the type of avarice, gluttony and un- 
 chastity; but as Dante continues to gaze upon her, her 
 hideousness disappears, and when she begins to sing he 
 listens spell-bound. A true picture of the manner in which 
 these sins seduce us. Revolting in themselves, they are, if 
 allowed to linger, transformed by a sensual imagination 
 into fictitious beauty. But instantly, to shame her, at his 
 side appears 
 
 " A dame of semblance holy. With stem voice 
 She utter'd, ' Say, O Vir^ ! who is this ? ' 
 Which hearing, he approach'd with eyes still bent 
 Toward that goodly presence : the other seized her." 
 
 — Pur(/. xix. 26. 
 
THE AVARICIOUS. 17^ 
 
 ^' Rending the syren's robes asunder, she unmasks the 
 loathsome figure concealed beneath, and wakes the poet 
 from his delusive trance. ^ This second lady personifies the 
 rational, right-directed will, and appears to Yirgil, natural 
 reason, because that faculty can discern the utter nothing- 
 ness of all sensual goods. 
 
 Now welcomed by soft angelic chants of the " Beati qui 
 lugent, quoniam ipsi consolabuntur," ^ the travellers mount 
 to the fifth circle, whilst another P is erased from the 
 poet's brow. Here they find spirits lying on the ground 
 and weeping sore : 
 
 " * My soul hath cleaved to the dust,' ^ I heard, 
 With sighs so deep, they weU-nigh choked the words." 
 
 — Pur(/. xix. 72. 
 
 This is the cry of the avaricious ; bound hand and foot, 
 they lie motionless, their faces to the ground. Among 
 them is Pope Adrian Y., who died, after the reign of but 
 one mouth, in 1276. Before him, in veneration of his high 
 office, Dante kneels. Adrian thus explains why he is 
 chastised : 
 
 " ' The cause why Heaven our back toward our cope 
 Reverses, shalt thou know : but me know first, 
 The successor of Peter. 
 
 A month and Httle more, by proof I learnt 
 With what a weight that robe of sovereignty 
 Upon his shoulder rests, who from the mire 
 Would guard it ; that each other fardel seems 
 
 1 Cf. Ezech. xxiii, 29. 
 
 2 " Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted." — 
 Matt. V. 5. " To mourn for evil that we may avoid it, inasmuch as it 
 severs us from our friend, is proper to charity alone. But to mourn for 
 any special evil belongs to some special virtue, for every virtue mourns 
 for that which is opposed to it." — Bonav. Compend. v. 50. 
 
 ^ Ps. cxviii. 25 : " Adhaesit pavimento anima mea." 
 
i8o PURGATORY. 
 
 But feathers in the balance. Late, alas ! 
 
 Was my conversion : but when I became 
 
 Rome's pastor, I discerned at once the dream 
 
 And cozenage of life ; saw that the heart 
 
 Rested not there, and yet no prouder height 
 
 Lured on the climber : wherefore, of that life 
 
 No more enamour'd, in my bosom love 
 
 Of purer being kindled. For till then 
 
 I was a soul in misery, alienate 
 
 From God, and covetous of all earthly things ; 
 
 Now, as thou seest, here punished for my doting. 
 
 Such cleansing from the taint of avarice, 
 
 Do spirits converted need, this mount inflicts 
 
 No direr penalty. E'en as to our eyes 
 
 Fasten'd below, nor e'er to loftier clime 
 
 Were lifted ; thus hath justice levell'd us 
 
 Here on the earth. As avarice quench'd our love 
 
 Of good, without which is no working ; thus 
 
 Here justice holds us prison'd, hand and foot " 
 
 Chain'd down and bound, while heaven's just Lord shall 
 
 So long to tarry, motionless, outstretched.' 
 My knees I stoop'd, and would have spoke ; but he, 
 Ere my beginning, by his ear perceived 
 . I did him reverence ; and ' What cause,' said he, 
 
 * Hath bowed thee thus ? ' — ' Compunction,' I rejoin'd, 
 
 * And inward awe of your high dignity.' " 
 
 — Purg. xix. 95. 
 
 These shades utter piteous lamentations as they recall, 
 by day, illustrious examples of poverty — Mary in the cave 
 of Bethlehem, Fabricius^ and Nicolas ;2 and by night, warn- 
 ing instances of avarice — Pygmalion, Midas, Ananias and 
 Sapphira, Heliodorus, Crassus and others. Hugh Capet, 
 who is here, thus condemns his posterity : 
 
 ^ Fabricius, when consul, B.C. 282, refused a large bribe offered him 
 by the Samnites to betray his country. 
 
 ^ St. Nicolas of Bari gave dowers secretly to three poor girls, who, 
 being exposed to great peril, were thus enabled to marry. He died 
 A.D. 342. 
 
EULOGY OF BONIFACE VIII. igt 
 
 " avarice ! 
 "What canst thou more, who hast subdued our blood 
 So wholly to thyself, they feel no care 
 Of their own flesh ! " — Purg. xx. 8 1 . 
 
 In ever-memorable lines, the poet, through the mouth 
 of Capet, brands with infamy the impious ill-usage of Pope 
 Boniface YIII. by Philip the Fair, and recognises the in- 
 alienable dignity of Christ's Yicar, even in one whom he 
 considered as his personal enemy : 
 
 " To hide with direr guilt 
 Past ill and future, lo I the flower-de-luce 
 Enters Alagna ; in His Vicar, Christ 
 Himself a captive, and His mockery 
 Acted again. Lo ! to His holy lip 
 The vinegar and gaU once more appUed ; 
 And He 'twixt Hving robbers doom'd to bleed. 
 Lo ! the new Pilate, of whose cruelty 
 Such violence cannot fill the measure up, 
 With no decree to sanction, pushes on 
 Into the temple his yet eager sail*. 
 O Sovran Master ! ^ when shaU I rejoice 
 To see the vengeance which Thy wrath, well pleased, 
 In secret silence broods ? " ^ — Purg. xx. 84. 
 
 Suddenly the mountain trembles " with various motion 
 rocked," and from all sides resounds the chorus " Gloria in 
 excelsis Deo ! " This outburst of rejoicing, explains Statins, *- 
 the Roman poet, is because a soul's purification is complete. *^ 
 
 ^ An allusion to the destruction of the Order of the Templars in 
 
 1310- 
 
 '^ On August 8, 1303, Nogaret, Vice-Chancellor of Philip the Fair, 
 and Sciarra Colonna, with their followers, surprised the Pope in his 
 palace at Anagni. Forcing their way into his presence-chamber, they 
 found the old man seated upon a throne in his pontifical vestments, his 
 head bent over a golden crucifix, which, together with the keys, he held 
 in his trembling hands. For a moment his venerable age and majestic 
 silence disarmed his foes. Then they broke out into violent invectives, 
 which he bore with calm dignity. Thirty-five days after, the Pope 
 died. 
 
i82 PURGATORY. 
 
 It is Statius himself who, thus cleansed, now joins the way- 
 farers, and, illumined by the light of faith, imparts to them 
 those truths, which Virgil was incompetent to teach. 
 
 Whilst they ascend to the sixth circle, Statius relates 
 that he Was detained in Purgatory, because he had not 
 openly professed the Christian faith. In this circle there 
 is a tree " with goodly fruitage hung," and pleasant to the 
 taste, but of which the penitents are forbidden to eat. 
 From amid its foliage voices proceed, which extol the 
 temperance of Mary at the marriage-feast ; of the women 
 of ancient Rome, who slaked their thirst with water ; the 
 abstinence of Daniel and St. John Baptist. The penitents, 
 a crowd of spirits " silent and devout " file past : 
 
 " The eyes of each were dark and hollow ; pale 
 Their visage, and so lean withal, the bones 
 Stood staring through the skin." — Purg. xxiii. 20. 
 
 Their prayer,^ " Labia mea, Domine " (" Lord, open 
 Thou my lips, and my mouth shall proclaim Thy praise "), 
 implies that those lips and tongues, once given to gluttony, 
 now serve to proclaim the Divine praises. They meekly 
 suffer hunger and thirst, in joyful hope that thus they 
 may attain eternal bliss. 
 
 Among these Dante recognises his wife's brother, Forese 
 Donati : 
 
 Lo ! a spirit tum'd his eyes 
 In their deep-sunken cells, and fasten'd them 
 On me, then cried with vehemence aloud : 
 * What grace is this vouchsafed me ? ' By his looks 
 I ne'er had recognised him : but the voice 
 Brought to my knowledge what his cheer conceal'd. 
 Remembrance of his altered lineaments 
 Was kindled from that spark, and I agnized 
 The visage of Forese. *^h ! respect 
 
 1 "Domine, labia mea aperies, et os meum annuntiabit laudem Tuam." 
 — Ps, 1., the Miserere. 
 
THE GLUTTONOUS. 183 
 
 This wan and leprous-wither'd skin/ thus he 
 Suppliant implored, ^ this macerated flesh. 
 Speak to me truly of thyself. And who 
 Are those twain spirits, that escort thee there ? 
 Be it not said thou scom'st to talk with me. 
 
 The water and the plant, we pass'd, 
 With power are gifted, by the Eternal Will 
 Infused ; the which so pines me. Every spirit, 
 Whose song bewails his gluttony indulged 
 Too grossly, here in hunger and in thirst 
 Is purified. The odour, which the fruit 
 And spray that showers upon the verdure, breathe, 
 Inflames us with desire to feed and drink. 
 Nor once alone, encompassing our route. 
 We come to add fresh fuel to the pain.* 
 ' Pain,' said I ; ' solace rather.' " — Purg. xxiii. 36. 
 
 Dante reminds him of their common sins, and narrates 
 the history of his own conversion : 
 
 " If thou recall to mind 
 What we were once together, even yet 
 Remembrance of those days may grieve thee sore. 
 That I forsook that life, was due to him ^ 
 Who there precedes me. 
 
 'Tis he who through profoundest night 
 Of the true dead has brought me, with this flesh 
 As true, that follows. From that gloom the aid 
 Of his sure comfort drew me on to climb, 
 And climbing, wind along this mountain-steep. 
 Which rectifies in you whate'er the world 
 Made crooked and depraved." — Purg. xxiii. 109. 
 
 Meanwhile the wayfarers, without a rest, climb, one by 
 one, the steep and narrow stair, until, as they pass out 
 of this circle, the angel, with his wing, removes another P 
 from the poet's brow : 
 
 1 Virgil. 
 
i84 PURGATORY. 
 
 *' As when, to harbinger the dawn, springs up 
 On freshen'd wing the air of May, and breathes 
 Of fragrance, all impregn'd with herb and flowers ; 
 E'en such a wind I felt upon my front 
 Blow gently, and the moving of a wing 
 Perceived, that, moving shed ambrosial smell ; 
 And then a voice, ' Blessed are they, whom grace 
 Doth so illume, that appetite in them 
 Exhaleth no inordinate desire. 
 Still hungering as the rule of temperance wills.' " 
 
 Pui'g. xxiv. 142. 
 
 In the seventh circle, the sensual expiate their sin amid 
 glowing flames, which burst forth from the rocky precipice. 
 Dante and his guide keep close along the outer side : 
 
 " Then from the bosom of the burning mass 
 ' O God of mercy ! ' ^ heard I sung, and felt 
 No less desire to turn. And when I saw 
 Spirits along the flame proceeding, I 
 Between their footsteps and mine own was fain 
 To share by turns my view. At the hymn's close 
 They shouted loud, ' I do not know a man ; ' ^ 
 Then in low voice again took up the strain." 
 
 — Purg. XXV. 117. 
 
 ^ " Summse Deus clementiae " {sic in the ancient Breviaries). The 
 first words of the Church's Matin hymn on Saturday. The second and 
 third verses run thus : 
 
 " Accept our chants, accept our tears 
 A mingled stream we pour ; 
 Such stream the laden bosom cheers 
 To taste Thy sweetness more. 
 
 " Purge Thou with fire the o'ercharged mind, 
 Its woes and wounds profound, 
 And with the watcher's girdle bind 
 The limbs which sloth has bound." 
 
 — Newman's trans. 
 
 - " Virum non cognosco." — Luke i. 34, words of the Blessed Virgin, 
 in reply to the Angelic Salutation. 
 
THE SENSUAL, 185 
 
 As they thus aloud confess their sin, the inward fire of 
 shame is added to the external fire which torments them, 
 in order to complete the work of their purification : 
 
 " Hence their cry 
 ...... as they parted, to rebuke 
 
 Themselves, and aid the burning by their shame." 
 
 — Parg. xxvi. 71. 
 
 Among these sufferers Dante finds certain poets, Guido 
 Guinicelli and Arnaldo Daniello, the latter the author of 
 "Lancelot of the Lake" and the prince of Provengal 
 bards. 
 
 On the brink of the flames stands the angel of God. In 
 clear melodious accents he sings " Beati mundo corde," ^ 
 and beckons the poet to pass through the fire. Dante 
 hesitates, terrified, whilst Yirgil vainly exhorts him to 
 take courage. At length : 
 
 " When still he saw me fix'd and obstinate, 
 Somewhat disturb'd he cried, ^ Mark now, my son. 
 From Beatrice thou art by this wall 
 Divided.'" — Purg. xxvii. 34. 
 
 The hope of seeing Beatrice expels all Dante's fear. 
 His resolve is made. He follows Yirgil through the flames, 
 encouraged by the voice, which from the other side bids 
 them welcome, " Yenite benedicti Patris mei." ^ 
 
 " As at Thisbe's ^ name the eye 
 Of Pyramus was opened (when life ebb'd 
 Fast from his veins), and took one parting glance. 
 While vermeil dyed the mulberry ; thus I tum'd 
 To my sage guide, relenting, when I heard 
 
 ^ " Blessed are the clean of heart, for they shall see God." — Matt. 
 v. 8. 
 
 - " Come, ye blessed of My Father." — Matt. xxv. 34. 
 ' Cf. Ovid's Metamorph. iv. 125. 
 
186 PURGATORY. 
 
 The name that springs for ever in my breast. 
 
 He shook his forehead, and ' How long,' he said, 
 
 ' Linger we now ? ' then smiled, as one would smile 
 
 Upon a child that eyes the fruit and yields. 
 
 Into the fire before me then he walk'd ; 
 
 And Statins, who erewhile no little space 
 
 Had parted us, he pray'd to come behind. 
 
 I would have cast me into molten glass 
 
 To cool me, when I entered ; so intense 
 
 Raged the conflagrant mass. The sire beloved. 
 
 To comfort me, as he proceeded, still 
 
 Of Beatrice talk'd. ^ Her eyes,' saith he, 
 
 ' E'en now I seem to view.' " — Purg. xxvii. 37. 
 
 As night steals on, the poet, worn with fatigue, lies 
 down to sleep upon one of the stairs which lead upward. 
 In his dream he sees Lia and Rachel, types of the active 
 and contemplative life, to be renewed within him now that 
 his purification is perfected. Awakening, he is reassured 
 by Virgil's promise that the " delicious fruit : " 
 
 " Which through so many a branch the zealous care 
 Of mortals roams in quest of, shall this day 
 Appease thy himger." — Purg. xxvii. 115. 
 
 He mounts up as if on wings, until he stands at last 
 upon the highest step. 
 
 r Here Virgil takes leave of Dante, for his charge has 
 attained the point, where of itself his ken no farther 
 reaches; that is, he has arrived at the limit of reason's 
 domain, and the kingdom of faith begins. But his guidance 
 Us no longer needed : 
 
 " Lo ! the sun, that darts 
 His beam upon thy forehead. . . . 
 
 Expect no more 
 
 Sanction of warning voice or sign from me. 
 Free of thy own arbitrement to chuse, 
 Discreet, judicious. To distrust thy sense 
 Were henceforth error." — Purg. xxvii. 132. 
 
THE SUMMIT GAINED. 187 
 
 Dante is finally purged from the wounds of ignorance and 
 weakness, the consequence of original sin. Enlightened by- 
 grace, he has only to follow the good, in which his will is 
 confirmed, to reach his last end. 
 
 The poet now stands on the summit of the Mount of 
 Purification, in the earthly Paradise. His path lies across 
 a wood, through which flows a crystal stream. Here every 
 lecoUection of his sins will be obliterated and his moral 
 freedom regained. It is the counterpart of that " gloomy 
 wood " in which he lost his way, at the commencement 
 of his pilgrimage.^ On the opposite side of the brook he 
 descries : 
 
 " A lady aU alone, who singing went, 
 And culling flower from flower, wherewith her way 
 Was all o'er painted." — Purg. xxviii. 41. 
 
 Eadiant with joy and beauty, she approaches, and 
 expresses her readiness to solve his every difficulty. This 
 lady is Matilda. ^ Like Lia in his former vision, she may 
 typify the active life, or perhaps the priesthood, through 
 whose instrumentality we are brought into the Church, the 
 earthly Paradise.^ To her Yirgil and Statins surrender 
 their office of guide, and, falling behind the poet, follow in 
 silence. Matilda proceeds to explain the symbolism of the 
 waters of Lethe and Eunoe, which we have already given. 
 
 As the earthly Paradise signifies the state of original 
 justice, to which the Church alone can restore man,* it 
 
 1 HeU, I 2. 
 
 2 Early commentators see in Matilda, the Countess of Tuscany ; 
 later ones (as Minich, Goschel, Scartazzini), a friend of Beatrice's 
 youth, 
 
 3 " The happiness of this life, which consists in the exercise of the 
 natural powers, and which is figured in the earthly Paradise."' — De 
 Monarch, iii. 16. (But the assistance of the natural powers by grace 
 is presupposed.) 
 
 ■* " Thus Paradise is the Church, as it is called in the Canticles (iv, 
 13) ; the four rivers of Paradise are the four Gospels ; the fruit trees, 
 the Sacraments, and the fruit their works j the tree of life is the Holy 
 
i88 PURGATORY. 
 
 now appears under the magnificent figure of a triumphal 
 chariot drawn by the mystic Gryphon — Christ. Upon the 
 chariot is seated Beatrice, the type of Divine Wisdom and 
 Beatitude. Virgin forms, three on her right and four 
 on her left, symbolise respectively the three theological 
 and the four cardinal virtues. Four-and-twenty elders 
 crowned with lilies, two and two, precede the car, signifying 
 the sacred books of the Old Testament. Next to the car 
 are the four mystic creatures of Ezechiel,^ representing 
 the four Evangelists. SS. Luke and Paul follow after, 
 with the four writers of the other inspired Epistles, SS. 
 Peter, James, Jude, and John. Last of all, the author of 
 the Apocalypse : 
 
 " One single old man, sleeping ^ as he came, 
 With a shrewd visage." — Purg. xxix. 140. 
 
 On the other side of the stream stands Beatrice, her 
 features veiled, who thus addresses him : 
 
 " ' Dante ! weep not that Virgil leaves thee ; nay, 
 Weep thou not yet : behoves thee feel the edge 
 Of other sword ; ^ and thou shalt weep for that. 
 
 Observe me well. I am, in sooth, I am 
 Beatrice. What ! and hast thou deign'd at last 
 Approach the mountain ? Knewest not, O man ! 
 Thy happiness is here ? ' Down f eU mine eyes 
 On the clear fount ; but there, myself espying, 
 RecoU'd, and sought the greensward ; such a weight 
 Of shame was on my forehead." — Purg. xxx. 53, 71. 
 
 Of a sudden, the angels intone the psalm " In te, 
 
 of Holies, Christ ; the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, the will's 
 free choice." — Civ. Dei, xiii. 21. [The earthly Paradise symbolises both 
 the Church herself and man, as supernatural ly restored by her.] 
 
 ^ Ezech. i. 
 
 ^ "Sleeping," because rapt in prophetic vision. 
 
 ^ That is, the confusion he will soon feel at Beatrice's reproaches. 
 
REPROACHES OF BEATRICE. 189 
 
 Domine, speravi." ^ The dulcet strains melt his heart ; he 
 weeps, and, with renewed confidence, confesses his former 
 errors. In order to deepen his penitence, Beatrice herself 
 relates to the angels the story of his past : 
 
 " These looks some time upheld him ; for I show'd 
 My youthful eyes, and led him by their light 
 In upright walking. Soon as I had reach'd 
 The threshold of my second age, and changed 
 My mortal for immortal ; ^ then Jie-1^ me, 
 And gave himself to others.^ When from flesh 
 To spirit I had risen, and increase 
 Of beauty and of virtue circled me, 
 I was less dear to him, and valued less. 
 Tjfo c^f^po TT^ fTrr tnm'd intn rinnmtful " i rn i y "^ 
 Following false images of good, that make 
 No promise perfect. Nor avail'd me aught 
 To sue for inspirations, with the which, 
 I, both in dreams of night and otherwise, 
 Did call him back ; of them, so little reck'd him, 
 Such depth be fell, that all device was short 
 Of his preserving, save that he should view 
 The children of perdition. To this end 
 I visited the purHeus of the dead ; 
 And one, who hath conducted him thus high, 
 Received my supplications urged with weeping. 
 It were a breaking of God's high decree 
 If Lethe should be past, and such food tasted, 
 Without the cost of some repentant tear." 
 
 — Purg. XXX. 123. 
 
 Then turning to Dante, Beatrice, still veiled, exhorts 
 him to contrition and true confession of his sins, without 
 which he may not cross the stream of Lethe : 
 
 1 " In Thee, Lord, have I hoped." — Ps. xxx. I. 
 
 - Beatrice died in her twenty-fifth year. According to Dante, this 
 is the commencement of youth {Conv. iv. 24), gioventU, as distin- 
 guished from adolescenza. 
 
 ^ The poet became immersed in worldly cares and distractions, instead 
 of applying himself to acquire true wisdom. 
 
I90 PURGATORY. 
 
 " ' Say thou, who stand'st beyond the holy stream, 
 If this be true. A charge, so grievous, needs 
 Thine own avowal.' 
 
 A bitter sigh I drew, then scarce found voice 
 
 To answer ; hardly to these sounds my lips 
 
 Gave utterance, wailing : ' Thy fair looks withdrawn, 
 
 Things present, with deceitful pleasures, tum'd 
 
 My steps aside.'" — Furg. xxxi. 4, 29. 
 
 Beatrice replies by accusations, which serve to intensify -l/ 
 yet more his sense of sin : 
 
 " Lay thou aside the motive to this grief. 
 And lend attentive ear, while I unfold 
 How opposite a way my buried flesh 
 Should have impell'd thee. Never didst thou spy 
 In art or nature, aught so passing sweet. 
 As were the limbs that in their beauteous frame 
 Enclosed me, and are scatter'd now in dust. 
 If sweetest thing thus f ail'd thee with my death. 
 What, afterward, of mortal, should thy wish 
 Have tempted ? When thou first hadst felt the dart *' ' 
 
 Of perishable things, in my departing 
 For better realms, thy wing thou shouldst have primed 
 To follow me ; and never stoop'd again 
 To 'bide a second blow, for a slight girl. 
 Or other gaud as transient and as vain. 
 The new and inexperienced bird awaits. 
 Twice it may be, or thrice, the fowler's aim ; 
 But in the sight of one whose plumes are full 
 In vain the net is spread, the arrow wing'd." 
 
 — Purg. xxxi. 43. 
 
 Dante is overwhelmed and conscience-stricken as she 
 continues : 
 
 " I stood, as children silent and ashamed 
 Stand, listening, with their eyes upon the earth. 
 Acknowledging their fault, and seK-condemned. 
 And she resumed : ' If, but to hear thus pains thee, 
 
CONTRITION OF DANTE. . 191 
 
 Raise thou thy beard/ and lo ! what sight shall do/ 
 
 No sooner lifted I mine aspect up, 
 
 Than I perceived those primal creatures cease ^ 
 
 Their flowery sprinkling ; and mine eyes beheld 
 
 (Yet unassured and wavering in their view) 
 
 Beatrice ; she, who towards the mystic Shape,^ 
 
 That joins two natures in one form, had tiu-ned ; 
 
 And, even under shadow of her veil. 
 
 And parted by the verdant rill that flow'd 
 
 Between, in loveliness she seem'd as much 
 
 Her former self surpassing, as on earth 
 
 All others she surpass'd. Remorseful goads 
 
 Shot sudden through me. Each thing else, the more 
 
 Its love had late beguiled me, now the more 
 
 Was loathsome. On my heart so keenly smote 
 
 The bitter consciousness, that on the groimd 
 
 O'erpower'd I f eU : and what my state was then, 
 
 She knows, who was the cause." — Purg. xxxi. 62. 
 
 Upon regaining consciousness, the poet finds himself 
 in the midst of Lethe, upheld by Matilda, who bears him 
 on, " swift as a shuttle, bounding o'er the wave." As they 
 approach the " blessed shore," the " Asperges me " ^ is sung 
 so sweetly, 
 
 " That I, 
 May not remember, much less tell the sound." 
 
 — Purg. xxxi. 98. 
 
 Matilda immerses Dante in the waters, and thus compels 
 him to drink of them. She then resigns him to four 
 "lovely nymphs," the four cardinal virtues, and to the 
 other three, " of deeper ken than ours," the three theo- 
 
 ^ Dante was a man of mature years, and his faults were more grave 
 than mere youthful follies. 
 
 - The angels who surround Beatrice. 
 
 3 The mystic Grj^phon. 
 
 * From the Psalm Miserere (Ps. 1.), " Thou shalt sprinkle me with 
 hyssop, and I shall be cleansed." 
 
192 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 logical virtues, who implore Beatrice to reveal herself 
 unveiled to the poet : 
 
 " ' Turn, Beatrice ! ' was their song, ' Oh ! turn 
 Thy saintly sight on this thy faithful one. 
 Who, to behold thee, many a wearisome pace 
 Hath measured. Gracious at our prayer, vouchsafe 
 Unveil to him thy cheeks ; that he may mark 
 Thy second beauty, now conceal'd ! ^ splendour ! 
 O sacred light eternal I ' 
 
 When under cope of the still-chiming heaven 
 
 Thou gavest to open air thy charms reveal'd ? 
 
 Mine eyes with such an eager coveting 
 
 Were bent to rid them of their ten years' thirst. 
 
 No other sense was waking." — Purg. xxxi. 134, xxxii. i. 
 
 After the early death of Beatrice, Dante had allowed 
 his mind and heart to be engrossed by things of earth. 
 His reunion with her, now that he is purified and fitted 
 to receive divine wisdom and beatitude, forms the crown- 
 ing point of the narration. For the story of the poet is 
 the account of each human soul, and of the whole human 
 race in its fall, repentance, purification, and final transfor- 
 mation in glory. The personal and individual experiences 
 of his own life become the visible exponent of the opera- 
 tions of divine justice and grace. 
 
 The poet is now qualified to contemplate the past and 
 future destinies of the Church. Amid the song of the 
 angels who surround Beatrice, the triumphal procession 
 of the Church moves on towards the tree of the knowledge 
 of good and evil, emblematic of the Boman Empire. To 
 this the triumphal car is attached. ^ Beatrice, Divine 
 Wisdom, which presides over the teaching office of the 
 
 ^ The soul is revealed in the glance of the eyes and in the smile <»f 
 the lips {Conv. ; ii. 8). In its mystic sense, this signifies the revelation 
 of Divine Wisdom. 
 
 ^ The type of Rome, as the seat of the Empire and the Papacy. 
 
THE MYSTIC CAR. 193 
 
 Church, remains near the chariot, with her seven attendant! 
 virgins, bearing the seven lights, the gifts of the Holy) 
 Spirit. She is there to guard it during the absence of 
 the Gryphon and the Elders, Christ and His Apostles, who 
 have left the earth. Suddenly, an eagle swoops down upon 
 the chariot, which reels like a storm-tossed vessel under 
 the attack. Other foes succeed. A gaunt, hungry fox ^ 
 steals inside the car ; then the earth opens, and a dragon 
 issues forth and tears away a portion of the frame-work. 
 In these we see the heathen persecutors and soul-destroying 
 heresies, especially that of Arius ; the revolt of Mahomet ; 
 perhaps, also, the great schism and the worldliness of the 
 clergy. The eagle again appears, and makes another 
 assault on the chariot, leaving it " lined with his feathers." 
 This is the secular power, by which the Church is so far 
 estranged from her true mission, that she puts forth in 
 different parts seven heads and ten horns. ^ Upon the 
 now deformed chariot sits "una puttana sciolta," who is 
 alternately fondled and scourged by the giant (France) 
 at her side, and the latter finally draws the chariot into 
 the depths of the forest. ^ 
 
 But Beatrice predicts the coming of a deliverer : 
 
 " Plainly I view, and therefore speak, the stars 
 E'en now approaching, whose conjunction, free 
 From all impediment and bar, brings on 
 A season, in the which. One sent from God, 
 
 ^ " Foxes signify the insidious ; and chiefly heretics, given to fraud, 
 hiding themselves, and taking men in, by the winding ways of their 
 holes, and withal, stinking with a nasty odour ; against which odour, 
 saith the Apostle, * We are a sweet odour in everyplace ' (2 Cor. ii. 15). 
 These foxes are signified in the Canticle of Canticles, where it is said, 
 ' Catch us the little foxes that destroy the vines.' " — Augustin. in Ps. 
 Ixxx. 13, V. 9. 
 
 ^ Apoc. xiii. I. It is probable that these represent the seven deadly 
 sins. 
 
 ^ The removal of the Papal See to Avignon. 
 
194 • PURGATORY. 
 
 (Five hundred, five, and ten, do mark him out,^) 
 That foul one, and the accomplice of her guilt, 
 The giant, both, shall slay." — Furg. xxxiii. 40. 
 
 Hereupon Matilda, at the request of Beatrice, leads tho ) 
 poet to the spring Eunoe, that he may drink of those life- \ 
 giving waters : ^ 
 
 " I retum'd 
 From the most holy wave, regenerate. 
 E'en as new plants renew'd with foliage new. 
 Pure and made apt for moimtiag to the stars." 
 
 — Purg. xxxiii. 139. 
 
 ^ Slightly transposed, the numbers 515 form the word D.V.X. which 
 points to a great military commander (Cf. Hell, i. 102), presumably 
 Can Grande of Verona (Cf. Par. xvii. 74). In thus describing a 
 name by numbers, Dante follows the example of the Apocaljrpse (xiii. 
 18), where the Emperor Nero is denoted _by the number 666, according 
 to the reckoning of the Hebrew letters. 
 
( 195 ) 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 PARADISE. 
 
 ) 
 
 The Paradise is comparatively little known. The subject, 
 Heaven and its happiness, the heritage, though in varying 
 degrees, of all the elect — forms a theme so sublime, that it 
 transcends our sense and comprehension. The joy of the 
 redeemed, the intensity and purity of their love, their 
 strains of adoration and praise, their life of contemplation 
 and peace, their immersion in the light of the truth, love, 
 and bliss of the Godhead — all this cannot be conceived with- 
 out some previous training both of the mind and imagina- 
 tion. This the poet foresaw, and has himself declared that 
 only few and chosen souls could follow him.^ Yet in the 
 Paradiso the deep mysteries of nature and grace are to find 
 their solution, and earnest students will be rewarded for 
 its perusal, no less by the charm of its verse than by the 
 solid instruction and interior consolation it conveys. Those, 
 especially who, like the poet, have proved the deceitfulness 
 of this world and fixed their hopes upon the next, will prize ^ 
 the Paradise. The poem is characterised by its definite ^ 
 te aching ; t he epic action is less prominent, though rhe 
 dramatic power and dignity increase. 
 
 Purified by suffering in the fires of Purgatory, the soul 
 now soars, free and unfettered, to Paradise. Like Hell and 
 Purgatory, Paradise has its different gradations, corre- >^ 
 
 spending to the varying classes of virt ue and d egrees of 
 
 * Par. ii. i ; see p. 5. 
 
196 PARADISE. 
 
 sanctity which tb ft {spirits pnssfiss TVia nine sp heres o f 
 the_blessed^_aji3wering to the nine circles ot Hell and the ■ 
 nine stages of Purgatory, a re founded u pon the Ptolemaic 
 system, with its seven planets, its circle"or~the fixed stars 
 ' an^~~of^ the crystalline heaven. These nine concentric 
 spheres form the universe, of which the earth is the fixed 
 centre and irresistible point of attraction. Composed of 
 two weighty elements, land and water, the earth is imme- 
 diately surrounded by the two spheres of air and fire, and 
 to the latter all flames soar aloft. 
 
 Outside the sphere of fire extends the heaven of the seven 
 planets— the Moon, Mercury, and Yenus, the Sun, Mars, ] 
 Jupiter, and Saturn. Each of these planets revolves on its 
 own axis from west to east, and describes a course in epicycles 
 round a fixed invisible point in their heaven.^ Beyond 
 Saturn is the heaven of th^ fiTTftf* p^-gv°^ i^^Vmsft ppT-io^ ot / 
 revolution is the longest, because farthest from the earth. 
 The~outer circle, or ninth heaven, bears these inneFsyStems 
 along, in its rapid course of four-and-twenty hours, yet with- 
 out disturbing the individual motion of each planet. This 
 outer circle is the crystalline heaven, oTj J^rimum Mobi le, from 
 
 wTiifpT^ prnpporl nil Trt4..fiM ii ^ m t Iklo i u-n^ nnrl r^haHgf Outside 
 
 the spheres, above all mutations of time and space, is the 
 Heaven of light and fire, the Empyrean, the dwelling-place 
 of the Eternal Godhead. 
 
 The a ngels and b lessed, ac cording to their deg rees of 
 glory; have each their places ^r ^ fVia diffpT'p^Tit, spheres, 
 though th e yare not restricte d to t hem ; for in_th e Empyrean, 
 all find their beatitude in the immediate vision of God : 
 
 Of Seraphim, he who is most enskied, 
 Moses and Samuel, and either John, 
 Choose which thou wilt, nor even Mary's self, 
 Have not in other heaven their seats, 
 
 ^ Conv. ii. 4. 
 
THE NINE SPHERES. 197 
 
 Than have those spirits which so late thou saw'st ; 
 Nor more or fewer years exist ; but all 
 Make the first circle beauteous, diversely 
 Partaking of sweet life, as more or less 
 Afflation of eternal bliss pervades them. 
 Here were they shown thee ; not that fate assigns 
 This for their sphere, but for a sign to thee 
 Of that celestial furthest from the height. 
 Thus needs, that ye may apprehend, we speak: 
 Since from things sensible alone ye learn 
 That, which, digested rightly, after turns 
 To intellectual."— Pa?', iv. 28. 
 
 Thus the s ^ere slowest in its movement, the Moon, is 
 inh abited by those who ^jj^iilpably^ liQyq riot ke ptjJ TPJr" 
 vows. Mftrp.nry, an imperfect sta r, seldom visible because 
 jQf the overpowering brightness of the sun, to which it is 
 close, contains spi^lgj wlii'nli^ V>nf. fny earthly ambition^ would 
 
 ^/ 
 
 havd^ reached a higher place. In the sp here of Yenus are 
 those -souls vVhUbt*" npi rifnd»Ji£e was marred by human 
 attnchTTmnts , thou gh Inner s ince expiated. And as th e Sun 
 
 is the source of light to all the planets, so within its 
 sphere we find the great theologians whose teaching has 
 illum ined the world. The Crusaders and champions of 
 the faith occupy the spEere of Mars. I n the sixth, that of 
 Tiijifffir, nrp the j^^rf^nt ^nnr nf t he en.rth, kings and just 
 judges. S aturn , whose orbit, far removed from the rest, 
 typifies the time when " no ill had power to harm," ^ is the 
 ab ode of the contemplative Saints. The ." f Tpfl yfin nf fliq 
 fixed starsls assig ned to f> amt,s nt Special pre-eminence by 
 thejT offices and grappa^dgpn and "Rye^^ the Holy Apostles, 
 and, supreme above sl U, Mary the Mother of God. F inally, 
 in the crystflllinfl heavfinj nr Pp'm}(n}. JifnMle, are the angels, 
 who in their se^reral hierarchies rule the stars. 
 
 But these differing degrees of felicity excite neither 
 regret nor envy among the redeemed, for they declare ; 
 
 ^ Pai\ xxi. 25. 
 
198 PARADISE. 
 
 "Our will 
 Is, in composure^ settled by the power 
 Of charity, who makes us will alone 
 What we possess, and nought beyond desire : 
 If we should wish to be exalted more, 
 Then must our wishes jar with the high will 
 Of Him, Who sets us here." — Par. iii. 69. 
 
 The glory of the elect in their divers spheres is depicted 
 by Dante with all his originality and imaginative power. 
 Spiritual relations and conditions are everywhere clothed in 
 forms, wondrous indeed, but never exaggerated, for his re- 
 fined feeling forbids such treatment of things divine. As the 
 poem advances, though his individual action is less seen, yet 
 it is his own ascent which be describes, and through him 
 and with him we behold the invisible world, in company 
 with Beatrice, who leaves him finally within the mystic 
 rose, when Dante invokes her for the last time : 
 
 " O lady ! thou in whom my hopes have rest ; 
 Who, for my safety, hast not scom'd, in heU 
 To leave the traces of thy footsteps mark'd ; 
 For all mine eyes have seen, I to thy power 
 And goodness, virtue owe and grace. Of slave 
 Thou hast to freedom brought me : and no means. 
 For my deliverance apt, hast left untried. 
 Thy liberal bounty still toward me keep : 
 That, when my spirit, which thou madest whole 
 Is loosen'd from this body, it may find 
 Favour with thee." — Par. xxxi. 71. 
 
 Amid the joys of Paradise the poet still remembers the 
 world and his fatherland, but he views them and all earthly 
 things as a prophet on high. Earnest in purpose, often 
 sharp and incisive in utterance, he exposes the sins of his 
 countrymen, and condemns with his old severity every 
 fault he perceives, however high in rank the offender. 
 
 Shortly after the completion of his great work the poet 
 
ASCENT TO THE STARS. 199 
 
 died, absorbed, like a true Christian, in the contemplation 
 of the glory of God. To expire thus, with the sins of his 
 life expiated, his life-work finished, and his soul prepared 
 for eternity, was surely a mark of divine predilection. 
 
 We must now accompany Dante in his ascent through 
 the spheres. He is still in the earthly Paradise, by his 
 side stands Beatrice. It is the dawn of the seventh day, ' 
 and the sun is rising over the western hemisphere, when to 
 the left he sees 
 
 " Beatrice tum'd, and on the sun 
 Gazing, as never eagle fix'd his ken." — Far. i. 45. 
 
 Then as he looks upon her, the type of the divine grace 
 and wisdom, through which alone ^ the soul rises to God, 
 Dante is rapt in ecstasy. Outspread on every side, he 
 beholds a boundless sea of light ; his ear catches the har- 
 mony of the spheres, the unison of the divine scheme of 
 creation, in which no false note sounds. Beatrice and 
 Dante are, she tells him, no longer on earth, but ascending 
 with more than lightning speed. For as the flame mounts 
 upwards, so the purified soul, released from its sinful fetters, 
 by the very law of its nature ascends to God, and rises 
 higher, as it apprehends more clearly the divine perfec- 
 tions : 
 
 " Thou no more admire 
 Thy soaring, (if I rightly deem), than lapse 
 Of torrent downwards from a mountain's height. 
 There would in thee for wonder be more cause. 
 If, free of hiadrance, thou had sta^d below, 
 As living fire unmoved upon the earth." — Par. i. 131. 
 
 They enter first within the sphere of the Moon, which 
 Dante thus describes : 
 
 " Meseem'd as if a cloud had cover'd us, 
 Translucent, sohd, firm, and polish'd bright, 
 
 ^ Conv. ill 14, 15. 
 
ioo PARADISE. 
 
 Like adamant, which the sun's beam had smit. 
 Within itself the ever-during pearl 
 Beceived us ; as the wave a ray of light 
 Receives, and rests unbroken." — Par. ii. 31. 
 
 Beatrice takes occasion to explain the influence of the 
 heavenly bodies, and their various changes : 
 
 " Thus do these organs of the world proceed, 
 As thou beholdest now, from step to step ; 
 Their influences from above deriving, 
 And thence transmitting downwards." — Par. ii. 1 20. 
 
 Here for the first time, Dante sees the forms of the 
 redeemed : 
 
 " As through translucent and smooth glass, or wave 
 Clear and unmoved, and flowing not so deep 
 As that its bed is dark, the shape returns 
 So faint of our impictured lineaments, 
 That on white forehead set, a pearl as strong 
 Comes to the eye ; such saw I many a face." 
 
 — Par. iii. 9. 
 
 Piccarda. sister of his brother-in-law, Corso Donati, a 
 cloistered nun, who was torn from her convent by her 
 relatives and friends, and afiianced to Roselino della Tosa, 
 a Florentine nobleman, now makes herself known to the 
 
 poet: 
 
 " I was a virgin sister in the earth : 
 And if thy mind observe me well, this form. 
 With such addition graced of loveliness, 
 Will not conceal me long ; but thou wilt know 
 Piccarda, in the tardiest sphere thus placed. 
 Here 'mid these other blessed also blest. 
 
 And this condition, which appears so low. 
 Is for this cause assign'd us, that our vows 
 Were, in some part, neglected and made void." 
 
 — Par. iii. 46. 
 
MERCURY— AMBITIOUS HUMBLED. 201 
 
 She proceeds to express the calm satisfaction of those 
 holy souls, who feel neither grief nor envy in regard to 
 those of higher grades : 
 
 " Our hearts, whose high affections bum alone 
 With pleasure from the Holy Spirit conceived. 
 Admitted to His order, dwell in joy." — Par. iii. 52. 
 
 Near Piccarda, and, like her, snatched " from the pleasant 
 cloister's pale," by men " for ill than good more apt," is 
 Constance, mother of the Emperor Frederic II. Accord- 
 ingly, the nature of vows and the power of dispensing from 
 them, forms the subject of Beatrice's next instruction to 
 the poet. 
 
 The second sphere, that of Mercury, is now reached : 
 
 " And as the arrow, ere the cord is still, 
 Leapeth unto its mark ; so on we sped 
 Into the second realm. There I beheld 
 The dame, so joyous, enter, that the orb 
 Grew brighter at her smiles." — Par. v. 90. 
 
 Here Dante finds the Emperor Justinian : 
 
 " Destined by the will 
 Of that prime love, whose influence I feel, 
 From vain excess to clear the incumber'd laws." ^ 
 
 — Par. vi. II. 
 
 Justi nian nar ra t o fi thn hintnry nf thr T^ n mmi Empirn frnm 
 t he foundation o f Rome to Charlemagne, and thence pro 
 noof]c! in nf^nqni^e jihe intense semsnness whicn charactenspd 
 alike Guelfs and Ghibellines.^ With Justinian, all those 
 
 ^ The work of legislation is, for the poet, an operation of the Holy 
 Ghost. Justinian only aimed at expurging repetitions and contradic- 
 tory decisions from the already existing laws, not at creating new acts. 
 Cf. Cod. Repetit. Prcelect. §1. 
 
 2 Par. vi. 102. 
 
202 PARADISE. 
 
 ^' Whose mortal lives were busied to that end, 
 That honour and renown might wait on them : 
 And, when desires thus err in their intention, 
 True love must needs ascend with slacker beam." 
 
 — Par. vi. 1 1 8. 
 
 Here also is Romeo, the noble and disin terested min ister 
 of Raymond Berenger, Oount oi jW gence^ Bj_hii wisfe* 
 counsels he increased the Count's revenues, providSlt" 
 TS GSsl allianc es for iiis daughters, and was rewardeiTby the 
 blackest in^ ratitudo. In Romeo's fate the poet "describes 
 his own : "°°^ ■*■ 
 
 " Aged and poor 
 He parted thence : and if the world did know 
 The heart he had, begging his life by morsels, 
 'Twould deem the praise it yields him, scantly dealt." 
 
 — Par. vi. 141. 
 
 As Justinian h as expla inedJihe histo ry of t he Roman 
 Empire^ malTs gmde to temporal hap piness,_soP"ag~tKey' 
 soar higher, Beatrice unfo lds the m yst'^^i^s ^f mnn'ffjMl 
 an d redemptionr' ^ana^^^^_jwa y throug h the Church to^ 
 pfp.rn ^l hnppTr>pss^^ ]|iich Only mJnds enlightene d by divine 
 love can comprehendT* ' ' -^ 
 
 " Brother! no eye of man not perfected, 
 Nor fully ripen'd in the flame of love. 
 May fathom this decree." — Par. vii. 55. 
 
 From the " new loveliness " that graces Beatrice, Dante 
 becomes aware that they have been wafted into a higher 
 sphere. It is that of Ye nus ; 
 
 " And as in flame 
 A sparkle is distinct, or voice in voice 
 Discem'd, when one its even tenour keeps, 
 The other comes and goes ; so in that Hght 
 I other luminaries saw, that coursed 
 In circling motion, rapid more or less. 
 
VENUS—SENSUAL PURIFIED. 203 
 
 As their eternal vision each impels. 
 
 And after them, who in the van appear'd, 
 Such an Hosanna sounded as hath left 
 Desire, ne'er since extinct in me, to hear 
 ReneVd the strain." — Par. viii. 18. 
 
 Here the souls appear all ^T'T-^fliat^^ wit^ ^\ r^ht. which 
 s hines around^ and shrouds them " as an animal in its own 
 silk enswathed." Charl es MTartel is the first to speak, 
 and to Dante's q uestion how ^Vil ^soBs come of good parents, 
 ajii^good sons oT e vil parents, replies t hatl^:3snivif^ ti\ Tillg^ 
 law of individuafi^, which is everywhere manifested in 
 
 " In her circuitous course, 
 Nature, that is the seal to mortal wax, 
 Doth well her art, but no distinction owns 
 'Twixt one or other household. Hence befals 
 That Esau is so wide of Jacob : hence 
 Quirinus of so base a father springs, 
 He dates from Mars his lineage." — Par. viii. 132. 
 
 B ut eveiT ma n should be brought up to fill _the place for 
 wKich his natural disposition his him, otnerwise he will 
 poorly suSCyed : ' 
 
 " Nature ever. 
 Finding discordant fortune, Uke aU seed 
 Out of its proper climate, thrives but ill. 
 And were the world below content to mark 
 
 ^ [Dante, following Aristotle, teaches that the diversity of gifts and 
 dispositions in mankind are ordained by Providence for the benefit of 
 human society, which requires a variety of qualifications in its members 
 for the diverse service of the state. This difference of dispositions is 
 partly due, according to the divine plan, to the influence of the 
 heavenly bodies at the time of each infant's birth ; for by nature the 
 child would inherit the dispositions of the parent. But Dante is 
 careful to show that whatever effect the stars might produce on the 
 human temperament, the character ultimately depends on the good or 
 bad use of the individual free will.] See Purg. xvL 75-82. Gary in loc. 
 
204 PARADISE. 
 
 And work on the foundation nature lays, 
 
 It would not lack supply of excellence." — Par. viii. 145. 
 
 Near Charles Martel ar q Cunizza. sister of tlifi nrnp1[ 
 Ezzolino. and Folco the Troubadour.^ In their lifetime 
 
 they were overcome By the "light of Yenus;" now grief 
 for their sin is absorbed in ceaseless thanksgiving for their 
 deliverance : 
 
 " Yet I nought repine, 
 Nor grudge myself the cause of this my lot : 
 Which haply vulgar hearts can scarce conceive. 
 
 And yet there bides * * 
 
 No sorrowful repentance here, but mirth, w? ^ 
 Not for the fault, that doth not come to mind, 4' 
 But for the virtue, whose o'erruling sway 
 And providence have wrought thus quaintly. Here ^ 
 The skill is look'd into, that f ashioneth ^ v 
 With such effectual working, and the good 
 Discem'd, accruing to the lower world -* ** 
 
 From this above."— /'ar. ix. 34, 99. 
 
 ^ St. Augustine expands this thought {Civ. JDei, xxii. 30, 4) by dis- 
 tinguishing between experimental and theoretical knowledge. " The 
 soul then shall have an intellectual remembrance of its past ills, but so 
 far as regards sensible experience they shall be wholly forgotten. For 
 a skilled physician knows indeed professionally all diseases, but experi-/ 
 mentally only those from which he has himself suffered. As, then, the 
 knowledge of evil is twofold, the one by mental insight, the other by 
 sensible experience, in two ways also can it be forgotten. The skilled 
 and learned (physician), through neglect of his profession, may forget "^ 
 sufferings ; the patient, through escape from them. And in this latter 
 way will the saints forget their past ills, for their deliverance from them 
 will be so complete, that they will be entirely blotted out of their ^" 
 experience. But their intellectual knowledge, which will be great, 
 will keep them acquainted not only with their own past woes, but with 
 the eternal sufferings of the lost. Were they indeed to become uncon- 
 scious of their past miseries, how could they, as the Psalmist saysj v ' 
 Ixxxviii. 2, sing for ever the mercies of God. ... In that city of God ., 
 there will be free will, one in all and indivisible in each, freed from all », 
 evil and filled with all good, enjoying indefectibly the sweetness of <t7i^ 
 eternal bliss, oblivious of sins, oblivious of sufferings, and yet not so «~ 
 oblivious of its deliverance as to be ungrateful to its Deliverer." — Ibid. 3. 
 Cf. Dod's trans. » 
 
ASCENT TO THE SUN. 205 
 
 B'>>^^T^j wlj ^ furthered Josue's glorious enterprise in the 
 
 Dante now mounts with Beatrice to the Sun : 
 
 " Weetless of ascent, 
 But as a man, that weets him come, ere thinking. 
 For Beatrice, she who passeth on 
 So suddenly from good to better, time 
 Counts not the act." — Par. x. 3 1 . 
 
 Here objects are distinguished, not by their co lour, bu t, 
 
 by their l ight : 
 -"^ " What there was i' th' sun, 
 
 (Where I had enter'd), not through change of hue, 
 But light transparent— did I summon up •''' 
 
 Genius, art, practice. — I might not so speak*. 
 It should be e'er imagined : yet beheved .^ ' 
 It may be. and the sight be justly craved/ / 
 And if our fantasy fail of such height, , 
 
 What marvel, since no eye above the sun 
 Hath ever travel'd ? " — Par. x. 36. * ^--^ 
 
 V. ^ 
 
 Beatrice exhorts Dante to thank the invisible " Sun of 
 Angels," by whose grace he had been raised up to the 
 visible sun : 
 
 " Never was heart in such devotion bomid. 
 And with complacency so absolute 
 Disposed to render up itself to Go4, 
 
 As mine was at those words : and so entire ^^ 
 
 The love for Him, that held me, it ecUpsed '. /^ > 
 Beatrice in oblivion." — Par. x. 51. 
 
 \^ 
 
 Beatrice feels no displeasure, but only joy in being thus 
 forgotten, and 
 
 " Smiled thereat so joyously. 
 That of her laughing eyes the radiance brake, . 
 And scattered my collected mind abroad." ^-^ 
 
 — Par. X. 57. 
 
 Now, as stars are gathered round their pole, so these 
 
2o5 PARADISE. 
 
 blessed spirits, like " burning suns," circle thrice in mystic 
 measure round Beatrice and Dante with joyous strains. 
 As the sounds cease, S t. Thomas Acj j uina s leads the poet 
 into the approaching circle of great theologians, and thus 
 addresses him : 
 
 " I, then, was of the lambs that Dominic 
 Leads, for his saintly flock, along the way 
 Where well they thrive, not swoln with vanity. 
 He, nearest on my right hand, brother was 
 And master to me : Albert of Cologne 
 Is this ; and, of Aquinum Thomas I. 
 If thou of all the rest would'st be assured. 
 Let thine eye, waiting on the words I speak, 
 In circuit journey round the blessed wreath. 
 That next resplendence issues from the smile 
 Of Gratian, who to either former lent ^ 
 Such help, as favour wins in Paradise. 
 The other, nearest, who adorns our quire, 
 Was Peter, he that with the widow gave 
 To Holy Church his treasure.^ The fifth light. 
 Goodliest of all, is by such love inspired, 
 That all your world craves tidings of his doom : 
 Within, there is the lofty light, endow'd 
 With sapience so profound, if truth be truth, 
 That with a ken of such wide amplitude 
 No second hath arisen.^ Next behold 
 That taper's radiance, to whose view was shown, 
 Clearliest, the nature and the ministry 
 Angelical, while yet in flesh it dwelt.* 
 
 ^ The spiritual and temporal administration of justice. 
 
 ^ This is a play upon the words of Peter Lombard in the prologue to 
 his Book iv. Senten. : " Desiring of our slender means to cast something 
 with the poor widow into the treasury of the Lord." — MarTc xii. 42 ; 
 Luke xxi. 2. 
 
 3 Solomon, as the author of Proverhs, of Fcclesiastes the Preacher, 
 and of the Canticle of Canticles. 
 
 ^ Dionysius the Areopagite, the reputed author of the De Coelesti 
 JTierarchia. In Dante's time no doubt had yet arisen as to the author- 
 ship of this book, then attributed to Dionysius, St. Paul's convert, who, 
 according to tradition, died in Paris. 
 
THE GREAT THEOLOGIANS. 207 
 
 In the other little light serenely snules 
 
 That pleader for the Christian temples, he 
 
 Who did provide Augustine of his lore.^ 
 
 Now, if thy mind's eye pass from light to light, 
 
 Upon my praises following, of the eighth 
 
 Thy thirst is next. The saintly soul ^ that shows 
 
 The world's deceitfulness, to all who hear him, 
 
 Is, with the sight of all the good that is, 
 
 Blest there. The limbs, whence it was driven, lie 
 
 Down in Cieldauro ; and from martyrdom 
 
 And exile came it here. Lo ! further on. 
 
 Where flames the arduous spirit of Isidore ; ' 
 
 Of Bede ; * and Richard,*^ more than man, erewhUe 
 
 In deep discernment. Lastly this, from whom 
 
 Thy look on me reverteth, was the beam 
 
 Of one, whose spirit, on high musings bent. 
 
 Rebuked the lingering tardiness of death. 
 
 It is the eternal light of Sigebert * 
 
 Who escaped not envy, when of truth he argued, 
 
 Reading in the straw-Htter'd street."^ — Par. x, 91. 
 
 ^ By St. Augustine's request, Paulus Orosius wrote his work ffis- 
 toriarum L. VII. adv. Paganos, an universal history coming down to his 
 own times, to prove that the disasters which befell the later Roman 
 Empire were not caused by the preaching of Christianity. St. Augus- 
 tine treats this subject exhaustively in his De Civitate Dei. Some 
 commentators suppose that this seventh spirit is St. Ambrose. 
 
 ^ Anicius ManUus Torquatus Severinus Boethius, now canonised 
 (d 525), wrote De Consolatione Philosopkice, a work much read in the 
 Middle Ages. His grave was shown in the Church of St Peter at 
 Pa via, called the Cield'auro. 
 
 2 Isidore of Seville {d. 636) wrote Lihros XX. Originum sen Ety- 
 mologiarum, a compendious encyclopedia of all sciences, collected with 
 great industry. This book had a marked influence on theology in the 
 West. 
 
 * Venerable Bede {d. 735) passed his whole life in the monastery of 
 Wearmouth in Northumbria, and wrote many theological and scientific 
 works. " Aut discere, aut docere, aut scribere dulce habui," was his 
 motto. 
 
 ^ Richard of St Victor, educated in the monastery of that name in 
 Paris ; in 1164 became Prior, and was eminent as a mystic. His prin- 
 cipal works are Benjamin minor, sive de prceparatione animi ad contem- 
 plationem, and Benjamin major, sive de contemplatione. 
 
 ^ A monk of the Abbey of Gemblours. See note 2, p. 19. 
 
 ^ The Rue de Pouarre, the name of a street in Paris. Cary in loc. 
 
2o8 PARADISE. 
 
 SurroundedbythisJ^liasfiildrcle of exalted spirits, the 
 poet now first realises the utter vanity of all earthly 
 aims : "~"7 ' ' 
 
 " O fond anxiety of mortal men ! 
 How vain and inconclusive arguments 
 Are those, which make thee beat thy wings below. 
 For statutes one, and one for aphorisms ^ 
 Was himting ; this the priesthood f ollow'd ; that, 
 By force or sophistry, aspired to rule ; 
 To rob, another ; and another sought, 
 By civil business, wealth ; one, moiling, lay 
 Tangled in net of sensual deUght ; 
 And one to wistless indolence resign'd ; 
 What time from aU these empty things escaped, 
 With Beatrice, I thus gloriously 
 Was raised aloft, and made the guest of Heaven." 
 
 — Far. xi. i. 
 
 St. Thomas the Dominican extols St. Francis of Assisi 
 and his sons, whilst St. Bonaventure, the Franciscan friar,, 
 in return praises St. Dominic. Both lament the decay of 
 discipline which then prevailed in their respective Orders. 
 St. Bonaventure next proceeds to enumerate the great 
 theologians here assembled — Hugh of St. Victor,^ Peter 
 Comester,^ Peter Hispanus,* the prophet Nathan, St. . 
 Chrysostom, Donatus,^ Rabanus Maurus,^ and Joachim ^ 
 
 ^ The study of medicine. A writing of Hippocrates is entitled 
 Aphoj'isms. 
 
 2 A German monk of St. Victor's monastery in Paris, of the noble 
 family of Blankenburg, a great mystic ; b. 1097, d. 1 179. 
 
 3 Peter Mangiador ; his universal history, Historia Scholastica, was 
 much esteemed in the Middle Ages ; d. 11 79. 
 
 ^ Afterwards Pope John XXI. He wrote Summulce Logicales ; d. 
 1277. 
 
 ^ ^lius Donatus (c. 350 A.D.), a professor of grammar in Rome. 
 St. Jerome was one of his disciples. His grammar was in general use 
 during the Middle Ages. 
 
 ^ Rabanus Maurus, Abbot of Fulda. He was made Archbishop of 
 Mavence in 847, an ecclesiastical writer and promoter of science ; 
 d. 856. 
 
MARS— CHAMPIONS OF THE FAITH. 209 
 
 the Abbot of Flora. ^ The glory of these blessed spirits 
 suggests to the poet an inquiry into the nature of risen 
 bodies, to which St. Thomas rephes. ^ *" — — ^ 
 
 Dante rises to still " more lofty bliss " in the sphere of 
 
 IV Tn.rs, wher pi shines the grlnrablg^pigrn nf \h^ flrnsft- In the 
 
 midst of its glowing light is seen the figure of fjie CvucL^ 
 fied,^or tho^ewho have fought a nd suffered for their 
 "T^iord 4. are grouped t Q^ggpresegt^H is^ f orrn^ Their souls 
 flash like myriad flames, and circlewithin the rays of tha 
 Cross, the scintillations signifying their constant increase 
 of glory from their communion with their Lord : 
 
 "Christ 
 Beam'd on that Cross ; and pattern fails me now. 
 But whoso takes his cross, and follows Christ, 
 Will pardon me for that I leave untold. 
 When in the flecker'd dawning he shall spy *^ 
 The gUtterance of Christ. From horn to horn, ' " / 
 And 'tween the summit and the base, did move ^ *ih 
 Lights, sciatillating, as they met and pass'd." * ^ 
 
 —Far. xiv. 96. 
 
 One of these is the poet's ancestor, Cacciaguida,^ who, 
 recognising Dante, describes the good old times of the 
 Fl orentine republic, the simpl e home-life of its citizens, 
 and .then pred icts the poverty an d exile awaiting the poet : 
 
 " Thou shalt leave each thing 
 Beloved most dearly : this is the first shaft 
 Shot from the bow of exile. Thou shalt prove 
 How salt the savour is of others' bread ; 
 How hard the passage, to descend and cHmb 
 By other's stairs. But that shall gaU thee most, 
 Will be the worthless and vile company, 
 
 ^ Abbot Joachim of Flora in Calabria {d. 1202). The "introductorium 
 in Evangeliuin setemum," containing the errors of the later Spiri- 
 tualists, was falsely ascribed to him. For a detailed account of his real 
 relations with the Church and the Popes, see Renter ii. 193, et passim. 
 But it must be owned that, involuntaril}', his interpretations of the 
 Apocalypse gave a handle to these calumnies. 
 
 O 
 
210 PARADISE. 
 
 With whom thou must be thrown into these straits. 
 For all ungrateful, impious all, and mad, 
 Shall turn 'gainst thee : but in a little while. 
 Theirs, and not thine, shall be the crimson'd brow. 
 Their course shall so evince their brutishness, 
 To have ta'en thy stand apart shall well become thee." 
 
 — Par. xvii. 55. 
 
 Cacciaguida points out other heroes of the faith within 
 this sphere — Josue, Judas Maccabeus, Charlemagne, 
 E-olaij^jGodf rey *3e .B ouTilun, aiid iiobert Guiscard.^ _ 
 
 Again ijtiey are borne trom the ruddy glow of Mars up 
 to the " silvery whiteness " of that temperate star Jirgiiei:^ 
 il Qf^ ^T^^^^ fif f]^^ pst kin ^£ ^s. Here the blessed spirits shine 
 like glowing sparks of fire, whilst they chant " Diligite 
 justitiam qui judicatis terram 1 " Gradually the spirits 
 assume the form of a n_ eagle, th e emblem of just govern- 
 m ent and of the Roman E mpire : ■ 
 
 " Before my sight appear'd, with open wings, 
 The beautous image, in fruition sweet, 
 Gladdening the thronged spirits. Each did seem 
 A little ruby, whereon so intense 
 The sunbeam glow'd, that to mine eyes it came 
 In clear refraction. And that, which next 
 Befalls me to portray, voice hath not utter'd, 
 Nor hath ink written, nor in fantasy 
 Was e'er conceived." — Par, xix. i. 
 
 The poet now seeks from the mysti c eagle the solution 
 
 of his diffj ^nUinn n m-^ n p nn -ni nr +hn I HTTinft jupj^i^g^ i'ti ^^ lio 
 
 s cheme o ^ ^ar'*' T-o^orY.pfir.Ti Qr|d fin al reward; 
 
 " perennial flowers 
 Of gladness everlasting ! that exhale 
 In single breath your odours manifold ; 
 Breathe now : and let the hunger be appeased, 
 
 ^ Both Godfrey de Bouillon and Robert Guiscard fought against the 
 Saracens, the latter in South Italy j Guiscard was also the defender of 
 Pope Gregory VIL 
 
SALVATION FOR ALL. 211 
 
 That with great craving long hath held my soul, 
 Finding no food on earth. This well I know ; 
 That if there be ui heaven a realm, that shows 
 In faithful mirror the celestial Justice, 
 Yours without veil reflects it. Ye discern 
 The heed, wherewith I do prepare myself 
 To hearken ; ye, the doubt, that urges me 
 With such inveterate craving." — Par. xix. 20. 
 
 In the lines following Dante explains the nature of his 
 doubt. 
 
 " A man 
 Is bom on Indus' banks, and none is there 
 Who speaks of Christ, nor who doth read nor write ; 
 And all his iacUnations and his acts. 
 As far as human reason sees, are good ; 
 And he ofiendeth not iu word or deed : 
 But unbaptized he dies, and void of faith. 
 Where is the justice that condemns him ? Where 
 His blame, if he believeth not ? " — Far. xix. 66. 
 
 [Dante shows, as we shaU see, that all men, even heathen, 
 can be saved, by placing some who lived and died externally 
 as Pagans among the blessed.^] As to the inequalities of 
 the dispensation of grace, the eagle replies ; 
 
 " What then. 
 And who art thou, that on the stool would'st sit 
 To judge at distance of a thousand miles 
 ' With the short-sighted vision of a span ? 
 To him, who subtilises thus with me. 
 There would assuredly be room for doubt 
 
 ^ Of the possibility of salvation for a savage born and reared in the 
 backwoods, and who follows the voice of conscience, St. Thomas says : 
 " It is certain that God will impart to him the necessary truths of 
 faith, either through interior illumination, or through a preacher of the 
 faith." — Be Vero, q. 14, a. 11 ad i. "For God never suffers anyone to 
 want what is necessary to his salvation, if he only desires it. No one 
 loses his soul save through his own fault ; since God makes known to 
 him truths which are essential to his salvation, either through interior 
 revelation, or, as in the case of Cornelius, by the voice of a preacher." 
 — Jn iii. Sent. d. 28, q. 3, a. 1-2. 
 
212 PARADISE. 
 
 Even to wonder, did not the safe word 
 
 Of Scripture hold supreme authority. 
 
 * O animals of clay ! O spirits gross ! ' 
 
 The Primal Will, that in itself is good, 
 
 Hath from itself, the chief Good, ne'er been moved. 
 
 Justice consists in consonance with it, 
 
 Derivable by no created good. 
 
 Whose very cause depends upon its beam." 
 
 — Far. xix. 74. 
 
 After censuring the injustice of kings and princes, the 
 eagle informs the poet that the various members of his 
 body are the spirits of princes, pre-eminent for their virtues : 
 
 " The part in me, that sees and bears the sun 
 In mortal eagles, (it began) must now 
 Be noted stedf astly ; for, of the fires 
 That figure me, those glittering in mine eye 
 Are chief of all the greatest. This, that shines 
 Midmost for pupil, was the same who sang 
 The Holy Spirit's song, and bare about 
 The ark from town to town : now doth he know 
 The merit of his soul-impassion'd strains 
 By their well-fitted guerdon." — Par. xx. 29. 
 
 Prominent among these great souls who form the 
 members of the mystic eagle are King Ezechias, the 
 Emperor Constantine, William the Good, king of Sicily, 
 the Emperor Trajan^ and Ripheus the Trojan. ^ 
 
 ^ According to a mediaeval legend, Trajan was recalled to this earth 
 from Hell by the intercession of St. Gregory, and received the true 
 faith. "If the story is to be defended at all," says Bellarmine, "we 
 must say that Trajan was not absolutely damned in Hell, but was 
 only punished there for his then demerits, the (final) sentence being 
 suspended on account of St. Gregory's prayer (foreseen). Nor did he 
 pass immediately from Hell, but after his soul's reunion with its body, 
 was baptized and did penance on earth. Such is the explanation of 
 St. Thomas (Supp. q. 71, a. 5 ad 5). But as Trajan's resurrection was 
 witnessed by no one, and as the fact is not recorded by any ancient 
 author, I prefer the opinion of Melchior Canus that the story is 
 fictitious." — Bellarmine, Be Controv. ii. ; Be. Purgat. u. cap. viii. 
 
 ^ The Trojan Ripheus, whom Virgil describes as : 
 
 "Just of his word, observant of the right." — Mn. ii. 53. 
 
SATURN— THE CONTEMPLATIVES. 213 
 
 Again Dante fixes his eyes upon Beatrice, in whom his 
 soul finds all contentment ; but 
 
 " No smile she wore : 
 And, * Did I smile,' quoth she, ' thou would'st be straight 
 Like Semele when into ashes tum'd : 
 For, mountiQg these eternal palace-stairs, 
 My beauty, which the loftier it climbs, 
 As thou hast noted, stiU doth kindle more. 
 So shines, that, were no tempering interposed. 
 Thy mortal puissance would from its rays 
 Shrink, as the leaf doth from the thunderbolt.' " 
 
 — Par. xxi. 3. 
 
 They have already entered the sphere of Saturn : 
 
 " Within the crystal, which records the name 
 (As its remoter circle girds the world) 
 Of that loved monarch, in whose happy reign 
 No iU had power to harm." — Far. xxi. 22. 
 
 Here the redeemed, glittering like stars in splendour, 
 a scend and desce nd a ladder " in colour like to sun-iiluminea 
 goldji^' its sunmul riiiliihliig fur beyond the poet's ken. 
 This is the realm of contemplative so uls. — The sweet 
 symphony of Paradise hereis ^ o l o ug Srheard ; its strains 
 are too supernatural for the poet's ear to detect, as the 
 smile of Beatrice becomes too radiant for his eye to behold. 
 St. Peter Da giian, the contemplative saint^ first app coacires. 
 and unMds the mvsterv of the divine election of grace, by 
 whicn each soulhas its appomUid guidy Ulid patron : 
 
 " Not the soul 
 That is in heaven most lustrous, nor the seraph 
 That hath his eyes most fix'd on God, shall solve 
 What thou hast ask'd : for in the abyss it Hes 
 Of th' everlasting statute sunk so low, 
 That no created ken may fathom it. 
 And to the mortal world when thou retum'st, 
 Be this reported : that none henceforth dare 
 Direct his footsteps to so dread a bourn." — Far. xxi. 85. 
 
214 PARADISE, 
 
 In burning, scatiiing words St. Peter Damian con trasts 
 
 tmTvj^nvfirty of St Prtor. When he ceases to speak, the 
 chorus of redeemed spirits unites with voices loud as 
 thunder in praying, that those unworthy pastors may not 
 escape the chastisement they have merited. At the sound, 
 the poet is overcome by fear and amazement : 
 
 " Astounded, to the guardian of my steps 
 I tum'd me, Hke the child who always runs 
 Thither for succour, where he trusted most." 
 
 — Par. xxii. i. 
 
 St. Bened ipf. t^p.^ rplafpg thp. pylori on s history of his 
 
 Order, laments its degeneracy, a nd describes his sons as 
 " sacks choked up with musty meal." ^ 
 
 Swift as a whirlwind the saints upward fly, and Beatrice 
 beckons the poet to follow them. Entering the jifiaEea^jf^ 
 the fix^istars at the point indicated by the sign of Gemini, 
 leTwins, under which constellation Dante was born, he 
 casts one last lingering look upon the earth beneath him : 
 
 " And with mine eye retum'd 
 Through all the seven spheres ; and saw this globe 
 So pitiful of semblance, that perforce 
 It moved my smiles ; and him in truth I hold 
 For wisest, who esteems it least ; whose thoughts 
 Elsewhere are fix'd, him worthiest call and best." 
 
 — Par. xxii. 129 
 
 The poet has entered the heaven of the fixed stars. 
 There, in, the splendour of His glorified humanity, our 
 Tinrd dwri^l'^ ^urrounded by Mary and the Holy Apostles : 
 
 " And, through the living Light, so lustrous glow'd 
 The substance, that my ken endured it not." 
 
 — Par. xxiii. 31. 
 
 ^ Par. xxii. 76 
 
FIXED STARS— THE APOSTLES. 215 
 
 More radiant than ever is the smile of Beatrice, which 
 the poet, whose sight is supernaturally strengthened, can 
 
 now behold : 
 
 " As erewhile 
 Through glance of sunlight, stream'd through broken cloud, 
 Mine eyes a flower-besprinkled mead have seen, 
 Though veiled themselves in shade : so saw I there 
 Legions of splendours, on whom burning rays 
 Shed lightnings from above ; yet saw I not 
 The fountain whence they flow'd." — Far. xxhi. 76. 
 
 But he is unable yet to sustain the glory of Christ 
 Himself, Who has ascended into these supernal realms, 
 from whence He illumines the vast multitude of the elect. 
 
 With reverent homage the Angel Gabriel salutes the 
 Queen of Heaven, and his salutation is re-echoed by the 
 blessed spirits in the strains of the ^' Megina Coeli:" 
 
 " Oh, what o'erflowing plenty is up-piled 
 In those rich-laden coffers,^ which below 
 Sow'd the good seed, whose harvest now they keep ! 
 Here are the treasures tasted, that with tears 
 Were in the Babylonian exile won. 
 When gold had fail'd them. Here, in synod high 
 Of ancient coimcil with the new convened. 
 Under the Son of Mary and of God, 
 Victorious he his mighty triumph holds,^ 
 To whom the keys of glory were assign'd." 
 
 — Par. xxiii. 125. 
 
 Be atrice petition^ i - tho hoat of the redeemed to admit 
 her charge to the heave nly banquet : 
 
 " O ye ! in chosen fellowship advanced 
 To the great supper of the Blessed Lamb, 
 Whereon who feeds hath every wish f ulfill'd ; 
 
 1 In the Apostles and Saints is preserved the fruit gathered up for 
 eternal life. 
 
 2 St. Peter. 
 
2i6 PARADISE, 
 
 If to this man through God's grace be vouchsafed 
 
 Foretaste of that, which from your table falls. 
 
 Or ever death his fated term prescribe ; 
 
 Be ye not heedless of his urgent will : 
 
 But may some influence of your sacred dews 
 
 Sprinkle him. Of the fount ye alway drink, 
 
 Whence flows what most he craves." — Far. xxiv. i. 
 
 Bu t^not till Dan te is proved worthy can her request be 
 grantedT St. Peter therefore first examines him as to his 
 
 *" " The costly jewel on the which 
 
 Is founded every virtue." — Far. xxiv. 88. 
 
 ftf -Tq Tri ps next interrogates him as to his hope, which is 
 
 " Of the joy to come a sure expectance, / 
 
 The efiiect of grace divine, and merit preceding." 
 
 — Far. XXV. 67. " 
 
 Lastly, S t. John questions him as to his lov e. For these 
 jhree theologicaJ ''^Ttdl^'^ ^^'^ ^^"Of^nry fo T^^^ tniil to ^ain 
 s ^^ht of Paradise. The poet's entrance is, however, again 
 delayed by the sudden apparitio n ^^ ^/Iot^.^ ttt]^^ ^•jp^^y.^-j^^^^^^ 
 his sojourn in the earthly Pa radise, his expulsion from i t, 
 ancTTUy uunfuHlon ol: tongues at Babel. His story ended, 
 a sweet entrancing chant resounds on every side : 
 
 " Then ' Glory to the Father, to the Son, 
 And to the Holy Spirit,' rang aloud 
 Throughout all Paradise ; that with the song 
 My spirit reel'd, so passing sweet the strain. 
 And what I saw was equal ecstasy : 
 One imiversal smile it seem'd of all things ; 
 Joy past compare, gladness unutterable, 
 Imperishable life of peace and love, 
 Exhaustless riches, and unmeasured bliss." 
 
 — Far. xxvii. i. 
 
 Once again the poet's upward flight is stayed by St. 
 Peter's fiery invective against Pope Boniface VIII. : 
 
THE HE A VEN OF HE A YENS. .217 
 
 " My place 
 He who usurps on earth, my place, ay, mine, 
 Which in the presence of the Son of God 
 Is void." — Fai'. xxvii. 19. 
 
 At his words the very heavens are darkened : 
 
 " And as the unblemish'd dame, who in herself 
 Secure of censure, yet at bare report 
 Of other's failing, shrinks with maiden fear ; 
 So Beatrice in her semblance changed, 
 And such echpse in Heaven, methinks, was seen 
 When the Most Holy suffer'd." — Par. xxvii. 28. 
 
 As nhfyn^ Tfnd^ into tho ninth cp l iere, th e celestial beauty 
 of Beatrice is again enhanced; and while gazing at her, 
 the poet himself is borne upward. He sees the nine 
 angelic choirs, who in concentric circles revolve round their 
 centre, the Ever-blessed Trinity. Beat rice exp l ains the 
 creation S-nd fall of the angels, their nature and operations. ^ 
 
 She c oncludes by censuring the vain, ^ippmflf.nbln pT-nnnliiTi^ 
 
 prev alent among the clerg:y : 
 
 "The aim of all 
 Is how to shine : e'en they, whose oflSce is 
 To preach the gospel, let the gospel sleep. 
 And pass their own inventions oflf instead. 
 One tells, how at Christ's suffering, the wan moon 
 Bent back her steps, and shadow'd o'er the sun 
 With intervenient disk, as she withdrew : 
 Another, how the light shrouded itself 
 Within its tabernacle, and left dark 
 The Spaniard and the Indian, with the Jew.^ 
 Such fables Florence in her pulpit hears 
 Bandied about more frequent, than the names 
 Of Bindi and of Lapi in her streets. 
 
 ^ Dante here condemns vain and unwarrantable interpretations of 
 the Holy Scriptures. 
 
2i8 PARADISE. 
 
 The sheep, meanwhile, poor witless ones, return 
 From pasture, fed with wind : and what avails 
 For their excuse, they do not see their harm ? 
 Christ said not to His first conventicle, 
 * Go forth and preach impostures to the world,' 
 But gave them truth to build on, and the sound 
 Was mighty on their lips ; nor needed they 
 Beside the gospel, other spear or shield 
 To aid them in their warfare for the faith. 
 The preacher now provides himself with store 
 . Of jests and gibes ; and so there be no lack 
 Of laughter, while he vents them, his big cowl 
 Distends, and he has won the meed he sought." 
 
 — Far. xxix. 99. 
 
 Ascending to the Heaven of Heavens (the Empyrean), 
 Beatrice's countenance attains a perfection which cannot 
 be described : 
 
 " If all that hitherto is told of her 
 Were in one praise concluded, 'twere too weak 
 To furnish out this theme. Mine eyes did look 
 On beauty, such as I believe, in sooth. 
 Not merely to exceed our human ; but 
 That, save its Maker, none can to the full 
 Enjoy it. At this point, o'erpowered, I fail, 
 Unequal to my theme, as never bard 
 Of buskin or of sock hath fail'd before. 
 For as the sun doth to the feeblest sight. 
 E'en so remembrance of that witching smile 
 Hath dispossest my spirit of itself. 
 Not from that day, when on this earth I first 
 Beheld her charms, up to that view of them, 
 Have I with song applausive ever ceased 
 To follow ; but now follow them no more ; 
 My course here bounded, as each artist's is, 
 When it doth touch the limit of his skill." 
 
 • — Par. XXX. 16. 
 
 At last they have reached the supreme height ofbeati- 
 tude and glory, the Empyrean : 
 
THE LIGHT OF GLORY. 219 
 
 " The heaven that is unbodied light ; 
 Light intellectual, replete with love ; 
 Love of true happiness, replete with joy ; 
 Joy that transcends all sweetness of delight." 
 
 — Far. XXX. 40. 
 
 This is the Hea xen of Heavens, the ab ode of God and of 
 all the elec t, bevond all limits of time and space, beyond 
 all things material and corporeal. S uddenly streams of 
 living radiance, the ^^ Lumen glorioe" descend upon the 
 poet, strengthen him to bear the Beatific Vision, and make 
 him, human though he be, like God Himself : 
 
 " As when the Hghtning, in a sudden spleen 
 Unfolded, dashes from the blinding eyes 
 The visive spirits, dazzled and bedimm'd, 
 So round about me fulminating streams 
 Of hving radiance play'd, and left me swathed 
 And veil'd in dense impenetrable blaze. 
 Such weal is in the love that stills this heaven ; 
 For its own flame the torch thus fitting ever. 
 No sooner to my listening ear had come 
 The brief assurance, than I understood 
 New virtue into me infused, and sight 
 Kindled afresh, with vigour to sustain 
 Excess of hght however pure." — Far. xxx. 47. 
 
 Thus begins ^ the beatific jyision, union beatified, of man's_ 
 soul with God. Gradually the Divine Being is revealed to 
 Eimjfil'yt uilder'the figure of a stream of light,^ flowing in 
 wondrous effulgence between banks enamelled with flowers, 
 which are the transfigured souls of the blessed : 
 
 ^ The poetic action, it will be observed, requires a supposed progress 
 in the attainment of ths Beatific Vision. Only partially manifested 
 through glory reflected in the nine spheres of saints and angels, it is 
 more fully disclosed in the Empyrean, yet more so in the mystic Rose, 
 where God is beheld as Creator through the Word ; finally, the Divine 
 Essence, the Ever-Blessed Trinity, and the Incarnate Word in their 
 Midst, open to sight. 
 
 - In allusion to Ps. xlv, 5, xxxv, 9, ID (Dan vii. 10 : "A swift stream 
 of fire issued forth from before Him ") ; Apoc. xxii. i. 
 
220 PARADISE 
 
 " Banks, on either side, painted with spring, 
 Incredible how fair ; and from the tide 
 There ever and anon, outstarting, flew 
 Sparkles instinct with life ; and in the flowers 
 Did set them, like to rubies chased in gold : 
 Then, as if drunk with odours, plunged again 
 Into the wondrous flood." — Far. xxx. 6^. 
 
 The sparkles are the angels, now ascending to God, now 
 descending to the blessed. Beatrice tells Dante that before 
 his thirst to see God, face to face, can be satisfied he must 
 drink of the Biver of Life; what he has seen are but 
 images of the Divine Essence : 
 
 " This stream, and these forth issuing from its gulf 
 And diving back, a living topaz each. 
 With all this laughter on its bloomy shores, 
 Are but a preface, shadowy of the truth 
 They emblem : not that in themselves the things 
 Are crude ; but on thy part is the defect. 
 For that thy views not yet aspire so high." 
 
 — Par. xxx. 77. 
 
 His eyes are bathed in that stream of light, and gradu- 
 ally made fit to see God. Suddenly type and figure vanish, 
 and the two courts of Heaven — angels and men — are re- 
 vealed in all their splendour. The stream swells into a 
 vast ocean of light, whilst circling all around, filling every 
 part, and reflected in the crystal surface, are the countless 
 multitudes of the redeemed, who form the petals of the 
 mystic rose.^ The rose itself is illumined by the beams of 
 
 ^ The everlasting Hose of yellow hue, which in bright expansiveness 
 
 " Lays forth its gradual blooming, redolent 
 Of praises to the never wintering sun." — Par. xxx. 124. 
 
 is drawn from the golden Rose. The " Rose Aurea," which is of pure 
 gold inwrought with rubies and other gems, is solemnly blessed by the 
 Pope on Lcetare, Mid-Lent Sunday, as an emblem of Christ Who is " the 
 flower of the field and the Lily of the Valley, and a.s a sign of the joy 
 of the Church triumphant and militant in Him." The Rose is sent to 
 
THE MYSTIC ROSE. , 221 
 
 divine light which descend upon and within it, and again 
 stream forth to the uttermost horizon of the crystalline 
 Heaven, energising it with life and power. God in His 
 relation to the world, wh ich He created in and Through His 
 RoTT j is hftre the sole object of the poet's contemplation. 
 The natural law by whi ch we see near objects most clearly 
 holds no more. At one glance Dante surveys the whole 
 circumference of the mystic rose, even to its outermost 
 petals : 
 
 " O prime Enlightener ! Thou who gavest me strength 
 On the high triumph of thy realm to gaze ; 
 Grant virtue now to utter what I kenn'd. 
 There is in heaven a light, whose goodly shine 
 Makes the Creator visible to all 
 Created, that in seeing Him alone 
 Have peace ; ^ and in a circle spreads so far, 
 That the circumference were too loose a zone 
 To girdle in the sun. AU is one beam 
 
 Catholic sovereigns, states, or cities, as a pledge of Christian joy 
 and hope of Heaven. Henry VL, Henry VIII. and Queen Mary his 
 daughter, are among the crowned heads who have received it. 
 
 ^ The light, lumen glorice, by which God is manifested to the blessed 
 in Heaven, is an emanation from that light in which God beholds 
 Himself. Its effect is super naturally to elevate and strengthen the 
 soul, and to render it, in a certain sense, deiform. For the soul is 
 united in a certain ineffable manner to God Himself, through " the divine 
 essence becoming the intelligible form of the intellect." Cf. Thorn. Cont. 
 Gent. ii. 53. The light of glory makes the soul capable of this union, 
 for it could not attain to an act so sublime without being supernatur- 
 ally disposed thereto. And since the visual faculties of the soul are 
 increased by this operation, it is called Light. Cf. Summ. i. q. 12, a. 5. 
 See Apoc. xxi. 23 : " The glory of God hath enlightened it, and the 
 Lamb is the Lamp thereof." Cf. Heb. i. 3 : "Who being the bright- 
 ness of His glory, and the figure of His substance, upholds all things 
 by the word of His power." John i, 3 : "All things were made by 
 Him " 
 
 "The Son being the Eternal Wisdom, is spoken of as the primal 
 type (principium exemplare) of creation, of whom the Apostle says, 
 " In Him were all things created " (Col. i. 16) ; S. i. q. 45, a. 6. 
 Adoption is appropriated to the Son as the type (of all other adopted 
 sons), and to the Holy Ghost as impressing on us the likeness of this 
 type." S. iii. q. 23, a. 3. 
 
222 PARADISE. 
 
 Reflected from the summit of the first 
 That moves, which being hence and vigom* takes ; 
 And as some cliff, that from the bottom eyes 
 His image mirror'd in the crystal flood, 
 As if to admire his brave apparelling 
 Of verdm*e and of flowers ; so romid about, 
 I Eying the light, on more than million thrones, 
 
 Stood, eminent, whatever from the earth 
 Has to the skies retum'd. How wide the leaves. 
 Extended to their utmost, of this rose. 
 Whose lowest step embosoms such a space 
 Of ample radiance ! Yet, nor amplitude 
 Nor height impeded, but my view with ease 
 Took in the full dimensions of that joy. 
 Near or remote, what there avails, where God 
 Immediate rules, and Nature, awed, suspends 
 Her sway ? " — Par. xxx. 97. 
 
 Beatrice leads the poet into the midst of the rose; 
 between its petals and the Divine Light float angels, ascend- 
 ing and descending. From hence he contemplates the vast 
 company of the redeemed. Upon a still vacant throne 
 lies a crown destined for the Emperor Henry VII., who 
 entered the unseen world before the poet. 
 
 Dante's growing amazement at the glorious vision before 
 him is compared to the mute wonder of the barbarians, as 
 they marched into imperial Rome : 
 
 " I, who then 
 From human to divine had pass'd, from time 
 Unto eternity, and out of Florence 
 To justice and to truth, how might I choose 
 But marvel too ? 'Twixt gladness and amaze, 
 In sooth, no will had I to utter aught. 
 Or hear. And, as a pilgrim, when he rests 
 Within the temple of his vow, looks round 
 In breathless awe, and hopes some time to tell 
 Of all its goodly state ; e'en so mine eyes 
 Coursed up and down along the living light. 
 Now low, and now aloft, and now around, 
 
ST. BERNARD SUCCEEDS BEATRICE. 223 
 
 Visiting every step. Looks I beheld 
 Where Charity in soft persuasion sat ; 
 Smiles from witliin, and radiance from above ; 
 And in each gesture, grace and honour high." 
 
 — Par. XXXI. 2;^. 
 
 The poet turns to question Beatrice, but she has vanished, 
 and in her place by his side stands an old man : 
 
 " Robed, as the rest, in glory. Joy benign 
 Glow'd in his eye, and o'er his cheek diffused, 
 With gestures such as spake a father's love." 
 
 — Far. xxxi. 56. 
 
 He is St. Bernard, the type of the contemplative life, 
 the inspired panegyrist of our Blessed Lady, "her own 
 faithful Bernard." ^ The mission of Beatrice is fulfilled, 
 and she resumes her place in the third circle of the 
 heavenly rose. Dante recognises her clearly as she sits 
 exalted high above him, on the throne where her merit 
 hath placed her, her brow crowned with a wreath illumined 
 by the eternal beams. Once again he addresses her : 
 
 " Thy liberal bounty still toward me keep : 
 That when my spirit, which thou madest whole, 
 Is loosen'd from this body, it may find 
 Favour with thee." — Far. xxxi. y8. 
 
 And once again : 
 
 " She, so distant, as appear'd, look'd down 
 And smiled." — Far. xxxi. 82. 
 
 Henceforth Dante is committed to the guidance of St. 
 Bernard, who points out to him the thrones of the blessed, 
 and in a prayer ^ of exquisite beauty implores Mary to 
 obtain for his charge the fulness of the Beatific Vision. 
 At the Saint's command, Dante raises his eyes to the 
 loftiest of the celestial spheres. There, enthroned in 
 
 ^ Par. xxxi. 93. ^ Far. xxxiii. i. 
 
224 
 
 PARADISE. 
 
 majesty, he beholds Mary, " the Queen that of this realm is 
 sovran." ^ Around her throne the heavens are irradiated 
 with surpassing splendour, and thousands of angels mini- 
 ster to her : 
 
 " At their glee 
 And carol, smiled the Lovely One of Heaven, 
 And joy was in the eyes of all the blest." 
 
 — Par. xxxi. 123. 
 
 Beneath our Lady's feet sits Eve, she "who opened first the 
 wound which Mary healed." Rachel is placed below Eve; 
 near her, Beatrice. On the descending steps are seated the 
 ancestresses of Christ, Sara, Rebecca, Judith, Ruth. Below 
 the sea of light which forms the calix of the mystic rose 
 are placed St. John Baptist, St. Francis, St. Benedict, and 
 others in due gradation. By these two lines the rose is 
 divided into two parts, occupied respectively by those who 
 believed in Christ before and after His Advent, the number 
 of the latter being, of course, incomplete. St. Augustine, 
 the founder of scientific theology in the West, St. Francis, 
 the representative of the religious life, St. Benedict, the 
 founder of the Benedictine Order, so rich in preachers of 
 the faith, are here ; for they bore Christ spiritually, as the 
 line of Hebrew women bore Him in the flesh. To the left 
 of Mary is seated Adam, father of the Old Covenant; 
 to her right, St. Peter, the father and rock upon whom is 
 founded the Church of the New Covenant. Next to Adam 
 is Moses, who foretold the destinies of the Church of the 
 Old Covenant. Near St. Peter is St. John, the seer of 
 Patmos and the prophet of the New Covenant. To the 
 right of St, John Baptist is St. Anne (grace), mother of 
 the Blessed Virgin ; to his left, facing Adam, is St. Lucy 
 (illuminative grace). In the centre of the mystic rose, the 
 souls of baptized infants surround the sea of light : 
 
 1 Par. xxxi. 108. 
 
CHOIRS OF THE BLESSED. 225 
 
 "Freely the sage,i though wrapt in musings high, 
 Assumed the teacher's part, and nuld began : 
 ' The woimid that Mary closed, she opened first 
 Who sits so beautiful at Mary's feet. 
 The third in order, underneath her, lo ! 
 Rachel with Beatrice ; Sarah next ; 
 Judith, Rebeca, and the gleaner-maid, 
 Meek ancestress of him who sang the songs 
 Of sore repentance in his solrowful mood. 
 All, as I name them, down from leaf to leaf. 
 Are, in gradation, throned on the rose, 
 And from the seventh step, successively, 
 Adown the breathing tresses of the flower. 
 Still doth the file of Hebrew dames proceed. 
 For these are a partition wall, whereby 
 , The sacred stairs are sever'd, as the faith 
 
 In Christ divides them. On this part, where blooms 
 
 Each leaf in full maturity, are set 
 
 Such as in Christ, or e'er He came, beheved. 
 
 On the other, where an intersected space 
 
 Yet shows the semicircle void, abide 
 
 All they, who look'd to Christ already come. 
 
 And as our Lady on her glorious stool. 
 
 And they who on their stools beneath her sit, 
 
 This way distinction make ; e'en so on his. 
 
 The mighty Baptist that way marks the line, 
 
 (He who endured the desert, and the pains 
 
 Of martyrdom, and, for two years, of Hell ^ 
 
 Yet still continued holy), and beneath, 
 
 Augustin, Francis, Benedict, and the rest, 
 
 Thus far from round to round. So Heaven's decree 
 
 Forecasts, this garden equally to fill 
 
 With faith in either view, past or to come 
 
 Learn too, that downward from the step which cleaves, 
 
 IVIidway, the twain compartments, none there are 
 
 WTio place obtain for merit of their own, 
 
 But have through other's merit been advanced, 
 
 1 St. Bernard. 
 
 2 Of Hades ; for St. John Baptist was beheaded before the second 
 year of our Lord's public life. Matt. xiv. 1-13 ; John vi. 4. 
 
 P 
 
226 PARADISE. 
 
 On set conditions ; spirits all released, 
 Ere for themselves they had the power to chuse. 
 And if thou mark and listen to them all, 
 Their childish looks and voice declare as much," 
 
 — Par. xxxii. i. 
 
 God has assigned the seats of the blessed according to 
 the wise purposes of divine predestination : 
 
 " From this realm 
 Excluded, chance no entrance here may find, 
 No more than hunger, thirst, or sorrow can. 
 A law immutable hath stablish'd all ; 
 Nor is there aught thou seest, that doth not fit 
 Exactly, as the finger to the ring." — Par. xxxii. 44. 
 
 St. Bernard bids Dante raise his eyes to Mary, " the face 
 that most resembles Christ," ^ and so become capable of 
 beholding Christ Himself. On poised wing, the Archangel 
 Gabriel salutes Mary with the "Ave Maria, gratia plena : " ^ 
 
 " To whose sweet anthem all the blissful court, 
 From aU parts answering, rang, that holier joy 
 Brooded the deep serene." — Far. xxxii. 86. 
 
 St. Bernard now invites the poet to join heart and soul 
 with him in imploring Mary's aid and pity. The prayer 
 is granted : 
 
 " The eyes, that Heaven with love and awe regards, 
 Fix'd on the suitor, witness'd, how benign 
 She looks on pious prayers : then f asten'd they 
 On the everlasting light, wherein no eye 
 Of creature, as well may be thought, so far 
 Can travel inward." — Par. xxxiii. 39. 
 
 The poet is approaching the final limit where all wishes 
 end. As he gazes into the d& ^ha o f ove xdastrn g light ; ^ ^ 
 
 ^ Par. xxxii. 75. — ""' 
 
 ^ " Hail, full of grace ! blessed art thou among women." — Luke 
 i. 28. 
 
THE BEATIFIC VISION. 227 
 
 " Beckoning, smiled the sage 
 That I should look aloft : but ere he bade, 
 Already of myself aloft I look'd ; 
 For visual strength, refining more and more, 
 Bare me into the ray authentical 
 Of sovran light." ^ — Far. xxsdii. 47. 
 
 Who can describe the glories of that vision ! As one 
 who awakens from sleep retains but a faint impression of 
 his dream, " all the vision dies, as it were, away ; and yet 
 the sense of sweet, that sprang from it " ^ remains for ever 
 imprinted on the memory, transfigure d by this glory, his 
 union with God is now consummated, a nd he is empowered 
 to gaze upon Uia Inh mte and transcendent majesty, to 
 behold God, in (iod ilims elf. In th at depth he sees, " m 
 one volume clasped of love, whatever the universe unfolds " of 
 His divine attributes; "yet one individual light the whole. "^ 
 In the my stery of the Ever-blessed Trini ty 1^*^ Vnnwq G{?^^ 
 
 Hi mself . And this vision, glorious beyond expression, is 
 the source and end of all his bliss : 
 
 " My tongue shall utter now, no more 
 E'en what remembrance keeps, than could the babe's, 
 That yet is moisten'd at his mother's breast." 
 
 — Par. xxxiii. 100. 
 
 Not that the heavenly vision can undergo any change, 
 but that his powers of sight thus illuminated, all has been 
 changed in himself by this one look. Within the un- 
 fathomal ^ abyss of divine li ght he s ees thrpe orha nf va^-y^ 
 ing hues, yet equal in circumferenc e : t he Fathe r, self- 
 existent; the Son, sole-begotten of the Father; the Holy 
 
 } God is not merely cognisant of all truth, but He is Himself the 
 Truth, and the fountain of all truth ; therefore through Him all truth 
 is true. Cf. S. i. q. 16, a. 5. 
 
 2 Par. xxxiii. 58. 
 
 3 Thorn. I. c. i. q. 4, a. 12. 
 
228 PARADISE. 
 
 (rhop^j f T - nni both p roceeding. In vain the poet tries to 
 find words adequate to express these subHme mysteries : 
 
 " speech ! 
 How feeble and how faint art thou, to give 
 Conception bh'th ! Yet this to what I saw 
 Is less than little. Eternal Light ! 
 Sole in Thyself that dwell'st, and of Thyself 
 Sole understood; past, present, or to come." 
 
 — Far. xxxiii. 112. 
 
 //' Within the second orb of light he discerns the form of 
 man, theliuman nat urg'Df'^e Div ine Word, illumined by 
 its~own proper light, that is, b y the effulgence oi the u oa- 
 
 heaTT ' 
 
 \.^ " Therein, in its own hue 
 
 Beheld our image painted." — Far. xxxiii. 1 20. 
 
 Still he is unable to comprehend the mystery, until it is 
 suddenly revealed to him as by a lightning flash. And 
 now that his intellect, his desires, and will, are perfected in 
 union with God, all his yearnings are still, all his longings 
 satisfied : ^ 
 
 " E'en such was I, intent to scan 
 The novel wonder, and trace out the form, 
 How to the circle fitted, and therein 
 How placed : but the flight was not for my wing ; 
 Had not a flash darted athwart my mind. 
 And, in the spleen, unfolded what it sought. 
 
 ^ As the Purgatorio typifies man's cleansing from sin and his striving 
 after the freedom of the sons of God, so the Paradiso symbolises the final 
 end of man and of all true Christian mystte ^om, hi a pcrf nrt n ni o ti vulLh 
 •f i iiil i i> l iu nv Ldg c i ii iil T il l i M i ^ li i m i i] l i jth i r M]j Ti^ n t h'rrrn/fnniiinii 
 -Trpo i ^{ o ff f*- ' i^ '>^ '^V^ B-^f O? eWAfix f/ews, '^^wms. Cf. (Pseudo) Dionys. 
 De Ecdesiast. Hierarch. i, 3 ; Cyrill. Alex, in Joan. viii. 47 ; Basil. Ep. 
 141 ; De Spir. Sanct. c. 9, 13 ; Joan. Damasc. De Fid. Orthodox, ii. 12. 
 Tauler in his sermon for the Third Sunday after Easter says, ** Man 
 becomes like the form of God, is godlike and godly." See St. Bernard, 
 Serm. 85, 71, 4, in Cantic. de Dilig. Deo, cap. iv., on the nature of 
 this mystical union of the soul with God. 
 
UNION WITH GOD. 
 
 Here vigour f ail'd the towering fantasy : 
 But yet the will roU'd onward, like a wheeP 
 In even motion, by the love impell'd. 
 That moves the sun in Heaven and all the stars." 
 
 — Par. xxxiii. 
 
 ^ The simile of the wheel has a deep significance. As a wheel in 
 turning touches the ground at every point in its circumference, so now 
 in the poet the harmony is complete between desire and possession, 
 mind and heart, soul and body. 
 
( 230 ) 
 
 CHAPTER YII. 
 
 THE THEOLOGY OF THE "COMMEDIA." 
 
 Dante's residence in Paris coincided with the most flourish- 
 ing period of Scholasticism. After the death of St. Thomas 
 in 1274, his fame, greater only as a saint than as a theo- 
 logian, continued to attract new and ardent followers. 
 
 DflTitPi^ Tils nnnfATnpnrary and djs« ^^'r^^> ^^^i^T^^l^y— ^j^^^^^^^^ 
 the g eneral veneration for hi« .TT^emnry, And antinrpai^Prl 
 
 the judgment of the Church by giving " the good brother 
 Thomas " ^ a place in Paradise. But that was not enough. 
 St. Thomas had opened for him the deep mysteries of 
 theolo gy^ and^lSy St. Thomas^ theref ore, he is introduced 
 to*^6Ee circle of doctors who surround the »ainl and his 
 
 master, Albertus MagnusTlrPParadise. 2 Ih~all disputed 
 question s the poet follows St. Thomas : as. for instanceTin 
 
 the R^Ht tynti n l unity ^^ mnw^ 4-Tmfli nr. thA f^lTjTrPTTift nhjoo^ 
 
 of th e created intellect, the genesis of our k nowledge 
 
 pro ceeding from thft ppyf^ftptmns of (vnr^PTigPg^ gTTT] rrynya 
 
 e specially in regard to the e ssence of beatitu^el jJ^imrdoes- 
 he disdain to borrow some of his lUustratlolrs.^ Indeed, 
 the writings of St. Thomas might well furnish a commen- 
 tary on the Divina Commedia, and we can form no correct 
 notion of the poem, far less understand its deeper signifi- 
 cance, without some knowledge of his theology. 
 
 At the same time, St. Thomas was not Dante's only 
 
 ^ "II buon Fra Tommaso." — Conv. iv. 30. 
 ^ Par. X. 98. 2 Furg. iv. i. 
 
S5. THOMAS AND BONAVENTURE. 231 
 
 teacher, and by his side in the same celestial sphere he 
 beholds St. Bonaventure : 
 
 " From Bagnoregio one, who, in discharge 
 Of my great offices, still laid aside 
 All sinister aim." — Par. xii. 1 19. 
 
 St. Bonaventure points out to him another group of 
 saintly doctors, and amongst them, and with a special 
 purpose, Bichard of St. Victor; for St. Bonaventure, who 
 also died in 1274, was the St. Thomasof~the~!M!ystics. 
 Not that he contributed anything essentially new; but 
 just as the gen ius o f St. Thomas secured the triumph of 
 Scholasticismj^soJ)he ^cleamess and power o f thought, the 
 depth and wa rmth of feeling, which characteris e tne writ- 
 ings of~^ffie~ ^reat Cardinal, completed nnd elevated the 
 labours of the Mystics, !giphard and Hugh of St. Victor. 
 
 In the midst of the Empyrean radiance Dante sees a 
 venerable patriarch : 
 
 " I saw instead a senior at my side, 
 Robed, as the rest, in glory. Joy benign 
 Glow'd in his eye, and o'er his cheek diffused. 
 With gestures such as spake a father's love." 
 
 — Par. xxxi. 55. 
 
 This is St. Bernard, who finally replaces Beatrice, and 
 conducts the poet to his last goal, the vision of God. St. 
 Bernard symbolises that supreme love which unites the 
 loving loui with Cod : 
 
 " rfo gazed 1 then, 
 Adoring ; for the charity of him 
 Who, musing, in this world that peace enjoy'd, 
 Stood livelily before me." — Par. 
 
 In the West, S ^. Bernard was^ after S t. Augustine, the 
 foun der of Ch ristian Mysticism. Dante had sat a^~t!r5" 
 feet of both Mystics-ftnd Schoolmon,- and his poem bears 
 
232 THE THEOLOGY OF THE ''COMMEDIAr 
 
 their twofold impress. In tlie schools he had learnt how 
 from revealed sources to construct propositions of faith, 
 and from these, as premises divinely true, to deduct 
 further conclusions; how also to defend them against 
 erroneous doctrines, and to illustrate and corroborate them 
 by means of the natural sciences.^ Whil e Scholasticism 
 then introduced him to the science nf t'];ifio1ngry hy TYiPar|s 
 of dialectics. Mysticism unlocked for him the sanctuary of 
 contemplation, a super natural elevation of the soul, wherein 
 it learns by actual experience its kTnsTap with the spiritual 
 world. And just as in the Church true Scholasticism and 
 contemplation have always advanced hand in hand, Sc holas- 
 ticism ^ containing the elements of Mysticism, and the great 
 mystics, notably those of St. Victor and St. Bonaventure, 
 being proficient scholastics, so also i n_ Dante are u nited 
 the two svs tems by which the so ul drnws ri'^nr t fh-^T^d 
 To^EEe'^cholastics he owes that precision and accuracy of 
 statement which amazes theologians ; to the Mystics that 
 warmth and depth of insight which lends an ever-recurring 
 charm to his pages. In his letter to Can Grande, he 
 tells us that he drew his description of the ecstatic state 
 and of supernatural contemplation from St. Paul, St. 
 Matthew, Ezechias, Richard of St. Victor {De Contempla- 
 tione), St. Bernard (De Consider atione), St. Augustine, Plato, 
 
 ^ " The proper of&ce of scholastic theology ... is first to bring to 
 light whatever may be contained hidden in Sacred Scripture and 
 apostolic traditions. For the theologian deduces conclusions from 
 premises of faith revealed by God, and shows by appropriate reasoning 
 how they are contained in the premises themselves. . . . Secondly, 
 he has to defend the faith against heretics. . . . Lastly, to illustrate 
 and corroborate the teaching of Christ and the Church, as far as is 
 possible, from the human sciences." — Milch. Canus. De Loc. Theolog. 
 viii. 2 ; S. i. q. I, a. 8. 
 
 ^ Cf. S. ii. 2, q. 171, where St. Thomas shows that prophecy consists 
 first and principally of knowledge, Hugo of St. Victor i^De Anini. iii ), 
 and Richard of St. Victor {Benjamin Major per tot.) See also Erdman, 
 Scholastik, MystiJc, und Dante — Jahrh. der Dante. Gesellschaft, iii. p. 78, 
 and Kleutgen, Theolojie der Vorzeit, iv. p. 55. 
 
DANTE, SCHOLASTIC AND MYSTIC. 233 
 
 St. Boethius. Thus it was in the schools of the religious that 
 Dante was led to the love of " that glorious lady," which 
 so enilamed him that it consumed every other thought.^ 
 
 This, in brief, was the history of the mental training 
 which enabled the poet to produce the Commedia, a work fhti 
 
 which is essentially theological. Theology is its subject, 
 the source of the greater part of its ideas, and of its 
 richest and most fruitful imagery. Its very title. The 
 Divina Commedia, proclaims this fact. It is a visionary 
 pilgrimage through the three kingdoms of the other world, 
 from the dwelling of Lucifer to the throne of God, and 
 theology is at the root of all that the poet encounters 
 in his journey, whether of fear, sorrow, or joy. Philo- 
 sophy, astronomy, politics, history, ancient mythology, and 
 mediaeval legend are all interwoven in his many -coloured 
 web. One chief and fascinating element of interest in the 
 poem is indeed that it presents to us, idealised, the whole '^ 
 culture of the mediaeval Christian world, when it had 
 attained its perfection and its epoch was to close. And it 
 was theology again, which gave order and unity to this 
 varied wealth of material ; and Dante speaks but the truth 
 when he calls his work, 
 
 " The sacred poem that hath made 
 Both Heaven and earth copartners in its toU." 
 
 — Par. XXV. I. 
 
 Contemporary witness to the theological merit of the 
 poem is furnished in the first line of Dante's epitaph, 
 which declares him "master of dogmatic lore." In 1350, 
 within thirty years of his death, his picture was exposed 
 in the Church of St. Stephen's, near the Ponte Yecchio, 
 at Florence, and honoured with semi-religious reverence, 
 and his poem was expounded there and in other churches. 2 
 
 1 Conv. ii. 13. 
 
 ^ By a decree of August 9, 1373, the Florentine Republic established a 
 chair for the public readiug and exposition of the Divina Commedia, 
 
234 THE THEOLOGY OF THE '' COMMEDIA." 
 
 The Yatican itself accords him rank as a theologian. In 
 Raphael's " Disputa," the most thoughtful of all his crea- 
 tions, amongst popes, cardinals, bishops. Religious, fathers, 
 and doctors of the Church, by the altar, where reposes 
 the Most Holy, stands Dante with his laurel wreath. In 
 truth, he anticipated the most pregnant developments of 
 Catholic doctrine, mastered its subtlest distinctions, and 
 treated its hardest problems with almost faultless accuracy. 
 Were all the libraries in the world destroyed, and the Holy 
 Scriptures with them, the whole Catholic system of doctrine 
 and morals might be almost reconstructed out of the Divina 
 Commedia. 
 
 The poem shows us theology in its organic evolution. 
 Starting from simple and universal principles, with un- 
 erring logic and mighty power, Dante advances from truth 
 to truth. From the gloomy forest, wherein the sinner had 
 lost his way and become estranged from God, the theo- 
 logical thought soars higher and higher through Purgatory 
 and Paradise, till, in the concluding cantos, the poet beholds 
 God and all things in Him : " ^ 
 
 " O grace, unen vying of thy boon ! that gavest 
 Boldness to fix so earnestly my ken 
 On the everlasting splendour, that I look'd 
 While sight was unconsumed ; and in that depth, 
 Saw in one volume clasp'd of love, whate'er 
 The imiverse unfolds ; all properties 
 Of substance and of accident, beheld 
 Compounded, yet one individual light 
 
 The chair was held by Boccaccio, Philippo Villani, Fedelfo and Laud i no. 
 As St. Stephen's became too small for the audience, the lectures were 
 transferred to the Duomo. 
 
 ^ "There is nothing to forbid our saying, that after the day of judg- 
 ment, when the glory of men and angels shall be wholly consummated, 
 the blessed will know all things that God knows by the science of 
 vision." — S. Supp. q. 92, a. 3. (That is, all created things, but not 
 all things possible, for such a knowledge implies comprehension of God, 
 and therefore equality with Him. S. i q. 12, a. 8.) 
 
MATTER, METHOD, FORM. 235 
 
 The whole. And of such bond methinks I saw 
 The universal form ; for that whene'er 
 I do but speak of it, my soul dilates 
 Beyond her proper self." — Far. xxxiii. 77. 
 
 In the theology of the Dmna Commedia we must dis- 
 tinguish its matter, method, and form. Its matter is the 
 theology of the Catholic Church, as contained in writings 
 and tradition. Its method is that of the thirteenth cen- 
 tury, consequently the scholastic, and more especially the 
 system of St. Thomas. Its form is that of a poem stored 
 with Christian, mythological, and historical imagery ; but, 
 in the main, the poet's own creation. Dante's theology is 
 the expression of Catholic doctrine. His method is the 
 product of the teaching of the schools, and the working of 
 his own intellect under the influence of faith. His poetry 
 is the offspring of his own imagination. In the first con- 
 nection he is bound by the rule of faith ; in the second, he 
 depends on the tradition of the schools ; in the third alone, 
 the figures and scenery of the invisible world are his own 
 free conception, and this last is truly all his own. But in 
 the Divina Commedia the matter, the method, and the 
 poetical form are so wondrously interwoven, that we can- 
 not tell, whether its hold on us proceeds from the majesty 
 of the thoughts, the force and delicacy of its arguments, or 
 the exquisite poetry which lends such a grace even to the 
 dry, and, to the uninitiated, repellant discussions of the 
 schools. It is this marvellous union of faith, science, and 
 poetry which makes the Divina Commedia unique. 
 
 But the root of its supremacy lies deeper even than this. 
 God is, according to Plato, essential truth, and conse- 
 quently essential or absolute beauty.^ The beauty of all 
 things, therefore, is only the reflection of and partici- 
 pation in that eternal, unchangeable loveliness which is 
 
 1 Si/mpos. p. 211, 181 ; Phileh. p. 51 j Phced. p. 78. 
 
236 THE THEOLOGY OF THE '^ COMMEDIA.'* 
 
 God Himself;^ and wherever beauty is, there are order, 
 measure, and harmony : ^ 
 
 " Among themselves all things 
 Have order ; and from hence the form, which makes 
 The universe resemble God." — Par. i. loo. 
 
 This order is the subject of the Divina Commedia; the 
 harmony between the divine and the human, the uncreated 
 and the created, the supernatural and the natural order, 
 between faith and reason, grace and free-will, Church and 
 State, the Papacy and the Empire, God and the world, 
 time and eternity j all these things in their fullest extent 
 and in their perfect unity the poet comprehends at a glance, 
 and all, even the least, are set forth transfigured by the 
 divine eternal light, and shining with supernatural beauty. 
 
 It is in the same eternal light that Dante views the 
 purpose of philosophy in its relation towards theology ; for 
 philosophy is " a loving use of that wisdom, the principle 
 of which is in God. Therefore philosophy in its essence 
 is divine, and perfectly united as in everlasting wedlock 
 with the divinity, but in other intelligences lesser-wise." ^ 
 Philosophy is not only the spouse, but also the most beau- 
 tiful and honourable daughter of the Emperor of the 
 universe.^ Thus, in accordance with the practice of St. 
 Thomas and the schoolmen, and with its own aim and pur- 
 pose, Dante discusses philosophical questions in close connec- 
 tion with theology. For philosophy " is an aid to our faith, 
 which to the human race is the most important of all things, 
 since by it we escape death and attain to eternal life." ^ 
 
 Dante has told us himself the sources from which he drew 
 
 ^ Sympos. loc. cit. 
 
 2 Tim. p. 87; Phileb. p. 64; Sympos. p. 211. 
 ^ Conv. iii. 12. 
 
 ^ Conv. ii, 13-16. Hugh of St. Victor calls God, Imperator Mundi 
 (De Area Noe, i. i). 
 * Conv. iii. 7. 
 
DANTE'S FAVOURITE POETS. 237 
 
 his philosophy. He relates how in his anguish, after the 
 death of Beatrice, "I set myself to read that book, not 
 known to many, of Boethius, wherein he, captive and 
 down -fallen, had consoled himself. And hearing also that 
 TuUius had written another book, wherein, treating of 
 friendship, he had inserted some words of consolation for 
 an excellent man named Lsftlius concerning the death of his 
 friend Scipio, I set myself to read that. And though it 
 was hard to me at first to understand their purport, at 
 length I mastered it, as far as my knowledge of the 
 grammar and my limited understanding permitted, through 
 which understanding I had already seen many things as in 
 a dream, as the Vita Nuova shows." ^ In both these 
 authors philosophy wears the robes of rhetoric and poetry, 
 as it does in Dante, though bearing also the stamp of his 
 own genius. From the frequent quotations in the Convito^ 
 it is evident that he had a special predilection for Yirgil's 
 jEneid, Ovid's MetamoiyJioses, the Ars Poetica of Horace, 
 and Lucan's Pharsalia. From the ^neid he borrowed the 
 idea of the divine purpose in the foundation of Rome ; from 
 the Pharsalia the legend of the origin of the Empire ; from 
 the Metamorphoses symbols of deeper mysteries. He thus 
 sought a hidden meaning in every utterance of the ancient 
 world, and bound it by close spiritual ties to the Christian 
 order. 
 
 In philosophy, in the stricter sense, his chief master was 
 Aristotle, though only in a Latin translation. In Limbo he 
 
 " Spied the master of the sapient throng, 
 Seated amid the philosophic train. 
 Him all admire, all pay him reverence due " 
 
 —Hell. iv. 128. 
 
 Next to him he beholds Socrates and Plato, whose 
 Timceus he knew in a Latin version, together with those 
 
 ^ Conv. ii. 13. 
 
238 THE THEOLOGY OF THE ''COMMEDIA:' 
 
 portions of his writings whicli are quoted by Aristotle, the 
 Fathers, and the later Jewish and Arabian commentators. 
 In some cases he prefers Aristotle's view to Plato's; as, 
 for example, with regard to the earth, which Aristotle held 
 to be stationary, but which, according to Plato, revolved 
 slowly on its axis.^ For he considers that Nature had re- 
 vealed her secrets ^ to this " Prince of reasoners " ^ more 
 than to any other human being. Nevertheless, in his 
 enumeration of the heavenly spheres he follows Ptolemy, 
 and not Aristotle. Sometimes also he endeavours to har- 
 monise Plato's view with that of Aristotle ; as, for instance, 
 in the question whether the life of pure intelligences is one 
 of action, or only of contemplation.^ As regards moral 
 philosophy, he sees no opposition between Plato and 
 Aristotle, but only the difference between adolescence and 
 maturity. "Aristotle," he says, '' by means of that almost 
 divine intellect with which nature had endowed him, brought 
 moral philosophy to perfection. Hence the name of Acade- 
 micians was given up, and all who belonged to this school 
 are called Peripatetics, and now claim the sovereignty of 
 the world." ^ 
 
 But it was through St. Thomas, again, that Dante knew 
 and interpreted Aristotle. As in the Heaven of the sun 
 St. Thomas appears surrounded by Albertus Magnus, Peter 
 Lombard, Boethius, Dionysius the Areopagite, Richard of 
 St. Victor, Isidore, Bede, Gratian, and, closest of all, St. 
 Bonaventure, so in Limbo, Aristotle is the central figure 
 of a group of philosophers — Socrates, Plato, Democritus, 
 Empedocles, Diogenes, Thales, Anaxagoras, Heraclitus, 
 Zeno, Cicero, Seneca, Avicenna, and Averroes. Although, 
 with St. Thomas, Dante rejects Averroes' doctrine of emana- 
 tion, the eternity of the world, and the universal mind, yet, 
 
 ^ Co7iv. iii. 5. ^ Loc. cit. 
 
 3 Conv. iv. 2 : "Maestro della umana razione." 
 ■* Conv. iv. 5. ^ Conv. iv. 6. 
 
ADMIRATION FOR ARISTOTLE. 239 
 
 on account of his historical importance as a commentator 
 of Aristotle, he places him in Limbo with the descriptive 
 epithet, " He who made that commentary vast, Averroes.^ * 
 The Christian world had judged him sternly. Traini's 
 well-known picture, painted in 1340, in Santa Caterina 
 at Pisa, represents St. Thomas as hurling Averroes to 
 the ground, and there is a similar one in Santa Maria 
 Novella at Florence. The Synod of Paris in 1209, the 
 Papal Legate, Robert de Cour9on, in 12 15, and Gregory IX 
 in his letter to the University of Paris in 1231, had pointed 
 out the danger of the Arabian pseudo- Aristotelian philo- 
 sophy. St. Thomas, however, was the first to refute 
 Averroes scientifically, while he at the same time repro- 
 duced the real teaching of Aristotle, and interpreted it by 
 the light of Christianity. 
 
 We have already remarked that Dante's first notions of 
 philosophy were derived from Boethius and Cicero, and 
 therefore through the medium of poetry and rhetoric. He 
 was thus led to treat philosophical and theological subjects 
 under images and sjmabols. The poet Yirgil is for him 
 the type of philosophy, of human science and the natural 
 virtues. In Hell, as in Purgatory, Virgil discusses with 
 the poet a variety of philosophical questions, both physical 
 and moral ; as for instance, the distinctions in sins, moral 
 freedom, the human soul and its powers, its relation to the 
 body, the centre of the world. When Dante asks him 
 whether and why prayer frees us from divine chastise- 
 ments, Yirgil answers him, but as the question is theologi- 
 cal as well as philosophical, he adds : 
 
 " Yet in this deep suspicion rest thou not 
 Contented, unless she assure thee so, 
 Who betwixt truth and mind infuses Hght." 
 
 — Purg. vi. 44. 
 
 ^ ffeU, iv. 141. 
 
240 THE THEOLOGY OF THE '' COMMEDTA." 
 
 Yirgil represents the seven natural virtues ; three of the 
 intellect, four of the will — prudence, temperance, justice, 
 fortitude; counsel, knowledge, wisdom; but the three 
 divine virtues, faith, hope, and charity, are wanting. 
 Consequently he and his fellows are detained in Limbo, in 
 that "magnificent castle, seven times with lofty walls 
 begirt," ^ and can never enter Heaven : 
 
 " There I with those abide, 
 Who the three holy virtues put not on, 
 But understood the rest, and without blame 
 Follow'd them all." — Purg. vii. 2>Z' 
 
 In the second book of the Convito ^ Dante likens the dif- 
 ferent secular sciences to the movement of the nine heavens 
 in the Ptolemaic system, and makes use of this comparison 
 in assigning to them their relative position and value. 
 The sciences of the Trivium and the Quadrivium corre- 
 spond to the heavens of the seven inferior planets. Gram- 
 mar is assigned to the moon, because, like the moon, it is 
 always changing. Mercury, on account of his smallness, 
 corresponds to Dialectics, whose proofs are contained in a 
 small space ; Venus, to Bhetoric, from its attractiveness ; 
 the Sun, to Arithmetic, as the primal light of all the 
 sciences. Music belongs to Mars, because his heaven is 
 the central one of the nine, and the foundation of music is 
 harmony and measure. Geometry moves between the point 
 and the circle as its beginning and end, like Jupiter between 
 cold Mars and hot Saturn. Astronomy is represented by 
 Saturn, the greatest of the planets and the slowest in his 
 motion, because of the magnitudes with which it deals, and 
 the long study it requires. The eighth heaven, that of the 
 fixed stars, is the symbol of Physics and Metaphysics : the 
 former treats of visible things which come into being and 
 pass away, the latter of things invisible which begin but 
 
 ^ Hell, iv, loi. ^ Conv. ii. 14. 
 
THE PLANETS AND THE SCIENCES. 241 
 
 never end. The pole which we see is the type of those 
 tangible things with which Physics deal; the other pole, 
 which is invisible, represents the immaterial and intangible 
 things which belong to Metaphysics. The daily revolution 
 of the heaven of the fixed stars, again, symbolises those 
 natural corruptible things which are actually ephemeral; 
 its slow and gradual movement from west to east, the 
 evanescent nature of temporal things. 
 
 The last two comparisons of moral philosophy with the 
 primum mobile, and of theology with the Empyrean, need 
 further explanation. The primum mohile^ or crystalline 
 heaveUj regulates by its motion the daily revolutions of all 
 the others. So moral philosophy, as St. Thomas says, 
 governs the study of the other sciences ; for, according to 
 Aristotle, justice regulates the sciences, and commands 
 them to be taught and learnt. If, therefore, moral philo- 
 sophy were annihilated, all the other sciences would be 
 neglected. The motionless Empyrean represents theology, 
 for theology alone gives peace complete, and puts to silence 
 the strife of human opinions, arguments, and sophistries, 
 by the absolute certainty of its subject — God Himself.^ 
 
 At the end of this statement Dante again repeats, that it 
 was the writings of Boethius and Cicero which first kindled 
 his love for his most gracious mistress. Philosophy ; and in 
 explanation of the verse in his poem, " He guided mine 
 eyes towards a lady," he remarks '."^ "It must be under- 
 stood that this lady is Philosophy, which in truth is a 
 
 ^ "The speculative sciences take rank according to the certainty 
 they oflfer, and the dignity of their subject-matter ; and under both 
 aspects this science (theology) is the first . . . with regard to certitude, 
 the other sciences derive their certitude from the natural light of 
 human reason, which is fallible ; but this one obtains its certitude from 
 the light of divine science, which cannot be deceived. As regards the 
 subject-matter, this science treats principally of things so sublime as 
 to transcend human reason, while the other sciences consider only that 
 which is within its domain." — S. i. q. I, a. 5. 
 
 ^ Conv. iii. 15. 
 
 Q 
 
242 THE THEOLOGY OF THE '' COMMEDIA:' 
 
 most gracious lady, adorned with nobility, admirable for 
 knowledge, glorious for the spirit of liberty. ... In her 
 countenance are seen things which reveal the joys of Para- 
 dise, especially in her eyes and her smile. The eyes of 
 this lady represent her demonstrations, wherein truth is 
 beheld with certainty, and her smile typifies her persuasive 
 arguments, in which the inner light of wisdom is seen as 
 it were through a veil ; and in these two things we experi- 
 ence the highest joy and felicity. . . ?■ Therefore I declare 
 and maintain that the mistress whom I loved next after 
 my first love is that beautiful and most renowned daughter 
 of the Emperor of the Universe, who was called by Pytha- 
 goras, Philosophy." 
 
 This description of philosophy would show what a deep 
 impression the work of Boethius had produced on Dante's 
 mind, even if we had not his express and grateful mention 
 of it in the Divina Commedid'. 
 
 " The saintly soul, that shows 
 The world's deceitfulness to all who hear him, 
 Is, with the sight of all the good that is, 
 Blest there. The limbs, whence it was driven, he 
 Down in Cieldauro ; and from martyrdom 
 And exile came it here." — Par. x. 1 20. 
 
 Boethius 2 also represented philosophy as a beautiful 
 woman, of "majestic bearing, and with glowing eyes." 
 After the loss of Beatrice, Dante devoted himself to her ; 
 
 1 Conv. ii, 16. 
 
 ^ "While I reflected in silence on these things, and was duly record- 
 ing my mournful complaint, there appeared from above a woman of 
 majestic aspect, with eyes glowing, and penetrating beyond human 
 power. Her complexion was fresh, and her vigour appeared so inex- 
 haustible, that although she might have reached maturity, it Avas 
 impossible to tell her age. Her height too was hard to decide." — 
 Boethius, Consolat. Philosoph. i. 15. Our English King Alfred trans- 
 lated this book of Boethius and always carried it with him. The life of 
 Boethius was written by Richard Graham Viscount Preston, French 
 ambassador and secretary of State to James XL, d. 1695. His cultus 
 as a martyr was approved 1884 under the title of St. Severinus 
 Boethius. 
 
LOVE OF WISDOM. 243 
 
 " for this lady is not only the most perfect of the human 
 race, but something more; for God in His goodness has 
 endowed her with superhuman excellence." ^ Dante makes 
 her the type of wisdom in the widest sense, embracing all 
 sciences, and including also theology, as we must infer from 
 many passages in Paradise, in which he speaks of the eyes 
 and smile of Beatrice.^ It is through her that the just 
 experience the bliss of Paradise. 
 
 Thus Wisdom is the subject-matter of philosophy, and a 
 divine love of Wisdom is its form. The supreme unfailing 
 delight that comes from the contemplation of Wisdom is 
 the end. " Thus all may learn what my present mistress 
 is, both her material, formal, and final causes, and her 
 substance. Lore is the form of philosophy, and is there- 
 fore called her soul ; and it manifests itself in the exercise 
 of wisdom, which brings with it marvellous delights, 
 namely, contentment under all circumstances, and indiffer- 
 ence to things which enthral other men." ^ 
 
 The relation of philosophy to theology appears from what 
 has been said. The superiority of the latter rests on the 
 supreme excellence of its object, which is God, and on the 
 greater certainty of its knowledge, which is founded on 
 divine revelation. Hence Beatrice, beholding God, beholds 
 in Him the highest philosophy, which, imperfect in all 
 other intelligences, in Him alone is perfect and true. 
 When she turns her eyes upon the poet, her gaze raises 
 him in a state of ecstasy from sphere to sphere.* Philo- 
 sophy, however, ends in faith, for it recognises that the 
 finite intellect cannot measure the infinite : 
 
 " He (it began), 
 Who tum'd His compass on the worlds extreme, 
 And in that space so variously hath wrought, 
 Both openly and in secret ; in such wise 
 
 ^ C<mv. iii 6. ^ Par. xviii. 8, 51. 
 
 8 C(mv. iii. 11-13. * "^*»*' i* 73- 
 
244 THE THEOLOGY OF THE " COMMEDIA," 
 
 Could not, through all the universe, display 
 
 Impression of His glory, that the Word 
 
 Of His omniscience should not still remain 
 
 In infinite excess.^ In proof whereof, 
 
 He first through pride supplanted, who was sum 
 
 Of each created being, waited not 
 
 For light celestial ; so abortive fell. 
 
 Whence needs each lesser nature is but scant 
 
 Receptacle into that Good, which knows 
 
 No limit, measured by itself alone. 
 
 Therefore your sight, of the Omnipresent Mind 
 
 A single beam, its origin must own 
 
 Surpassing far its utmost potency.^ 
 
 The ken, your world is gifted with, descends 
 
 In the everlasting Justice as low down, 
 
 ^ [Dante, here following St. Thomas, refutes the optimist error of 
 Abelard, who held that as God's omnipotence is predetermined by His 
 wisdom and justice, and His wisdom and justice have predetermined 
 this world and no other, He could not have made another or a better 
 world than this. To this St. Thomas replies, that though it be true 
 God's power is ever ordered according to His wisdom, and the Divine 
 Wisdom com.prehends the whole range of His power, yet the order of 
 this world from which our idea of justice is drawn, does not so exhaust 
 the Divine Wisdom that it could produce nothing else. " For the whole 
 idea of the order which the wisdom of God impresses on His creatures 
 must be judged by the end He has in view. When the end is propor- 
 tioned to the things made for that end, the wisdom of the Maker is 
 limited to a determined order. But the Divine Goodness (which is the 
 end of creation) exceeds beyond proportion every created thing. Hence 
 the Divine Wisdom is not so determined to any one order of things, but 
 that it could create another," God, then, could create another world, 
 better than this one, but could not create another world better adapted 
 for that end, for which this one has been made, i.e., the particular 
 display of His goodness, manifested in this creation. In other words, 
 God is free as to the end, but that end once chosen. He is constrained 
 by His wisdom to adopt the best means for attaining it. St. Thomas, 
 however, names three created things which are as perfect as can be — 
 " the Sacred Humanity, because of its union with God ; created beati- 
 tude, since it is the enjoyment of God ; and the Blessed Virgin, because 
 she is the Mother of God. All three have a certain infinite dignity 
 from God, who is the Infinite Good, and under this aspect no crea- 
 tures could be made more perfect than they are, for nothing is better 
 than God."— Cf. S. i. q. 25, a. 5, 6.] 
 
 2 " The intellectual faculty in the creature is called an intelligible 
 light, because derived, so to say, from the primal light. ... To see 
 
MYSTERIES OF FAITH. 245 
 
 As eye doth in the sea ; which, though it mark 
 The bottom from the shore, in the wide main 
 Discerns it not ; and ne'ertheless it is, 
 But hidden through its deepness." — Par. xix. 27' 
 
 Consequently in the mysteries of the faith we cannot 
 comprehend the " wherefore " ^ or inward cause, but only 
 the fact or statement ; 
 
 " Seek not the wherefore,^ race of himian kind ! 
 Could ye have seen the whole, no need had been 
 For Mary to bring forth." — Purg. iii. 35. 
 
 Even when TWhriV^ ^ppq gll thingra in God as in a 
 mirr or, God Hinfself canno t bp fully nnmpT-php.nrlpd -._ 
 
 " That will I see 
 In Him, Who is truth's mirror ; and Himself 
 Parhelion unto all things, and nought else, 
 To Him." — Par. xxvi. 105. 
 
 Our errors about s ensible things show how short is the 
 flight of reason.^ Uista^t_a s e^^f^ ^'""^m 1 i f /'"'"■ ■■> biTTTrgn-; 
 knowledge from~3i vine truth, what is known t o God and 
 taught l)j tEe faith ; 
 
 — ^' To the'end 
 
 That thou mayst know, (she answered straight,) the school 
 
 God requires some sort of similitude in the visual faculty, whereby the 
 intellect may become capable of seeing Him. But with regard to the 
 object seen, which must be in some manner united to the seer, by no 
 created resemblance can the divine essence be seen. . . . Much less, 
 therefore, can the essence of God be seen through any created species. 
 To say, then, that we see God through any resemblance, is to say that 
 the divine essence itself is not seen." — S. i. q. 12, a. 2, 
 
 ^ Mere experience tells us that a thing is ; science, the wherefore or 
 inward cause. — Aris. Meta. i i, 15. 
 
 ^ " To those who accept authority, we should not endeavour to prove 
 matters of faith except by authority ; with others we defend the faith 
 sufficiently, by showing that it contains nothing impossible." — S. i. q. 
 32, a. I. 
 
 3 Par. ii. 56. 
 
246 THE THEOLOGY OF THE "COMMEDIA." 
 
 That thou hast f oUow'd ; and how far behind, 
 When following my discourse, its learning halts ; 
 And mayst behold your art, from the divine 
 As distant, as the disagreement is ^ 
 
 'Twixt earth and heaven's most high and rapturous orb." 
 
 —Purg. xxxiii. 83. 
 
 Hence man must n ot criticise the truths of faith ; it is 
 [nrl hrn ^pnhnn ; 
 
 " The flood (I answer'd) from the spirit of God 
 Rain'd down upon the ancient bond and new, — 
 Here is the reasoning that convinceth me 
 So feelingly, each argument beside 
 Seems blunt and forceless, in comparison." 
 
 — Par. xxiv. 90. 
 
 " Faith is the substance of things to be hoped for, the 
 evidence'^'tfain gs that appear not." ^ from wJiicJi TJaeology 
 drawsTier inferences : 
 
 " Faith of things hoped ' is substance, and the proof 
 Of things not seen ; and herein doth consist, 
 Methinks, its essence. i 
 
 ^ Nor does Beatrice here censure Scholasticism as opposed to faith, 
 in order to convert Dante to mysticism ; she is only expressing tlie 
 infinite disproportion that exists, between all human knowledge and 
 the truth as it is in God. When in Purg. xxx. 132 she reproaches her 
 pupil for turning his steps into deceitful ways, " following false images 
 of good, that make no promise perfect," she is alluding to the political 
 cares and distractions, which diverted his mind from the contemplation 
 of the highest good. True philosophy indeed leads its faithful followers 
 to contemn all else {Conv. iii. 14). Cf. Plato, Thecet. 173 c: "The 
 veritable philosopher is ignorant from his youth up of the way to the 
 market-place, he knows not the site of the senate-hall, nor the courts of 
 justice, nor any places of public resort." 
 
 2 Heb. xi. I. 
 
 3 " Faith is said to be the substance of things hoped for, because the 
 things, that we should hope for, begin to be in us first by the assent of 
 faith, which virtually contains the whole object of our hope. ... As 
 argument leads the intellect to adhere to that which is true, the firm 
 adhesion of the intellect to the unseen truths of faith is here called 
 argument." — S. ii. 2. q. 4, a, i. 
 
FAITH AND REASON. 247, 
 
 And inasmuch as we must needs infer ^ 
 From such belief our reasoning, all respect 
 To other view excluded ; hence of proof 
 The intention is derived." — Far. xxiv. 65, 75. 
 
 Conse guently faith is only above, not contrary to reason, 
 so that when we a t t a iT i t^' !'■■■ v ■'"■ "| <|ii.l^ ^^u f^' \\' ^]] luu 
 the tr itl-bs f)f faith as clea rly and evidently, as we now do 
 the axioms of reason : ' ' ~" ■ 
 
 " There will be seen 
 That, which we hold through faith ; not shown by proof, 
 But in itself intelligibly plain, 
 E'en as the truth that man at first believes." 
 
 — Par. ii. 43, 
 
 As all the relations of numbers are contained in and 
 derived from the unit, so the ble ssed, in beholding Go d^s 
 essence, behold all things in Him. 2 Nor is our fait h on 
 earth blind, for tkough its IhyyLyriea "STS~ilSpeneirable 
 to reason, our motives tor believing them are evidently 
 known. ItS divme origin is attested by miraclei?, of 
 w hich tlile greatest is ike conversion of the world to 
 Cliristiajiity ; 
 
 " ' Wherefore boldest thou that each. 
 The elder proposition and the new, 
 Which so persuade thee, are the voice of Heaven ? ' 
 ' The works that f ollow'd, evidence their truth ; ' 
 I answer'd : ' Nature did not make for these 
 The iron hob, or on her anvil mold them.' 
 * Who voucheth to thee of the works themselves,' 
 Was the reply, ^ that they in very deed 
 Are that they purport ? None hath sworn so to thee.' 
 ' That all the world,' said I, ' should have been tum'd 
 
 1 " Theology is a science, because it is deduced from premisses known 
 by the light of a superior science, viz., the science of God and of the 
 Blessed." — S, i. q. I, a. 2. 
 
 ^ Far. xxiv. 54, 
 
248 THE THEOLOGY OF THE ^^COMMEDIA. 
 
 To Christian, and no miracle been wrought, 
 
 "Would in itself be such a miracle, 
 
 The rest were not an hundredth part so great.' " 
 
 — Far. xxiv. 95. 
 
 Marfy r1r>r»+.T-iT^Ag r>f fliQ f^jth^ whjoh at first appear con- 
 .tirndiftory. on deeper consideration prove true : ' 
 
 " But to the end 
 This truth may stand more clearly in your view,^ 
 I will content thee even to thy wish." — Par. iv. 69. " 
 
 Some of its dogmas reason can prove from physical and 
 metaphysical arguments ; ^ such as, for instance, the nobility 
 of the human soul, the existence, unity, and eternity of 
 God,2 and that He is the sole and necessary object of our 
 love : * 
 
 " In this palace is the weal 
 That Alpha and Omega is, to all 
 The lessons love can read me." — Far. xxvi. 18. 
 
 " Philosophy, (said I) hath arguments, 
 And this place hath authority enough, 
 To imprint in me such love : for, of constraint, 
 Good, inasmuch as we perceive the good. 
 Kindles our love ; and in degree the more, 
 As it comprises more of goodness in it. 
 The essence then, where such advantage is, 
 That each good, found without it, is nought else 
 But of His light the beam,^ must needs attract 
 
 ^ " With regard to those things also concerning God, which fall within 
 the range of human reason, a divine revelation was still needed for our 
 instruction ; for by the investigations of reason alone the truth concerning 
 God would be attained but by few, and after years of labour and with 
 the admixture of many errors." S. i. q. i, a. i. On the use of reason 
 with regard to matters of faith : Cf. Augustin. Ep. 120 ; Thom. Cont. 
 Gent. I. 8 ; Prol. ad 2 Sent. q. i, a. 3, sol, 3 ; Bonaventura in i. 
 Sent. Proem, q. 2. 
 
 ^ S. i. q. 2, a. 2 ; q, ii. a. 3. ^ Par. xxiv. 128. 
 
 * Conv. iv. 21. ° S. i. q. 6, a. 4. 
 
THE END OF FAITH. 249 
 
 The soul of each one, loving, who the truth 
 Discerns, on which this proof is built." 
 
 — Par. xxvi. 25. 
 
 It is the special privilege of love to be quick to seize this 
 harmony between the truths of faith and the inner life of 
 the soul : 
 
 " Brother ! no eye of man not perfected, 
 Nor fully ripen'd in the flame of love, 
 May fathom this decree." — Par. vii. 55. 
 
 Dante represents the connection between philosophy and 
 theology, and nature and grace, under various figures. He 
 makes the four natural or cardinal virtues conduct him 
 to Beatrice, but the three divine virtues have previously 
 strengthened his eyes, to enable him to gaze into hers,i for 
 without divine assistance man cannot apprehend the truth. 
 The relation of Virgil to Beatrice expresses generally how 
 nature aspires to grace, and is elevated and perfected by it. 
 
 The three parts of the Divina Commedia each close, as we 
 have said, with the same word, " stars," symbolising the end 
 of all life and existence. The stars greet the poet as he 
 emerges from Hell ; when he gains the summit of the Mount 
 of Purgatory, he is pure, and fit to rise to the stars j and in 
 Paradise he beholds the Love " that moves the sun and all 
 the stars." 2 Thus the idea of Philosophy, as "loving all 
 "Wisdom commands," leads the poet up to religion, to the 
 Christian faith, to God, and then, looking back from that 
 vantage-ground, the kingdoms of the world, the whole wide 
 sea of being, lie spread out before his eyes : 
 
 " I straight obeyed ; and with mine eye retum'd 
 Through all the seven spheres ; and saw this globe 
 So pitiful of semblance, that perforce 
 It moved my smiles." — Par. xxii. 129. 
 
 ^ Note 2, p. 79, on the relation of theology to the human sciences. 
 2 Par. xxxii. 135. 
 
250 THE THEOLOGY OF THE " COMMEDIA:' 
 
 Such expressions of humility are a rebuke to modern 
 pride of intellect. Master of all science, old and new, then 
 explored, Dante is as courageous and outspoken in his child- 
 like confession of faith, as in his stern denunciations of 
 emperors and popes. " For it should be understood that the 
 glances of this lady are so liberally bestowed upon us, not 
 alone to show that face that we can see, but yet more to 
 kindle our longing for and striving after those things which 
 she holds concealed. Therefore, as through her, the reason 
 sees many of these things, so also through her we believe 
 that every miracle can have its reason in a higher intellect, 
 and consequently can be. This, therefore, is the source of 
 our Faith, from which grows Hope, desiring that which we 
 foresee, and from hope Love is born ; and by these three 
 virtues man, through philosophy, ascends to the heavenly 
 Athens." 1 
 
 In the realistic treatment of his allegory, to which we 
 have often adverted, Dante is guided by St. Thomas, who 
 says that, by a law of our nature, we are led from sensuous 
 to supersensuous things, from things material to things 
 spiritual. 2 
 
 *^ Thus needs, that ye may apprehend, we speak : 
 Since from things sensible alone ye learn 
 That which, digested rightly, after turns 
 To intellectual. For no other cause 
 The Scripture, condescending graciously 
 To your perception, hands and feet to God 
 Attributes, nor so means." — Par. iv. 40. 
 
 But further, history, and more especially sacred history, 
 is so ordered by Him Who is able to speak not only by 
 
 ^ Conv. iii. 14. 
 
 ^ "The Sacred Scripture fitly employs material images to express 
 divine and spiritual things. For God provides for all His creatures 
 according to the special nature of each ; and man naturally arrives by 
 means of sensible things to things intelligible, for all our knowledge 
 comes first from the senses." — i. q. I, a. 9. 
 
HIDDEN SPIRITUAL LIFE. 251 
 
 words, like man, but through persons, institutions, and 
 events, as to form a type of future and spiritual things, 
 and an expression of them. It is this thought which 
 governs all the exuberant wealth of persons, situations, 
 and events in the Divina Commedia. What is true of the 
 individual is true of the human race, and of the whole 
 creation : 
 
 " Know ye not 
 That we are worms, yet made at last to form 
 The winged insect, imp'd with angel plumes, 
 That to heaven's justice unobstructed soars ? " 
 
 — Purg. X. 112. 
 
 As the butterfly forms itself unseen within the chrysalis, 
 so does the city of God develop unseen in the midst of this 
 city of sin, death, and dissolution. This symbolism is the 
 guiding principle in the construction of the Inferno, and of 
 the whole edifice of the three kingdoms of the other world. 
 In the inmost depths and centre of the earth, the region of 
 eternal night and frost, dwells Lucifer, type of the spirit 
 excluded from the light and life of God, ice-bound in selfish- 
 ness and malice ; and the degrees of sin are measured in 
 Hell by the gradual narrowing of its circles towards this 
 point. In Purgatory the soul begins to ascend; as it 
 mounts, the labour of the ascent lessens, and when it 
 arrives at the summit its will has become pure, free, 
 and unwarped, as erst in Paradise. The nine successive 
 heavenly spheres form an ascent parallel to the descend- 
 ing spiral of the nine circles of Hell, through which the 
 soul mounts on the ladder of the various virtues and 
 joys, to the blessed vision of God. Arrived in Saturn, 
 the abode of contemplative souls, the poet despises the 
 earth, now far away below him, and thus grows more and 
 more capable of seeing the highest good, until at last he 
 beholds Beatrice in glory in the Empyrean, close beneath 
 Mary. He invokes her name, and thanks her for his 
 
252 THE THEOLOGY OF THE ''COMMEDIA:' 
 
 deliverance from bondage, and for the last time Beatrice 
 smiles upon him : 
 
 " Answering not, mine eyes I raised, 
 And saw her, where aloof she sat, her brow 
 A wreath reflecting of eternal beams. 
 Not from the centre of the sea so far 
 Unto the region of the highest thimder. 
 As was my ken from hers ; and yet the form 
 Came through that medium down, unmix'd and pure. 
 ' Lady ! thou ia whom my hopes have rest ; 
 Who, for my safety, hast not scom'd, in Hell 
 To leave the traces of thy footsteps mark'd ; 
 For all mine eyes have seen, I to thy power 
 And goodness, virtue owe and grace. Of slave 
 Thou hast to freedom brought me : and no means. 
 For my dehverance apt, hast left untried. 
 Thy liberal bounty stUl toward me keep : 
 That when my spirit, which thou madest whole, 
 Is loosen'd from this body, it may find 
 Favour with thee.' So I my suit preferr'd ; 
 And she, so distant, as appear'd, look'd down 
 And smiled." — Far. xxxi. 64. 
 
 Thus in Dante's hand the real Beatrice and her spirit 
 idealised form one character. From their first meeting 
 in childhood to that when she smiles upon him for the last 
 time from the bosom of God,^ she is manifested in a gradual 
 progress of transfiguration and glorification. It is her form 
 which gives dramatic interest and movement to the whole 
 process of absolution, purification, illumination, and beati- 
 fication. In her, theology and poetry, speculation and 
 phantasy, are admirably united. 
 
 Grouped and moving around her is a whole world of 
 figures, taken partly from ancient and Roman, but chiefly 
 from Italian history, and of biblical and mythological per- 
 sonages, all symbols of various virtues and vices. Beatrice 
 
 ^ Far, XXX. 28. 
 
REALISTIC TREATMENT. 253 
 
 sits with Rachel in the third circle of the heavenly Para- 
 dise, at the feet of Eve, who is in the second. The Mother 
 of God is in the first. There are assembled the represen- 
 tatives of the old covenant, the patriarchs and progenitors, 
 male and female, of Christ, according to the flesh ; and the 
 Apostles, the Fathers of the Church, and founders of 
 Orders, the princes of the New Testament. The various 
 virtues, personified in different saints, are divided amongst 
 the several spheres. The nine circles of Hell are peopled 
 in the same manner with characters taken from ancient, 
 later, and even present times, their various torments repre- 
 sent the nature and the punishment of the sins of which 
 they form a type. In the lowest depths of Hell, Lucifer 
 crunches with his teeth Judas Iscariot, Brutus, and Cassius, 
 the former the betrayer of Christ, the two latter traitors 
 to the Emperor. The penances of Purgatory are in like 
 manner represented by historical personages ; and here the 
 possibility of a deathbed repentance makes the poet extend 
 the hope of salvation to many, whose Kves were by no 
 means free from sin. 
 
 Dante's treatment of the ancient Pagan myths, which 
 are freely employed in his poem, is original and striking. 
 Occasionally he deals with them as real historical events,^ 
 but for the most part he follows the Fathers of the Church, 
 in representing the heathen worship of gods and heroes as 
 an attempt of the demons to substitute for the kingdom of 
 God a kingdom of their own.^ These fabulous gods them- 
 selves preside as devils over the nine circles of Hell. Charon 
 is the ferryman ; Minos the judge. Cerberus worries the 
 gluttons; Pluto tyrannises over the covetous and spend- 
 thrifts ; the Furies have charge of the lower city of Dis ; 
 
 ^ The contest of Hercules with the giant Antaeus. Conv. iii. 3. 
 
 2 Matt. xii. 24 ; Luke viii. 30 ; i Tim. iv. i ; i Cor. x. 20 : Acts 
 xvi. 16-18; Ps. xcv. 5. "All the Goda of the Gentiles are devils." 
 Justin. Ajoolog. i. 5 ; Satian. adv. Grcec. c. 8-1 6 ; Athenag. Ley. c. 
 23-27. 
 
254 THE THEOLOGY OF THE '^COMMEDIA:' 
 
 the Harpies torment suicides, and so throughout. Thus 
 they are treated as types of the sins, which are punished 
 in their respective circles. At the same time he takes other 
 mythological representations in a purely metaphorical sense. 
 The four rivers of Hell, or rather the single stream, with 
 its four names and attributes, Acheron, Styx, Phlegethon, 
 Cocytus, is the sensible image of the rivers of tears and blood 
 caused by sin and violence in the world, and flowing down 
 into HelL 
 
 
( 255 ) 
 
 CHAPTER YIIL 
 
 GOD AND CREATION. 
 
 We will now consider in more detail the substance of 
 Dante's theology. We learg^by reason alone, but more 
 fully from revelation, to believe in God and His essential 
 Unity : 
 
 " I in one God believe ; 
 One sole eternal Godhead, of whose love 
 All heaven is moved, Himself unmoved the while.* 
 Nor demonstration physical alone, 
 Persuades me to that faith : but from that truth 
 It Cometh to me rather which is shed 
 Through Moses, the rapt prophets, and the psalms, 
 The gospel, and what ye yourselves did write. 
 When ye were gifted of the Holy Ghost." 
 
 — Tar. xxiv. 128. 
 
 Nevertheless no created mind can comprehend God, for 
 God alone is the adequate measure of Himself, " s^ in s^ 
 misura." ^ He knows all things as they are, but none know 
 Him as He is : 
 
 ^ " As matter cannot set itself in motion, there must be some 
 first mover. This is God, Who, unmoved Himself, moves everything, 
 because He is the universal object of desire." — Aristotel. Metaph. xii. 
 6. II; 7. 2. 8, xii. 7, 7. For the five metaphysical proofs of God's 
 existence, as first Mover, first Cause, the one necessarily self-existing 
 Being, the Highest Good, supreme Intelligence, see St, Thomas, S. 
 i. q. 2, a. 3. 
 
 2 Far. xix. 5L 
 
256 GOD AND CREATION. 
 
 " Who is truth's mirror, and Himself 
 Parhelion mito all things, and naught else 
 To Him." — Par. xxvi. io6. 
 
 Not ^TT^jjio^q TTft contain aU truth in Himself, but He 
 ^pttl^T^ruLh,! through which~aiDne-alF^tre"thiTig5:-Tcre true^ 
 Consequently He is the good of the intellect, " il ben del 
 intelletto."^ He is the highest good, and outside of Him 
 all good is but the radiation from His goodness, and there- 
 fore limited and finite.* Therefore all things yearn towards 
 _ Him, beca use in Him alone all desires are satisfied.^_ J!hus^ 
 He is the end, as He is the first cause of all motion, be ing 
 the object of that desire, which by impulse in the lower 
 creatures, and love ^ in the higher creatures, penetrates the 
 universe." 
 
 ^ " Intellectual (subjective) truth means that the mind apprehends the 
 thing as it really is. Truth in things (objective) means the conformity 
 of the thing vpith the idea of it. If such then be the nature of truth, 
 it is found eminently in God ; for not only is His essence conformed to 
 His intelligence, but it is His intelligence. And this intelligence is the 
 measure and cause of every other intelligence, and He is His essence 
 and His intelligence. Hence not only is He true, but the first and 
 sovereign truth." — S. i. q. 1 6, a. 5. 
 
 2 Par. xxxiii. 51. 
 
 3 HeU, iii. 17. 
 
 ^ "My opinion is, that in the world of knowledge the idea of good 
 appears last of all, and is seen only with an eflfort ; and when seen, is 
 also inferred to be the universal Author of all things beautiful and 
 right, Parent of light and Word of light in this world, and the source 
 of truth and reason in the other." — Plato, Eepublic, Bk. vii. p. 517, 
 Jovvett's trans. 
 
 ^ Par. xxvi. 28 ; ix. 7. 
 
 ^ Par. i. 109. 
 
 "^ " Every creature by its action or movements tends to its end in 
 one of two ways — by self-movement, as man, or by being moved by 
 another in a determined direction, as the arrow, which takes its flight 
 and course according to the aim of the shooter. Rational creatures 
 move themselves to their end, because the power of choice, which 
 comes from their reason and will, makes them master of their actions. 
 Irrational creatures, on the contrary, seek their end by their natural 
 instincts, being moved thereto, as it were, by anotjher, and not by 
 themselves ; for they know not the meaning of an end. . . . For in 
 regard to God, every irrational creature is as an instrument in the 
 hands of a principal agent." — S. i. 2, q. i, a. 2. "In three ways God 
 
THE DIVINE ATTRIBUTES. 257 
 
 Creatures show forth His glory in various degrees, just 
 as bodies in different ways reflect the light of the sun : 
 
 " His glory, by Whose might all things are moved, 
 Pierces the universe, and in one part 
 Sheds more resplendence, elsewhere less." — Par. i. i. 
 
 XJncircumscribed Himself, but circumscribing all things,^ 
 God dwells in the Empyrean, the fiery or glowing Heaven, 
 so-called because, though omnipresent, God there manifests 
 Himself in the flames of divine love.^ This highest Heaven 
 consists of pure light ; its wondrous expanse contains the 
 universe. Incorporeal itself, all bodies move within it, 
 whilst it remains unmoved. In that Essential Intellectual 
 Light the blessed dwell.^ God is unchangeable. White 
 and black stand ever unaltered in the book of His know- 
 ledge.* He is immeasurable, and therefore coexists with 
 all that fills space and time. Who sees God, sees in Him 
 " the when and where " of all things.^ Himself infinite 
 perfection, all His attributes are equally perfect ; hence He 
 is named "the primal symmetry" (la prima equalitct). In 
 God, knowledge, will, and power are coequal, and in this 
 the blessed in their degree participate : 
 
 " To each among your tribe, what time ye kenn d 
 The nature, in whom nought unequal dwells, 
 
 acts in created agents : i. As their end. Since every action is under- 
 taken for some good, real or apparent, God, being the one exemplar of 
 all goodness, is necessarily the final cause of every action. 2. As agent. 
 In a series of subordinate agents, the second acts by the power of the 
 first, for the first agent moves the second to act, and thus all things 
 act by the power of God, Who is the cause of all created action, j. As 
 form. God not only applies things to act by setting their forms and 
 powers in action, as the workman uses his axe to cut, but he gives to 
 creatures which act their forms, and preserves them in being. . . . And 
 since the form of each creature is something intrinsic to it, ... . 
 God, being the one universal cause most intimately present in all 
 things, acts intimately in all." — S. i. q. 105, a. 5. 
 
 ^ Par. xiv. 28. ^ Purg, xi. 3. ' Par. xxx. 50. 
 
 * Par. XV. 49. ^ Par. xxix. 12. 
 
 B 
 
258 GOD AND CREATION. 
 
 Wisdom and love were in one measure dealt ; 
 For that they are so equal in the sun, 
 From whence ye drew your radiance and your heat, 
 As makes all likeness scant." — Par. xv. 71. 
 
 Thr ^y^^ nf H od ^" t^" rn V in ^nd pTn'r.r.ip]f^_r£ ^11 
 
 l aw and justice, and apart fr om it no law is just, or 
 
 •'binds:!.., 
 
 " The primal will, that in itself is good, 
 Hath from itself, the chief Good, ne'er been moved. 
 Justice consists in consonance with it." 
 
 — Far. xix. 83. 
 
 All the perfections that we see in finite things are in 
 Him, but in an infinitely nobler manner, as in a single 
 simple unextended luminous ray.^ " Heaven and all nature 
 hangs upon this point." ^ In the one God there is a Trinity 
 of Persons. The bliss of the Divinity consists in the ever- 
 lasting circuminsession of the Father in the Son, of the 
 Son in the Father, of Both in the Holy Ghost, and of the 
 Holy Ghost in the Father and the Son.* This the poet 
 beholds for one instant, and describes in the last stanzas of 
 Paradise : 
 
 1 According to Dante, God loves with the same divine will justice 
 and Himself ; for the law is a good, and all good is primarily in God, 
 and is indeed God Himself. St. Thomas expands the same thought 
 when he speaks to this effect : '* The law is a rule by which actions 
 are directed to their right end ; and as in a series of movers the power 
 of the second is derived from that of the first, so in government. All 
 puborclinate rulers act only in virtue of Him Who is supreme. . . . 
 Thus all human law, which is inferior to the divine, derives its power 
 from that eternal law which is the rule of government in the Supreme 
 Ruler ; and human law is only just when it corresponds to the eternal 
 law, from which it proceeds, and unjust when it deviates therefrom." 
 — Cf. S. i. 2. q. 93, a. 2. 
 
 ^ " As God by one act understands all things in His essence, so by 
 one act He wills all things in His goodness." — S. i. q. 19, a. 5. 
 
 2 Par. xxviii. 38. 
 
 * " Believe you not that I am in the Father, and the Father in Me ? " 
 John xiv. 1 1. 
 
THE HOLY TRINITY. 259 
 
 "Eternal Light! 
 Sole in Thyself that dwellest, and of Thyself 
 Sole understood, past, present, and to come."^ 
 
 — Par. xxxiii. 115. 
 
 Dante endeavours to portray what he saw : 
 
 " In that abyss 
 Of radiance, clear and lofty, seem'd, methought, 
 Three orbs of triple hue, clipt in one bound : 
 And, from another, one reflected seem'd. 
 As rainbow is from rainbow : and the third 
 Seem'd fire, breathed equally from both." 
 
 — Par. xxxiii. 107. 
 
 "Glory to the Father, to the Son, and to the Holy 
 Spirit " is the cry that rings through Paradise : ^ 
 
 " Him, Who lives ever, and for ever reigns. 
 In mystic union of the Three in One, 
 Unbounded, bounding aU." — Par. xiv. 26. 
 
 God is the " trinal beam of an individual star ; " ^ so that 
 of Him it may be equally said, " They are," or " He is " 
 (Sunt et est).\ At the same time, the mystery of the Trinity 
 is absolutely incomprehensible : 
 
 " Insane, 
 Who hopes our reason may that space explore, 
 Which holds three persons in one substance knit." 
 
 — Purg. iii. 32. 
 
 Cr&ation was an act of God's free lov e. Himself the 
 Highest Good, and incapable of increase, He made UniCo 
 
 1 " The' proof or argument for the plurality of persons, furnished by 
 the plenitude of the Divine Goodness, is obtained by a parity of reason- 
 ing from the plenitude of the (divine) happiness. ... As charity is 
 ever united with goodness and happiness, it must exist where the joy 
 is supreme. And as joyful love must be mutual, therefore in that 
 sovereign happiness, mutual love cannot but be found." — Rich. a. S. 
 Victd', De Trinit. iii. 3. Of. Bonavent. Jtiner. Ment. vi. 65. 
 
 2 Par. xxviL l. ^ Par. xxxi. 25. * Par, xxiv. 134. 
 
26o GOD AND CREATION. 
 
 vbeings^_notfor His own gain, but toj aam f oat His glory in 
 them : 
 
 " NotioE-Hwrgase to Himself i 
 
 good, which may not be increased, but forth 
 To manifest His glory, by its beams 
 Inhabiting His own eternity." — Far. xxix. 13. 
 
 The world was made in time, and time with the world. 
 Before the world was made, time was not, nor " before " nor 
 "after." 2 
 
 " Beyond time's limit, or what bound soe'er 
 To circumscribe His being ; as He will'd. 
 Into new natures, like unto HimseK, 
 Eternal love unfolded : nor before. 
 As if in dull reaction, torpid lay ; 
 For, not in process of before or aft. 
 Upon these waters moved the Spirit of God," 
 
 — Par. xxix. 17. 
 
 Before creation there was nothing, not even formless 
 matter. Pure spirit, the elements, form and matter, and 
 the union of both, are all the work of the creation : 
 
 " Simple and mixed, both form and substance, ^ forth 
 To perfect being started, Hke three darts 
 
 ^ " Since the goodness of God is perfect and independent of all else, 
 it is incapable of increase ; from no necessity did God will other things 
 to be." — S. i. q. 19, a. 3. "Imperfect agents act because they have a 
 need to supply, for it is proper to their nature to be at the same time 
 active and passive (or receptive) {agere et pati). But this is not so 
 with God, who alone is supremely liberal, because He acts, not for His 
 own gain, but from His goodness alone." — S. i. q. 44, a. 4. 
 
 ^ " For if eternity and time be rightly distinguished in this, that 
 time does not exist without some movement and transition, whilst eter- 
 nity is changeless, time evidently could not be, had not some creature 
 been made, which by motion gave birth to change. The various parts 
 of which motion and change, as they cannot be simultaneous, succeed 
 one another ; and thus in these shorter or longer intervals of duration 
 time* began." — De Civ. Dei, xi. 6. Cf. Dods' trans. 
 
 ^ " Together, at the beginning of time, out of nothing God made 
 both creatures, the spiritual and the bodily ; the angelic, namely, and 
 the earthly; and thus human nature is formed, as it were, both of 
 spirit and body." — Cone. Later, iv. Cap. Firmikr. 
 
CREATION ACT OF LOVE. 261 
 
 Shot from a bow three-corded. And as ray 
 In crystal, glass, and amber, shines entire 
 E'en at the moment of its issuing ; thus 
 Did from the Eternal Sovran, beam entire 
 His threefold operation, at one act 
 Produced coeval." — Par. xxix. 24. 
 
 The idea of the creature is beheld by the Creator in His 
 Word, the hypostatic expression of His knowledge.^ In 
 Him, He ^^utrPmplRtpR t^^ id^Rl wor ld complete, know sall 
 things before their creation, and loves them with the Son 
 in the Spirit. ^1 crentioTi ther^ fnre js a faint r efl ection of 
 that Light, which has been generated by the Father from 
 e ^ ' nily; "God created the world as the work of His 
 intelligence and love, through the Son in the Spirit: 
 
 " Looking into His first-bom with the love. 
 Which breathes from both eternal, the first Might * 
 Ineffable, wherever eye or mind 
 Can roam, hath in such order all disposed, 
 As none may see and fail to enjoy." — Par. x. i. 
 
 At the same time^jb here is a difference in creatu res. 
 SosOQ aro oroft ted as Ihey aiu, dii t ^tfcly by God j othorc are 
 orpTiPrfl,t.fifl by the imion of form and m atter, and thus only 
 mediately ere? 
 
 ^ " As God by one act understands Himself and all things, His one 
 Word expresses not only Himself, but all creatures."— S. L q. 34, a. 3. 
 
 2 " The Father is called the Creator, because He receives from no 
 one the power to create. Of the Son it is said 'per,' through whom all 
 things were created. For although He possesses the same power, He 
 receives it from another, the preposition ' per ' signifying generally 
 a mediate or mean cause. . . . The Spirit, who receives the same 
 power from both (Father and Son), is called the supreme governor or 
 vivifier of what the Father creates through the Son. ... To the 
 Father is appropriated power, which is specially manifested in creation ; 
 to the Son wisdom, by which every intelligent agent operates ; to 
 the Holy Spirit goodness, for government consists in guiding things to 
 their proper end and in giving them life, which is a certain interior 
 movement ; now the first mover is the end and the goodness." — S. i. 
 q. 45, a. 6, ad 2. 
 
262 
 
 GOD AND CREATION. 
 
 *' The angels, O my brother ! and this clime 
 Wherein thou art, impassible and pure, 
 I call created, even as they are 
 In their whole being. But the elements, 
 Which thou hast named, and what of them is made. 
 Are by created virtue inf orm'd ; create, 
 Their substance ; and create, the informing virtue 
 In these bright stars, that round them circling move." 
 
 — Par. vii. 127. 
 
 Those creatures which derive their existence immediately 
 from'Gocl are by nature Immurlal; they^enot subject to 
 the control of the stars or of any other creature, and in 
 this~t£ey"'specrally resemble the" divine nature? Vo this 
 class mail belongs : ^^^^^^^^ 
 
 , — . " What distils 
 
 Immediate thence, no end of being knows ; 
 
 Bearing its seal immutably imprest. 
 
 Whatever thence immediate falls, is free. 
 
 Free wholly, uncontrollable by power 
 
 Of each thing new." — Far. vii. 63. 
 
 P.piriora b'^ornt.fpn f^plely of nrpatnrPSfl.rP. subject to them, 
 
 and i^ore especially to_ tl u:, l inii v oiil vTi u i rreir^^^T i T ev exp ress, 
 therefo re, less per fectly thp divinfl idea : t hey^^are short- 
 live d and co rrnptiblp., — Thfi_souls__ofmen are ali^e7"the 
 differences between man and mancome from the physical 
 organs : 
 
 " The brightness of the seal should be complete : 
 But nature renders it imperfect ever ; 
 Resembling thus the artist, in her work. 
 Whose faltering hand is faithless to his skill." 
 
 — Par. xiii. 70. 
 
 But alLjJreatures arajthe_instraments ^ the Divinity, 
 Who transmits His influence from the higEeF 
 creatures : 
 
 " Thus do these organs of the world proceed. 
 As thou beholdest now, from step to step ; 
 
PROVIDENCE. 263 
 
 Their influence from above deriving, 
 
 And thence transmitting downwards." ^ — Par. ii. 120. 
 
 Love not only establishes the universe, but governs it 
 conthiually through Providence, by which the creature is 
 directed to its end as surely as the well-shot arrow to Jt:? 
 mark. Providence, overruling all things, makes the uni- 
 verse a work of art, and preserves it from ruin : 
 
 " The Good, that guides 
 And blessed makes this realm which thou dost mount. 
 Ordains its providence to be the virtue 
 In these great bodies : nor the natures only 
 The All-perfect Mind provides for, but with them 
 That which preserves them too ; for nought, that lies 
 Within the range of that unerring bow 
 But is a§ level with the destined aim, 
 As ever mark to arrow's point opposed.^ 
 Were it not thus, these heavens, thou dost visit. 
 Would their effect so work, it would not be 
 Art, but destruction." — Par. viii. 103. 
 
 1 *' Whether mediately or immediately, all that is has its being from 
 Him ; the higher intelligences receive their light from His Brightness, 
 and like mirrors reflect its rays to those below them." The created 
 intelligences and the heavenly bodies derive from God their being, 
 and likewise their active powers, but it is God Who works in and 
 through them. — Epistle to Can Grande. "Unless natural things did 
 act, their natural forms and powers would be given them in vain. . . . 
 And this is repugnant to the Divine Goodness, which is essentially 
 ditfusive. For the same reason things are made like to God, not only 
 in their being, but also in their action. God, therefore, is the cause of 
 the creature's action, both in giving it the active power, in preserving 
 that power, in setting it in action, and because by His power all other 
 powers act. . . . Hence He acts immediately in every agent, while 
 the action of the creature's power is preserved intact." — Thorn, q. 3, de 
 Potent, a. 7. 
 
 ^ " Creatures are not only good in their nature, but also in relation 
 to their end, and especially to their last end, the Divine Goodness. . . . 
 And as the Divine Intelligence is the cause of all things, . . . this 
 idea of the relation of creatures to their end must have pre-existed in 
 the mind of God, but the establishing of this relation is proper to 
 Providence." — S. i. q. 22, a. I. "And as regards predestination, since 
 
264 GOD AND CREATION. 
 
 mind, however acute it be,^ yet the providence and pre- 
 ^^ision of God in noways affects man's freedom : 
 
 " But hence deriveth not necessity, 
 More than the tall ship, hurried down the flood, 
 Is driven by the eye that looks on it." ' 
 
 — Par. xvii. 40. 
 
 Simultaneously with the world were the angels created,^ 
 hilt, iTTjMiPTTw^se ^l^ft pT-eativQ fl££2^g]3^<^^'<^^^~^^^^^^^^^^^^t^^ 
 
 no creature can attain to it (eternal life) by his own power, he must be 
 impelled thereto by another, like an arrow shot by the archer at the 
 mark." — S. q. 23, a. I. 
 
 " Oh Thou who biddest time from age to issue forth, 
 And, motionless Thyself, hast made all things to move, 
 Forced by no outward cause this ductile mass to form, 
 Thyself the essential form of highest good, 
 Envious of nought ; Thyself sole archetype of all 
 That is ! Beauty beyond compare, the ideal world 
 In Thee Thy beauty bears, and by Thy will 
 The outward image answers part to part 
 And perfect as the exemplar is the whole. 
 
 Rest of the just man's soul, the sight of Thee his end ; 
 Beginning, ruler, guide, at once our way and goal." 
 
 — Boeth., De Consol. iii. 9. 
 
 ^ Par. xi. 27. 
 
 2 St. Thomas thus illustrates this difficult mystery : " As a man 
 walking along a road sees not those who follow him, whilst another on 
 a height observes the whole road, and beholds at one glance all who 
 are passing along it, so God sees things in His eternity, which is above 
 all time. ... A higher cause, though necessary, may produce a con- 
 tingent effect if the proximate cause be contingent. Thus a plant 
 may or may not grow, because the plant, the proximate cause of the 
 growth, is contingent upon the action of the sun, the first cause. So 
 God knows some things as contingent on account of their proximate 
 causes, although the knowledge of God, Who is the first caiise, is 
 necessary." — S. i. q. 14, a. 13 ad 3 et i. 
 
 ^ " It seems more probable that the angels were created simul- 
 taneously with bodily creatures. For the angels are part of the 
 universe, and no part is perfect separated from its whole. Although 
 the contrary opinion (of St. Jerome and the Greek Fathers) must not 
 be thought erroneous."— S. i. q. 61, a. 5. 
 
THE ANGELS. 
 
 and at once, -^eirjadLolfiLiifiuig,^ — Q£-pa%»¥Q~jyhn11y imma- 
 fAr- iul, Jli^ ^'m^^^^pwiA — £nmn ^, yfit. p otentiality and act can be 
 distinguished in them, God alone being actus purus — pure 
 act.i No man can tell their number, for they were made 
 to be the mirrors of God's majesty, and the individual 
 perfections of each is determined by its nearness to Him : ^ 
 
 " No mortal tongue 
 Nor thought of man, hath ever reach'd so far, 
 That of these natures he might count the tribes. 
 What Daniel of their thousands hath reveal'd, 
 With finite number, infinite conceals. 
 The fountain, at whose source these drink their beams, 
 With light supplies them in as many modes. 
 As there are splendours that it shines on ; each 
 According to the virtue it conceives, 
 Difiering in love and sweet affiection. 
 Look then how lofty and how huge in breadth 
 The eternal might which, broken and dispersed ^ 
 Over such countless mirrors, yet remains 
 Whole in itself and one, as at the first." 
 
 — Par. xxix. 137. 
 
 ^ In the case of a form existing not in matter, there still remains the 
 relation of the form to its actual existence, as of potentiality to act. 
 And this composition is to be understood as existing in the angels, and 
 accordingly it is called by some, composition of existence {quo est) and 
 form {quod est), or of esse and quod est. For the latter is the form 
 which subsists, while the former is that ipsum esse, that existence by 
 which the form is subsisting. Now in God the esse, form or essence, is 
 not distinct from existence ; hence He alone is actus purus, pure act." 
 — S. i. q. 50, a. 2 ad 3. 
 
 2 Par. xxix. 13-18. 
 
 3 As to the motive for creating the angels, St. Thomas says : '* The 
 existence of incorporeal creatures of some kind must be admitted ; for 
 God's principal purpose in creation is the good which consists in the 
 resemblance; of creatures to Himself. But the resemblance of an 
 effect to its cause is only perfect, when it is like precisely in that 
 which produces the effect, as, e.g., a hot thing begets heat. Now 
 God produces creatures by His intellect and will. If the universe is 
 to be perfect, then (as a likeness of Him) there must be some purely 
 intellectual creatures." — S. i. q. 50, a. i ; Cont. Gent. ii. 91. As to their 
 numbers he says, "It is reasonable to suppose that their number exceeds 
 beyond comparison that of material creatures." — S. i. q. 50, a. 3. 
 
2^6 GOD AND CREATION. 
 
 \ As the angels behold JGadJIimself, they cannever_with- 
 draw^heir eyes from Himj and their contemplation being 
 unbroken, they have no need of memory to recall past 
 impressions : 
 
 " Know thou, that from the first, these substances. 
 Rejoicing in the countenance of God, 
 Have held unceasingly their view, intent 
 Upon the glorious vision, from the which 
 Nought absent is nor hid : where then no change 
 Of newness, with succession, interrupts ^ 
 Remembrance, there, needs none to gather up 
 Divided thought and images remote." — Par. xxix. •j'/. 
 
 The angels' vision of things in God varies according to 
 their rank in the spiritual hierarchy j^ therefore their 
 knowledge is limited,^ and the secrets of grace and pre- 
 destination, unless especially revealed, are hidden from them> 
 In regard to the future,^ their knowledge of events, which 
 necessarily flow from their causes, is certain, and con- 
 jectural as to those which are contingent. The probation 
 of the angels followed immediately upon their creation. 
 Lucifer and a portion of the angels fell from pride.^ They 
 now lie crushed by the earth, which they would fain have 
 involved in their ruin. The faithful ansrels are rewarded 
 
 'O" 
 
 ^ " As regards his knowledge of the Word and what he sees in the 
 Word, an angel is never in potentiality, for he always actually con- 
 templates the Word and what he sees in It. In that vision his beati- 
 tude consists, for beatitude consists not in habit but in act." — S. i. 
 q. 58, a. I. 
 
 ^ Conv. iii. 6 ; Par. i. 103. ^ S. i. q. 57, a. 5. 
 
 4 Par. XX. 70, 126, xxi. 90. ^ Conv. iii. 6. 
 
 6 " Lucifer wished to be like God, not by absolute independence of 
 Him, for such a desire would have involved, he knew, his own ruin ; 
 but in that he chose to fix his last end and happiness within the 
 compass of his own natural strength, and thus turned away from the 
 supernatural happiness which God alone could give him. Or if he 
 did desire that supernatural likeness to God which is the effect of grace, 
 he desired to acquire it by his natural strength alone, and without the 
 divine assistance." — S. i. q. 62, a. 2. 
 
THE DEMONS. ' ^(fj 
 
 by the abiding vision of God, and a will for ever confirmed 
 in good : ^ 
 
 " Ere one had reckon'd twenty, e'en so soon 
 Part of the angels fell : and in their fall. 
 Confusion to your elements ensued. ^ 
 The others kept their station : and this task. 
 Whereon thou look'st, began, with such delight, 
 That they surcease not, ever, day nor night. 
 Their circling. Of that fatal lapse the cause 
 Was the curst pride of him, whom thou hast seen 
 Pent with the world's incumbrance.^ Those, whom here 
 Thou seest, were lowly to confess themselves 
 Of His free bounty. Who had made them apt 
 For ministries so high : therefore their views 
 Were, by enlightening grace and their own merit 
 Exalted ; so that in their will confirm'd 
 They stand, nor fear to fall." — Far. xxix. 49. 
 
 Those angels who would not fight either for God or 
 'against Him are imprisoned, as we have seen, with the 
 undecided in the threshold of Hell.* The rebel angels 
 retain their great natural intellectual powers, and Guido 
 da Montefeltro sorrowfully confesses the devil a logician.^ 
 But they are deprived of the contemplation of truth, " il ben 
 deir intelletto," ^ a loss to their spiritual nature, therefore, 
 of all the most bitter.'^ Envious of man's happiness, they 
 
 ^ '* We must firmly hold, according to Catholic faith, that the will of 
 the good angels is confirmed in good, and that of the demons obstinately- 
 rooted in evil." — S. i. q. 64, a. 2. 
 
 2 Hell, xxxiv. 115. 3 Conv. iii. 1 3. ■* Hell, iii. 35. 
 
 5 HeU, xxvii 118. 6 Hell,\\\. 18. 
 
 7 Of the speedy issue of the angelic decision for God, or against Him, 
 St. Thomas says : " The angels acquired beatitude immediately after 
 the first act of charity, by which they merited it ; for grace perfects each 
 nature according to its special mode. But it is proper to the angelic 
 nature to acquire its natural perfection, not by ' discourse ' (gradually) 
 but at once, and by its very nature (intuitively). [For an angel sees 
 simultaneously what a thing is and all its properties, a principle and 
 its conclusion, a cause and its effect'; things composite, changeable, and 
 material in simple, unchanging, and spiritual exemplars. All these are 
 
268 GOD AND CREATION. 
 
 fight to tlie last hour for the possession of his soul.^ Their 
 malevolence and craft enable them to exert a baleful influ- 
 ence even on the elements : 
 
 " That evil will, which in his intellect 
 Still follows evil, came ; and raised the wind 
 And smoky mist, by virtue of the power 
 Given by his nature." — Purg. v. no. 
 
 Tormented themselves in Hell, they maliciously delight 
 in tormenting the damned.^ And as God is surrounded by 
 the hierarchy of the blessed spirits, ever ascending and 
 descending in rhythmic order, so Lucifer also has his troops 
 of retainers swarming round him, in circles of varying 
 size. 
 
 The angels, according to Dante, are engaged in a twofold 
 occupation ; they ever contemplate the glory of God, and, 
 secondly, they work for its manifestation among creatures.^ 
 They are by the divine ordinance divided into three princi- 
 palities or hierarchies ; and as each hierarchy contains three 
 orders, we have the nine orders of spiritual beings which 
 are acknowledged by the Church. Angels, Archangels, 
 and Principalities form the third or lowest hierarchy, whose 
 office is to raise man to their own sphere ; Dominations, 
 Virtues, and Powers constitute the second hierarchy ; the 
 first consists of the Seraphim, Cherubim, and Thrones. 
 The first hierarchy contemplates the power of the Father ; 
 the second, the wisdom of the Son ; and the third, the love 
 of the Holy Ghost, Whose gifts it transmits to us. Each 
 Person of the Trinity can, however, be apprehended in a 
 
 understood necessarily and intuitively, as we see self-evident truths.] 
 As, then, the angel is ordained by its nature to attain at once its 
 natural perfection, so in the order of grace its (first meritorious act 
 rendered it fit for glory, and it at once attained beatitude. . . . The 
 separate instants of their trial must be numbered by their acts, — the 
 first, in which they merited beatitude — the second, in which they 
 attained it." — S. i. q. 62, a. 5. 
 
 ^ Furg. V. 102. ^ Edl, viii. 35, xxi. ^ Conv. ii. 6, iii. 14. 
 
THE HIERARCHIES. 269 
 
 triple relation, and for this reason each hierarchy has three 
 orders. The Seraphim contemplate the Father in His 
 relation to Himself ; the Cherubim in His relation to the 
 Son, as distinct from, and yet one with, Him ; the Thrones, 
 in the Convito, " Powers," contemplate Him as the Prin- 
 ciple from Whom the Holy Ghost proceeds. The gaze of 
 the second hierarchy is fixed on the Son — the Son in 
 Himself, in His relation to the Father, and to the Holy 
 Ghost. The Dominations contemplate Him under the first 
 aspect, the Virtues under the second, the Powers under 
 the third. The Principalities behold the Holy Ghost in 
 Himself, the Archangels in His relation to the Father, the 
 Angels in that to the Son : ^ 
 
 " In the first circles, they whom thou beheld'st. 
 Are Seraphim and Cherubim. Thus swift 
 FoUow their hoops, in likeness to the point, 
 Near as they can, approaching ; and they can 
 The more, the loftier their vision. Those 
 That round them fleet, gazing the Godhead next, 
 Are Thrones, in whom the first trine ends. And all 
 Are blessed, even as their sight descends 
 Deeper into the truth, wherein rest is 
 For every mind. Thus happiness hath root 
 
 ^ Dante, it will be seen, divides the hierarchies on the same prin- 
 ciple as St. Thomas, though he disagrees with him in some particulars. 
 " The ideas of those things about which the angels are illuminated can 
 be considered in a triple manner, viz. : i. As proceeding from the first 
 universal principle, the Eternal Father ; and thus they are beheld by 
 the first hierarchy, which is in immediate relation with God, and dwells, 
 as St. Dionysius says, on the threshold of the Divinity. 2. As depen- 
 dent on universal created causes, of which the Son, being the Wisdom 
 of God, is the primal exemplar, and thus they are known by the second 
 hierarchy. 3. As determined in individual objects and dependent on 
 their own immediate and particular causes, in which is contemplated 
 the Holy Ghost, for by His creative energy the divine exemplars are 
 manifested in outward things ; and this mode belongs to the third 
 hierarchy." — S. i. q. 108, a. i. Of. Coloss. i. i6 ; Ephes. i. 21 ; Dionys. 
 Areopag. De Cosiest. Bierareh. c. 3, seq. ; Gregor. M. in Evang. 
 Mom. ii. 34. 
 
2/0 GOD AND CREATION. 
 
 In seeing,^ not in loving, which of sight 
 Is aftergrowth. And of the seeing such 
 The meed, as unto each, in due degree, 
 Grace and goodwill their measure have assign'd. 
 The other trine, that with still opening buds 
 In this eternal spring-tide blossom fair. 
 Fearless of bruising from the nightly ram. 
 Breathe up in warbled melodies threefold 
 Hosannas, blending ever ; from the three, 
 Transmitted, hierarchy of gods for aye 
 Rejoicing ; Dominations first ; next them, 
 Virtues ; and Powers the third ; the next to whom 
 Are Princedoms and Archangels, with glad round 
 To tread their festal ring ; and last, the band 
 Angelical, disporting in their sphere. 
 All as they circle in their orders, look 
 Aloft ; and, downward, with such sway prevail, 
 That all with mutual impulse tend to God." 
 
 — Far. xxviii. 92. 
 
 The joy of the angels ^ is proportioned to the sight they 
 
 ^ The poet here touches on the vexed question as to whether the 
 essence of beatitude consists in the sight or in the love of God, and 
 decides, with St, Thomas, for the former. "There are two things 
 necessary to beatitude, what it is essentially, and, second, that which 
 is as it were its accident, the delight resulting from it. Now as 
 beatitude is the attainment of our last end, it cannot consist in an act 
 of the will, which by desire tends to the end when absent, and de- 
 lights in it when present. Evidently the desire implies not attainment 
 of, but movement towards, that end. And although the will delights 
 because the end is attained, the converse does not hold, viz., that 
 the will has of itself attained that end, because it delights therein. 
 Were this so, to borrow an example from sensible things, a covetous 
 man would by willing obtain what money he would, whereas he has 
 to use his hands and take other means, and thus only does he obtain 
 the money in which he delights. So is it with an intellectual end. 
 We only attain it when the act of the intellect renders it present, after 
 which the will rests delighted in the end possessed." — S. i. 2. q. 3, a. 4. 
 
 ^ " The diversity of joy in the blessed arises from the fact that one 
 intellect sees God more perfectly than another. This power of seeing 
 God comes from no natural gift, but from the light of glory, which 
 makes the intellect in a measure godlike {deiformis), and the more 
 it receives of the light of glory the more perfect is its vision of God. 
 [The light is given in proportion to the degree of charity informing the 
 
ANGEL RULERS, 271 
 
 obtain of Gkxi by the light of glory, and their share of this 
 is determined by their meritorious correspondence to grace, ^ 
 wherein 
 
 "Each 
 According to the virtue it conceives 
 Differing in love and sweet affection." 
 
 — Par. xxix. 144. 
 
 As executors of the divine purposes in the universe, the 
 angels move first the heavenly bodies,- and through them 
 influence other natural substances : 
 
 " The virtue and motion of the sacred orbs, 
 As mallet by the workman's hand, must needs 
 By blessed movers be inspired." — Par. ii. 127. 
 
 Thus, in accordance with_thfi-Cug ront m ediaegaLteaching, 
 the nine choirs of angels move the nine celestiaLspheres^ 
 aM^fc ^^lneaxts of _^eBOamti:QlJhe_eIement^jXB^^ their 
 special work is amongst mankind. In Hell, an angel pre- 
 cedes the poet dry shod across the Styx, and opens for 
 him the portals of the city of Dis.^ At the entrance of 
 Purgatory, Dante is met by an angel, and angels console 
 and encourage * the suffering souls, and protect them from 
 the temptations of the Serpent. 
 
 " I saw that gentle band silently next 
 Look up, as if in expectation held. 
 Pale and in lowly guise ; and, from on high, 
 
 soul at death.] For the greater the charity the greater will be the 
 desire, and desire in a certain sense fits and prepares the soul to 
 receive the desired object" — S. L q. 12, a. 6. 
 ^ Par. xxviii. 103. 
 
 2 "All bodily things are ruled by the angels." — S. i. q. iro, a* i. 
 "If the first agents be regarded as the instruments for producing of 
 all forms, then they themselves virtually contain many forms, as 
 the hammer and strokes of the smith contain all the forms which 
 they fashion on the iron." This image is borrowed from Albertus 
 Magnus, Pe Ccdo et Mundo, ii. 3, 5. 
 
 3 Bell, ix. 81. •* Purg. il 29. 
 
272 GOD AND CREATION. 
 
 I saw, forth issuing descend beneath, 
 Two angels, with two flame-illumined swords, 
 Broken and mutilated of their points. ^ 
 Green as the tender leaves but newly bom, 
 Their vesture was, the which, by wings as green 
 Beaten, they drew behind them, f ann'd in air. ^ 
 ' From Mary's bosom both 
 Are come,' exclaimed Sordello, ' as a guard 
 Over the vale, 'gainst him, who hither tends. 
 The serpent.'" — Purg. viii. 22, 37. 
 
 They fight for man in his conflict ^ with the devil,^ during 
 life, but above all at the hour of death. Thus Buonconte : 
 
 " Me God's angel took, 
 Whilst he of Hell exclaimed, ^ thou from Heaven, 
 Say, wherefore hast thou robbed me .P '" — Purg. v. 10 1. 
 
 The heathen idea of fate, or chance, intervening in human 
 
 affairs : 
 
 " Which at due time. 
 May change the empty vantages of life 
 From race to race, from one to others' blood, 
 Beyond prevention of man's wisest care " — Hell, vii. 80, 
 
 becomes with Dante the angel Fortuna,^ who " with fore- 
 
 ^ "Are they not all ministering spirits, sent to minister for them 
 who shall receive the inheritance of salvation ? " — Heb. i. 14. 
 
 ^ Green being the colour of hope, it is worn by the angel of Purgatory. 
 Cf. Bonaventura, De Sept. Don., Sp. S. viii. 8. 
 
 3 "Since the custody of angels is a common benefit, an angel- 
 guardian is deputed to every man, not from his baptism, but from his 
 birth.' — S. i. q. 1 1 3, a. 5. [Man is thus guarded not exclusively as a 
 Christian but as possessing a rational nature. Ibid.} 
 
 4 Purg. V. 103. 
 
 ^ " For we do not say that those causes called fortuitous (hence the 
 name Fortuna) are not real causes, but that they are hidden, and we 
 attribute them to the will of the true God, or to that of some spirit." — 
 De Civ. Dei, lib. v. 9, in which St. Augustine refutes the doctrine 
 of Fate. And again Boethius : "Since all fortune, whether propitious 
 or adverse, is intended to reward or prove the just, or to correct and 
 punish the wicked, it must be always regarded as good, being evidently 
 either just or useful" — De Consol. iv. 7. 
 
THE NATURE OF MAN. 273 
 
 sight plans, judges, and carries on her reign." ^ And since 
 Fortuna has the gift of wisdom equally with the other 
 angels, she should be praised by men : 
 
 " They wrongfully 
 With blame requite her, and with evil word ; 
 But she is blessed, and for that recks not, 
 Amidst the other primal beings glad, 
 RoUs on her sphere, and in her bliss exults." 
 
 • — Hell, vii. 95. 
 
 After the angels ranks man, whose nature Dante in the 
 Convito thus extols : — 
 
 " Of all the works of Divine Wisdom man is the most 
 wonderful; for in the human soul God has united three 
 natures — the vegetative, the sensitive, and the intellectual 
 — and has exquisitely adapted the body for the exercise of 
 their respective faculties. 2 The vegetative soul, like the 
 plant, seeks what nourishes it; the sensitive, like the 
 brute, what is agreeable ; the intellectual soul seeks good.^ 
 The intellectual soul exists independently of matter, while 
 the sensitive is bound thereto. Thus man is, as it were, 
 submerged in matter up to his head.* Owing to this union 
 in our nature of the mortal with the immortal, ^ we see 
 divine things by our reason, but in dusky shadows, and are 
 far less receptive of supernatural light than the angels,^ 
 who are wholly immaterial. But things should be called 
 according to the nobility of their form, and when we 
 say a man lives, we mean he has the use of his reason, 
 which is his proper life. He who only exercises his senses, 
 lives not as a man, but as a brute. '^ Man is neither body 
 
 1 Hell, vii. 88. 2 ^q^^^ jji, g, gee S. L q. 'j?), a. I. 
 
 3 De Vulgar. Eloq. ii. i, 2. S. i. q. 5, a. 6. 
 
 ^ " Certain operations of the soul so far exceed all bodily nature, that 
 they are not exercised through any corporeal organ, and these are the 
 operations of the intellectual soul." — S. i. q. 78, a I. 
 
 ^ Conv. ii. 9. ^ Loc. cit. 
 
 ^ Conv. ii. 8 : "Non vive uomo, ma vive bestia." 
 
274 GOD AND CREATION. 
 
 only, nor soul only, but soul and body.^ This is the mean- 
 ing of Virgil's reply to Dante's question : 
 
 "Now not man, man once I was." — Hell, i. 63. 
 
 But in man there is but one soul, not several, as the 
 Platonists supposed, and in this one soul the three faculties, 
 the vegetative, sensitive, and intellectual, are united. Ex- 
 perience attests the truth of this, since we find that where 
 any one of the faculties is abnormally excited, the activity 
 of the others is impeded : ^ 
 
 " When, by sensations of dehght or pain, 
 That any of our faculties hath seized, 
 Entire the soul collects herself, it seems 
 She is intent upon that power alone ; 
 And thus the error is disproved, which holds 
 The soul not singly Hghted in the breast. 
 And therefore whenas aught is heard or seen 
 That firmly keeps the soul toward it tum'd, 
 Time passes, and a man perceives it not. 
 For that, whereby we hearken, is one power ; 
 Another that, which the whole spirit hath : 
 This is as it were bound, while that is free." 
 
 — Purff. iv. I. 
 
 As intelligence and free-will proceed from a principle not 
 corporeal, the substance of the soul must be of a nature 
 independent of the body, and our actions are therefore 
 free : 
 
 " Spirit, substantial form, with matter join'd, 
 Not in confusion mix'd, hath in itseK 
 Specific virtue of that union bom, 
 
 1 " We have shown that the soul by itself is not sensitive ; and since 
 sensibility belongs to man, though not to him alone, man must be 
 not only soul, but something composed of soul and body." — S. i. q. 75, 
 a. 4 ad 2. 
 
 ^ " The fact that one operation of the soul, when intense, impedes 
 another, shows the principle of its operations to be essentially one." — S. 
 i. q. 76, a. 3. 
 
THE RATIONAL SOUL. 275 
 
 "Which is not felt except it work, nor proved 
 
 But through eflfect, as vegetable life 
 
 By the green leaf .-^ From whence his intellect 
 
 Deduced its primal notices of things, 
 
 Man therefore knows not, or his appetites 
 
 Their first affections,^ such in you, as zeal 
 
 In bees to gather honey; at the first, 
 
 Volition, meriting nor blame nor praise. 
 
 But o'er each lower faculty supreme, 
 
 That, as she list, are summon'd to her bar, 
 
 Ye have that virtue in you, whose just voice 
 
 Uttereth counsel, and whose word should keep 
 
 The threshold of assent.' Here is the som-ce, 
 
 "Whence cause of merit in you is derived ; 
 
 E'en as the affections, good or ill, she takes. 
 
 Or severs, winnow'd as the chaff." — Purg. xviii. 47. 
 
 Ther ational soul i< a rra n tprl iTmnpHiatfily >^y Qpd,^ and is 
 t hereforeindependent of the body, in its origin : 
 
 " The angels, my brother, and this clime 
 Wherein thou art, impassible and pure, 
 I called created, even as they are 
 In their whole being. But the elements. 
 Which thou hast named, and what of them is made, 
 Are by created virtue inf orm'd : create, 
 Their substance ; and create, the informing virtue 
 In these bright stars, that round them circling move. 
 
 ^ " None but self -subsisting beings act by themselves, for action is 
 proper only to being in act {ens in actu). Every being, therefore, acts 
 according to its being (or nature), and consequently the human soul, 
 which is called intellect or mind, is something incorporeal and self- 
 subsisting." — S. i. q. 95, a. 2. 
 
 ^ " The desire of happiness is simply the desire that the will may be 
 satisfied, and this all men want." — S. i. 2. q. 5, a. 8. 
 
 3 " Man dififers from irrational creatures in that he is master of his 
 own acts, and therefore those actions only of which he is master 
 are called human. And as his reason and will give man this dominion 
 over his acts, his free-will is called the faculty of reason and will" — 
 S. i. 2. q. I, a. I. 
 
 4 Par.yiu 138. 
 
276 GOD AND CREATION. 
 
 The soul of every brute and of each plant, 
 
 The ray and motion of the sacred lights, 
 
 Draw from complexion with meet power endued. 
 
 But this our life the Eternal Good inspires 
 
 Immediate, and enamours of itself ; 
 
 So that our wishes rest for ever here." ^ — Far. vii. 127. 
 
 " Open thy bosom to the truth that comes, 
 Know, soon as in the embryo, to the brain 
 Articulation is complete, then turns 
 The Primal Mover with a smile of joy 
 On such great work of nature ; and inbreathes 
 New spirit replete with virtue, that what here 
 Active it finds, to its own substance draws ; 
 And forms an individual soul,^ that lives. 
 And feels, and bends reflective on itself." 
 
 — Purr/. XXV. 69. 
 
 Owing to the essential union subsisting between the soul 
 and the body, all our knowledge is derived from the per- 
 ceptions of the senses : ^ 
 
 ^ " The rational soul could only have been made by creation ; for as 
 the being made {fieri) terminates in being, the process by which each 
 thing is made answers to its future being. But that only is properly 
 said to be, which has its own being or is, as it were, self-subsisting ; and 
 therefore only substances are properly called beings, and no forms not 
 self-subsisting are, properly speaking, made, but are only so named on 
 account of the compound subsistence which is made. But the rational 
 soul is a self-subsisting form (v. 96), and therefore is properly said to 
 have being, and has been made. Yet it could not have been made from 
 pre-existing bodily matter, for then it would be corporeal ; or from pre- 
 existing spiritual matter, as then spiritual substances would be mutually 
 transformed ; and therefore it could only have been made by creation." 
 — S. i. q. 90, a. 2. [A spiritual substance being distinguished from 
 material substances, in that it can receive other forms without loss of 
 its own.] 
 
 2 "We must say that the intellectual soul, which is at the same 
 time nutritive and sensitive, is created by God at the completion of 
 the generation of man, when the pre-existing forms pass away." — 
 S. i. 118, a. 2. 
 
 ^ " Our knowledge comes first from the senses, .... which does 
 not mean that our sense-cognition is the complete and perfect cause of 
 our intellectual knowledge, but rather that it supplies the material of 
 the cause." — S. i. 84, a, 6. 
 
GENESIS OF KNOWLEDGE. 277 
 
 ** Thus needs, that ye may apprehend, we speak ; 
 Since from things sensible alone ye learn 
 That which, digested rightly, after turns 
 To intellectual." — Par. iv. 40. 
 
 The sense apprehends the external object, not as it is in 
 itself, but in an image (species intentionalis) separated from 
 its matter.^ This sensible image excites the phantasy, 
 " the faculty that ministers discourse to reason," 2 ^nd 
 furnishes it with the material on which it works. ^ The 
 faculty of comparing things (discursus) is the highest 
 attribute of reason ; * for, as St. Thomas says in the pro- 
 logue to his Ethics, " To perceive the relation between one 
 thing and another is the specific function of the reason. 
 The active intellect obtains by abstraction from the image 
 or phantasm the idea it expresses, and this idea being 
 received by the passive or potential intellect, is inseparable 
 from the individual soul, and not, as Averroes supposed, 
 one and the same in all men : " ^ 
 
 ^ Conv. uL 9. *' The form of a stone in the mind is of a very dif- 
 ferent nature to its form in matter, but being its image, it leads us to 
 the knowledge of the stone itself." — Thorn, de Ver. q. 8, a. 1 1, ad 3. 
 
 2 Purg. xxix. 48. 
 
 * "The active intellect {intellectiis agens) renders the phantasms 
 actually intelligible." — S. L q. 84, a. 6. 
 
 * Conv. iv. 8. 
 
 ** " That is ordinarily said to be passive which, being potential (or 
 capable) of receiving a thing, receives that thing without losing any 
 of its own pre-existing properties. In this sense everything is called 
 passive which passes from potentiality to act, even though it acquires 
 perfection thereby, and thus our intellect is said to be ' passible ' or 
 'possible.' " — S. i. q. 79, a. 2. " Again, since Aristotle, iii. Metaphysics, 
 text 10, holds that the forms of material things cannot exist without 
 matter (and since material forms are not intelligible as such), it follows 
 that the nature or forms of the sensible things, which we understand 
 through the passive intellect are not themselves apprehensible. But as 
 nothing is reduced from potentiality to act, save by some being itself in 
 actu, there must be some faculty in the intellect which renders those 
 (forms) apprehensible, by abstracting their species from their material 
 condition, and this faculty is the active intellect (inteUectus agens)." — 
 Ibid. a. 3, Again, as the passive intellect is not one in all men, but is 
 rather the proper form of each man (q. 76, a. i), and is therefore multi- 
 
278 GOD AND CREATION, 
 
 "... At this point, more wise, 
 Than thou, has err'd, making the soul disjoin'd 
 From passive intellect, because he saw- 
 No organ for the latter's use assign'd." 
 
 — Purg. XXV. 65. 
 
 As every work of art manifests the thought of the artist, 
 sensible things reveal intelligible ideas, and creation visibly 
 expresses to us the mind of God : 
 
 " Philosophy, to an attentive ear, 
 Clearly points out, not in one part alone, 
 How imitative Nature takes her course 
 From the celestial mind, and from its art." 
 
 — Hell, xi. 100. 
 
 The habit of abstracting the intelligible essence from each 
 sensible perception stores the mind with objective ideas,i 
 by means of which we ascend from truth to truth, till we 
 finally arrive at the knowledge of God and in Him find 
 rest. 2 As has been said, every intelligence obtains a certain 
 general knowledge of God, from the natural desire for the 
 supreme and perfect good.^ As Providence impels every 
 creature to seek its proper perfection, all men by nature 
 desire knowledge, in which the perfection of the soul con- 
 sists. Wisdom is the true bread of angels, for it makes happy 
 those who taste it. The first principles of our knowledge 
 are self-evident truths,* and require no demonstration.^ 
 
 plied with each human body, so neither is the active intellect one in all 
 men." He further shows (a. 2), from the diversity of intellectual opera- 
 tions in men, that the soul, the principle of these operations, cannot be 
 one and the same in all men, — S. i. q. 79, a. i. 
 
 ^ Purg. xviii. 22. 
 
 2 Plato compares the intellectual progress of the soul towards the 
 knowledge of God, and the effort it entails, to the vision of a man, 
 who having been imprisoned under-ground, is dragged up a steep ascent 
 and forced to gaze on the light. At first he sees shadows, next the 
 reflection of objects in the water, then the objects themselves ; finally, 
 he can look upon the sun itself as it is in its own proper place, and 
 even contemplate its nature. Rcpuhlic, Bk. vii. 
 
 ■^ Purg. xvii. 124- ^ Aristot. Top. i. i. ^ Par. ii. 45. 
 
FREEWILL. 279 
 
 The highest good which God has bestowed on any crea- 
 tures is free-will, by which they resemble Himself: 
 
 " Supreme of gifts, which God, creating, gave 
 Of His free bounty, sign most evident 
 Of goodness, and m His account most prized, 
 Was Uberty of will ; the boon wherewith 
 All intellectual creatures, and them sole. 
 He hath endowed." — Far. v. 18. 
 
 Consequently the stars cannot interfere with this freedom : 
 
 " If then the present race of mankind err, 
 Seek iu yourselves the cause, and find it there. 
 Herein thou shalt confess me no false spy." 
 
 — Purff. xvi. 83. 
 
 Th ehummi sonHmtura ll y des i res the goo d-ftBd^theJ^rue, 
 and i§^ attracted by errorj.nd sin onl y when^ fchesfi wear the 
 garb of^^tn and goodness : ^ 
 
 " I well discern. 
 How in thine intellect abeady shines 
 The light eternal, which to view alone 
 Ne'er fails to kindle love ; and if aught else 
 Your love seduces, 'tis but that it shows 
 Some iQ-mark'd vestige of that primal beam." 
 
 — Par. V. 6. 
 
 One glance at the misery which springs from evil should 
 suffice to deliver the soul from false allurements, and urge 
 it to fly towards the glory offered to it : 
 
 ^ " As the intellect has a natural knowledge of first principles, so the 
 will by the force of its nature desires the end, .... tor every man by 
 nature desires happiness, and from this natural desire spring all other 
 desires ; for whatever a man desires, he desires for an end. The love, 
 therefore, of good, which man naturally desires, is a natural love, but 
 the love which springs from it (for this or that object) is an elective 
 love." — S. i. q. 60, a, 2. "Evil can never be loved for its own 
 sake, but only in order to avoid another evil, or obtain some other 
 good." — S. i. 2. q. 78, a. i ad 2. 
 
28o GOD AND CREATION. 
 
 " Hast thou seen, said he, 
 That old enchantress, her, whose wiles alone 
 The spirits o'er us weep for ? Hast thou seen 
 How man may free him of her bonds ? Enough ! 
 Let thy heels spurn the earth ; and thy raised ken 
 Fix on the lure, which Heaven's Eternal King 
 Whirls in the rolling spheres." — Furg. xix. 57. 
 
 Through the voluntary resistance which, aided by divine 
 grace, the soul offers to the seduction of earthly things, it 
 gains its moral freedom : 
 
 " Light have ye still to follow evil or good. 
 And of the will free power, which, if it stand 
 Firm and unwearied in Heaven's first assay, 
 Conquers at last, so it be cherish'd well. 
 Triumphant over all. To mightier force, 
 To better nature subject, ye abide 
 Free, not constrain'd by that which forms in you 
 The reasoning mind uninfluenced of the stars." 
 
 — Purg. xvi. 75. ' 
 
 In proportion as sinful tendencies are eradicated, the 
 practice of virtue becomes easier : 
 
 " Then shall thy feet by heartiness of will 
 Be so o'ercome, they not alone shall feel 
 No sense of labour, but delight much more 
 Shall wait them, urged along their upward way." 
 
 — Purg. xii. 116. 
 
 The rational soul is the substantial form of the body, 
 and is separated from it by death. The sensitive faculties 
 are only virtually present in the departed soul, whilst the 
 spiritual powers become more vigorous and perfect.^ Death 
 decides man's lot for eternity : 
 
 ^ " The soul is the one principle of all its faculties. But certain 
 faculties, as the mind and will, inhere in it alone as their subject, 
 and these necessarily remain in it after the body is destroyed. Other 
 faculties, such as the sensitive and nutritive, have for their subject 
 
THE BODY IMMORTAL. 281 
 
 " When Lachesis hath spun the thread, the soul 
 Takes with her both the human and divine, 
 Memory, intelligence, and will, in act 
 Far keener than before ; the other powers 
 Inactive all and mute. No pause allow'd, 
 In wondrous sort seK-moving, to one strand 
 Of those, where the departed roam, she faUs : 
 Here learns her destined path." — Purg. xxv. 81. 
 
 Dramatic reasons induced Dante to represent the soul 
 as united to an ethereal body,^ as the shadow of the soul's 
 emotions "with each sense, even to the sight, endued." 2 
 After the day of judgment all souls are re-united to their 
 own bodies. The resurrection of the body, and its future 
 incorruptibility, follows from the fact that Adam's body 
 was immediately created by God : 
 
 " And hence thou may'st by inference conclude 
 Our resurrection certain, if thy mind 
 Consider how the human flesh was framed. 
 When both our parents at the first were made." 
 
 — Par. vii. 141. 
 
 Onl y in union with his f ellows can man fully develop 
 reasoiT7-hi&- highp . st - gift . Soc ie ty is— »-divtT itJ iublitu tioBy- 
 juid tho f>iitihnrity__of_ _its chief, the Emperor, is from 
 God : 3 
 
 " He straight rejoin'd : ' Say, were it worse for man. 
 If he lived not in fellowship on earth ? ' 
 * Yea,' answer'd I ; ^ nor here a reason needs.' " 
 
 — Par. viii. 120. 
 
 the being composed of body and soul. And as an accident cannot 
 remain when the subject ceases to be, these faculties, after the body 
 is destroyed, remain in the soul not actually but only virtually, as in 
 their principle or root." — S. i. q. 77, a. 8. 
 
 ^ S. iii. Supp. q. 69, a. i ; Civ. Dei, xxi. 10 ; Conv. ii. 9. 
 
 2 Purg. xxv. 99. 
 
 3 Conv. iv. 4 J De Monarch, i. 5 ; Thorn. De Reyim. PHncip. L i, 2. 
 
282 GOD AND CREATION. 
 
 " That thou well may'st mark, 
 What reason on each side they have to plead, 
 By whom that holiest banner is withstood, 
 Both who pretend its power and who oppose." 
 
 — Par. vi, 30, 
 
 The first man was immediately created by God : 
 
 " fruit ! that wast alone 
 Mature, when first engender'd ; ancient father ! 
 That doubly seest in every wedded bride 
 Thy daughter, by afl&nity and blood." — Par. xxvi. 
 
 A dam is th e only man who never had a mother or tasted 
 mother's milk, and knew neither childhood nor youth.^ 
 Eve wag jic^ired fyotrrfa^side. The traditions of the gOra^ 
 age, sung by heathen po^s, have their source in mystic 
 visions of Paradise, where man lived in innocence, and the 
 trees bore at once flowers and fruit : 
 
 " They, whose verse of yore 
 The golden age recorded, and its bliss, 
 On the Parnassian mountain, of this place 
 Perhaps had dream'd. Here was man guiltless ; here 
 Perpetual spring, and every fruit ; and this 
 The far-famed nectar." — Furg. xxviii. 145. 
 
 Neither angels nor beasts require external speech. The 
 former impart their ideas to each other directly, and see all 
 things as in a mirror, in God. Beasts have no need of 
 speech, for they are wholly guided by natural instinct. 
 But man is led by reason, and as he cannot communicate 
 directly with others, he must find external expression for 
 his thoughts. 2 God gave man the power of speech, and 
 left the particular form to be determined by himself : ^ 
 
 ^ De Vulgar. Eloqu. i. 6. 
 
 2 De Vulgar. Eloqu. i. 1-3. 
 
 2 Dante here retracts his earlier opinion on this subject, that God 
 had also created, together with man, his language, the actual words, 
 grammar and tone. — De Vulgar. Eloqu. i. 6, 7. 
 
THE FALL OF ADAM. 283 
 
 " That he speaks 
 Is nature's prompting : whether thus, or thus, 
 She leaves to you, as ye do most affect it." 
 
 • — Par. xxvi. 1 29. 
 
 Man was created in justice and immortality, in the 
 image of the Divine Holiness. By his own fault he for- 
 feited Paradise, and therewith his claim to eternal bliss : ^ 
 
 " The First Good, whose joy 
 Is only in Himself, created man 
 
 For happiness ; and gave this goodly place, 9 
 
 His pledge and earnest of eternal peace. 
 Favour'd thus highly, through his own defect 
 He fell : and here made short sojourn ; he fell. 
 And, for the bitterness of sorrow, changed 
 Laughter unblamed and ever-new delight." 
 
 — Purg. xxviii. 91. 
 
 Satan out of envy seduced our first parents. Their fall 
 was occasioned, not by the fruit they ate, but by their 
 eating it in disobedience to the divine command.^ They * 
 were only seven hours in Paradise : * 
 
 " Upon the mount 
 Most high above the waters, all my life. 
 Both innocent and guilty, did but reach 
 From the first hour, to that which cometh next 
 (As the sun changes quarter) to the sixth." 
 
 — Par. xxvi. 137. 
 
 God in His mercy had imposed a restraint on the con- 
 
 2 The sin of Adam was pride ; his disobedience was its consequence. 
 " Adam did not disobey the divine precept, from mere wilful disobedi- 
 ence ; for such a motive presupposes an already disordered will. . . . 
 What he first willed inordinately was his own excellence, and thus his 
 disobedience sprang from his pride." — S. ii. 2. q. 163, a. i ad i. 
 
 '^ Par. xxvi. 114. 
 
 ^ Dante here follows the Greek Fathers (Irenseus, Cyril of Antioch, 
 Epiphanius, &c.) The Latins (August, Amb., Basil) allow Adam a 
 longer sojourn in Paradise. Cf. Perer. in Genes. 3, 23. 
 
284 GOD AND CREATION, 
 
 cupiscence of man, to which he refused to submit, and his 
 fall followed. All mankind sinned and was condemned 
 
 in Adam^3 P ^^f" rppT-pgppt.flt.ivft nf thfi Iniffi an race: 
 
 " Through suffering not a curb ^ upon the power 
 That will'd in him, to his own profiting, 
 That man, who was unborn, condemn'd himself ; 
 And, in himself, all who since him have Hved, 
 His offepring : whence, below, the human kind 
 Lay sick in grievous error many an age." 
 
 — Par. vii. 23. 
 
 The flesh of Adam, of which we all partake, impedes 
 our progress in virtue,^ and drags us back to earth when 
 we would rise to higher things : 
 
 " O ye race of men. 
 Though bom to soar, why suffer ye a wind 
 So shght to baffle ye ? ''—Furg. xii. 88. 
 
 It is this universal depravity which prevents good in- 
 tentions in individuals from bearing their proper fruit : 
 
 " The will in man 
 Bears goodly blossoms ; but its ruddy promise 
 Is, by the dripping of perpetual rain. 
 Made mere abortion." — Par. xxvii. 115. 
 
 1 " The schoolmen named that supernatural grace of original justice 
 ■which subjected the senses to the reason, froenum concujtiscentia.' — 
 August Op. imperf. c. Jul. c 70 ; S. i. q. 105, a. i. 
 
 5 Furg. xi. 43, 
 
( 285 ) 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 God might have redeemed man, either by granting him in 
 His mercy a free pardon, or by demanding ia His justice 
 the satisfaction due for sin. But this last was beyond 
 man's power; for by no depth of humiKation could he 
 ever atone for the outrage his pride had offered to the 
 Divine Majesty.^ In the sacrifice of His Son, then, God 
 satisfied alike His justice and mercy : His justice, by the 
 satisfaction offered by the Man Christ Jesus for man's 
 sin ; His mercy, in delivering His only-begotten Son to 
 die for man's redemption : 
 
 " To dignity thus lost 
 Is no return ; unless, where guilt makes void, 
 He for iU pleasure pay with equal pain. 
 Your nature, which entirely in its seed 
 
 ^ " By no necessity was Christ forced to suffer, either on the part 
 of God, Who decreed that He should suffer, or of Christ, Who volun- 
 tarily endured His passion." — S. iiL q. 46, a. i. " His omnipotence 
 might have effected it in many other ways."— S. iii. q. i, a. 2. 
 
 " No satisfaction offered by mere man could suflSce for Adam's sin, 
 both because all human nature was corrupted by that sin, and because 
 the value of no single man, nor of any number of men, could com- 
 pensate for the loss inflicted on the whole race. Again, the sin being 
 committed against God, had a certain infinite character, because of the 
 infinity of the Divine Majesty ; for the gravity of an offence is pro- 
 portioned to the rank of the person outraged ; whence condign satis- 
 faction needed that the act of the person offering it should be of 
 infinite value."— S. iii. q. i, a. 2 ad 2. 
 
286 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 Transgress'd, from these distinctions fell, no less 
 
 Than from its state in Paradise ; nor means 
 
 Fomid of recovery (search all methods out 
 
 As strictly as thou may) save one of these, 
 
 The only fords were left through which to wade : 
 
 Either, that God had of His courtesy 
 
 Released him merely ; or else, man himself 
 
 For his own folly by himself atoned. 
 
 Fix now thine eye, intently as thou canst. 
 
 On the everlasting coimsel ; and explore. 
 
 Instructed by my words, the dread abyss. 
 
 Man in himself had ever lack'd the means 
 
 Of satisfaction, for he could not stoop 
 
 Obeying, in humility so low, 
 
 As high he, disobeying, sought to soar : 
 
 And, for this reason, he had vainly tried 
 
 Out of his own sufficiency, to pay 
 
 The rigid satisfaction. Then behoved 
 
 That God should by His own ways ^ lead him back 
 
 Unto the life, from whence he fell, restored : 
 
 By both His ways, I mean, or one alone. 
 
 But since the deed is ever prized the more 
 
 The more the doer's good intent appears ; 
 
 Goodness celestial, whose broad signature 
 
 Is on the universe, of all its ways, 
 
 To raise ye up, was fain to leave out none. 
 
 Nor aught so vast or so magnificent. 
 
 Either for him who gave or who received, 
 
 Between the last night and the primal day. 
 
 Was or can be. For God more bounty show'd, 
 
 Giving Himself to make man capable 
 
 Of his return to life, than had the terms 
 
 Been mere and unconditional release. 
 
 ^ " The redemption of man by the Passion of Christ was suitable both 
 to His justice and mercy. His justice, since by His Passion Christ 
 satisfied for the sin of man, who was thus redeemed by the justice of 
 Christ ; His mercy, since as man alone could not satisfy for the sin 
 of our whole human nature, God gave His Son in satisfaction (Rom. 
 iii, 24) ; and this was an act of more abundant mercy than a free for- 
 giveness (Ephes. ii. 4)." — S, iii. q. 46, a. i. 
 
THE INCARNATION. 287 
 
 And for His justice, every method else 
 Were all too scant, had not the Son of God 
 Humbled Himself to put on mortal flesh." 
 
 — Par. vii. 78. 
 
 The jppi.h nf fhft Drnss.^ wKif^b^onr human nature suffered 
 in Christ, considered in itself, was the^jii^P^fiishment for 
 sin^utmostjinjust_as^egards^^ 
 our humanity was assumed : 
 
 '' Ne'er then was penalty so just as that 
 Inflicted by the Cross, if thou regard 
 The nature in assumption doom'd ; ne'er wrong 
 So great, in reference to Him, Who took 
 Such nature on Him, and endured the doom.i 
 For by one death God and the Jews were pleased ; 
 And Heaven was open'd, though the earth did quake." 
 
 ■ — Par. vii. 39. 
 
 The mystery of the Incarnation is as much beyond our 
 comprehension as that of the Trinity, and can only by 
 divine illumination be even partially understood : 
 
 " Thou smiledst, on that circling, which in thee 
 Seem'd as reflected splendour, while I mused ; 
 For I therein, methought, in its own hue 
 Beheld our image painted : steadfastly 
 I therefore pored upon the view. As one 
 Who, versed in geometric lore, would fain 
 Measure the circle ; and, though pondering long 
 And deeply, that beginning which he needs. 
 Finds not ; e'en such was I, intent to scan 
 The novel wonder, and trace out the form, 
 ♦ How to the circle fitted, and therein 
 
 How placed : but the flight was not for my wing 
 
 1 " Since from the moment of His conception the soul of Christ was 
 united to the Divinity, and is the one source of grace to all who 
 possess it, the fulness of all the graces was necessarily in His soul." — 
 S. iii. q. 7, a. 9. 
 
288 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 Had not a flash darted athwart my mind, 
 And, in the spleen, unfolded what it sought." 
 
 — Par. xxxiii. 1 1 8. 
 
 The birth of the Son of God in human flesh is the work 
 of the Holy Ghost, the Eternal Love : ^ 
 
 " Until it pleased the Word of God to come 
 Amongst them down, to His own person joining 
 The nature from its Maker far estranged, 
 By the mere act of His eternal love." — Par. vii. 29. 
 
 The Archangel Gabriel announced to Mary, that the 
 Incarnation would establish peace between God and the 
 sinful world : 
 
 " The angel who came down to earth 
 With tidings of the peace so many years 
 Wept for in vain, that oped the heavenly gates 
 From their long interdict." — Purg. x. 31. 
 
 " He that bare the palm 
 Down unto Mary, when the Son of God 
 Vouchsafed to clothe Him in terrestrial weeds." 
 
 — Par. xxxii. 100. 
 
 " She was imaged there, 
 By whom the key did open to God's love." 
 
 — Purg. X. 27- 
 
 Although in Christ the Divine Person united Himself to 
 human nature, j ej ^"^^ j^wn_jjfl,f,^|T-ggt.hA ^IfTnTno^^nrl the 
 -ImmaCj^^remain perfectly distinct : "~^ 
 
 " Or e'er that work engaged me, I did hold 
 In Christ one nature only ; with such faith 
 Contented. But the blessed Agapete,^ 
 Who was chief shepherd, he with warning voice 
 To the true faith recall'd me." — Par. vi. 14. 
 
 ^ Luke i. 35. 
 
 2 Pope Agapetus I., in 536, at Constantinople, refused, in the pre- 
 sence of Justinian and Theodora, to admit the Eutychian Patriarch 
 Anthimus to communion until he had abjured his heresy. Cf. Mansi, 
 Collect. Cone. viii. 873. 
 
 yy 
 
THE PASSION. 289 
 
 Christ chose poverty as His earthly bride, and it ascended 
 the Cross with Him, when even Mary remained at its foot.^ 
 For love of our salvation our Lord hung upon the Cross, 
 and even joyfully endured the anguish of the dereliction.^ 
 He is the Lamb of God, Who takes away our sins.^ He 
 was mocked, drank of the gall and vinegar, and was 
 crucified between two thieves ; * His death was compassed 
 by violence and hypocrisy. Therefore when He died, an 
 earthquake shook that chasm in Hell where the violent 
 and hypocrites are punished : 
 
 " Enow then, that when I erst 
 Hither descended to the nether Hell, 
 This rock was not yet fallen. But past doubt, 
 (If well I mark) not long ere He arrived, 
 Who carried off from Dis the mighty spoil 
 Of the highest circle, then through all its bounds 
 Such trembling seized the deep concave and foul, 
 I thought the universe was thrill'd with love, 
 Whereby, there are who deem, the world hath oft 
 Been into chaos tum'd." — Hell, xii. 33. 
 
 Victor over death, the Soul of Christ, after the Cruci- 
 fixion, descended into the outer court of Hell, and brought 
 thence the faithful of the Old Covenant; who were to 
 ascend with Him, when He opened the gates of Heaven. 
 
 Tliis Yirgil saw and thus relates : 
 
 " I was new to that estate, 
 When I beheld a Puissant One arrive 
 Amongst us, with victorious trophy crown'd. 
 He forth the shade of our first parent drew, 
 Abel his child, and Noah righteous man, 
 Of Moses lawgiver for faith approved. 
 Of patriarch Abraham, and David king, 
 Israel, with his sire and with his sons, 
 
 ^ Par. xi. 66. ^ Purg. xxiii. 67. ^ Purg. xvi. 16. 
 
 * Purg, XX. 86. 
 
290 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 Nor wdthout Rachel whom so hard he won, 
 And others many more, whom He to bliss 
 Exalted. Before these, be thou assured. 
 No spirit of human kind was ever saved." 
 
 — Hell, iv. 49. 
 
 That same Human Nature in which He had loved and 
 suffered, Christ took with Him into Heaven : 
 
 " For I therein, methought, in its own hue 
 Beheld our image painted." — Far. xxxiii. 120. 
 
 We now pass on to the ever-blessed Mary, Mother of 
 God. No name is so often repeated as 
 
 " The name 
 Of that fair flower, whom duly I invoke 
 Both mom and eve." ^ — Par. xxiii. 85. 
 
 Mary typifies the divine mercy. At her intercession, 
 as we have seen, the vision of the three kingdoms^ was 
 vouchsafed to the poet. In Purgatory she appears in 
 a variety of aspects, as the help of Christians and the 
 prototype of the seven virtues, which are there contrasted 
 with the seven mortal sins. Buonconte of Montefeltro, 
 who was wounded in the battle of Campaldino, relates how 
 he was saved at Mary's intercession : 
 
 " There came I, 
 Pierced in the throat, fleeing away on foot, 
 
 ^ Dante alludes to the ringing of the Angelus, night and morning. 
 This devotion was introduced into the Church by Gregory IX. in 
 
 1239- 
 
 2 But neither the name of Mary, nor the Holy Name of Christ, are 
 ever uttered in Hell. " No man can say the Lord Jesus, but by the 
 Holy Ghost " (i Cor. xii. 3). Thus, in the first cantos of tlie Inferno, the 
 name of our Lord is always paraphrased. He is called " a Puissant 
 One " {Hell, iv. 50) ; " the Man, that was born sinless and so lived " {Hell, 
 xxxiv. no) ; " Who carried off from Dis the mighty spoil " {Hell, xii. 
 37). And Mary is "Donna gentil nel ciel," a blessed lady who in 
 Heaven resides [Hell, ii. 94). 
 
THE MOTHER OF GOD. 291 
 
 And bloodying the plain. Here sight and speech 
 
 Fail'd me ; and finishing with Mary's name, 
 
 I fell, and tenantless my flesh remain'd. 
 
 I will report the truth ; which thou again 
 
 Tell to the living. Me God's angel took. 
 
 Whilst he of HeU exclaim'd, ' O thou from Heaven, 
 
 Say, wherefore hast thou robb'd me ? Thou of him 
 
 The eternal portion bear'st with thee away. 
 
 For one poor tear that he deprives me of.' " ^ 
 
 —Purg. v. 95. 
 
 Dante beholds the penitent spirits seated amid the 
 flowers of the valley, and hears them intone the " Salve 
 Regina," ^ fitting canticle for the vale of tears. Supplicat- 
 ing cries of " Blessed Mary, pray for us," " Dolce Maria, 
 sweet Mary," resound through Purgatory. Her humility 
 is set before the suffering souls in a marble representation 
 of the mystery of the Annunciation : 
 
 " The angel who came down to earth 
 With tidings of the peace so many years 
 Wept for in vain, that oped the heavenly gates 
 From their long interdict, before us seem'd 
 In a sweet act, so sculptured to the life. 
 He look'd no silent image. One had sworn 
 He had said ' Hail ! ' for she was imaged there, 
 By whom the key did open to God's love ; 
 And in her act, as sensibly imprest 
 That word, ' Behold the handmaid of the Lord ! ' 
 As figure sealed on wax." — Purg. x. 31. 
 
 The envious are admonished by voices, recalling to their 
 memories instances of her tender charity : 
 
 1 [As Buonconte died externally under censure, his body was deprived 
 of Christian burial, and in that sense belonged to the Devil, but " una 
 lagrimetta " with Mary's name saved his soul. 
 
 " Thou robbest me of his eternal soul 
 For that one tear of penitence shed ; 
 But what remains is under my control." 
 
 — Wright.] 
 
 2 Purg. vii. S2. 
 
292 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION, 
 
 " The voice that first flew by, call'd forth aloud, 
 ^ They have no wine/ so on behind us past, 
 Those sounds reiterating." — Purg. xiii. 25. 
 
 To the passionate, visions of her patience are sent : 
 
 " There suddenly I seem'd 
 By an ecstatic vision wrapt away ; 
 And in a temple saw, methought, a crowd 
 Of many persons ; and at the entrance stood 
 A Dame, whose sweet demeanour did express 
 A mother's love, who said, ' Child ! why hast thou 
 Dealt with us thus ? Behold thy sire and I 
 Sorrowing have sought thee ; ' and so held her peace." 
 
 — Purg. XV. 83. 
 
 The slothful recall how " blessed Mary sought with haste 
 the hilly region ; " ^ the covetous cry out with shame : 
 
 " blessed Virgin ! . . . 
 
 how poor 
 
 Thou wast, .... witness that low roof 
 "Where thou didst lay thy sacred burden down." 
 
 XX. 21. 
 
 To the intemperate a voice calls out of the mystic tree : 
 
 " Mary took more thought ^ 
 For joy and honour of the nuptial feast, 
 Than for herself, who answers now for you." 
 
 — Purg. xxii. 139. 
 
 Amid their flames the unchaste sing the Breviary hymn, 
 " Summae Deus Clementise," and then in full accord intone 
 Mary's response to the angel, *' Virum non cognosce, " as a 
 mutual incentive to purity.^ 
 
 1 Purg. xviii. 98. 
 
 2 This is an instance of both her example and her intercession. 
 
 ^ Purg. XXV. 123 (Luke i. 34). St. Bonaventure contrasts the seven 
 virtues of Mary with the seven deadly sins. "Mary alone was free 
 from every vice, and shone with every virtue. To pride, she opposed 
 
POWER OF MARTS PRAYER. 293 
 
 One of the grandest passages in the Commedia is that 
 descriptive of the appearance of the Serpent in Purgatory, 
 and his instantaneous flight at Mary's prayer. Dante sees 
 a soul with hands folded in prayer, and eyes fixed upon 
 the eastern sky : 
 
 " ' Te Lucis ante,' ^ so devoutly then 
 
 Came from its Hp, and in so soft a strain, 
 That all my sense in ravishment was lost. 
 And the rest after, softly and devout, 
 Follow'd through all the hymn, with upward gaze 
 Directed to the bright supernal wheels. 
 
 I saw that gentle band sUently next 
 
 Look up, as if in expectation held, 
 
 Pale and in lowly guise ; and from on high, 
 
 I saw, forth issuing descend beneath. 
 
 Two angels, with two flame-illumined swords, 
 
 Broken and mutilated of their points. 
 
 Green as the tender leaves but newly bom. 
 
 Their vesture was, the which, by wings as green 
 
 Beaten, they drew behind them, f ann'd in air. 
 
 A Httle over us one took his stand ; 
 
 The other hghted on the opposing hill ; 
 
 So that the troop were in the midst contain'd. 
 
 ' From Mary's bosom ^ both 
 Are come,* exclaun'd Sordello, ' as a guard 
 Over the vale,^ 'gainst him who hither tends, 
 The serpent.'" — Purg. viii. 13, 22, 2)7' 
 
 humility most lowly ; to envy, charity most loving ; to sloth, diligence 
 most unwearied ; to anger, meekness most gentle ; to avarice, poverty 
 most straitened ; to gluttony, sobriety most temperate ; to sensuality, 
 virginity most chaste. " — Speculum B. M. V. Lect. iv. 
 
 ^ Compline Hymn in the Breviary, to which follows the prayer : 
 " Visit, we beseech Thee, Lord, this habitation, and drive far from 
 it all snares of the enemy ; let Thy holy angels dwell herein, to pre- 
 serve us in peace." 
 
 - The symbol of maternal tenderness. 
 
 ^ " In this vale of tears." — Antipkon, Salve Regina. 
 
294 REDEMPTION AND Jf USTIFICA TION. 
 
 In the beginning of their conversion the souls are ex- 
 posed to the severest temptations, and with the shadows of 
 night the Evil One draws closer. Then Mary, the Woman 
 who is to bruise the Serpent's head,^ sends two angels to 
 their assistance. They wear the garb of hope,^ and are 
 armed with swords. Dante, in terror, presses closer to his 
 leader's side. 
 
 Presently Sordello exclaims : 
 
 " ' Lo there our enemy ! ' * 
 And with his hand pointed that way to look. 
 Along the side, where barrier none arose * 
 Around the little vale, a serpent lay, 
 Such haply as gave Eve the bitter food. 
 Between the grass and flowers, the evil snake 
 Came on, reverting oft his lifted head ; 
 And, as a beast that smooths its polish'd coat, 
 Licldng his back." — Purg. viii. 94. 
 
 The angels in their swift descent escape the poet's sight, 
 but the Serpent perceives their presence : 
 
 " Hearing the air cut by their verdant plumes. 
 The serpent fled ; and to their stations, back 
 The angels up return'd with equal flight." 
 
 — Purg. viii 105. 
 
 As on earth all the faithful invoke Mary's intercession, 
 so in Heaven the whole company of the Blessed, led by the 
 Archangel Gabriel, the messenger of the Incarnation, circle 
 round her, chanting her praises and the joyous Easter 
 antiphon, " Eegina Coeli : " 
 
 ^ " I will put enmities between thee and the woman, and thy seed 
 and her seed : she shall crush thy head, and thou shalt lie in wait 
 for her heel." — Gen. iii. 15. 
 
 2 Purg. iii. 135: "La speranza ha fior del verde." "Hope exists 
 neither in the Blessed, nor in the damned. It belongs only to those 
 in via, whether in this life or Purgatory," — S. ii. 2. q. 18, a. 3. 
 
 ^ " Your adversary the devil." — i Peter v. 8. 
 
 * Temptation attacks man on his weakest side. 
 
REGINA CCELL 295 
 
 " And, as the bright dimensions of the star ^ 
 In Heaven excelling, as once here on earth, 
 Were in my eyeballs livelily pourtray'd ; - 
 Lo ! from within the sky a cresset fell, 
 Circling in fashion of a diadem ; 
 And girt the star ; and, hovering, round it wheel'd. 
 Whatever melody sounds sweetest here. 
 And draws the spirit most unto itself, 
 Might seem a rent cloud, when it grates the thunder ; 
 Compared unto the sounding of that lyre. 
 Wherewith the goodliest sapphire,^ that inlays 
 The floor of Heaven, was crowned. ' Angelic Love 
 I am, who thus with hovering flight en wheel 
 The lofty rapture from that womb inspired, 
 Where our desire did dwell ; and round thee so. 
 Lady of Heaven ! will hover ; long as thou 
 Thy Son shalt follow, and diviner joy 
 Shall from thy presence gild the highest sphere.' 
 Such close was to the circling melody : 
 And as it ended, all the other Ughts 
 Took up the strain, and echoed Mary's name. 
 
 And like to babe, that stretches forth its arms 
 For very eagerness toward the breast, 
 After the milk is taken ; so outstretch'd 
 Their wavy summits all the fervent band, 
 Through zealous love to Mary ; then, in view 
 They halted ; and ' Regina CoeH ' sang 
 So sweetly, the delight hath left me never." 
 
 — Par. xxiii. 89. 
 Again Gabriel is the angel 
 
 " That with such glee 
 Beholds our Queen, and so enamour'd glows 
 Of her high beauty, that all fire he seems." 
 
 — Par. xxxii. 91. 
 
 1 "Ave Maris stella." — Hymn Eccl. 
 
 ^ Of the infinite excellence of the Divine Maternity see footnote 5, 
 p. 298. 
 
 ^ In Christian art, Mary wears a blue garment. 
 
296 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 So again : 
 
 " And he, who had to her descended once 
 On earth, now hail'd in Heaven ; and on poised wing, 
 ' Ave Maria, gratia plena,' sang : 
 To whose sweet anthem all the blissful court. 
 From all parts answering, rang : that holier joy- 
 Brooded the deep serene." — Par. xxxii. 83. 
 
 Arrived at the end of his pilgrimage, the poet beholds the 
 *' snow white Kose " of the blessed,^ who enjoy the Beatific 
 Vision. Bight and left, in ascending concentric circles, 
 sit the glorified spirits of the Old and New Covenants. 
 Enthroned on high, far above all the rest, Mary appears. 
 Peter is seated at her right hand, Adam on the left, — the 
 two roots of the celestial rose, both supremely blest be- 
 cause " on each hand next our Empress throned." y— ^ 
 
 Immediately below Mary, in the second row of petals, 
 is Eve : 
 
 " The wound that Mary closed, she open'd first,^ 
 Who sits so beautiful at Mary's feet." — Par. xxxii. 3. 
 
 Facing Peter sits Anne, the blessed mother of the most 
 Blessed Virgin : 
 
 " So well content to look 
 On her loved daughter, that with moveless eye 
 She chants the loud Hosanna." — Par. xxxii. 119. 
 
 All who dwell here are subjects of Mary, " the Queen, 
 that of this realm is sovran," ^ and the source of the light 
 which illumines it : 
 
 " Straight mine eyes I raised ; and bright. 
 As, at the birth of mom, the Eastern clime 
 Above the horizon, where the sun declines ; 
 
 ^ Par. xxxi. I. 
 
 2 " Eve wounded, Mary healed." — Aug. Serm. Spur. cxx. 4. 
 
 3 Par. xxxi. 108. 
 
ASSUMED AND CROWNED. 297 
 
 So to mine eyes, that upward, as from vale 
 
 To mountain sped, at the extreme bound, a part 
 
 Excell'd in lustre all the front opposed. 
 
 So bum'd the peaceful oriflamme,^ and slack'd 
 On every side the living flame decay'd. 
 And in that midst their sportive pennons waved 
 Thousands of angels ; in resplendence each 
 Distinct, and quaint adornment. At their glee 
 And carol, smiled the Lovely One of Heaven, 
 That joy was in the eyes of all the blest." 
 
 — Par. xxxi. 109. 
 
 But her beauty surpasses all power of description : 
 
 " Had I a tongue in eloquence as rich, 
 As is the colouring in fancy's loom, 
 'Twere all too poor to utter the least part 
 Of that enchantment." — Par. xxxi. 126. 
 
 So radiant is the body of Mary, which by special privilege 2 
 was permitted to enter into glory with the Body of her 
 Son, before the general resurrection.^ Mary is the highest 
 in the Church Triumphant, that " saintly army, which in 
 His own Blood Christ espoused ; " * the gracious Bride " who 
 with the lance and nails was won ; " ^ " the beautiful garden, 
 blossoming beneath the rays of Christ; "^ "the Rose, 
 wherein the Word Divine was made incarnate." '^ 
 
 Encouraged by " her faithful Bernard," ^ the poet turns 
 through him to Mary, "whose might can help thee,"^ 
 
 ^ The name of the French banner, " aurea flamma," said to have been 
 the winding-sheet of St Denis, to which was ascribed a special 
 virtue. Mary is the banner under which the Church wins her vic- 
 tories. See Fleury, ff. E. xv. 74, 25. 
 
 2 " That some have been permitted to rise in their bodies before the 
 general resurrection is by a special privilege of grace." — S. iii. Supp. 
 q. 77, a. I ad 2. " And many bodies of the saints which slept arose." — 
 Matt, xxvii. 52. 3 Par. xxv. 127. 
 
 ^ Par. xxxi. 3. ^ p^^^ xxxii. 1 14. ^ Par. xxiiL 70. 
 
 ^ Par. xxiii. 71. 8 p^^ xxxi. 93. ^ Par. xxxii. 133. 
 
298 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 imploring grace to reach the goal, and power to gaze on 
 the Primal Love.^ And then St. Bernard commences that 
 saintly orison to which Dante, "attending with affection 
 while he sues," yields all his heart. ^ St. Bernard, who had 
 written, " Dost thou want an advocate with Christ ? fly to 
 Mary. Never doubt that the Son will hear His Mother. 
 The Son hears the Mother, the Father the Son. This is 
 the ladder by which the sinner climbs to God. On this I 
 tmst; on this rests all my hope." ^ And now the Saint 
 prays : 
 
 " O Virgin Mother, daughter of thj- Son ! 
 Created beings all in lowliness 
 Surpassing, as in height above them all ; 
 Term by the eternal council pre-ordain'd ; 
 Ennobler of thy nature, so advanced 
 In thee, that its great Maker did not scorn, 
 To make Himself His own creation ; 
 For in thy womb rekindling shone the love 
 Reveal'd, whose genial influence makes now 
 This flower to germin in eternal peace : ^ 
 Here thou to us, of charity and love. 
 Art, as the noonday torch ; and art, beneath, 
 To mortal men, of hope a living spring. 
 So mighty art thou. Lady, and so great, 
 That he, who grace desireth, and comes not 
 To thee for aidance, fain would have desire 
 Fly without wings. Not only him who asks, 
 Thy bounty succours ; but doth freely oft 
 Forerun the asking. Whatsoe'er may be 
 Of excellence in creature, pity mild, 
 Relenting mercy, large munificence. 
 Are all combined in thee." ^ — Par. xxxiii, i. 
 
 1 Par. xxxii. 128. ^ Par. xxxii. 135. : 
 
 3 In Kativit. B. M. V. Serm. de Aquaed. 
 
 * Mary is the Mother of Christ, from Whose merits and grace the 
 heavenly rose, the company of the elect, has spruns:. 
 
 ^ " The Son gives an infinite value to the goodness of His Mother." 
 — Albert M. in Mariali, super missus est, q. 197, t. xx. 139. At the 
 
PRAYER OF ST. BERNARD. 29') 
 
 St. Bernard's more especial request for the poet is, that 
 Mary will obtain for him : 
 
 " Virtue yet more high, to lift his ken 
 
 Toward the bUss supreme, 
 
 That on the sovran joy 
 
 XJnveil'd he gaze." — Par. xxxiii. 26. 
 
 Nevertheless, Dante must return to the world, to the 
 dark forest in which he had lost his way. Hence St. 
 Bernard asks for him God's highest grace, the gift of 
 perseverance.^ Beatrice and all the saints unite in the 
 request : 
 
 " This yet I pray thee, Queen, 
 "Who canst do what thou wilt ; that in him thou 
 Wouldst, after all he hath beheld, preserve 
 Affection sound, and human passions quell. 
 Lo ! where, with Beatrice, many a saint 
 Stretch their clasped hands, in futherance of my suit." ^ 
 
 — Par. xxxiii, 33. 
 
 seventh Council of Nice (Act iv. Hard. iv. p. 242), St. Germanus 
 declared, *' We honour her as the Mother of God, who is exalted 
 above all creatures, visible and invisible." 
 
 ^ This grace, which cannot be merited, but may be impetrated by 
 our prayers and those of the saints, is given only to the elect. " God 
 willed that after the Fall, only by His grace should man be able to 
 advance towards Him, and again, the gift of not falling away He 
 reserved to His grace alone." — Aug. De Don. Persev. c. 6. "Suppli- 
 citer emereri potest," c. 13. "Grant, we beseech thee, that we may 
 experience her intercession for us, through whom we have deserved to 
 receive the Author of life, our Lord Jesus Christ, Thy Son." — Prayer, 
 Antiphon from Christmas to the Purification. 
 
 ^ " Donna, se' tanto grande, e tanto vali, 
 Che qual vuol grazia, e a te non ricorre, 
 Sua disianza vuol volar senz'ali. 
 La tua benignita non pur soccorre 
 A chi dimanda, ma molte fiate 
 Liberamente al dimandar precorre. 
 In te misericordia, in te pietate, 
 In te magnificenza, in te s'aduna 
 Quantunque in creatura e di bontate." 
 
 — Par. xxxiii. i-i. 
 
300 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 Truly this prayer in its simplicity and grandeur, in its 
 childlike piety, its depth and unction, breathes the very 
 spirit of St. Bernard. His suit is lovingly granted : 
 
 " The eyes, that Heaven with love and awe regards, 
 Fix'd on the suitor, witness'd, how benign 
 She looks on pious prayers : then f asten'd they 
 On the Everlasting Light, wherein no eye 
 Of creature, as may well be thought, so far 
 Can travel inward." — Par. xxxiii. 39. 
 
 Next come before us the Christian virtues, the first of 
 which is faith. No system of philosophy, no human 
 teacher, not even Plato, Aristotle, or Yirgil, but faith alone 
 can satisfy man's innate yearning for truth. ^ Faith in 
 Christ, whether as hoped for or as already come, is the 
 source and essential condition of justification : 
 
 " None ever hath ascended to this realm, 
 Who hath not a believer been in Christ, 
 Either before or after the blest Limbs 
 Were nail'd upon the wood." — Par. xix. loi. 
 
 But faith concealed within the soul is insufficient, as 
 Statins thus declares : 
 
 " I was baptized : but secretly, through fear, 
 Remain'd a Christian, and conform'd long time 
 To Pagan rites. Four centuries and more, 
 I, for that lukewarmness, was fain to pace 
 Pound the fourth circle." — Purg. xxii. 89. 
 
 Our faith must be proved by our actions, or the very 
 heathen will condemn us : 
 
 " But lo ! of those 
 Who call ' Christ, Christ,' there shall be many found. 
 In judgment, farther off from Him by far. 
 Than such to whom His Name was never known. 
 
 ^ Purg. ill. 37. 
 
THE VIRTUE OF FAITH. 301 
 
 Christians like these the Ethiop shall condemn : 
 
 When that the two assemblages shall part ; 
 
 One rich eternally, the other poor." — Par. six. 104. 
 
 This faith is a jewel, the comer-stone of all the virtues : ^ 
 
 " The costly jewel on the which 
 Is founded every virtue." — Far. xxiv. 88. 
 
 Faith is "the entrance ^ to salvation's way,"^ which 
 *' peopled this fair realm with citizens," * and without which 
 good deeds suffice not.^ 
 
 The opposite of faith is heresy, which often springs from 
 a vain endeavour to fathom the divine mysteries ; and as 
 these are impenetrable, the heretic in his stubbornness 
 rejects what should be humbly accepted : ^ 
 
 " That to the eye of man our justice seems 
 ♦^ ' Unjust, is argument for faith, and not 
 For heretic declension." — Far. iv. 67. 
 
 Another source of heresy is pride, for a proud man 
 disdains to retract an opinion rashly expressed : 
 
 *' Since it bef als, that in most instances 
 Current opinion leans to false, and then 
 Affection binds the judgment to her ply." 
 
 — Far. xiii. 113. 
 
 1 *' Faith is first of all the virtues. For as the end is the principle 
 of every action, the theological virtues, whose object is the last end, 
 must precede the others. But the last end is in the intellect prior to 
 the will, which is only impelled to any object as far as the intellect 
 apprehends it. And since it is by faith that the last end is appre- 
 hended by the intellect, faith must be the first of all the virtues." — 
 S. ii. 2. q. 4, a. 7. 
 
 2 " We are therefore said to be justified by faith, as faith is the 
 beginning of man's salvation, the foundation and the root of all 
 justification, without which it is impossible to please God." — Cone. 
 Trid. Sess. vi. cap. 8 ; Bonav. De Sept, Donis Sp. S. vi. 2. 
 
 3 BeU, ii. 32. * Par. xxiv. 44. ^ Par. xxii. 61. 
 
 ^ " I am certain that if I made any statement which was clearly 
 contradicted by the Sacred Scriptures, that statement would be false ; 
 nor knowingly would I hold it." — Anselm, Cur Feus Homo, i. 18; 
 Thorn. Cont. Gent. i. 7 ; Aug. Ep. 143 ; Gen. ad Lit. i. 18. 
 
302 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 Love of notoriety and of appearing original are also 
 fruitful causes of heresy, which travesties and misinterprets 
 Scripture : 
 
 " Each the known track of sage philosophy 
 Deserts, and has a byway of his own : 
 So much the restless eagerness to shine, 
 And love of singularity, prevail. 
 Yet this, offensive as it is, provokes 
 Heaven's anger less, than when the Book of God 
 Is forced to yield to man's authority, 
 Or from its straightness warp'd : no reckoning made 
 "What blood the sowing of it in the world 
 Has cost ; what favour for himself he wins. 
 Who meekly clings to it. The aim of all 
 Is how to shine : e'en they, whose office is 
 To preach the gospel, let the gospel sleep, 
 And pass their own inventions off instead." 
 
 — Fur. xxix. 89. 
 
 All light of faith comes from above, but darkness from 
 the flesh : 
 
 " Light is none. 
 Save that which cometh from the pure serene 
 Of ne'er disturbed ether : for the rest, 
 'Tis darkness all ; or shadow of the flesh, 
 Or else its poison." — Par. xix. 59. 
 
 Again, the false doctrines of heretics are like swords, 
 which mutilate the Scriptures and reflect a distorted image. ^ 
 Hence heresiarchs and their followers are buried in red-hot 
 tombs : ^ 
 
 '' The arch-heretics are here, accompanied 
 By every sect their followers ; and much more. 
 Than thou believest, the tombs are freighted : like 
 With like is buried ; and the monuments 
 Are different in degrees of heat." — Hell, ix. 125. 
 
 ^ Par. xiii. 122. 
 
 2 " Like herds with like, in like torment, ... so that proud with 
 proud, infidel with infidel burn." — Greg. M. Dial. iv. 35. 
 
HOPE AND CHARITY. 303 
 
 Heresy, in the guise of a fox, endeavours to slink into 
 the Church, but is detected and expelled by Beatrice, ^ the 
 type of dogmatic truth. 
 
 From faith springs hope, the sure expectation of future 
 glory, which is to be won by merit, aided by divine grace : ^ 
 
 " ' Hope/ said I, 
 ' Is of the joy to come a sure expectance, 
 The effect of grace divine and merit preceding.' " 
 
 — Par. XXV. 67. 
 
 God is the Supreme Object of the love of the Blessed. 
 Both reason and revelation teac h, that our love of God is 
 enkindled and deepened in pTVTj2nTjv[rvQ fn rmr flpprfthpTismTi 
 of ^Ig ^odness. — '^^e has created me," cries Dante, " and 
 th^ world around me. He has died for me, that I might 
 love Him in return, and so gain Heaven. This thought 
 has purged my self-love and fixed my heart on Him : " 
 
 " Good, inasmuch as we perceive the good, 
 Kindles our love ; and in degree the more, 
 As it comprises more of goodness in it." ^ 
 
 — Par. xxvi. 28. 
 
 ' All grappling bonds, that knit the heart to God, 
 Confederate to make fast our charity. 
 The being of the world ; and mine own being ; 
 
 ^ Purff. xxxii. 118. 
 
 2 " Hope is the certain expectation of fnture blessedness, proceeding 
 from divine grace and antecedent merits." — Peter Lombard, iii. 26. 
 "Hope is said to proceed from merit as regards the things hoped for, 
 in the sense that we hope to obtain beatitude from faith and merits, 
 or as regards an act of perfect hope. But the habit of hope, by which 
 we expect beatitude, is not caused by merits, but purely by grace." — 
 S. ii. 2, q. 17, a. i. 
 
 3 " That which is properly the cause of love must be also its object. 
 But the proper object of love is good, for love implies a certain con- 
 naturalness to, and complacency in, the object loved, and as the good 
 of each being is that which is connatural and proportionate to that 
 being, good must be the cause of love."— S. i. 2. q. 27, a. i 
 
304 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 The death which He endured, that I should live ; 
 And that which all the faithful hope, as I do. 
 To the fore-mention'd lively knowledge join'd ; 
 Have from the sea of ill-love saved my bark, 
 And on the coast secured it of the right.-^ 
 As for the leaves, that in the garden bloom. 
 My love for them is great, as is the good 
 Dealt by the Eternal Hand, that tends them all." 
 
 • — Par. xxvi. 54. 
 
 WitTinTrh^qif.Vi^ l^f>pfiia__ and chari ty no man can enter 
 -Seaven, even though he be sinless and practised inoEher 
 viitues : 
 
 " There is a place 
 There underneath, not made by torments sad. 
 But by dun shades alone ; where mourning's voice 
 Soimds not of anguish sharp, but breathes in sighs. 
 
 There I with these abide, 
 Who the three holy virtues put not on, 
 But understood the rest, and without blame 
 Follow'd them all." — Purg. vii. 27. 
 
 Shining as a brilliant southern constellation of stars,^ the 
 poet sees the four cardinal virtues, prudence, justice, tem- 
 perance, and fortitude. This constellation was visible to 
 none save our first parents, since they alone, whilst in 
 
 1 Dante here points out, that in perfect love, God is loved because 
 He is the highest good in Himself {amor benevolentice) ; but we also 
 love Him because He is our own highest good (amor concupiscentice). 
 " With respect to dispositions, which may be regarded as the material 
 cause, we are said to love anything because it disposes us to love it, 
 say, on account of benefits received ; although, having thus begun to 
 love a friend, we continue to do so, not for these benefits, but for his 
 
 own goodness Thus God can be loved, not for His own sake, 
 
 in as far as we are disposed to love Him by benefits received, rewards 
 hoped for, and even by those punishments which we hope through 
 Him to escape," — S. ii. 2. q. 27, a. 3. 
 
 2 It is possible, though hardly probable, that Dante through 
 Marco Polo, or in some other way, had heard of the Southern Cross. 
 See Humboldt, Cosmos, ii. 331, 486, iii. 329, 361. 
 
ACTION AND CONTEMPLATION. 305 
 
 Paradise, practised them in perfection.^ These four are the 
 foundation of all moral virtues. 
 
 The life of Christian virtue is twofold — contemplative 
 and active. The former, typified by Rachel, is engaged 
 in the contemplation of Divine truth, the latter, by Lia, 
 in external action. 
 
 These two appear to the poet in the night, as represent- 
 ing the comparatively defective virtue of the Old Cove- 
 nant. Matilda and Beatrice, on the other hand, come to 
 him by day, for they express the perfection of the active 
 and contemplative life in the New Covenant. Dante pre- 
 ferred these characters to Martha and Mary, the patristic 
 types of the two lives. ^ As usual, he loves to represent 
 his ideals in the concrete personages of his poem : 
 
 " A lady young and beautiful, I dream'd, 
 "Was passing o'er a lea ; and as she came, 
 Methought I saw her ever and anon 
 Bending to cuU the flowers ; and thus she sang : 
 * Know ye, whoever of my name would ask, 
 That I am Leah ; for my brow to weave 
 A garland, these fair hands unwearied ply. 
 To please me at the crystal mirror, here 
 I deck me. But my sister Rachel, she 
 Before her glass abides the Hvelong day, 
 Her radiant eyes beholding, charm'd no less 
 Than I with this delightful task ; her joy 
 In contemplation, as in labour mine.' " ^ 
 
 — Purg. xxvii. 97. 
 
 1 Thorn, ii. 2, Prolog. 2 L^^e x. 38. 
 
 2 Lia looks at herself in the mirror, that is, in God, and sees herself 
 crowned with the garland of her good works. Rachel, on the other 
 hand, looks only at God. For an exhaustive account of the nature 
 and difference between the active and contemplative life, drawn from 
 St. Augustine, St. Gregory the Great, Richard of St. Victor, and St. 
 Bernard, see St. Thomas, ii. 2. q. 179-182. "Lia, blear-eyed but 
 fruitful, signifies the active life, which while engaged in work sees 
 less, . . . and brings forth many children in its good works." — Gregoi\ 
 M. (In Ezech. Hom. 14). Lia precedes Rachel, for the active life is 
 
 U 
 
I 
 
 306 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 On the doctrine of vows Dante teaches, that by a vow 
 the Christian offers to God the sacrifice of his free-will, his 
 highest natural gift, and binds himself to the practice of 
 good works, not in themselves requisite for salvation.^ The 
 Church alone, by the power of the keys, can dispense a vow, , 
 and then does so, according to Dante, by commuting, not 
 annulling it ; for a vow is a contract between God and the 
 soul, and must be in substance fulfilled : 
 
 " This would'st thou know: if failure of the vow 
 By other service may be so supplied, 
 As from self -question to assure the soul. 
 
 Hence now thou may'st infer 
 
 Of what high worth the vow, which so is framed, 
 That when man offers, God well-pleased accepts : 
 For in the compact between God and him, 
 This treasure, such as I describe it to thee, 
 
 negatively and positively the preparation for the contemplative. — S. 
 ii. 2. q. 181, a. i. " Nevertheless the contemplative is the highest, 
 because the knowledge and love of God is its immediate object." — S 
 ii. 2, q. 182, a. 2. 
 
 1 Dante follows on this subject the teaching of St. Thomas. By a 
 vow a man obliges himself to that which is not obligatory, either by 
 the natural or divine law. It must be de majori bono, the greater 
 good being considered in comparison to good simply, viz., what is of 
 common obligation for salvation. The Church can commute the 
 matter of a vow. She can likewise dispense a vow if in any case it 
 become evil, or useless, or a hindrance to a greater good (S. ii. 2. q, 88, 
 a. 2). " The act of the dispensing authority effects that that which was 
 contained under the vow is so no longer, since it is determined in this 
 case not to be fitting matter for a vow. The ecclesiastical superior, 
 therefore, does not dispense with a natural or divine precept, but only 
 pronounces as to what does or does not fall under the self-imposed 
 obligation of the vower, who was unable to see the act in all its 
 bearings." — Ibid. a. 10. The vower can only change the matter of 
 his vow to some greater offering to God's honour (C. 3. x. Be Jurejur.) 
 For such a change does not infringe on the original purpose or 
 promise. It belongs, on the other hand, to the Church to change it 
 for something of equal value (St. Alphon. Lig. Theology. Moral. 244). 
 [Weighty theologians, however, hold that the vower can change the 
 matter to other of equal value, because he would perform the matter 
 substituted more willingly, and therefore in a manner more agreeable 
 to God.] {^t. Ug. ibid.) 
 
vows. 307 
 
 He makes the victim ; and of his own act, 
 What compensation therefore may he find ? 
 If that, whereof thou hast oblation made, 
 By using well thou think'st to consecrate, 
 Thou would'st of theft do charitable deed. 
 
 This sacrifice, in essence, of two things 
 Consisteth ; one is that, whereof 'tis made ; 
 The covenant, the other. For the last, 
 ' It ne'er is cancell'd, if not kept : and hence 
 
 I spake, erewhile, so strictly of its force. 
 For this it was enjoin'd the Israelites, 
 Though leave were given them, as thou know'st, to 
 
 change ^ 
 
 The oflering, still to ofier. The other part, 
 The matter and the substance of the vow. 
 May well be such, as that, without ofience, 
 It may for other substance be exchanged. 
 But at his own discretion, none may shift 
 The burden on his shoulders ; unreleased 
 By either key, the yeUow and the white. 
 Nor deem of any change, as less than vain, 
 If the last bond be not within the new 
 Included, as the quatre in the six." — Far. v. 12. 
 
 Hence the warning of Beatrice : 
 
 " Be ye more staid, 
 O Christians ! not like feather, by each wind 
 Removable ; nor think to cleanse yourselves 
 In every water." — Par. v. 73. 
 
 The vow of perpetual chastity is specially pleasing to 
 God, and it 
 
 " So precious in the balance weighs, 
 That all in counterpoise must kick the beam." 
 
 — Par. V. 61. 
 
 By it souls betroth themselves to the Heavenly Bride- 
 groom, that with Him, "e'en till death they may keep 
 
3o8. REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 watch, or sleep." Most precious also is the vow of poverty, 
 that Bride of Christ, so beloved by Him. 
 
 The religious orders, by the triple vow of poverty, chastity, 
 and obedience, are specially consecrated to God's service; 
 hence called religiosi, and are ordained by Divine Providence 
 to preserve and edify the Church. Thus in Paradise St. 
 Bonaventure, the Franciscan, praises St. Dominic and the 
 Dominicans ; St. Thomas, the Dominican, extols St. Francis 
 and his sons : ^ 
 
 " The Providence that govemeth the world, 
 In depth of counsel by created ken 
 Unfathomable, to the end that she, 
 Who with loud cries was 'spoused in precious blood, 
 Might keep her footing towards her well-beloved, 
 Safe in herself and constant unto Him, 
 Hath two ordain'd, who should on either hand 
 In chief escort her : one, seraphic all 
 In fervency ; for wisdom upon earth 
 The other, splendour of cherubic Hght." — Par. xi. 27. 
 
 St. Francis wooed poverty, of late so much neglected, as 
 his bride ; and the twain went forth together through the 
 land : 
 
 " Their concord and glad looks, wonder and love. 
 And sweet regard gave birth to holy thoughts. 
 So much, that venerable Bernard first 
 Did bare his feet, and in pursuit of peace 
 So heavenly, ran, yet deem'd his footing slow. 
 
 1 [These Religious Orders still maintain this reciprocal courtesy. The 
 Franciscans officiate in the Dominican Church on St. Dominic's Feast, 
 while the grace sung in the Refectory is as follows : " Ant. Seraphicus 
 Pater Franciscus et Evangelicus Pater Dominicus ipsi nos docuerunt 
 legem tuam, Domine. Ps. cxvii. Laudate Dominum, &c. Ant. 
 Evangelicus Pater Dominicus et Seraphicus Pater Franciscus ipsi, &c. 
 Quoniam confirmatur est, &c. A nt. Seraphicus, &c. Gloria Patri, &c. 
 Sicut erat, &c. Ant. Seraphicus, &c." On St. Francis' Day the 
 Dominicans officiate for the Franciscans, and at grace the order of the 
 Saints is reversed, St. Dominic being named first.] 
 
THE RELIGIOUS ORDERS. 309 
 
 O hidden riches ! O prolific good ! 
 
 Egidius bares him next, and next Sylvester, 
 
 And follow, both, the Bridegroom, so the bride 
 
 Can please them. Thenceforth goes he on his way, 
 
 The father and the master, with his spouse, 
 
 And with that family, whom now the cord 
 
 Girt humbly." — Par. xi. 70. 
 
 While St. Francis by his loving charity and the charm 
 of holy poverty drew men to Grod, St. Dominic by his 
 powerful intellect destroyed heresy : 
 
 *' And I speak of him, as the labourer 
 Whom Christ in His own garden chose to be 
 His helpmate. Messenger he seem'd, and friend, 
 Fast knit to Christ ; and the first love he show'd, 
 Was after the first counsel that Christ gave. 
 
 Then with sage doctrine and good-will to help, 
 Forth on his great apostleship he fared, 
 Like torrent bursting from a lofty vein ; 
 And dashing 'gainst the stocks of heresy. 
 Smote fiercest, where resistance was most stout." 
 
 — Par. xii. 65. 
 
 In the seventh sphere the poet sees St. Benedict, and 
 with him the heroes of the solitary and contemplative life : 
 
 " These other flames. 
 The spirits of men contemplative, were all 
 Enliven'd by that warmth, whose kindly force 
 Gives birth to flowers and fruits of holiness. 
 
 And here my brethren, who their steps refrain'd 
 Within the cloisters, and held firm their heart." 
 
 — Par. xxii. 44. 
 
 St. Peter Damian describes with enthusiasm that sternly 
 penitential life of the cloister, which bears rich fruit in 
 heaven : 
 
3IO REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION, 
 
 "There 
 So firmly to God's service I adhered, 
 That with no costher viands than the juice 
 Of olives, easily I pass'd the heats 
 Of summer and the winter frosts ; content 
 In heavenward musings. Rich were the returns 
 And fertile, which that cloister once ^ was used 
 To render to those heavens." — Far. xxi. 102. 
 
 Guide of Montefeltro laments, as a Keligious, the sins of 
 his turbulent life in the world : ^ 
 
 "A man of arms at first, I clothed me then 
 In good St. Francis' girdle, hoping so 
 To have made amends. And certainly my hope 
 Had fail'd not." — Hell, xxvii. 64. 
 
 The religious life is a life of prayer, and so Dante extols 
 the sweet sound of the bell, which calls the Bride of Christ 
 
 to matins : ^ 
 
 "Forthwith, 
 As clock, that calleth up the Spouse of God 
 To win her Bridegroom's love at matin's hour, 
 Each part of other fitly drawn and urged, 
 Sends out a tinkling sound, of note so sweet, 
 Affection springs in well-disposed breast." 
 
 — Par. X. 134. 
 
 And the vesper-bell calls to prayer, not only the Religious, 
 but all Christian souls : 
 
 " Now was the hour that wakens fond desire 
 In men at sea, and melts their thoughtful heart 
 Who in the mom have bid sweet friends farewell ; 
 
 ^ His convent was that of Fonte Avellana, not far from Gubbio. 
 
 2 "Nobly did these famous gentlemen (Lancelotto and Guido di 
 Montefeltro) furl the sails of their worldly adventures, and, giving 
 themselves up to religion in their mature years, laid aside all earthly 
 joys and labours." — Oonv. iv. 28. 
 
 ^ In Conv. iv. 23, Dante describes in detail the prayers of tlie 
 canonical hours. 
 
DUTY OF PRAYER. 311 
 
 And pilgrim newly on his road with love 
 Thrills, if he hear the vesper bell from far, 
 That seems to mourn for the expiring day." 
 
 — Purgf. viii. i. 
 
 From Dante's frequent and urgent exhortations to prayer, 
 we should expect him to dilate on that prayer ^ which is the 
 source and type of all others. Thus we hear it from the 
 lips of the souls in Purgatory, who are doing penance for 
 the sin of pride : 
 
 " O Thou Almighty Father ! Who dost make 
 The heavens Thy dwelling, not in bounds confined, 
 But that, with love intenser, there Thou view'st 
 Thy primal effluence ; ^ hallow'd be Thy Name : 
 Join, each created being, to extol 
 Thy might ; for worthy hvunblest thanks and praise 
 Is Thy blest Spirit.^ May Thy kingdom's peace 
 Come unto us ; for we, unless it come. 
 With all our striving, thither tend in vain.^ 
 
 ^ " In the brief summary of a few words, how many sayings of the 
 Prophets, Gospels, Apostles, discourses of the Lord, parables, examples, 
 precepts, are touched upon ! How many duties are at once dis- 
 charged ! The honouring of God in the Father, the testimony of 
 faith in the Name, the offering of obedience in the Will, the 
 remembrance of hope in the Kingdom, the petition for life in the 
 Bread, the confession of Debts in the prayer to Forgive, the anxious 
 care about Temptations in the call for defence. What wonder God 
 alone could teach, how He would have Himself prayed to." — TertvUian 
 de Orat. i 9, Oxf. trans. 
 
 '■^ The angels in Heaven have ever felt a special joy in the love of 
 God, which springs from the contemplation of the Divine Essence. Cf. 
 Conv. ii. 6, iii. 7. God is in things, not as containing them by contact 
 of quantity, but of power (S. i. q, 8, a. i). God dwells commonly 
 in all things by presence, power, substance (ibid., a. 3, essence, pre- 
 sence, power), but is said to be familiarly in some by grace and by 
 glory. Gregor. M. Horn. 8 in Ezech. Cf. Conv. iv. 9. 
 
 •"* "Al tuo alto vapore." The Name is attributed to the Father 
 (Gesenius s. v. Schem), Power to the Son (i Cor. i. 24), Vapour or 
 Breath to the Holy Spirit (Wisd. vii. 25), because breathed from the 
 Father and the Son. 
 
 * " Well does the prayer say Adveniat, ' May Thy kingdom come,' for 
 we cannot come to that blessed vision by grace and glory, unless He 
 come to us." — Nicol. Lyran, L h. L So '* No man cometh to Me, unless 
 
312 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 As, of their will, the angels unto Thee 
 
 Tender meet sacrifice, circling Thy throne 
 
 With loud Hosannas ; so of theirs be done 
 
 By saintly men on earth. Grant us this day 
 
 Our daily manna, without which he roams 
 
 Through this rough desert retrograde,^ who most 
 
 Toils to advance his steps. As we to each 
 
 Pardon the evil done us, pardon Thou, 
 
 Benign, and of our merit take no count. 
 
 'Gainst the old adversary,^ prove Thou not 
 
 Our virtue, easily subdued ; ^ but free * 
 
 From his incitements, and defeat his wiles. 
 
 This last petition, dearest Lord ! is made 
 
 Not for ourselves ; since that were needless now ; 
 
 But for their sakes who after us remain."^ — Purg. xi. i. 
 
 A pilgrimage can be the subject of a vow, and the poet 
 describes the joy of the pilgrim, who 
 
 " When he rests 
 Within the temple of his vow, looks round 
 In breathless awe." — Par. xxxi. 39. 
 
 the Father draw him." — John vi 44. " The Empyrean corresponds to 
 the Divine Wisdom, which is full of peace, . . . and this peace descends 
 from above on men of good-will, as announced by the angels at the 
 birth of the Lord." — Oonv. ii. 5. 
 
 1 The manna is divine grace (John vi. 59), and more especially the 
 Blessed Sacrament, for those who are still upon earth. The wilderness 
 (Exod. xvi. 4) signifies both the earthly life, and the penitential life in 
 Purgatory. 
 
 2 I Peter v. 8 ; Apoc. xii. 9 ; 2 Cor. xii. 7. 
 
 3 Matt. xxvi. 41. 
 
 * Dante translates : " Deliver us from the Evil One." 
 " As the souls in Purgatory have departed from the world in sanctify- 
 ing grace, they have a certain hope of beholding God, and are free from 
 temptation. In teaching that the souls in Purgatory pray for us, Dante 
 follows Gregory the Great {Died. iv. 40) and Peter Damian {Ep. de Mirac), 
 in opposition to St. Thomas (ii. 2. q. ^i-^, a. iv. ad 3). On this point 
 Bellarmine says : " It is not improbable that the souls in Purgatory also 
 pray and impetrate for us ; and although St. Thomas teaches the con- 
 trary, his reasoning is not convincing. ... If the souls in Purgatory 
 pray for themselves or for us, I say not that they merit, but that they 
 impetrate from their preceding merits, as the Saints now impetrate 
 for us, although they do not merit." — De Purgat. ii. 15. 
 
MERIT. Z'iZ 
 
 And he compares his own joy at the sight of the tender 
 St. Bernard to that of 
 
 "A wight 
 Who haply from Croatia wends to see 
 Our Veronica ; and i^e while 'tis shown, 
 Hangs over it with never-sated gaze, 
 And, all that he hath heard revolving, saith 
 Unto himself in thought, ' And didst Thou look 
 E'en thus, Jesus, my true Lord and God ? 
 And was this semblance Thine ? ' " — Par. xxxi. 93. 
 
 In the growing neglect of the ecclesiastical fasts and 
 the decay of filial gratitude, Dante sees fatal signs of 
 degeneracy : 
 
 " He that fasts 
 While yet a stammerer, with his tongue let loose 
 Gluts every food alike in every moon : 
 One, yet a babbler, loves and hstens to 
 His mother ; but no sooner hath free use 
 Of speech, than he doth wish her in the grave." 
 
 — Par. xxvii. 120. 
 
 The practice of the theological and moral virtues gains 
 merit, 1 and even the merely natural virtues of the heathen 
 are not left unrewarded. ^ Contrition and works of mercy 
 avail, even at the last moment, to reconcile the sour^to 
 God: 
 
 " So that, repenting and forgiving, we 
 Did issue out of life at peace with God." 
 
 —Purg. V. 54. 
 " Hearty zeal 
 To serve reanimates celestial grace." 
 
 — Purg. xviii. 103. 
 
 As the soul advances in good works, it becomes con- 
 firmed in virtue and approaches the state of future glory,^ 
 which is 
 
 1 Par. xxiv. 40. " Bell, iv. 69. 
 
 3 Purg, xviii. 58. 
 
\ 
 
 314 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 " The effect of grace divine and merit preceding." 
 
 — Par. XXV. 69. 
 " The meed, as unto each, in due degree, 
 Grace and good-will their measure have assign'd." 
 
 — Par. xxviii. 105. 
 
 And this leads us to the consideration of grace. Grace 
 is the principle of the soul's supernatural life and the 
 source of charity. Without grace, man cannot take one 
 step towards amendment : 
 
 " Only this line 
 Thou shalt not overpass, soon as the sun ^ 
 Hath disappear'd." — Purg. viii. 53. 
 
 Even the Gospel, which Christ brought into the world, 
 preached without grace finds no entrance to the heart : 
 
 " The sheep, meanwhile, poor witless ones, return 
 From pasture, fed with wind." — Far. xxix. 112. 
 
 Without grace no one can lead a virtuous life, still less 
 can perfection be attained : 
 
 " But through benign 
 Largess of heavenly graces, which rain down 
 From such a height as mocks our vision, this man 
 Was, in the freshness of his being^^ such, 
 So gifted virtually, that in him 
 All better habits wondrously had thrived." 
 
 — Furg. xxx, 114. 
 
 On grace depends our daily progress. ^ Hence the prayer: 
 
 ^ The light of grace. " Walk whilst you have the light, that dark- 
 ness overtake you not ; and he that walketh in darkness knowetli not 
 whether he goeth." — John xii. 35. 
 
 2 Dante here alludes to that period of his early youth in which, 
 under Beatrice's influence, began the higher life described in the Vita 
 Nuova. 
 
 ^ "(Without grace) man cannot long remain free from mortal sin; 
 . . . he may avoid particular acts of sin, but never all," — S. i, 
 2. q. 1O9, a. 8. Cone. Trid. Sess. vi. can. i, absque gratia. Cf. Thoni. 
 Cont. Gent. iii. 147. 
 
GRACE. 315 
 
 " Grant us this day 
 Our daily manna, without which he roams 
 Through this rough desert retrograde, who most 
 Toils to advance his steps." — Purg. xi. 13. 
 
 But grace does not compel the will. Those very gifts, 
 natural or supernatural, which render man capable of 
 higher virtue, if abused and rejected, increase his con- 
 demnation : 
 
 " The more of kindly strength is in the soil, 
 So much doth evil seed and lack of culture 
 Mar it the more, and make it run to wildness." 
 
 — Purg. XXX. 120. 
 
 As there is no merit without grace, so, on the other 
 hand : 
 
 " To receive the grace which Heaven vouchsafes, 
 Is meritorious." — Par. xxix. 64, 
 
 Prompt correspondence to a first grace ensures a second, 
 and so on from grace to grace. ^ Thus the faithful angels, 
 by enlightening grace and their own merit, were exalted : 
 
 " So that, in their will confirm'd, 
 They stand, nor fear to fall." — Par. xxix. 62. 
 
 Faithfully corresponded with, grace renders the practice 
 of supernatural virtue so easy, that those habits at last 
 seem natural and necessary : 
 
 " Since with its beam 
 The grace, whence true love lighteth first his flame, 
 That after doth increase by loving, shines 
 So multiplied in thee, it leads thee up 
 Along this ladder,^ down whose hallow'd steps 
 
 ^ Par. X. 79. 
 
 2 " By every meritorious act man merits an increase of grace, even 
 to the consummation of grace, which is life eternal." — S. i. 2. q. 114, 
 a. 8. 
 
3i6 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 'None e'er descend, and mount them not again ; 
 "Who from his phial should refuse thee wine 
 >, To slake thy thirst, no less constrained were, 
 
 Than water flowing not unto the sea." — Par. x. 79. 
 
 Grace ^ unites itself with the soul,^ and purifies it from 
 the foam of sin, so that the limpid stream of the Spirit 
 flows into it unsoiled.^ Grace is proffered to the soul up 
 to the last hour of life : 
 
 " The efiect of grace divine and merit preceding." 
 
 — Par. XXV. 69. 
 
 " The meed, as imto each, in due degree, 
 Grace and good-will their measure have assign'd." 
 
 — Par. xxviii. 105. 
 
 " We aU 
 By violence died, and to our latest horn- 
 "Were sinners, but then wam'd by light from Heaven." 
 
 — Purg. V. 51. 
 
 God pours down His grace on all human beings. When, 
 therefore, a heathen by the aid of grace fulfils the moral 
 law as far as he can, God gives him more grace, and in- 
 spires him with the desire for baptism, and thus finally 
 brings him to eternal bliss : * 
 
 ^ "Grace is the accidental form of the soul itself." — S. i. 2. q. 
 no, a. 2. 
 
 2 Par. xxiv. 117. ^ Piirg. xiii. 80. 
 
 * See p. I. Dante supposes Riphseus to have been saved by implicit 
 faith, of which St. Thomas says, " If any have been saved without a 
 revelation, they must nevertheless have had faith in a Mediator. For 
 although their faith in Him was not explicit, they believed implicitly 
 in Divine Providence, and that God would redeem men by the means 
 He thought best, and as the Spirit should reveal to those who knew 
 the truth, according to the words of Job : * "Who teacheth us more than 
 the beasts of the earth, and instructeth us more than the fowls of the 
 air' (Job xxxv. ii)." — S. ii, 2. q. 2, a. 7 ad 3. St. Augustine calls 
 implicit faith certain beginnings, or, as it were, conceptions of faith 
 (Ad. Simplic. L 2). St. Thomas says that " remission of sin is obtained 
 by baptism of desire, explicitly or implicitly conceived."— S. iii. q. 69, 
 a. 4. 
 
INTERCESSION OF THE SAINTS. 3^7 
 
 " The other, through the riches of that grace, 
 Which from so deep a fountain doth distil 
 As never eye created saw its rising, 
 Placed all his love below on just and right : 
 Wherefore, of grace, God oped in him the eye 
 To the redemption of mankind to come ; 
 Wherein believing, he endured no more 
 The filth of Paganism."— Par. xx. 1 1 1 . 
 
 The fervent prayers of the saints may also obtain for a 
 soul the grace of conversion. Thus the Emperor Trajan, 
 in answer to the prayers of St. Gregory,^ was allowed to 
 return to life again from Hell, and to win the salvation of 
 his soul by faith and charity : *^ 
 
 " One from the barrier of the dark abyss, 
 WTiere never any with good-will returns. 
 Came back unto his bones. Of lively hope 
 Such was the meed ; of lively hope, that wing'd 
 The prayers sent up to God for his release, 
 And put power into them to bend His will. 
 The glorious Spirit of whom I speak to thee, 
 A little while returning to the flesh, 
 BeUeved in Him, Who had the means to help ; 
 And, in believing, nourish'd such a flame 
 Of holy love, that at the second death 
 He was made sharer in our gamesome mirth." 
 
 — Par. XX. 99. 
 
 Such examples of God's uncovenanted mercy should 
 check all rash attempts to penetrate the mysteries of 
 divine predestination, which are hidden even from the 
 blessed. Men must be content to know, that all His decrees 
 are ordained in justice and in love : 
 
 ^ SeeTootnote p. 212. 
 
 * " A man may congruously merit for another a first grace ; for if he 
 be in a state of grace and does God's will, it is congruous and in keep- 
 ing with the nature of friendship, that God should satisfy his will with 
 regard to another's salvation," — S. i. 2. q. 114, a. 6. 
 
3i8 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 " O how far removed, 
 Predestination ! is thy root from such 
 As see not the First Cause entire ; and ye, 
 O mortal men ! be wary how ye judge : 
 For we, who see our Maker, know not yet 
 The number of the chosen." — Par. xx. 122. 
 
 " Our Sovran Lord, that settleth this estate 
 In love and in delight so absolute. 
 That wish can dare no further, every soul 
 Created in His joyous sight to dwell, 
 "With grace, at pleasure, variously endows." ^ 
 
 — Par. xxxii. 53. 
 
 The seven gifts of the Holy Ghost are represented in the 
 Commedia under the figure of seven lamps, from which 
 issue seven pencils of rainbow-tinted flame. ^ 
 — ¥feeOhurch, with her head, the Roman FoutilLisjaan's 
 -gttide ^o salvation. To her keeping Christ has in trusted 
 the Holy Scriptures, both of the Old and Kew Covenant ; 
 
 " Either Testament, 
 The Old and New, is yours : and for your guide, 
 The Shepherd of the Church. Let this suffice 
 To save you. When by evil lust enticed. 
 Remember ye be men, not senseless beasts ; 
 Nor let the Jew, who dwelleth in your streets, 
 Hold you in mockery. Be not as the lamb. 
 That, fickle wanton, leaves its mother's milk 
 To dally with itself in idle play." — Par. v. 76. 
 
 By the side of Holy Scripture, Dante acknowledges tradi- 
 tion as a second independent rule of faith. ^ 
 
 ~^ "TheUiviiiB liuodnebs, being in itself one anS simple, can only 
 under many forms be represented in creatures, . . . and therefore, to 
 complete the universe (as an image of God), diverse grades of being 
 are required."— S. i. q. 23, a. 5. 
 
 ^ The seven gifts of the Holy Ghost enumerated by Isaias are 
 wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and the 
 fear of the Lord. Apoc. i. 4, 5 ; Isai. xi. 2, 3 ; Conv. iv. 21, 
 
 * " It must be noted that part of the Scripture was before the 
 Church, that part of it came with the Church, and part after the 
 Church. Before the Church were the Old and New Testament, the 
 
THE CHURCH OF CHRIST. 319 
 
 The Church is the Bride of Christ, whom He espoused 
 
 with that loud cry from the Cross, in His Blood. Peter, 
 
 chosen by Christ to be her Head, has received from Him 
 
 the keys of the kingdom of Heaven : 
 
 Covenant whicli the Psalmist says was ' commanded for ever,' of which 
 the Church speaks to her Bridegroom saying : ' Draw me, we will run 
 after Thee,' With the Church came those venerable chief Councils, 
 with which no faithful Christian doubts but that Christ was present. 
 For we have His own words to His disciples, when He was about to 
 ascend into Heaven : * Lo, I am with you all days, even to the consum- 
 mation of the world.' To which Matthew testifies. There are also the 
 writings of the Doctors, Augustine and others, of whom, if any doubt 
 that they were aided by the Holy Spirit, either he has never beheld 
 their fruit, or, if he has beheld, he has never tasted thereof. After the 
 Church are the traditions, which they call Decretals, which, although 
 they are to be venerated for their apostolical authority, yet we must 
 not doubt are to be held inferior to fundamental Scripture, seeing that 
 Christ rebuked the Pharisees for this very thing ; for when asked : 
 * Why do Thy disciples transgress the traditions of the ancients ? ' (for 
 they neglected the washing of hands), He answered them, as Matthew 
 testifies : ' Why do you also transgress the commandment of God by 
 your tradition ? ' Thus He intimates plainly that tradition was to 
 have a lower place. But if the traditions of the Church are after the 
 Church, it follows that the Church had not its authority from tra- 
 ditions, but rather traditions from the Church." — De Monarchia, iii. 
 3. Thus, far Irom denying the existence of tradition, Dante accurately 
 distinguishes between divine and human tradition. The former is 
 deposited in the \ex cathedra decisions of the Popes] and the decrees of 
 General Councils, and being given with the assistance of the Holy 
 Ghost, is an infallible rule of faith. The latter (the Papal Decretals) 
 [not ex cathedra] are to be received with the respect due to the Holy 
 See, but lay no claim to infallibility. Even to the teachings of the 
 great Doctors of the Church the poet ascribes a quasi-supernatural 
 authority (a Spiritu Sancto adjutl) ; but they have no infallibility, ex- 
 cept in as far as they express the universal teaching of the Church, 
 although a special providential guidance cannot be denied to such 
 teachers as St. Augustine, and the like. In this he follows St. Thomas, 
 who says : ** Theology in its arguments uses the Canonical Scriptures 
 as its proper and necessary authority, and employs the writings of 
 Doctors as authorities which are indeed her own, but only of probable 
 authority. For our faith rests on the revelation made to the A^jostles 
 and Prophets, who wrote the canonical books, and not on any private 
 revelation which Doctors may have received." — I. q. i, a. 8. Whence 
 Augustine in Ep. 19 ad Hieronym. says, ' I attach weight to these 
 writers in proportion to their holiness and learning, but I do not be- 
 lieve an opinion true, merely because they held it' " Dante, however, 
 is not so accurate, when he places the existence of the New Testament, 
 before that of the Church. 
 
320 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 " To whom she thus : ^ everlasting light 
 Of him, within whose mighty grasp om* Lord 
 Did leave the keys, which of this wondrous bliss 
 He bare below ! ' " — Par. xxiv. 34. 
 
 " Tell me now 
 What treasures from Saint Peter at the first 
 Our Lord demanded, when He put the keys 
 Into his charge ? " — Hell, xix. 93. 
 
 The Roman Pontiff is the successor of St. Peter, ^neas 
 is the founder of that Kome with its Empire, which was 
 
 " 'Stabhsh'd for the holy place, where sits 
 Who to great Peter's sacred chair succeeds." 
 
 — Hell, ii. 25. 
 
 The Pope of the day indeed is a man, and can there- 
 fore err, but notwithstanding his frailties the Papacy is of 
 — disoiie institution. Hence the Commedia distinguishes be- 
 tween ^STHoIy^SerHlld-Tts-eeettpaiit: 1 
 
 lot through its fault. 
 But his who fills it basely." — Par. xii. 83. 
 
 Thus God has enriched Rome with two suns, the Pope 
 and the Emperor, to enlighten us in the paths of temporal 
 and eternal peace : ^ 
 
 " Rome, that tum'd it unto good, 
 Was wont to boast two suns, whose several beams 
 Cast light on either way, the world's and God's." 
 
 — Purg. xvi. 109. 
 
 ^ Thus St. Leo distinguishes between the chair and its occupant : 
 "Other are the sees, other those that fill them" (Ep. loi). "The 
 rights of the sees remain, though diverse at times are the merits of 
 their occupants " (Ep. 109). 
 
 2 In his letter to the princes and lords of Italy, Dante says : " When 
 the incarnate Son of God announced His Gospel on earth, He divided 
 the kingdom between Himself and the Emperor, and enjoined that to 
 each should be given that which is his." — l)e Monarchia, pass. 
 
THE CHARIOT OF THE BRIDE, 321 
 
 The victorious progress of the Church through the ages 
 is represented, as we have seen,i by a triumphal chariot 
 drawn by Christ in the form of a Gryphon, and accom- 
 panied by the Cherubim, the writers of the Old and New 
 Testament Scriptures, and the Theological and Moral 
 Virtues : ^ 
 
 " Beneath a sky 
 So beautiful came f our-and-twenty elders ^ 
 By two and two, with flower-de-luces crown'd. 
 All sang one song : ' Blessed be thou among 
 The daughters of Adam ! and thy loveliness 
 
 Blessed for ever ! ' 
 
 As light 
 In Heaven doth second Hght, came after them 
 Four animals, each crown'd with verdurous leaf. 
 With six wings each was plumed ; the plumage full 
 Of eyes ; and the eyes of Argus would be such, 
 
 Were they endued with life.^ 
 
 The space, surrounded by the four, enclosed 
 A car triumphal : on two wheels ^ it came. 
 Drawn at a Gryphon's neck.^ .... 
 
 ' Purg. p. 227. 
 
 ^ Apoc. xii. In his letter to the Cardinals, Dante also speaks of 
 tlie "chariot of the Bride, on which they have turned their backs, 
 and have not cared to make it follow the track of the Crucified One." 
 The image of the chariot is taken from Ezech. i 15. Cf. Isai. IxvL 
 15 ; Ps. Ixvii. 18. 
 
 3 The four-and-twenty elders (Apoc. iv. 10) signify the twenty-four 
 books of the Old Testament. They are crowned with white lilies, 
 symbolising pure faith ; their hymns of praise merely repeat the words 
 of the Angel, and of St Elizabeth (Luke i. 28, 42). From the earliest 
 times, Mary has been the type of the Church. Augustin. {Ccesar. 
 Arelat.) Supplem. Sei-m. cxxi. 5. Cf. Apoc. xii. l; De Symb. ad 
 Catech. ii. i. 
 
 * These four animals are the symbols of the four Evangelists. 
 Compare Ezech. i. 4 ; Apoc. iv. 8. 
 
 ^ The two wheels represent the Old and New Covenant (see Eph. 
 ii. 20), or, according to others (Philalethes), Scripture and tradition. 
 
 ^ Tha Gryphon is half-eagle, half-lion. The former symbolises the 
 divine, the latter the human nature in Christ. Hence the first is 
 golden, and the second red and white, the colours of love and 
 innocence. See Cant. v. lo-ii ; also, for the lion, Gen. xlix. 9 ; Apoc. 
 V. 5 ; Didron, Hist. d. D. p. 324 j Augustin, Enai-r. in Ps. xc. Serm. L 
 
 X 
 
322 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION, 
 
 The members, far 
 As he was bird, were golden ; white the rest, 
 
 With vermiel intervein'd 
 
 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 emeralds ; snow new-fallen seem'd the third. 
 Now seem'd the white to lead, the ruddy now ; 
 And from her song who led, the others took 
 Their measure, swift or slow. At the other wheel, 
 A band quaternion,^ each in purple clad, 
 Advanced with festal step, as, of them, one 
 The rest conducted ; one, upon whose front 
 Three eyes were seen. In rear of all this group, 
 Two old men I beheld, dissimilar 
 
 ^ The three Nymphs on the right are the three Theological Virtues, 
 Faith, white ; Hope, green ; Charity, red. The white and the red 
 alternately take the lead, because in the work of regeneration faith 
 comes first, and the other virtues follow (Cone. Trid. Sess. vi. cap. 
 6. 8). And on the other hand, it is charity which animates and perfects 
 faith and hope. "There is a twofold order, viz., of generation and 
 perfection. ... In the order of generation, in which matter precedes 
 form and is less perfect, faith precedes hope, and hope, charity, as 
 regards acts. For the appetite is only moved to believe in, or liope 
 for, that which the intellect has apprehended. Therefore, in the 
 order of generation, faith precedes hope and charity. . . . But in the 
 order of perfection charity precedes faith and hope, since charity 
 informs both faith and hope, and perfects both in virtue. And thus 
 charity, being the form of all virtues, is the parent and root of all." — 
 S. i. 2. q. 62, a. 4. Cf. ii. 2. q. 23, a. 7, 8. 
 
 ^ The four Nymphs on the left, clad in the colour of Love, are the 
 four Cardinal Virtues. They are led by Prudence, which dominates 
 the three other virtues of Eubulia (counsel), Synesis (judgment), 
 Gnome (command.) "Subordinate to the virtue of Prudence, whose 
 province it is to command well, are Eulalia, good counsel, Synesis 
 and Gnome, whose action is judicial." For prudence guided by 
 counsel directs, judges, and commands all the moral virtues. " As to 
 choose rightly is the special function of a moral virtue, it cannot 
 be preserved without prudence. For to choose aright, there must not 
 only be an inclination to the right end, but a formal selection of the 
 necessary means ; and this belongs to prudence, whose oflBce it is to 
 counsel, judge, and command the means to the end." — S. i. 2. q. 
 65, a. I. 
 
THE CHURCH INFALLIBLE. 323 
 
 In raiment, but in port and gesture like, 
 
 Solid and mainly grave ; of whom, the one 
 
 Did show himself some favoiu-'d counsellor 
 
 Of the great Coan,^ him, whom Nature made 
 
 To serve the costliest creature of her tribe. 
 
 His fellow mark'd an opposite intent ; ^ 
 
 Bearing a sword,^ whose glitterance and keen edge, 
 
 E'en as I viewed it with the flood between, 
 
 Appall'd me. Next, four others I beheld 
 
 Of humble seeming : ^ and, behind them all, 
 
 One single old man,^ sleeping as he came. 
 
 With a shrewd visage. And these seven, each 
 
 Like the first troop were habited ; but wore 
 
 No braid of lilies on their temples wreathed. 
 
 Rather, with roses and each vermeil flower." 
 
 — Purg. xxix. 80. 
 
 The Church, founded by God^Jis--ttHder -His special pro- 
 videnc^ ^ad ^uidaiiLb^U^LiS ' ■ 
 
 " Imperial Head, 
 "Who reigneth ever." — Par. xii. 36. 
 
 As the Church is the Bride of Christ, she cannot lie,^ 
 but is infallible ; especially so in the decisions of General 
 Councils, wherein no believer doubts that Christ is present. '^ 
 The whole economy of satisfaction for sin is committed 
 to the Church, and, as a rule, no one finds grace without 
 
 ^ St. Luke, the writer of the Acts of the Apostles, who was a 
 physician (Col. iv. 14). 
 
 ^ St. Paul. 
 
 3 The sword is the symbol of the two-edged Word of God (Heb. 
 iv. 12). 
 
 * The writers of the Epistles, SS. Peter, John, James, and Jude. 
 
 ^ The author of the Apocalypse, who " sees in a trance. " Others 
 see in the four of " humble seeming " the four great Doctors of the 
 Church, SS. Gregory, Ambrose, Augustine, and Jerome ; and following 
 them St. Bernard, the type of contemplation. See Par. xxxi. 55. This 
 latter interpretation seems to accord best with the fundamental idea of 
 the poet [Par. x.-xii.) Their heads are crowned with roses, the flower 
 of sacred love. 
 
 ^ Conv. ii. 4, 6. ^ De Monarch, iii. 3. 
 
324 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 her intervention and that of her Head, who reigns where 
 " Tiber's wave grows salt." ^ "Whoever, therefore, is not 
 loosed by the Church from censure on earth, even though 
 repentant, is bound in Purgatory : 
 
 " True it is, 
 That such one as in contumacy dies 
 Against the Holy Church, though he repent, 
 Must wander thirty-fold for all the time 
 In his presumption past : if such decree 
 Be not by prayers of good men shorter made." 
 
 — Furg. iii. 131. 
 
 The intercession of the Church aids the souls in the other 
 world ; 2 by means of indulgences granted to those who fulfil 
 the required conditions, and effectual also for the souls of 
 the departed, she remits temporal punishments : 
 
 " These three months past indeed,^ 
 He, whoso chose to enter, with free leave 
 Hath taken." — Furcf. ii. 94. 
 
 Of the Sacraments, Holy Baptism is the first, for by it 
 we enter the kingdom of Christ, and our souls are espoused 
 to the faith : 
 
 " Ere thou pass 
 Farther, I would thou know, that these of sin 
 Were blameless ; and if aught they merited, 
 It profits not, since baptism was not theirs, 
 The portal to thy faith." — Hell, iv. 30. 
 
 " When, at the sacred font. 
 The spousals were complete 'twixt faith and him, 
 Where pledge of mutual safety was exchanged." 
 
 ■ — Far. xii. 56. 
 
 Since the coming of Christ, infants are only admitted to 
 
 ^ Purg. ii. 97. 
 
 2 Purg. iii. 141, iv. 129, v. 70, viii. 71, xiii. 117. 
 ^ Three months had just elapsed since the proclamation of the 
 Jubilee of the year 1300. 
 
BAPTISM. 325 
 
 Heaven through baptism. Under the Old Covenant, cir- 
 cumcision, and before Abraham, the faith of the parents; 
 remitted original sin.^ Although they have entered into 
 bliss without merit, God, for inscrutable reasons, has 
 ordained that they should enjoy different degrees of glory : 
 
 "Therefore, as grace 
 Inweaves the coronet, so every brow 
 Weareth its proper hue of orient Hght, 
 And merely in respect to his prime gift, 
 . Not in reward of meritorious deed, 
 Hath each his several degree assign'd. 
 In early times with their own innocence 
 More was not wanting, than the parent's faith. 
 To save them : those first ages past, behoved 
 That circumcision in the males should imp 
 The flight of innocent wings : but since the day 
 Of grace hath come, without baptismal rites 
 In Christ accomplish'd, imiocence herself 
 Must linger here below." — Far. xxxii. 61. 
 
 When man, forgetful of God, turns to earthly things 
 and sins, it is grace which awakes him and urges him to 
 repent. Thus we have seen Lucia, as "prevenient grace," 
 carry Dante in his sleep, and, without his co-operation 
 (gratia operans),^ to the gate of Purgatory — symbol of 
 the sacrament of penance. The angel who guards the gate 
 and bears a flaming sword, the type of the judicial Word 
 of God, warns him not to enter without preparation and 
 
 1 "It is held commonly by all, that circumcision remitted original 
 sin " (a, i). " It was the preparation for baptism and its figure " (a. 4). 
 " Both before and after the institution of circumcision, faith in Christ 
 to come was the sole means of justification. But before the institution 
 no pledge and sign of the faith was required, for then the faithful were 
 not separated from the infidel, to form one society in the worship of 
 the one God. Nevertheless faithful parents probably offered prayers 
 to God for their new-bom infants, or gave them some kind of blessing, 
 especially if they were in danger." — S. iii. q. 68, a. 2 ; q. 70, a. 4. 
 
 2 " In us, without us." — Augustin, De Corrept. et Grat. c. 6. " The 
 first movements are produced in man, but not by man." — Cone. 
 Aramic. ii. can. 20. 
 
326 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 true contrition ; otherwise the sacrament would turn to his 
 condemnation : 
 
 " Take heed your coming upward harm ye not." 
 
 — Purg. ix. 79. 
 
 Yirgil explains how they came there : 
 
 " A heavenly dame, not sMlless of these things, 
 (Replied the instructor) told us, even now, 
 ' Pass that way : here the gate is.' " — Purg. ix. 80. 
 
 One of the most characteristic effects of awakening grace 
 is, to open the eyes of the penitent to the transitoriness and 
 vanity of all that the world can give : 
 
 " Late, alas ! 
 Was my conversion : but, when I became 
 Eome's pastor, I discerned at once the dream 
 And cozenage of life ; saw that the heart 
 Rested not there, and yet no prouder height 
 Lured on the chmber : wherefore, of that life 
 No more enamour'd, in my bosom love 
 Of purer being kindled." ^ — Purg. xix. 105. 
 
 The three steps which lead up to the gate of Purgatory 
 symbolise the conversion of the sinner and his repentance. 
 The first, of white marble, so brightly polished that he sees 
 in it his own reflection, signifies the examination of con- 
 science ; the second, of rugged stone, " fire-scarred both 
 
 ^ ** How sweet I suddenly found it to await the sweetness of those 
 joys, and what I feared to lose, I now with joy put away. For Thou 
 didst cast them out from me, Thou true and sovereign Sweetness. 
 Thou castest them forth and for them enterest in Thyself ; sweeter 
 than all pleasure, though not to flesh and blood ; brighter than all 
 light, but more hidden than all depths ; higher than all heights, yet 
 not to those high in their own conceits. Now was my soul free from 
 the biting cares of canvassing and getting, of wallowing in the mire 
 of sense, and scratching off the itch of lust ! and my infant tongue 
 spake freely to Thee, my Lord and my God." — S. August. Conf. 
 Bk. ix. I. 
 
SACRAMENT OF PENANCE. 327 
 
 lengthwise and across," signifies contrition;^ the thii-d, 
 blood -red, denotes the purpose of amendment, which can- 
 not be accomplished without suffering and mortification : 
 
 " The lowest stair was marble white, so smooth 
 And polish'd, that therein my mirror'd form 
 Distinct I saw. The next, of hue more dark 
 Than sablest grain, a rough and singed block, 
 Crack'd lengthwise and across.^ The third, that lay 
 Massy above, seem'd porphyry, that flamed 
 Red as the life-blood spouting from a vein." 
 
 — Purg. ix. 86. 
 
 Tlie angel (the Confessor) sits at the threshold of the 
 gate, his feet resting on the third step, because it is his 
 office to guide the penitent in his contrition and satisfac- 
 tion. Full of remorse, the sinner throws himself on his 
 knees before him, and thrice strikes his breast, indicating 
 the act of confession. The angel, in ash-coloured vesture, 
 writes seven P's on his brow, inquires into his worthi- 
 ness, and gives him absolution by the application of the 
 silver and golden keys. Then the door opens for him, 
 and he enters Purgatory, there to fulfil his penance and 
 exp'iation : \ 
 
 ^ " To be made little or crushed, means that something solid has 
 been reduced to the smallest particle. And since sin cannot be 
 remitted unless man wholly discard that affection to it, which by its 
 continued presence and strenirth had grown within him, therefore the 
 act by which sin is to be remitted is said, by a simile, to be a crushing 
 {cordritio)." — S. Supp. q. I, a. I. 
 
 " From that same source of sin 
 Will tears constant flow, 
 If the hard heart be crushed 
 By penitential blow." — Lenten Hymn, Sunday Lauds. 
 
 ^ Crepata, cracked, from crepacuore, a pang that breaks the heart. 
 This stone is split crosswise, both in length and breadth, to show that 
 the whole inward man must be broken up and all sin repented of. It 
 is scarred by fire, for repentance should be a consuming, fire, to destroy 
 all siE. 
 
 ^ Referring to the bloody scourgings of great penitents. 
 
328 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 " On this God's angel either foot sustain'd, 
 Upon the threshold seated, which appear'd 
 A rock of diamond.^ Up the trinal steps 
 My leader cheerly drew me. * Ask/ said he, 
 ' With humble heart, that he mibar the bolt.' 
 Piously at his holy feet devolved 
 I cast me, praying him for pity's sake 
 That he would open to me ; but first fell 
 Thrice on my bosom prostrate.^ Seven times 
 The letter, that denotes the inward stain, 
 He on my forehead, with the blunted point 
 Of his drawn sword, inscribed. And ' Look,' he cried, 
 ' When enter'd, that thou wash these scars away.' 
 Ashes, or earth ta'en dry out of the ground. 
 Were of one colour with the robe he wore." 
 
 — Purg. ix. 93. 
 
 Dante repeatedly insists on contrition, as the indis- 
 pensable condition of absolution : 
 
 " I cleanse away with these the evil life, 
 Soliciting with tears that He, Who is, 
 Vouchsafe Him to us." — Purg. xiii 98. 
 
 True contrition " espouses us to Grod ;" ^ but, as is evident, 
 purpose of amendment must accompany it : 
 
 " No power can the impenitent absolve ; 
 Nor to repent, and will, at once consist. 
 By contradiction absolute forbid." — Hell, xxvii. 113. 
 
 Although the sinner may endeavour to conceal his sin, yet 
 it is fully known to the Eternal Judge. A frank confes- 
 sion only can rob sin of its sting, and cleanse the soul of its 
 
 stain : 
 
 " Hadst thou 
 Been silent, or denied what thou avow'st. 
 
 The diamond figures the rock on which the Church and her power 
 rests. Matt. xvi. 18. 
 
 - Signifying sins of thought, word, and deed. 
 • - 74. 
 
INDULGENCES. 329 
 
 Thou hadst not hid thy sin the more ; such eye 
 Observes it. But whene'er the sinner's cheek 
 Breaks forth into the precious-streaming tears 
 Of self-accusing, ia our court the wheel 
 Of justice doth run counter to the edge." 
 
 — Purg. xxxi. 33. 
 
 To the Church belongs the plenary power of remitting 
 to the penitent, who is duly contrite and has fulfilled the 
 penance prescribed, the remainder of his temporal punish- 
 ment. Nevertheless, Dante warns us against a too easy 
 credulity in the "unstampt metal " ^ of "lying privileges." ^ 
 
 Its justification complete, all memory of its evil deeds is 
 blotted out, and the purified soul remembers only its good 
 works. The streams of Lethe and Eunoe, of which it 
 drinks, effect, as we have seen, this wondrous change : 
 
 " The water, thou behold'st, springs not from vein, 
 Restored by vapour, that the cold converts ; 
 As stream that intermittently repairs 
 And spends his pulse of life ; but issues forth 
 From fountain, solid, undecaying, sure : 
 And by the will omnific, full supply 
 Feeds whatsoe'er on either side it pours ; 
 On this, devolved with power to take away 
 Remembrance of offence ; on that, to bring 
 Remembrance back of every good deed done. 
 From whence its name of Lethe on this part ; 
 On the other, Eunoe : both of which ^ must first 
 Be tasted, ere it work." — Purg. xxviii. 1 27. 
 
 Our review of Dante's theology finds a fitting conclusion 
 in " the last things," which we will now consider. 
 All that is born must die, and life itself is brief : *. 
 
 ^ Par. xxix. 1 34.^ ^ Par^ :!fxvii, 49. 
 
 3 " So overflowing is the joy of the saints in patria that they cannot 
 mourn. They feel no grief for their past sins, but happiness in the 
 divine mercy, the cause of their forgiveness. Even their demerits, 
 which penance destroyed, are remembered only in that same penance, 
 and rank with it among other meritorious works." — S. Supp. q. 89, a. i. 
 
 •* Par. xvi. 77. 
 
330 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 " But mortality in some 
 Ye mark not ; they endure so long, and you 
 Pass by so suddenly." — Far. xvi. 78. 
 
 Hence the vanity of all earthly renown ; for before God 
 a thousand years are but as a moment : 
 
 " Shalt thou more 
 Live in the mouths of mankind, if thy flesh 
 Part shrivel'd from thee, than if thou hadst died 
 Before the coral and the pap were left ; 
 Or e'er some thousand years have past ? and that 
 Is, to eternity compared, a space 
 Briefer than is the twinkling of an eye 
 To the heaven's slowest orb.^ 
 
 Your renown 
 Is as the herb, whose hue doth come and go ; 
 And His might withers it, by Whom it sprang 
 Crude from the lap of earth." — Purg. xi. 10 1. 
 
 The thought--Q£ _the reward beyond the grave ^ should^ 
 spur our endeavour for perfection! ' 
 
 " ' Lift uptl^~h gad , and bo tho u strong in trust 
 For that, which hither from the mortal world 
 Arriveth, must be ripen'd in our beam.' 
 Such cheering accents from the second flame 
 Assured me ; and mine eyes I lifted up 
 Unto the mountains, that had bow'd them late 
 With over-heavy burden." — Par. xxv. 36. 
 
 In this life only is conversion possible : ^ 
 
 ^ According to Dante {Conv. ii. 15), the Heaven of the fixed stars 
 travels but one degree from west to east in a century •; consequently 
 it takes 36,000 years to complete one circle of its orbit. 
 
 ^ Par. xiv. 25. 
 
 3 John ix. 4 ; Gal. vi. lo ; Eccl. xi. 3. Theology distinguishes 
 between the status vice, our condition while still in life, and the status 
 termini, when we have reached our term. St. Thomas deduces this 
 distinction from the nature of man, because in this life he is subject to 
 change, and his phantasy represents sensible things to him as his 
 highest good (Thom. cont. Gent. iv. c. 95, and c. 88). 
 
THE LAST THINGS. 331 
 
 " Nor were I even here, if, able still 
 To siQ, I had not tum'd me unto God." — Purg. xi. 89. 
 
 But the purifying process of Purgatory, allegorically con- 
 sidered, signifies also the penance done by converted sinners 
 in this world. 1 This penance, if neglected here, must be 
 done there : ^ 
 
 " Here my lot ordains 
 Under this weight to groan, till I appease 
 God's angry justice ; since I did it not 
 Amongst the living, here amongst the dead." 
 
 — Purg. xi. 69. 
 
 Whatever may be the duration of their sujfferings,^ at 
 the last day all will enjoy the vision of God : 
 
 " Ponder not 
 The form of suffering. Think on what succeeds : 
 Think that, at worst, beyond the mighty doom 
 It cannot pass." — Purg. x. 97. 
 
 The prayers and good works of their brethren on earth 
 avail to shorten the pains of the holy souls : \ 
 
 " Well befits, his long 
 Endurance should be shorten'd by thy deeds." 
 
 — Par. XV. 90. 
 
 ^ It is so explained by Benvenuto d'Imola : "The soul, which turns 
 from sin while it i^ in the body, is in a moral Purgatory, doing that 
 penance by which its sins are purged ; but the separated soul is 
 in the real Purgatory." The oldest commentators, Giacopo di Dante, 
 Giacopo della Lana, and others, give the same interpretation. 
 
 - " If justice requires that sin, even when its guilt is destroyed, should 
 suffer the penalty due, he who dies contrite and absolved before he has 
 made satisfaction must suffer after this life ; and therefore to deny 
 Purgatory is to gainsay the justice of God." — S. Supp. App. a. I ; 
 Bonav. Breviloq. vii. 2. 
 
 3 " The souls in Purgatory are punished less severely than in Hell, 
 and more so than in the world ; but however grievous be their pains, 
 they can trust and know that they are not in Hell. " — Bonav. Breviloq. 
 vii. 2. " Those pains are said to be conditionally willed, which must be 
 endured to obtain a good. The wiU then tolerates the pain, which is 
 therefore called voluntary ; and thus the pains of Purgatory are so 
 called." — S. Supp. App. q. 2, a. 2. 
 
332 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 " Upon my verge of life I wish'd for peace 
 With God ; nor yet repentance had supplied 
 What I did lack of duty, were it not 
 The hermit Piero, touch'd with charity, 
 In his devout oraisons thought on me." 
 
 — Purg. xiii. ii6. 
 
 " To drink up the sweet wormwood of aflliction 
 I have been brought thus early, by the tears 
 Stream'd down my Nella's cheeks, her prayers devout,^ 
 Her sighs have drawn me from the coast, where oft 
 Expectance lingers." — Purg. xxiii. yZ. 
 
 But prayers and good works avail nothing for their relief, 
 unless they proceed from a soul which is itself in a state of 
 grace : ^ 
 
 " If prayer do not aid me first. 
 That riseth up from heart which lives in grace, 
 What other kind avails, not heard in Heaven ? " 
 
 — Purg. iv. 129. 
 
 The holy souls earnestly desire the suffrages of their 
 brethren in the Church Militant on earth : 
 
 " I . . . . entreat thee 
 . . . . That of thy courtesy thou pray 
 
 ^ The prayers of Forese's widow enabled him to pass rapidly from 
 outer Purgatory to Purgatory proper. 
 
 2 " All the faithful, united by charity, are members of the one body 
 of the Church, but one member is helped by another, and can be 
 assisted by another's merit [and this in two ways]. I. As a consequence 
 of the state of grace, the work of one man can profit another, not only 
 by way of prayer, but also of merit, since all who are bound together 
 in charity profit in some way reciprocally from their mutual works. . . . 
 2. By the intention of the doer, by which his works become in a manner 
 the property of those for whom they are done, as if bestowed on them 
 by the doer. As to sufifrages offered by the wicked, we may consider 
 the work done, or the doer. The prayers of a sinner, considered as 
 his act, can in no way merit for himself or others ; but considered as 
 the act of another, for example, the prayers of a priest in the solemn 
 Office for the Dead ; the prayers of the priest, though he be a sinner, 
 can avail for the dead, because the act is understood as the act of 
 another (the Church) in whose name it is done." — S. Supp. q. 71, 
 a. I, a. 3. 
 
THE HOLY SOULS. 333 
 
 Those who inhabit Fano, that for me 
 
 Their adorations duly be put up, 
 
 By which I may purge off my grievous sins." 
 
 — Furg. V. 66. 
 
 " Ah ! so may the wish, 
 That takes thee o'er the mountain, be fulfill'd, 
 As thou shalt graciously give aid to mine." 
 
 — Purg. V. 84. 
 
 " When I was freed 
 From all those spirits, who pra/d for other's prayers 
 To hasten on their state of blessedness." — Purg. vi. 26. 
 
 " When thou shalt be beyond the vast of waves, 
 Tell my Giovanna, that for me she call 
 There, where reply to innocence is made." 
 
 — Purg. viii. 70. 
 
 We are bound to pray for the souls in Purgatory, for 
 they are always praying for us : 
 
 " In our behoof 
 If their vows still be offer'd, what can here 
 For them be vow'd and done by such, whose wiUs 
 Have root of goodness ^ in them ? " — Purg. xi. 30. 
 
 What are the effects of divine glory on the souls and 
 bodies of the blessed ? Glaucus changed into a sea-god by 
 eating the mystic herb, and his ninefold lustrations in the 
 hundred streams, is an image of the sudden and complete 
 transformation which Dante underwent at the sight of 
 Beatrice in Heaven. In vain does he attempt to express 
 these emotions ; only those who have seen that vision know 
 
 what it means : 
 
 " And I with ken 
 Fix'd upon her, from upward gaze remov'd. 
 At her aspect, such inwardly became 
 As Glaucus,^ when he tasted of the herb 
 
 ^ The root of goodness in the will is grace. S. i. 2. q. 109, a. 2. 
 2 See Ovid's Metamor;pli. xiii. fab. 9. 
 
334 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 That made him peer among the ocean gods : 
 Words may not tell of that transhuman change ; 
 And therefore let the example serve, though weak, 
 For those whom grace hath better proof in store." 
 
 — Par. i. 63. 
 
 So overwhelming is this joy, that man's unaided powers 
 would fail beneath it^ 
 
 Heaven is represented by the poet under various figures 
 — as a tree which is always bowed with fruit and never 
 loses its leaves; 2 the banquet of the Lamb, wherein He 
 perennially feasts His own ; ^ a religious house, of which 
 Christ Himself is the Superior ; a celestial Rome, " wherein 
 Christ dwells a Roman ; " ^ and as a white, luminous rose,^ 
 whose petals are the Saints of the Old and New Covenants. 
 
 Since the souls of the blessed see all things in God, and 
 even those in Purgatory receive their ideas immediately 
 from Him, all relations of space cease necessarily to exist : ^ 
 
 " IS'ear or remote, what there avails, where God 
 Immediate rules, and Nature, awed, suspends 
 Her sway? " — Par. xxx. 120. 
 
 v[l^lie_J£^ws_wliicii go vein uur bodies "ateo-^ere- nojouger 
 prevail, for the gif t of subt lety, bestowed by God on glori- 
 -:^6edHbo dico, ciiabroo tl ieiQ^ jtp pa'ss th rougE each other, and 
 ' ■ lu c aI^L TU muitaneousiy in the i:jamtr pla6ft-:-L^._;^ 
 
 ^ Par. xxi. 9. ^ j>^^ xviii. 25. ' Par. xxiv. 2. 
 
 ^ " Di quella Roma onde Cristo h Romano." — Purg. xxxii. 102. 
 
 ^ Par. xxx. 115. 
 
 ^ "The separated soul understands individual objects by species, 
 infused by the divine light, in which things near and distant are 
 seen with equal clearness. Distance of place, therefore, can in no way 
 impede the knowledge of the separated soul." — S, i. q. 89, a. 7. 
 " Things seen in the Word are beheld, not successively, but together, 
 .... since individual objects are not seen through likenesses of them, 
 but all are beheld in the Divine Essence." — S. i. q. 12, a. 10. 
 
 ^ " * Subtlety ' is so called from power of penetrating This 
 
 condition of body arises from the dominion which the glorified soul, as 
 its form, acquires over it ; and by reason of its almost complete subjection 
 
THE BLESSED IN HE A VEN. 335 
 
 "If I then 
 Was of corporeal frame, and it transcend 
 Our weaker thought, how one dimension thus 
 Another could endure, which needs must be 
 If body enter body." — Par. ii. 36. 
 
 As earthly things, by manifesting the divine power and 
 wisdom, raise our thoughts to Go dt_so the contemplat ion 
 of th e blessed in Heavenis a preparation for the sighFof 
 Him in His Essence : """ 
 
 " Let thy up-soaring vision range at large, 
 This garden through ; for so, by ray divine 
 Kindled, thy ken a higher flight shall mount." 
 
 — Par. xxxi. 88. 
 
 In conte mplating ^od^JIifi_felessed read in that " sacred 
 book, whose leaves, or white or dusky7"ngv e r chan ge ; " ^ 
 and b^o hl as in ar^iyi=^^-feg -aroughts refle cted, before the 
 mind has framed them : " " 
 
 " For in thisTife- 
 Both less and greater in that mirror look, 
 In which thy thoughts, or e'er thou think'st, are shown." 
 
 — Par. XV. 59. 
 
 As in God the when and where are present,- and time 
 and place vanish ; the blessed see with absolute certainty 
 things that have not yet external existence : ^ 
 
 " O plant, from whence I spring ! revered and loved f 
 Who soar'st so high a pitch, that thou as clear 
 
 to the spirit, the glorified body is called spiritual. The first effect of 
 this subjection is that the body shares the specific nature of the soul, as 
 matter does that of form ; and therefore is subjected to the other actions 
 of the soul, as far as the soul is its mover." — S. Supp. q. 83, a. i. 
 
 1 Par. XV. 48. 
 
 ^ Par. xxix. 12. 
 
 3 "According to the opinion of Gregory, it seems that the souls of 
 the saints, in seeing God, know all things which are done on earth ; 
 for they are equal to the angels." — S. i. q. 89, a. 8. 
 
336 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 As earthly thought determines two obtuse 
 In one triangle not contain'd, so clear 
 Dost see contingencies, ere in themselves 
 Existent, looking at the point whereto 
 All times are present." — Par. xvii. 14. 
 
 And since XiQd knows man's thoughts before they arise 
 ^7nri}re-Tmnd^-8o4a^^l53B;;:^e=.-fel«5syd perceive our lihotrghts 
 
 " E'en as His beam illumes me, so I look 
 Into the eternal Light, and clearly mark 
 Thy thoughts, from whence they rise." — Par. xi. 19. 
 
 From this_vision of God, the Highest Good, unveiling 
 Himself to His creflrtTiy<v- a5i He j Sj_jn teTispi Invft neces- 
 sarily results, and the desires of the soul are eternally 
 satisfied : ""~" ——__ 
 
 " There is in Heaven a Light, whose goodly shine 
 Makes the Creator visible to all 
 Created, that in seeing Him alone 
 Have peace." — Par. xxx. 100. 
 
 The vision is indefectible. None who have seen God can 
 
 turnfromjgiift-again i'^ — ~^~ 
 
 " It may not be 
 That one, who looks upon that Light, can turn 
 To other object, willingly, his view. 
 
 1 " When the Lord shall come and enlighten the things of darkness, 
 and shall manifest the thoughts of the hearts, then the closest secrets 
 will be revealed : no man will conceal aught from his neighbour, for 
 stranger will no longer be." — Aug. Ep. xiii. 2. 
 
 ^ " Whoever sees the Divine Essence cannot possibly wish not to 
 see it. For dissatisfaction with a good possessed comes either from its 
 insuflSciency, and a more adequate substitute is sought, or from some 
 inconvenience attached to it, which makes us turn against it. But 
 the vision of the Divine Essence fills the soul with every good, for it 
 unites it to the source of all goodness. . . . And therefore the blessed 
 cannot possibly of their own will abandon their beatitude." — S. i. 2. q. 
 5, a. 4. 
 
THEIR JOY AND PRAISE. 337 
 
 For all the good, that will may covet, there 
 Is summ'd ; ^ and all, elsewhere defective found, 
 Complete." — Par. xxxiii. 95. 
 
 As the earth and planets are illumined by the sun, so is 
 the abode of the blessed by the light of the Godhead. The 
 Sacred Humanity Itself derives Its splendour from the 
 same Eternal Source : 
 
 " As in the calm full moon, when Trivia smiles 
 In peerless beauty, 'mid the eternal nymphs. 
 That paint through all its gulfs the blue profound ; 
 In bright pre-eminence so saw I there 
 O'er million lamps a Sun, from whom all drew 
 Their radiance, as from ours the starry train : 
 And through the living light, so lustrous glow'd 
 The substance,^ that my ken endured it not." 
 
 — Par. xxiii. 25. 
 
 Their joy finds utterance in the song of praise, which 
 unceasingly ascends to the ever-blessed Trinity and the 
 
 Incarnate Son : 
 
 " There was sung 
 No Bacchus, and no lo Psean, but 
 Three Persons in the Godhead, and in One 
 Person that Nature and the hmnan join'd." 
 
 — Par. xiii. 21. 
 This hymn of the blessed is a 
 
 " Song, that as much our muses doth excel, 
 Our syrens with their tuneful pipes, as ray 
 Of primal splendoiu: doth its faint reflex." 
 
 — Par. xii, 6. 
 
 There is but one Heaven wherein all enjoy the Beatific 
 Vision, though in various modes and degrees.^ But the 
 
 ^ " Nor do the blessed lose their free-will because their sins have no 
 more power to please them. . . . Are we to say that God is deprived 
 of His freedom because He cannot sin ?" — Civ. Dei, xxii. 30. 
 
 2 The Sacred Humanity. 
 
 ^ " The distinction of the mansions or degrees of beatitude is derived 
 from a twofold principle, the one proximate, the other remote. The 
 
 Y 
 
338 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 blessed do not repine at the lower measure of joy allotted 
 i^Jhem; lior do i bey.,gnyy those whose bliss is greater ; for 
 their will is absolutely on§"'«dJih the will of God : 
 
 " Rather it is inherent ^ in this start 
 Of blessedness, to keep ourselves witl 
 The Divine Will, by Which our wills with His 
 Are one. So that as we, from step to step, 
 Are placed throughout this kingdom, pleases all, 
 Even as our Kmg, Who in us plants His will ; 
 And in His will is our tranquillity." ^ — Par. iii. 79. 
 
 Indeed their appreciation of the perfect correspondence 
 between merit and glory enhances their felicity ; the joys 
 of Heaven, notwithstanding their variety, perfectly accord, 
 like an exquisite harmony in music : 
 
 proximate principle is the inequality of disposition in the Blessed, from 
 which follows an inequality of perfection in their beatific operation. 
 The remote principle is the inequality of the merit, by which they 
 attained to their beatitude. In the former way, the mansions are dis- 
 tinguished according to the charitas fatrice ; the more perfect this is, the 
 greater the soul's capacity of the Divine Charity, and the greater the 
 consequent perfection of the Divme Vision. In the second way, the 
 mansions are distinguished according to the cliaritas vim. For our acts 
 are meritorious by reason, not of the substance of the acts themselves, 
 but of the habit of virtue by which they are informed ; and the power 
 of meriting in all virtues is from charity, which has the end for its 
 object. So that all inequality of merit is due to inequality of charity, 
 and thus the charitas vice distinguishes the mansions by the principle 
 of merit." — S. i. q. 12, a. 6. "Through diversity of merit one man is 
 more perfect than another." — Cone. Florent. in Deer. Union. 
 
 ^ " The substantial quickening [informans) form is that which gives 
 substance its being." — Axiom of the Schools. 
 
 ^ " Who can conceive, far less describe, what degrees of honour and 
 glory will be awarded to the various degrees of merit ? Yet doubtless, 
 degrees there will be ; and further, this great good that blessed city 
 shall witness, that as now the angels do not envy the archangels, so 
 the lower spirits will not envy those higher. For no one will wish to 
 be what he has not received, though bomid in fetters of union with him 
 who has received ; just as in the body the finger does not seek to be the 
 eye, though both members take their place harmoniously in the com- 
 plete body. And thus along with his gift, greater or less, each shall 
 receive the further gift to desire no more than he has." — Civ. Dei, 
 xxiL ^o, 2. 
 
THEIR ACCIDENTAL GLORY. 339 
 
 " But it is part of our delight, to measure 
 Our wages with the merit ; and admire 
 
 The close proportion 
 
 Of diverse voices is sweet music made : 
 
 So in our life the different degrees 
 
 Render sweet harmony among these wheels." 
 
 — Par. vi. 122. 
 
 While the essential joy which the blessed derive from 
 the Begtifif" YiRi^tri'- nii'^^''V'|j^"^'i^^;'Sj,iMij^^^^^^^^^ joy 
 
 is in creased in^ t,h rp^ :^ «^s___, "Fi vst^ bei ngalT^ m^od'iB -^g" 
 charity of G od, they mutu ally rejoic e in each other's joy, 
 and thei r happinei° « ir| fr^'"^^ ^"^^^ m^nTnr mnl f.haf. enters 
 Heaven: 2 
 
 " As in a quiet and clear lake the fish, 
 If aught approach them from without, do draw 
 Towards it, deeming it their food ; so drew 
 Full more than thousand splendours towards us ; 
 And in each one was heard : ' Lo ! one arrived 
 To multiply our loves ! ' " — Par. v. 97. 
 
 Secondly, the poet represents the souls of the blessed as 
 the leaves of the Heavenly E-ose, above which the angels 
 hover like a swarm of bees, aHghting now on one petal, now 
 on another, and again soaring up to God, from Whom 
 streams of light are ever descending. 
 
 Thus the Blessed constantly receive fresh accessions of 
 love and joy from the truths imparted to them by the angels 
 who have a deeper knowledge of the Divine Essence : ^ 
 
 ^ Beatitudo accidentaZis. The heatitudo essentialis consists in the 
 Beatific Vision, which all possess. 
 
 2 " If thou truly lovest another as thyself, then is thy joy doubled 
 when the same is granted to thy brother ; for thou rejoicest at his 
 happiness, as much as at thine own. And the greater the number of 
 those whom thou so lovest, the greater is thy bliss. Thus it will be in 
 the state of perfect charity with that innumerable multitude of angels 
 and men, who love all others as themselves, and rejoice in the joy of 
 others, as though it were their own." — Anselm, Prolog, c. 25. 
 
 ^ " Two things concur in an intellectual operation — the intellectua 
 faculty, and the likeness of the object understood ; and in both ways an 
 angel can manifest to another a truth he has apprehended. For first. 
 
 ;\f 
 
340 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION 
 
 " In fashion as a snow-white rose, lay then 
 Before my view the saintly multitude, 
 Which in His own blood Christ espoused. Meanwhile, 
 That other host, that soar aloft to gaze 
 And celebrate His glory. Whom they love, 
 Hover'd around, and, like a troop of bees, 
 Amid the vernal sweets alighting now, 
 Now clustering, where their frequent labour glows, 
 Flew downward to the mighty flower, or rose 
 From the redundant petals, streaming back 
 Unto the steadfast dwelling of their joy. 
 Faces had they of flame, and wings of gold : 
 And as they flitted down into the flower, 
 From range to range, fanning their plimiy loins, 
 WTiisper'd the peace and ardour, which they won 
 From that soft winnowing." — Par. xxxi. i. 
 
 Thirdly, the bliss of the blessed is accidentally augmented 
 
 through the love which they bear to their brethren still 
 
 militant on earth, and the efiicacious intercession they can 
 
 offer for them : ^ 
 
 a superior angel may strengthen the intellectual power of an inferior 
 angel, by turning towards him {ordo conversionis), which has the same 
 effect in spiritual beings as local propinquity {ordo propinquitatis) has 
 with corporeal natures. [The angels reflect like mirrors the intellectual, 
 invisible light they receive.] Secondly, as regards the likeness of the 
 thing understood, a superior angel receives a truth as a kind of universal 
 idea, which is beyond the capacity of the intellect of an inferior angel ; 
 though it could, agreeably to its nature, apprehend that same truth 
 under its particular aspect. The truth, therefore, which the superior 
 angel apprehends as an universal, it particularises (distinguit), and pre- 
 sents to the inferior angel in a manner suited to its understanding. All 
 the angels, superior and inferior alike, see the Divine Essence immedi- 
 ately ; and as to this, one angel does not impart knowledge to another; 
 but the exemplars of the divine works, which are seen in God as in 
 their cause, are beheld in greater number by those who see God more 
 perfectly. And thus a superior angel knows more in God of the 
 exemplars of the divine works than an inferior, and illuminates him 
 concerning them." — S. i. q. lo6, a. I. 
 
 [According to some Thomists, the two above-named operations are 
 but effects of the same act, viz., that by which the object is rendered 
 intelligible, in which case illumination only signifies the manifestation 
 of a truth.] 
 
 ^ " Universal created causes are as instniments, with respect to the 
 First Uncreated Cause." — Thorn,, cont. Gent. ii. 21. 
 
NUMBER OF THE PREDESTINATE. 341 
 
 " * Tell who ye are/ I cried. Forthwith it grew 
 In size and splendour, through augmented joy." 
 
 — Par. viii. 50. 
 
 Before their brethren on earth can exp rona thcir -dasiresT > 
 they are already known to the blessed in Heaven.^ ,They 
 accede to every fitting request offered 'with coiiHdence.^ 
 
 " Our charity, 
 To any wish by justice introduced, 
 Bars not the door : no more than she above,' 
 Who would have all her court be Hke herself." 
 
 — Par. iii. 42. 
 
 They rejoice in kind offices,* and are always striving to 
 increase the happiness of others.^ 
 
 What will the number of the elect be in Paradise? 
 Dante gives a relative answer to this question. He divides 
 the Heavenly Rose into two sections ; the saints of the Old 
 Testament are seated on the left side, and are separated 
 above from the thrones of the New Testament saints on 
 the right by a receding line, formed by the holy women of 
 Israel. These are reckoned as the ancestresses of Christ, 
 Who, according to the flesh, sprang from a daughter of « 
 Israel, and hence, through David and Abraham, from 
 AdauL Below, the Old and New Testament saints are 
 divided left and right by the descending tiers of the 
 Fathers of the Church and founders of religious Orders, 
 through whom Christ is continually born anew in the hearts 
 of men. The left side of the rose is full ; on the right there 
 are seats still vacant. Dante, therefore, implies that the 
 
 ^ Par. xxxiii. 17, ix. 19. 
 
 2 " God operates through the agency of second causes, not because 
 of any defect of His power, but to complete the order of the universe, 
 and thus diffuses His goodness in a manifold manner ; not only in 
 giving to things their own proper goodness, but also to become them- 
 selves causes of goodness to others. And thus it is through no defect 
 of His mercy, that He wills His clemency to be won by the interces- 
 sion of the Saints." — S. Supp. q. 72, a, 2. 
 
 ^ The uncreated love of God. * /btr. ix. 25. '^ Par. viii 35. 
 
342 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 numbers of the Saints of the Old and New Testament are 
 
 equal : •'• 
 
 " So Heaven's decree 
 Forecasts, this garden equally to fill, 
 With faith in either view, past or to come." 
 
 — Par. xxxii. 31. 
 
 The souls of the Blessed have a natural desire for reunion 
 with their bodies, ^ because, since man's nature consists of 
 body and soul, this reunion will add, though only extrinsi- 
 cally, to the soul's happiness : ^ 
 
 " Our shape, regarmented with glorious weeds 
 Of saintly flesh, must, being thus entire. 
 Show yet more gracious. Therefore shall increase 
 Whate'er, of light, gratuitous imparts 
 The Supreme Good ; light, ministering aid, 
 The better to disclose His glory : whence, 
 
 ^ This view is peculiar to Dante, and is not supported by either the 
 Schoolmen or the Mystics. *' Of the number of human creatures pre- 
 destinated, some say that it will equal those of the fallen angels, and 
 of the whole angelic creation combined. But it is better said that the 
 number of the elect, who are to dwell in bliss in Heaven, is known 
 to God alone, as the Collect for the Living and the Dead has it." — 
 S. i. q. 23, a. 7. 2 p^j. xiv. 57. 
 
 ^ " The resurrection, as regards its end, is natural, for the soul by 
 nature is united to the body ; but it is effected by divine power alone " 
 {Thorn, cont. Gent. iv. 81). "Although the soul can exist by itself, it 
 is not thus specifically complete " {De Anim. a. i ad 2). "Nor as part 
 of human nature has it its natural perfection, unless united to the 
 body " (S. i. q. 90, a. 4). " One thing is necessary to the perfection of 
 another in two ways : i. To constitute its essence (being), and thus 
 the soul is necessary to the essence or being of man. 2. To render it 
 perfect as regards its well-being (or integrity), and thus beauty of body 
 and quickness of intellect belong to the perfection of man. Now the 
 body belongs to the integrity of human beatitude, though not to its 
 essence. For as the operation depends upon the nature of that which 
 operates, the more perfect the soul is in its nature, the more perfect 
 will be its operation ; and in this its happiness consists. ... The 
 desire of the separated soul is wholly satisfied as regards the object 
 desired [pars appetibilis), because it has what contents its desire, but 
 as regards the sotil itself {pars appetens), there is not the same con- 
 tent, because it does not possess that good in all the ways it would 
 wish, and therefore on reunion with the body, its beatitude increases, 
 not in intensity, but in extent." — S. i. 2. q. 4, a. 5. 
 
THE GLORIFIED BODY. 343 
 
 The vision needs increasing, must increase 
 The fervour, which it kindles ; and that too 
 The ray, that comes from it." — Par. xiv. 39. 
 
 As the body of Adam received the gift of immortality in 
 virtue of its immediate creation by God, so likewise our 
 bodies will participate in the immortality recovered for us 
 by Christ. 1 But as the resurrection was the fruit of His 
 conflict and sufferings, therefore the Church, His mystical 
 body, must complete her warfare on earth before her 
 members rise again : ^ 
 
 " And all the rest 
 Took up the song. At the last audit, so 
 The blest shall rise, from forth his cavern each 
 Uplifting lightly his new-vested flesh." — Furg. xxx. 12. 
 
 The splendour which radiates from their souls will renew 
 and transfigure their bodies : ^ 
 
 ^.^ " But as the gleed 
 
 Which gives out flame, yet in its whiteness shines 
 More livelily than that, and so preserves 
 Its proper semblance ; thus this circling sphere 
 
 ^ Par. vii. 141. 
 
 2 " As Christ first had grace in His Soul in a passible Body, and by 
 His Passion arrived at the glory of immortality, so we His members 
 are freed indeed by His Passion from the debt of every punishment, 
 yet so that, while still in passible and mortal bodies, we first receive 
 the spirit of adoption of sons, by which we are inscribed heirs of 
 immortal glory. But after that we are made like to the Passion and 
 Death of Christ, we are brought into immortal glory, according to 
 Rom. viii. 17, * Yet so if we suffer with Him, that we may also be 
 glorified with Him.' " — S. iii. q. 49, a. 3. 
 
 3 The clarity of the bodies of the saints proceeds from the overflowing 
 glory of their souls (S. Supp. q. 85, a. i). The incorruptible form 
 renders the body incorruptible in so far as its matter is wholly subject 
 to the soul ; but in virtue of the clarity and power of the soul ele- 
 vated to the Divine Vision, the body united to it will be totally subject 
 to it, and that (by the divine power) not only as to its being, but even 
 as to its actions, movements, and qualities {0. Gent. iv. 86). The four 
 gifts conferred upon the bodies of the saints are impassibility, sub- 
 tlety, agility, and clarity (S. Supp. q. 82-85). Changed into the newness 
 of a spiritual body, clothed with incorruption and immortality, there- 
 fore their power of sight will be immeasurably superior to ours {Civ. 
 Dei, xxii. 21. 29, 3). 
 
344 REDEMPTION AND JUSTIFICATION. 
 
 Of splendour shall to view less radiant seem 
 Than shall our fleshly robe, which yonder earth 
 Now covers. Nor will such excess of light 
 O'erpower us, in corporeal organs made 
 Firm, and susceptible of all delight." — Par. xiv. 47. 
 
 The damned also shall rise again from their graves, when 
 summoned by the trumpets to the Valley of Josaphat : ^ 
 
 " When thus my guide : ' No more his bed he leaves 
 Ere the last angel-trumpet blow. The Power 
 Adverse to these shall then in glory come. 
 Each one forthwith to his sad tomb repair. 
 Resume his fleshly vesture and his form. 
 And hear the eternal doom re-echoing rend 
 The vault:'— Hell, vi. 96. 
 
 And as with the Blessed the glorified body shines with the 
 glory of the soul, so the damned bear even in their bodies 
 the punishment of their sins ; and since the body belongs 
 to the perfection of the human being, and the more a being 
 is perfect, the more susceptible is it of joy or pain, so when 
 body and soul are reunited the torment of the damned will 
 be more intense : 
 
 " Thus I questioned : ' Shall these tortures, sir ! 
 When the great sentence passes, be increased, 
 Or mitigated, or as now severe ? ' 
 He then : ' Consult thy knowledge ; ^ that decides, 
 That as each thing to more perfection grows, 
 It feels more sensibly the good and pain. 
 Though ne'er to true perfection may arrive. 
 This race accurst, yet nearer then, than now, 
 They shall approach it." — Bell, vi. 105. 
 
 1 Hell, X. II. Joel, iii. 3. 
 
 2 " The bodies of the damned must be duly conformed to their 
 souls, . . . and will remain passible as now, and even more so ; yet, 
 while they are thus afflicted by sensible thinojs, they do not corrupt. 
 Their sense of suffermg comes from the repulsive objects which act 
 upon their senses." — Thorn, cont. Gent. iv. 89; Conv. iv. 7, 8. Cf. 
 Aristotle, De Part. Anini. i. 5 ; Dc Anim. ii. 2. 
 
A 
 
 ( 345 ) 
 
 CHAPTEH X. 
 
 DANTE AND REFORM. 
 
 The preceding outline of the theology of the Commedia is 
 sufficient to prove to every unbiassed mind the soundness of 
 Dante's Catholic faith. His orthodoxy was first questioned 
 in the year 1556 by Matthias Flaccus, who, in his Catalogus 
 Testium Veritatis Evangelicce, hails Dante as a precursor of 
 the Reformation. Thirty years later, in 1586, Perot de 
 Mezieres, in his Avviso Piacevole, and his contemporary, Du 
 Plessis-Marly, in his Mysterium Iniquitatis seu Historia 
 Papains, followed in the same strain. De Mezieres was 
 triumphantly refuted by Bellarmine j^ Du Plessis-Marly, both 
 by the Dominicans and by Bishop Coeffeteau, who died in 
 1623. With the revival of the study of the Commedia in 
 the beginning of this century, renewed attacks were made 
 on Dante's Catholicism by TJgo Foscoli, 1823-27, who was 
 answered by Gian Antonio Maggi. In reply to Rossetti,^ 
 1832, Dante's orthodoxy was ably defended by the follow- 
 ing writers: — Delecluze, 1834; A. W. Von Schlegel, 1836; 
 Scolari, 1836; Zinelli, 1839; Pianini, 1840; Giuliani, a 
 distinguished critic of Dante, 1841 ; Ozanam, 1847; and 
 Mr. Charles Lyell, 1842. Among modem German authors 
 
 ^ De Controversiis Christiance Fidei. De Mom. Pontif. Append, ed. 
 VeneL, torn. ii. p. 479 sq. 
 
 ^ Author of the Commento Analiiico, and Sullo Spirito Antipapalc. 
 r. Chr. Schlosser, Dantestudien, 1885, has adopted many of his views. 
 E. Aroux, 1854, was refuted by Minich and Boissard, 
 
346 DANTE AND REFORM. 
 
 who claim Dante as an anti-papal champion, C. Graul 
 stands pre-eminent. He was admirably refuted by Giuliani 
 in 1844. Still more recently, 0. F. Goschel, E. Feuerlein, 
 and R Pfleiderer have again attempted to protestantise 
 Dante. All these and similar extravagances are founded 
 on a complete misunderstanding both of the poet and of 
 Catholic dogma. 
 
 Wegele says with truth, " Dante must undoubtedly be 
 considered a Catholic poet, and the greatest. What else 
 can explain the absolute unity which he claims for the 
 Church, and the way in which he identifies it with Chris- 
 tianity ? His poem is steeped in Catholic mysticism, and 
 the whole framework follows the lines of Catholic dogma. 
 To us he is a Catholic and nothing else, in spite of his in- 
 dependent line in politics." ^ His strictures are not aimed 
 at the unity of the Church or the divine character of the 
 Papacy, but at what h e -dQptrn p.d abuspis. Such utterances 
 have always been allowed by^G (iSurch, and have often 
 come from her most devoted servants; as, for instance, 
 SS. Peter Damian, Bernard, Bonaventure, and Catherine 
 of Sienna. Dante has ever been honoured in the Catholic 
 Church by writers of all degrees, from simple monks who 
 read and expounded him, to Popes themselves, and from 
 St. Catherine of Sienna to Boccaccio and Tiraboschi. 
 Visconti, Archbishop of Milan, founded an association 
 for editing his works, and Serravalle, Bishop of Fermo, 
 translated the Commedia into Latin. In Florence, Orvieto, 
 Pisa, Bologna, Venice, and Piacenza, public lectures on the 
 poet were given in church. And in 1857 Pius IX. himself 
 placed a wreath on the tomb of Dante at Ravenna. 
 
 The aim of Dante in the Commedia was to effect a 
 reformation in politics, religion, and morals,- as in the 
 Vita Nuova he had endeavoured to purify poetry by raising 
 
 ^ Vorrede zur Goitlichen Komodie, p, 61. 
 
 ^ Dante AlighierCa Lehcn und Werke, 2d edit. p. 565. 
 
REFORM WITHIN THE CHURCH. 347 
 
 it to a truer and more serious tone, and in the De Vulgari 
 Eloquio to defend his own language against its latinising 
 depreeiators.i The standard by which the poet judged all 
 things was, we repeat, the Divine Ideal, ^ and he felt keenly 
 the contrast between the exemplar and the copy,^ like an 
 artist " whose faltering hand is faithless to his skill," * and 
 how the " brightness of the seal " ^ is tarnished by human 
 frailty. Thus he makes St. Benedict say : 
 
 ^ 
 
 "Mortal flesh 
 Is grown so dainty, good beginnings last not 
 From the oak's birth imto the acorn's setting. 
 His convent Peter founded without gold 
 Or silver ; I with prayers and fasting, mine ; 
 And Francis, his in meek humility. 
 And if thou note the point, whence each proceeds, 
 Then look what it hath err'd to, thou shalt find 
 The white grown murky." — Par. xxii. 83. 
 
 Christ Himself is the Prototype of the Church and of 
 ^lig^Jisible life ; ^ therefore the poet thus rebukes the godless 
 
 -eWorld: 
 
 " . " O ye misguided souls ! 
 
 Infatuate, who from such a good estrange 
 Your hearts, and bend your gaze on vanity, 
 Alas for you ! " — Par. ix. 10. 
 
 His reproof is addressed to all ranks, all professions, all 
 classes among his contemporaries. To all alike he cries, 
 " Your steps have wander'd from the path." ^ He upbraids 
 the Florentine matrons for their immodest dress, telling 
 them that neither savage nor Saracen women require the 
 spiritual or temporal scourges, to make them wear decent 
 
 ^ " To the perpetual shame and confusion of those evil-minded 
 Italians, who commend the vulgar tongue of others and depreciate their 
 own, I affirm that they are moved to this by hve detestable errors." — 
 Conv. i. II. 
 
 ■^ Par. xiii. 48. ^ Par. xxviii. 50. ^ Par. xiii. 73. 
 
 5 Par. xiii. 70. " De Monarch, iii. lo. '' Par. viii. 154. 
 
348 DANTE AND REFORM. 
 
 clothing. 1 He praises the simplicity of former times, when 
 the Florentine lady took leave of her glass with " unsmirched 
 face," and busied herself with her flax and distaff. ^ In 
 his Hell, unchaste women are perpetually whirled onwards 
 and buffeted by furious winds ;2 whilst in Purgatory 
 those are commended ^ who have lived " in virtue, chastity, 
 and the bands of wedded love." He calls for a reform in 
 the bringing up of children, who love toTislenTo tlTeir 
 mother while"yef babblers, buF^when grown older, "wish 
 her in her grave." ^ He blames those fathers who coristrain 
 their children to enter_religiwr: ""^ 
 
 Jut ye perversely^ rdiglon ^trskt^"^ 
 Him, who was bom to gird on him the sword." 
 
 — Par. viii. 151. 
 
 He lays his finger on the cancer at the root of Italian 
 burgher life, the envy that sees its own ruin in another's suc- 
 cess,^ and " the confusion of its persons." ^ He recalls the 
 old days when Florence " within her ancient limit-mark " 
 
 " Was chaste and sober, and abode in peace." 
 
 — Par. XV. 92, 94. 
 
 He urges princes to observe continency, and denounces the 
 " common vice and pest of courts." ^ He reminds them 
 
 " How well is loved in Heaven the righteous king." 
 
 — Par. XX. 59. 
 
 And how, in Hell, many who now hold themselves mighty 
 kings 
 
 " Shall wallow in the mire, 
 Leaving behind them horrible dispraise." 
 
 — Hell, viii. 49. 
 
 ^ Purg. xxiii. 93. 2 p^^.^ ^v. 108. J/ell, v. 32. 
 
 * Purg. XXV. 128. ^ Par. xxvii. 123. ^ Par. vi. 134. 
 
 7 Par. xvi. 67. s jlell, xiii. 68. 
 
LAITY AND CLERGY. 349 
 
 He accounts for all Italy's disasters by the fact 
 
 " That none 
 Bears rule in earth, and its frail family 
 Are therefore wanderers." — Par. xxvii. 129. 
 
 In Canto vii. of Purgatory he severely blames Rudolph 
 of Hapsburg, " who might have healed the wounds whereof 
 fair Italy hath died." ^ He stigmatises Wenceslaus, " pam- 
 pered with rank luxuriousness and ease ; " ^ Philip the Fair, 
 " Gallia's bane," ^ the " new Pilate," with his " adulterate 
 money;"* Charles of Anjou; Charles of Valois. He reproves 
 the effeminacy of Alphonsus X. of Spain, and the avarice 
 and cowardice of Frederic of Aragon. The kings of 
 Portugal, Norway, Hungary, Cyprus, Navarre, and others 
 are cited as examples of evil rulers, whose names are 
 written among the reprobate.^ 
 
 Dante certainly did not spare princes, but his reforming 
 zeal is especially directed against ecclesiastics. In the first 
 place, however, he rebukes those patrons who have placed 
 their sons, when, " of body ill-compact and worse in mind," ^ 
 at the head of a monastery, instead of its " vero pastor," 
 to the great detriment of the clergy. Like a St. Theresa, 
 he describes the damnation of many such offenders, and 
 threatens those who are yet living with the judgment that 
 will in due time overtake them : 
 
 " The sword of Heaven is not in haste to smite, 
 Nor yet doth hnger ; save unto his seeming, 
 Who, in desire or fear, doth look for it." 
 
 — Par. xxii. 16. 
 
 He rebukes especially the religious Orders, the sons of 
 St. Francis and St. JJommic^^_whos©_imp^tan4-services 
 to the ^hurch he^ ad spoken so highly^ hnt whoj t o his 
 
 TinmH^ had hfi f^mn^ worldly flud r'^^flTpd ' 
 
 ^ Purg. vii. 94. 2 Purg. vii. 103. ^ Purg. vii. ill. 
 
 * Purg. XX. 91. 5 Pfi^^ xix. 112. ^ Purg. xviii. 124. 
 
350 DANTE AND REFORM. 
 
 " But the tracks 
 Which its smooth fellies made, is now deserted : 
 That, mouldy mother is, where late were lees. 
 His family, that wont to trace his path, 
 Turn backward, and invert their steps." — Par. xii. 104. 
 
 Whilst St. Bonaventure condemns the Franciscans in the 
 following lines : .-_:-=»- 
 
 " But hunger of new \dands tempts his flock ; 
 So that they needs into strange pastures wide 
 Must spread them : and the more remote from him 
 The stragglers wander, so much more they come 
 Home, to the sheepfold, destitute of milk. 
 There are of them, in truth, who fear their harm, 
 And to the shepherd cleave ; but these so few, 
 A little stuff may furnish out their cloaks." 
 
 — Par. xi. 116. 
 
 St. Thomas bewaila.. ^e de clension of the Dominicans; 
 but most scathing of all ar5'-Bt^-Bfmp:dlct^<; reproof § to hjs 
 
 " The walls, for abbey rear'd, tum'd into dens ; ^ 
 The cowls, to sacks chok'd up with musty meal. 
 Foul usury doth not more lift itself 
 Against God's pleasure, than that fruit, which makes 
 The hearts of monks so wanton : for whate'er 
 Is in the Church's keeping, all pertains 
 To such, as sue for Heaven's sweet sake ; ^ and not 
 To those, who in respect of kindred claim. 
 Or on more vile allowance." — Par. xxii. 75. 
 
 ^ Matih. xxi. 13; Jerm. vii. 11. 
 
 2 According to the axiom of the Church, "The revenues of the 
 Church are the patrimony of the poor." Nor are the goods of the 
 Church, which belong to God, to be given to relations, but to be dis- 
 tributed to the poor. Cf. Bernard, De Morib. Episcop. cap. 2 ; Cone. 
 Trident. Sess. xxv. cap. i., de reform. Dante, we must remember, 
 demands from Religious the primitive observance of their rule in all 
 its strictness, while the Church, on the other hand, had sanctioned 
 mitigations in it. Nor was laxity ever universal at any one period, 
 either in one or all the Orders. The discipline of Clugny, which had 
 
RELIGIOUS ORDERS. 351 
 
 The Bishops are blam ed with equal severity, especially 
 those of Feltro ^ and Yicenza7^~and~Truggiei4,^JJifi..._cruel 
 Bishop of Pisa."^ Dante bitterly accuses those who " wear 
 the hat, that still from bad to worse is shifted."^ He 
 bums with indignation against the worldly and luxurious 
 lives_Qf the flardinnls, theinjanity amL ostentatioa,l:yieir* 
 'iTniiffereaca_tothe sacred in terests of the Church, whose 
 head had left Ex3rQe~and fixed himself at Avignon.^' Yet, 
 in the midst of these passionate and somewhat exaggerated "^ 
 diatribes, he admits tliat there are exceptions, and that the 
 corruption is by no means universal. 
 
 Whilst cardinals, bishops, and clergy had thus become 
 unmindful of their duties, the sacred office of preaching 
 must_naturally sEare the general decay. Christ's com- 
 mission was to preach the Gospel, not impostures^ or their 
 own inventions, letting " the Gospel sleep." ^ He denounces 
 
 decayed under Abbot Pontus, was restored by Peter the Venerable, 
 who died in 1156 (Wilkens, Peter der Ehrwilrdige, 1857). St. Bernard 
 and his Order were fruitful labourers in the vineyard, in the thirteenth 
 century ; equally so St. Romuald and his new Congregation in the 
 eleventh ; St. Norbert and the Premonstratensians in the twelfth. The 
 vigorous Benedictine stock never ceased to put forth new and healthy 
 branches, and John of Salisbury says even of the unrefornied Orders : 
 " that great saints were to be found in all " {Folycrat. p. 699). 
 
 ^ Par. ix. 50. 2 P(ij. ix. 47. » Hell, xxxiii. i. 
 
 ^ Par. xxi. 117. ^ p^^j. xxi. 124. 
 
 6 Letter to the Italian Cardinals : " Perhaps you will indignantly 
 ask, who is this man who, unawed by the swift punishment of Oza, 
 yet dares to lift his hand to support the tottering altar ? Truly I am 
 but one of the least of Christ's sheep, and have no pastoral authority 
 to abuse and no riches. By the grace of God I am what I am, and the 
 
 zeal of His house devours me It is not the Ark of the Covenant, 
 
 but the oxen that are dragging it off the track, with which I concern 
 myself. All have chosen the love of gain for their spouse, she who 
 is the mother of ungodliness and injustice, not of Christian love and 
 holiness." Cf. Bonaventure, Lib. Apolog. q. i. 
 
 ^ " Faith and innocence 
 Are met with but in babes ; each taking leave 
 Ere cheeks with down are sprinkled," — Par. xxvii. 118. 
 
 8 Par. xxix. 115. ^ Par. xxix. loi. 
 
352 DANTE AND REFORM. 
 
 the unauthorised indulgences often promulgated by the 
 monks, 1 and the perversion of pious gifts to profane, and 
 even sinful uses.^ •^' 
 
 But of course the heaviest responsibility lies with him ^ 
 who is appointed Head of the Universal Church, and terrible 
 are his denunciations of several Popes. He indeed alway-s 
 distinguisEe5~betweeirtheT*ope and the Papacy, the persoh 
 and the office ; he admits that even in the most corrupt 
 •"ii mep divin e truth (Beatrice), the theological and cardinal 
 virtues, and the gifts of the Holy Ghost^stiil remain with 
 the Church. It is true also that his attacks are directed 
 ^agaiilst Popes who have been deprived by death of their 
 oSftce;^ or, as in the case of Boniface YIII., against one 
 whom he did not consider a legitimate Pontiff,^ and that 
 he puts his comminations in the mouths of the blessed in 
 Heaven, and more especially of St. Peter ;^ just as he 
 makes the founders of the religious Orders each rebuke his 
 own for its degeneracy. True, too, that great saints have 
 said very severe things about the worldiness of the Church's 
 pastors, and that before the Reformation, especially in 
 Italy, men thought with great freedom and weighed their 
 words but little.'^ For, as St. Augustine says, "When there 
 were no gainsay ers, they spoke truth more securely."^ 
 
 ^ Par. xxix. 129. ^ Par. xxix. 131. ' Par. v. 76. 
 
 * Ilell, xi, 8 ; JleU, xix. 54, 86, iii. 56 ; Purg. xix. 95. 
 ^ Par. xxvii. 19. •• Par. xxvii. 17. 
 
 ^ " The destruction of religious unity prejudiced religious liberty and 
 the freedom of thought — grand in its way — which spared not even the 
 Papacy itself, provided the Church's unity was unattacked." — Von 
 Reumont, Brief e heiliger und gottesfilrchtiger Italiener, 1877, P« 26. 
 
 8 Augustin. c. Julian, i. 6: "Vobis nondum oblatrantibus, securius 
 loquebantur." C. Cantu says : " In those days the scandals and faults 
 of men in high places were blamed with a freedom of language, which 
 in our obsequious times we have lost the power of understanding " 
 {R Secolo di Dante, 1865, p. 8) ; whereas hardly ten years after Luther's 
 appearance the chronicler Sebastian Franck (Janssen, Geschichte des 
 deutschen Volkes, ii. 579) complains : *' Formerly under the Papacy we 
 could speak severely ot the vices of princes and rulers ; now we must 
 all be courtiers, or we are called rebels." 
 
PRELATES AND POPES. 353 
 
 Nevertheless, Dante's reproaches were certainly embittered 
 by personal resentment, both against Boniface VIII., ^ in 
 whom, rightly or wrongly, he saw the destroyer of his life's 
 happiness, and against the Guelphs, his most famous politi- 
 cal opponents. Without blaming Dante or defending him, 
 we merely note the fact, and hold, further, that these attacks 
 on the Popes are a defence of the Papacy itself, since it is 
 the very dignity of their oflace which makes any fault in a 
 Pope so conspicuous. Thus we find his reverence for the 
 keys^ checks the torrent of his indignant words.^ He 
 complains that the Church, once a vine, now is grown an 
 " unsightly bramble : " * 
 
 y^'T^ " Their traffic in that sanctuary, whose walls 
 (y With miracles and martyrdoms were built." 
 
 — Far. xviii. 118. 
 
 He blames the too frequent excommunicationsj^^ 
 
 " Taking the bread away, 
 Which the good Father locks from none." 
 
 — Par. xviii. 124. 
 
 ^ Not less than nine times does he vent his wrath against this 
 Pope, the first time in Hell, xix. 54, the last in Par. xxvii. 19. 
 
 ^ hell, xix. 104. 
 
 3 ' ' What shall we say to shepherds like these ? What shall we say- 
 when the substance of the Church is wasted, while the private estates 
 of their own kindred are enlarged ? But perchance it is better to pro- 
 ceed with what is before us, and in religious silence to wait for our 
 Saviour's help." — Be Monarch, il 12. 
 
 * Par. xxiv. 109. 
 
 ^ " Ecclesiastical authority may commit, as regards circumstances 
 {i.e., non-essentials), some human fault, either by multiplying pre- 
 cepts, or by excessive rigour, or by penalties, for such defects are not 
 incompatible with the Church's holiness." — Suar. de Fide, Disp. v. sect. 
 8. " I do not approve all the Church's laws, nor do I commend all 
 her penalties, censures, excommunications, suspensions, irregularities, 
 interdicts. ... It may be said, in short, that those who rashly and 
 without discretion defend every decision of the Supreme Pontiff, on 
 whatever subject, do not support and strengthen the authority of the 
 Holy See, but weaken and destroy it. Peter needs neither falsehood, 
 nor flattery of ours." — M. Canus. Loc. Theol. v. 5. 
 
 Z 
 
354 DANTE AND REFORM. 
 
 Covetousness is the great cause of decay; ^ the Decretals,^ 
 not the Gospel, are now the main study of the clergy. 
 From Heaven a voice exclaims : 
 
 " ' O poor bark of mine ! ' it cried, 
 ' How badly art thou freighted ! ' " — Purg. xxxii. 1 27. 
 
 Avar ice has led Popes to oppress good m en and favour 
 evU-doersT* ' ' 
 
 Tot to this end was Christ's Spouse with my blood, 
 With that of Linus and of Cletus, fed, 
 That she might serve for purchase of base gold : 
 But for the purchase of this happy life 
 Did Sextus, Pius, and Callixtus bleed, 
 And Urban ; they whose doom was not without 
 Much weeping seal'd. No purpose was of ours, 
 That on the right hand of our successors. 
 Part of the Christian people should be set, 
 And part upon their left ; ^ nor that the keys, 
 "Which were vouchsafed me, should for ensign serve 
 Unto the banners that do levy war 
 On the baptized : nor I, for sigU-mark, 
 Set upon sold and lying privileges : ^ 
 Which makes me oft to bicker and turn red." 
 
 — Far. xxvii. 36. 
 
 The primary cause of all these evils which devastated the 
 Churn|ii_yj'LiinllIg tlie shepherd to a wolf," ^ was, to his mind, 
 the gift o? Oonstantine to Pope Sylvester, whereby the 
 Ch uiuli acquired riohoc and -polttical influence, and became 
 entangled in worldly affairs, and was brought into conflict 
 with the Empire.'^ Dante's aim was to restrict the autho- 
 rity of the Church to purely spiritual matters, and once 
 more to restore the Empire to the position of an universal 
 
 ^ The same complaint is made by Innocent IV., who ascribes to it 
 the secular spirit of the clergy. Bulaeus, Hist. Univ., Paris, ad. a. 1254. 
 ^ Pai: ix. 129. 2 IJell, xix. 106. 
 
 * Greater partiality to the Guelphs than the Ghibellines. 
 •^ Abuse of dispensations. ^ Far. ix. 128. ^ Hell, xix. 118. 
 
ERROR OF HIS THEORY. 355 
 
 monarchy, founded by God. His principle was erroneous ; 
 his scheme was foredoomed ; his cry for reform died in the 
 air and left no trace. He did not, however, maintain that 
 the Empire was absolutely independent of the Church ; on 
 the contrary, in the conclusion of his work De Monarcliia 
 he is careful to explain : " Yet this proposition must not 
 be taken so narrowly as to deny that in certain matters 
 the Roman Prince is subject to the Roman Pontiff. For 
 this temporal happiness is ordered with a view to the 
 happiness which shall not taste of death. Let, therefore, 
 Caesar be reverent to Peter, as the first-born son is reverent 
 to his father, that he may be illuminated with the light of 
 his father's grace, and so may be stronger to lighten the 
 world over which he has been placed by Him alone Who 
 is the Ruler of all things, spiritual as well as temporal." ^ 
 Upon this K. Hegel remarks : "As the relation between 
 the Emperor and the Pope is thus made one of piety alone, 
 its principle is necessarily undefined. And consequently, 
 what have not Popes claimed in virtue of their paternal 
 authority ? " ^ Friedberg also observes : " Dante agrees 
 with Bellarmine, who vindicates this deference for the 
 Pope, but who nevertheless ascribes to him an authority, 
 though indirect, over all." 2 Feuerlein goes farther.'^ Com- 
 menting on the poet's declaration (in his Letter to the 
 Princes and Lords of Italy) that the " authority of Peter 
 and that of Caesar bifurcates from God as from a single 
 point," ^ he says : " Dante subjugates the whole framework 
 of society to the theocratic principle." The truth is, that 
 Dante, while subjecting the Empire in certain matters to the 
 
 1 De Monarch, iil 16. ^ Dante iiber Staat und Kirche, 1842. 
 
 3 " Minime discrepans hac in re a Bellarmino, qui nihil nisi hanc re- 
 verentiam Papae vindicans tamen omnibus ipsum iinperare prsediuat." — 
 De Finibus intra Ecdedam et Civitatem Agendorum Judicis, 1861, p. 61. 
 
 * Dante und die beiden Confessionen j Sybel, Hist. Zeitschr. xxix. 
 
 P- 53 ff. 
 
 5 "A quo (Deo) velut a puncto bifurcatur Petri Csesarisque 
 potestas." 
 
356 DANTE AND REFORM. 
 
 Pope, follows the lines of the great fathers and theolo- 
 gians,^ who teach the independence of the two powers, 
 spiritual and temporal, but only so far as religion and 
 piety permit, and provided nothing be done against the 
 divine precepts, since regard must be had to the last end 
 of man.2 This truth is explicitly maintained by Dante in 
 the De Monarchia,^ on the ground, as we shall see, that the 
 office of the Emperor is to guide men to temporal well- 
 being, and that of the Pope to point the way to their 
 eternal salvation. His conclusion, therefore, was only the 
 necessary consequence of his premisses. And even this 
 bifurcation of the Empire and the Papacy from the one 
 divine source was not held by Dante to denote equality 
 between them ; for the right of the Papacy is divine, and 
 that of the Empire human.* 
 
 Dante's error lies elsewhere. Resting partly on the 
 teaching of Aristotle, and partly on that of St. Thomas and 
 the legendary history of Rome, he sought from this purely 
 abstract point of view to derive the origin of the Empire 
 from God, and to annihilate the political status of the 
 Church, completely overlooking the historical development 
 both of the Empire and the Papacy. Thus he identifies the 
 Empire of Charlemagne with that of Trajan and Justinian,^ 
 and ignores the fact that " the Empire was the creation of 
 the Popes, and that the German king only became Emperor 
 
 ^ Augustin, Civ. Dei, xix. 17, 19 : " Quantum salva religione et pietate 
 conceditur. ... Si non est contra divina praecepta." 
 
 ^ " The secular power is under the spiritual, in matters wherein it has 
 been so subjected by God, viz., in matters which pertain to salvation. 
 And therefore in these we must obey the spiritual in preference to the 
 temporal authority. But in things pertaining to the welfare of the 
 state {bonum civile), we must prefer obedience to the secular power, 
 according to Matt. : ' Give to Caesar the things which are Caesar's.' " — 
 Thorn. De Regim. Princip. i. 14 sq. Cf. in ii. Sent disl. 44, q. 2, a. 3. 
 
 3 De Monarch, iii. 16. 
 
 ^ De Monarch, iii. 10 : " The foundation of the Church is Christ, but 
 the foundation of the Empire is human right." 
 
 ^ Purg. vi. 89 ; Par. vL 1 1 ; De Monarch, ii. 
 
SUPREMACY OF THE EMPIRE. 357 
 
 when crowned by the Pope." ^ On the other hand, his view 
 of the development of the Papaxjy is equally unhistorical. 
 According to this view, the Pontiff should keep aloof from 
 all political questions, in order to preserve in its purity the 
 poverty and humility of apostolic times. Whereas, to 
 quote Wegele,^ " It is manifest that under such conditions 
 the Church could never have fulfilled her grand historic 
 mission, could never have educated the barbarous nations 
 had she withdrawn from all contact with the secular powers. 
 Dante's theory, then, is obviously opposed to history, as well 
 as to reason and justice. Judged by the poet's standard, 
 how could even a Pope such as St. Gregory the Great be 
 held blameless 1 In his indignation against the flagrant 
 abuses of his day, Dante overlooked the cardinal principle 
 of all genuine historical criticism, namely, that a state of 
 things may cease to be necessary or beneficial which once 
 was so in the highest degree." 
 
 But, again, in the Middle Ages the lifespring of all 
 thought and custom was the Catholic religion. From the 
 baptism of the poorest child to the chrism on the brow of 
 the sovereign, faith is the pervading principle of all social 
 life. It is the faith which restrains violence, protects the 
 weak, defends the liberties of the people and the rights 
 of kings. Hence the influence on life generally, and on 
 science and education, exercised by the clergy, who alone, 
 for the most part, possessed the essential qualifications 
 of courage and probity. The Pope was, therefore, re- 
 garded as the head and father of the Christian common- 
 wealth. And as the reverence for him increased, he became 
 more completely the one arbitrator and judge both of sub- 
 jects and kings. It was an office which he had neither the 
 power nor the right to refuse, for it was derived from 
 
 1 Warnkonig, Die staatsrechtliche SteUung der kathoh'schen Kirche in 
 den l-atJioUschen Ldndern des deutschen Reiches, 1855, pp. 8, 9. 
 
 2 £oc^ cit. p. 561. 
 
358 DANTE AND REFORM. 
 
 his spiritual authority. Prince after prince had spontane- 
 ously offered him the suzerainty of his dominions. His 
 sway extended over nations whose religious impulses led 
 them voluntarily to subject themselves to his rule. 
 
 Yet the century before Dante began the Commedia^ 
 Frederic the First, encouraged by the jurists of Bologna 
 and fascinated by what he had seen of the despotic power 
 of the Saracen Sultan at Byzantium, was arrogating to 
 himself the absolutism pure and simple of ancient Rome.^ 
 After Dante's time we find similar claims as strenuously 
 maintained by Marsilius of Padua and Ockham in favour of 
 Louis of Bavaria, in his contest with the Pope. Not only 
 were the liberties of the Church thus endangered, and, with 
 them, the foundation of Christian civilisation, but the future 
 of Europe and the historic constitution of the Empire itself 
 were also threatened with destruction. Seldom in history 
 has the truth of the axiom been so clearly manifested, 
 that the most intelligent and energetic policy must come to 
 nought, if it refuses to take account of the forces at work and 
 strives for the impossible. The indignant retort of Ficker, 
 an acute and discriminating critic, is fully justified when 
 he says : "If Henry at Canossa warns us what must follow 
 from the complete triumph of the spiritual power, the Diet of 
 Wurzburg shows us the reverse of the picture." ^ ''Had not 
 the weight of the Church been thrown into the other scale, 
 the Emperor, with his * Quod principi placuit, legis habet 
 vigorem,' ^ — the will of the prince has the force of law, — 
 would have ridden rough-shod over all the ancient statutes 
 and customs of the realm." * This explains why the De 
 
 ^ " The desire to mimic ancient Rome, and the absnrd, pedantic, and 
 puerile hopes of restoring that absolute empire, have perhaps most con- 
 tributed to lead Italian minds astray, from the fall of the Empire 
 in the fifth century down to our own day." — C. Balho, Vita di Dante, 
 
 1853. P- 349- 
 
 ^ In 1 1 65, under Frederic I. ^ L. q. ff. xiv. 2 ; L. i, ff. i, 4. 
 
 * Von Zezschwitz, Yom. romischen Kaiscvthum deutscher Aalion, 
 1877, p. 24. 
 
''DE MONARCHIA » ON THE INDEX. 359 
 
 Monar cilia was placed by the Council of Trent upon the 
 Index of forbidden books. Dante's proposition that the 
 Empire depended immediately on God was, as formulated 
 by him, absolutely false. ^ Undoubtedly the power of the 
 state is of divine institution,^ and neither depends on the 
 will of man, nor has its source in the people. But both 
 in regard to the form of government and the persons 
 in whom it is vested, the power of the state is an historic 
 growth, in which the consent of the community and other 
 similar considerations are essential factors. Dante's admis- 
 sion that the imperial authority rests on human right implies, 
 indeed, that, though ordained by God, the Empire does not 
 derive its authority from Him to the exclusion of human 
 intervention. And this decree (of the Council of Trent) 
 is by no means a condemnation of the author as a teacher 
 of heretical views, nor is it even a censure.^ It merely 
 prohibits the book, as liable to be dangerous in the hands 
 of the enemies of the Church; and similar sentences 
 have, from time to time, been pronounced against works 
 composed by Catholics of the most unquestionable loyalty. 
 
 Dante was human, and therefore liable to err. His 
 errors have long since passed into oblivion, but his great 
 work belongs to mankind for all time. As long as one 
 heart on earth beats with love for the sacred things of 
 human nature : freedom, wisdom, faith, so long will the 
 name of the author of the Divina Commedia be loved and 
 revered. 
 
 ^ "It is therefore clear that the authority of temporal monarchy 
 comes down, with no intermediate will, from the fountain of universal 
 authority. ... I have unravelled the truth of the questions I asked, . . . 
 whether the authority of the monarch springs immediately from God, 
 or from some other." — De Monarch, iii. 16. 
 
 2 Rom. xiii. i. 
 
 ^ As Ozanam understands it. Loc. cit. p. 235. 
 
( 36o ) 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 In the introductory chapter of this book the word 
 Christendom was used to denote that community of aims 
 and interests, which bound together all the nations of the 
 West. But this united Christendom was dominated by a 
 dual principle, the Empire and the Papacy, and between 
 these two poles the mediaeval world was ever balanced. 
 With a shout that rang through St. Peter's, " Health 
 and success to the anointed of God, the most pious, the 
 most noble, and most pacific Emperor," Charlemagne was 
 crowned by Pope Leo III. on Christmas Day of the year 
 800. Then was inaugurated a magnificent creation, alike 
 of divine providence and human effort. The idea of an 
 imperium romanum, that should also be an imperium 
 mundi, and subject all nations to Koman law under a 
 single chief, had already floated before the minds of Roman 
 Emperors. With the revival of the imperial dignity in 
 the person of Charlemagne, this idea was not only realised, 
 "but consecrated and endowed with deeper significance by 
 the spirit of Catholicism. On the accession of Otho the 
 Great, the Holy Roman Empire became also German, since 
 the occupant of the imperial throne was henceforth to be a 
 German prince. But this Empire was to be Christian, an 
 imperium cliristianitatis. Not for his own interests, or as 
 the lord of the soil, or as an absolute monarch, was the 
 Roman Emperor to wield the sceptre. He was to be the 
 
SOURCE OF IMPERIAL PREROGATIVES. 361 
 
 steward of Christendom, the mediator between Christian 
 piinces, the guardian of peace, the protector of the widow 
 and orphan, the avenger of all injustice. His Empire was 
 doubly distinguished from that of ancient Rome by the 
 consecrating sanction of the Church, which implied a 
 limitation to its sway, and by the German liberties incor- 
 porated therewith. The unity of the Church was the model 
 of the union of the nations in the Empire, and Catholicism 
 was the Magna Charta of the German brotherhood. The 
 Roman Emperor, therefore, is always the augmentor of the 
 Empire, semper Augustus, because he gathers all the newly 
 won nations into the Christian commonwealth. ^^ Roma, 
 caput mundi, regit frena orhis rotundi,^^ — " Rome, head of 
 the world, governs the whole earth," — was the motto on 
 the seals of the German Empire ; and the bond of its various 
 nationalities, German, Roman, and Slav, was the Catholic 
 faith. The Emperor himself was "the devout defender 
 and humble ally of Holy Church." ^ It was his duty, 
 as set forth in the prayer of Good Friday, to defend 
 Christendom against the infidels, subjecting to the Church 
 principalities and powers. But as the Pope is the Head 
 of the Church, he alone, by unction and coronation, could 
 confer the imperial dignity, and, with it, the title of 
 Advocatus Ecclesice, advocate of the Church. One Pope, 
 one Emperor, one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one 
 kingdom of God on earth, with the Emperor as its chief 
 
 ^ " Devotus sanctse Ecclesise defensor humilisque adjutor." — Prcef. 
 cap. i. ap. Baluz, i. p. 475. King Pepin had exercised the right of 
 protectorate as a Roman patrician ; the Emperor assumed it in his 
 own name, and as his special office. From the time of Otho's 
 coronation his title is : " Defender of the Church," — " Advocatus 
 Ecclesise S. Petri efficitur " (Thietmar, Chronic, ap. Pertz, Monum. Germ. 
 V. p. 775). The Pope interrogated Henry II. before his coronation ; 
 " if he would be a faithful patron and defender of the Roman Church ; " 
 and in the Coronation-service the Church prays " the Lord God to 
 render subject to him all unbelieving nations, for our perpetual peace, and 
 that the people who trust in their own strength may be brought under, 
 by the power of Thy Right Hand." — Thietrn. loc. cit. cap. i. p, 836. 
 
362 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 for temporal ends, and the Pope for spiritual, this was the 
 mediaeval conception of the Empire and the Papacy. Thus 
 the Pope and the Emperor are, respectively, the exponents 
 of the unity of the faith, and the unity of law and power. 
 This idea of a universal monarchy pervaded all mediaeval 
 thought. It was inscribed on the banner of Islam, with 
 its one God, one book of the law, for both spiritual and 
 temporal things, one Prophet, and one head of the faithful, 
 his successor the Caliph. And more than once, to all 
 human seeming, whether Mahomet or Christ should possess 
 the world hung on the issue of a single battle. 
 
 Hence it became an accepted principle of public law that 
 princes, and more especially the Emperor, if guilty of 
 heresy or excommunicated, and thus cut off from the 
 Christian commonwealth, were regarded as incapable of 
 exercising any public function; and if they continued 
 contumacious, their subjects were thenceforth released from 
 their duty of obedience. Princes and nations often pro- 
 tested against the justice of the sentence in their own 
 case, but the principle itself was never questioned.^ 
 
 ^ " The Church may declare the prince unfit to rule who violates the 
 laws of Christ and the Church," even Dupin acknowledges {Antiqu. 
 Ecdcs. Discipl. diss. vi. 2). According to St. Thomas, subjects are ipso 
 facto absolved from obedience to a prince who is excommunicated as a 
 heretic, but the sentence releasing them must be first pronounced by the 
 Pope (S. ii. 2. q. 12, a. 2) ; the prince then becomes no longer a legitimate 
 ruler, but a tyrant (Bianchi, Delia Polizia dclla Chiesa, tom. ii. 1. v. s. 
 12). Obviously, however, this right was only exercised by the Pope 
 in Catholic countries (Bellarm. J)e Sum. Pontiff, v. 5), in virtue of 
 the consent of Christian nations, which acknowledged in the Pope the 
 supreme judge of Christendom. Now that the Christian republic of 
 nations no longer exists, this consequence of excommunications has 
 also lapsed, as Pius IX. declared in his address to the Academia. 
 "The right (of deposing sovereigns) has been sometimes exercised 
 by the Popes in extreme circumstances, but it has nothing to do with 
 infallibility, nor does it spring from infallibility, but from the 
 authority itself of the Vicar of Christ. In accordance with ancient 
 public law and the agreement of Christian nations, who revered in the 
 Pope the supreme judge of Christendom, this authority reached so far 
 as to judge, even in civil matters, princes and states. But the present 
 conditions are absolutely different, and only malice could confuse the 
 
POPES ARBITRATORS OF EUROPE. 363 
 
 Five hundred years had elapsed from the coronation of 
 Charlemagne, when Dante wrote his poem; the mighty 
 edifice of the Roman Empire was shaken to its foundations, 
 and its violent conflicts with the Papacy had brought uni- 
 versal distress and insecurity. Amid the turbid stream 
 of human passions, the ideals of the great Emperors and 
 Popes had been sorely disfigured. Forgetting the origin, 
 mission, and duties of the imperial dignity, and dazzled by 
 the illusory splendour of Oriental despotism, the Emperors, 
 and far more the later Ghibellines, had endeavoured to 
 make of the Church a base and servile tool. Where they 
 struck with the temporal sword, the Pope was to follow 
 with the spiritual, and to brand as heretics men who were 
 only defending their just rights. The highest interests of 
 the Church were thus threatened. The Popes were forced 
 to fight, to free themselves from the strangling embrace of 
 the Empire. "All great Popes," says La Guerronnifere,^ 
 " were Guelphs ; " all the best and noblest men, from 
 the time of St. Peter Damian to St. Bernard, took the 
 same side. And it is in a tone of deep satisfaction that 
 Gregory IX., in his letter to the Patriarch Germanus, 
 points out the actual separation of the two powers, con- 
 two things and times, as if infallible judgment on a principle of 
 revelation had the smallest aflBnity with a right which the Popes, 
 called thereto by the wish of the people, had to exercise when the 
 general good required it. But it is plainly to be seen why so absurd 
 an idea, of which no one thinks, and the Sovereign Pontifif least of all, 
 is now propagated. It is to excite princes against the Church that 
 this is done." — Trans. Tablet, August 5, 1 87 1. Here the Pope speaks of 
 the right as springing from the authority itself of the Vicar of Christ, 
 but a right which, in the altered circumstances of modern times, he 
 would never think of exercising. 
 
 1 La Guerronniere, Le Pape et le Congrhs, c. 3. So also Derichsweiler, 
 Daspolitische System Dante's, 1874, p. 31. " There can be no doubt, then, 
 that the Church was forced to emancipate herself from the subjection 
 to which the Salic princes had reduced her, as a tool for political 
 ends." Again, Gregory IX. : "The Greek Church, which was free, 
 has become the servant of the secular power." — Lettei's, Baynald, a. a. 
 1239, 52- . 
 
364 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 trasting it with the Greek Church, which had become the 
 slave of the temporal power. 
 
 The view which conferred both swords,^ the spiritual and 
 the temporal, on the successors of Peter, was not only held 
 by St. Bernard,^ but was the one which prevailed in the 
 twelfth century among all who looked at things from an 
 ideal point of view. The power of the Pope is the highest 
 on earth, subject only to the laws of God and nature ; the 
 spiritual power is exercised by himself alone ; the secular, 
 mainly through the instrumentality of laymen. On the 
 one hand, he must be the model of justice, the mirror of 
 sanctity, the type of charity, the defender of the faith, the 
 teacher of the heathen, the guide of Christendom. So also, 
 according to St. Bernard, he is " the scourge of the proud, 
 the rod of tyrants, the father of kings, the master of the 
 laws, the dispenser of the canon, the anointed of the Lord 
 God over Pharaoh." ^ 
 
 Just at the time when the Empire was tottering to its 
 fall, Philip the Fair appeared as the champion of nationalism, 
 a wholly new and aggressive principle. This coincidence 
 was, however, far from accidental. The imperial attacks 
 on the Papacy had driven the Popes to turn to France for 
 
 1 Thus the ancient code of Swabian law : " The Pope holds both 
 swords from God ; the secular he hands over to the Emperor, the 
 spiritual he keeps for himself." — Vorr, art, 9, ID. The old Saxon code, 
 on the contrary, gives the spiritual sword to the Pope, the temporal to 
 the Emperor. 
 
 2 St. Bernard says : " Peter must make use of both swords, for both 
 belong to him ; the one should be drawn at his bidding, the other by 
 his own hand." — Ep. 256. " Both swords, the spiritual and the material, 
 belong to the Church ; the first is to be used by the Church, the 
 second for the Church ; the first by the hand of the priest, the second 
 by the hand of the soldier, but at the bidding of the priest and the 
 command of the Emperor, ad jussuni imperatoris." — I)e Considerat. 
 iv. 3. Thus was expressed in general terms the concord between the 
 spiritual and temporal powers. It was not until the fourteenth century 
 that this began to be questioned ; and, as with Dante in the Be Monarch. 
 in. 9, the argument employed was founded on an allegory. 
 
 * Loc. cit. Cf. Giesebrecht, Kaisergeschichte, iv. p. 366. 
 
FALL OF THE EMPIRE. 365 
 
 aid, and hencefortli the French king bore the title of the 
 "Most Christian Monarch." Hie Crnsades, which had 
 awakened the consciousness of Europe, were condaded, and 
 the people turned from the far East to their domestic 
 affairs. Commerce and industrial enterprise had introduced 
 a new element into civic life, and especially in Italy a 
 flourishing middle class had sprung up. The late wars had 
 brought the Western nations into contact with Oriental 
 civilisation, and this, again, imparted a new character to 
 the aspirations of the people; a character which Dante 
 laments, as tending to moral degeneracy : 
 
 ** The city's malady hath ever source 
 In the confusion c^ its poracns, as 
 Tlie body's, in variety of food." — Par. xvi 66. 
 
 The national principle brought with it national selfish- 
 ness, and jealousies and international wars aooa followed. 
 At the dose of every epoch in the history of the world, the 
 idea which is passing away almost always inspires some 
 great genius to manif^t it in all its splendour, ere it sets 
 for ever. Thus the idea of the Empire took possession of 
 Dante's mind, which he develops in the De Monarchiaj 
 and expresses in the scholastic language of the day. 
 
 German writers also lamented the fall of the uni- 
 versal Empire — Leopold von Bebenburg in 1350, and 
 before him Abbot Engelbert von Admont in 1297; but 
 none deplored it so intensely as Dante, While they fore- 
 tell the complete downfall of the Empire in the near 
 future, Dante clings to the hope that it will revive in all 
 its ancient glory ; and he joyfully greets as its restorer the 
 Emperor Henry VLL of Luxemburg.^ Nor does he doubt 
 
 * "Arise now," he writes to Houy Vll. in 131 1, "delay no longer, 
 then noUe stem of Je^e : be of good ooorage, for the ejva of the Lord, 
 the God of Sakwoth, are upon tkee Strike down this Goh'«th (Florence) 
 with the i^Gaxg of tiij wiadd^ and the stone of thy powor ; for when he 
 falls, the duMlow and n%fat of fear will fall on &e camp of the Philistines 
 
366 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 for a moment that the Empire will save society ; for though 
 in itself a human institution, it has been ordained and 
 destined by Divine Providence for the welfare of mankind, 
 and to be the protector of His Church.^ When Church and 
 Empire fulfil their divine mission, Italy and the world are 
 at peace. When either fail in their purpose, mankind are 
 deprived of their proper guidance and confusion ensues : 
 
 " Thus the cause 
 Is not corrupted nature in yourselves, 
 But ill-conducting, that hath turn'd the world 
 To evil." — Purg. xvi. io6. 
 
 Pagan Rome, as the seat of the Empire, was an instru- 
 ment of divine purpose ; but, converted to Christ, the city 
 became the centre of the Church and the See of the Pope : 
 
 " Thou hast told that Silvius' sire, 
 Yet clothed in corruptible flesh, among 
 The immortal tribes had entrance, and was there 
 Sensibly present."^ Yet if Heaven's great Lord, 
 Almighty foe to ill, such favour show'd. 
 In contemplation of the high eflect. 
 But what and who from Him should issue forth, ^ 
 It seems in reason's judgment well deserved ; 
 Sith he of Rome and of Rome's Empire wide. 
 In Heaven's empyreal height was chosen sire : 
 
 (the Italian cities) ; the Philistines will flee, and Israel will be delivered. 
 Then the inheritance, of which we have been despoiled, and which we 
 unceasingly lament, will be restored to us ; and as now, like the exiles 
 of Babylon, we weep when we remember Jerusalem, so then shall we 
 exceedingly rejoice, dwelling in peace in our cities." 
 
 ^ " The foundation of the Empire is human right." — De Monarch. 
 iii. ID. Therefore the Empire is not of God in the same sense as the 
 Papacy, which rests on a positive, divinely given right. The Church 
 is not an effect of nature, but of God, Who said : " Upon this rock I will 
 build My Church." — Ibid. iii. 14 ; cf. 16. 
 
 2 .^iieas, the father of Silvius, visited Hades in his mortal flesh. 
 (j^neid, vi.) 
 
 "^ What and who {il chi e il quale) denotes the successors of ^neas 
 and their qualities. 
 
HOPE OF ITS REVIVAL. 367 
 
 Both which,^ if truth be spoken, were ordain'd 
 And stablish'd for the holy place, where sits 
 . Who to great Peter's ^ sacred chair succeeds. 
 He from this journey, in thy song renown'd, 
 Leam'd things, that to his victory gave rise 
 And to the papal robe." — Hell, ii. 14. 
 
 St. Augustine,^ Orosius,^ Pope Leo the Great,^ and more 
 especially Prudentius,^' had already pointed out God's pro- 
 vidential guidance in the foundation and history of Borne, 
 by which she was made the mistress of the world for the 
 promulgation and spread of Christianity. Dante adopts 
 this idea, and thus tersely expresses it. Kome is the centre 
 of the Church, and the institution of the Church is the end 
 of the history of the world, and the purpose of the Empire 
 is to afford a secure asylum to the successor of Peter. This 
 thought is allegorically expressed in the figure of the mystic 
 chariot, which is the Church ; the chariot pole which draws 
 it is the Papacy. The Gryphon, Christ, binds this to the 
 withered tree,^ which forthwith 
 
 " As when large floods of radiance from above 
 Stream, with that radiance mingled, which ascends 
 Next after setting of the scaly sign,^ 
 Our plants then burgein, and each wears anew 
 His wonted colours, ere the sun have yoked 
 Beneath another star his flamy steeds ; 
 Thus putting forth a hue more faint than rose. 
 
 ^ Both {la quale e il quale) Rome and the Empire. 
 
 2 The Fathers frequently call the Pope, from his office as successor 
 of the Apostle, simply "Peter," and the Apostle himself "the greater 
 Peter." 
 
 3 Augustin. Civ. Dei, vii. pas's. * Oros. Hist. v. i. 
 
 5 Leon. M., Serm. ii. in Epiph., Serm. i. in Navit. S. Petr. 
 ^ Prudentius, C. Si/mmach. ii. 582 sq. 
 
 7 The tree which the poet sees is the tree of knowledge in Paradise, 
 and typifies the Roman Empire. Cf. Dan. iv. 17, 20. The Chair of 
 Peter was founded in Rome, and belongs to Rome. 
 
 8 Constellation of Pisces, that is, at the time of the Spring 
 Ec[uinox. 
 
368 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 And deeper than the violet, was renew'd 
 The plant, erewhile in all its branches bare." 
 
 — Purg. xxxii. 51. 
 
 Rome therefore possesses two suns : 
 
 " Borne, that tum'd it unto good, 
 Was wont to boast two suns, whose several beams 
 Cast light on either way, the world's and God's." 
 
 — Purg. xvi. 109. 
 
 The fatal policy of Rudolph and Albert of Hapsburg, 
 which abandoned Italy to herself and left her a prey to 
 civic factions, was the cause of all this misery. The poet 
 draws, as we have seen, a melancholy picture of the deso- 
 lation of his country, for which Guelphs and Ghibellines 
 are alike responsible. The Guelphs attack the rights of 
 the Empire, the Ghibellines grasp them for themselves; 
 the one oppose the standard of the fleur-de-lys to that of 
 the eagle; the other, under pretence of fighting for the 
 eagle, seek only their own petty interests : 
 
 " So that 'tis hard to see who most offends." 
 
 • — Par. vi. 106. 
 
 Therefore Italy and the world pine for an Emperor, to 
 restore order and bring peace : ^ 
 
 We will now examine the De Monarchia in detail, taking 
 the three books in order. 
 
 One universal monarchy, according to the first book of 
 the De Monarchia^ is the necessary result both of the unity 
 of the human race and of the divine empire of the universe. 
 
 ^ Hence Dante addresses the Princes and the Republics, who wage 
 war against the Empire, in the words of the Psalmist : " Why have 
 the Gentiles raged, and the people devised vain things? The kings of 
 the earth stood up, and the princes met together, against the Lord and 
 against His Christ ; let us break their bonds asunder, and let us cast 
 their yoke from us." — Ps. ii. I-3 j De Monarch, ii. i. 
 
"DJS MONARCHIA/' I. 369 
 
 For man is not made to vegetate, like the plants, nor merely 
 to feel, like the brutes, but to gain knowledge through the 
 reason with which he is endowed, but which has to be de- 
 veloped by acts. Man, however, by himself cannot explore 
 the whole range of theoretical and practical science, but can 
 only do so in society with his fellows ; ^ and therefore, for 
 the development of human reason and the fulfilment of his 
 sublime vocation, man must Hve in peace. Hence that which 
 was announced to the shepherds from above was not riches, 
 nor pleasure, nor honour, nor length of days, nor health, 
 nor strength, nor beauty; but peace. For the heavenly 
 host sang: "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth 
 peace to men of good-will." 2 j 
 
 Rightly is the Emperor styled : " The one ruler over all / 
 in time, or in and above all that is measurable by time." I 
 According to Aristotle, " Where a number of things are / 
 arranged in order to attain an end, it behoves one of them / 
 to regulate or govern the others, and the rest to be [ 
 governed."^ Now since the whole human race is destined I 
 to one end, there must be one to rule and govern it, that is, Jl 
 the Emperor. And all communities which are parts of one /y 
 kingdom, as well as the kingdom itself, must be under that' I 
 one imperial rule : * ' 
 
 ^ "The special faculty of man is that of comprehending by the 
 passive intellect, and this faculty cannot be wholly set in action, save 
 by multitude in the human race. . . . The proper work of the human 
 race is to bring unceasingly into act the whole potentiality of the 
 passive intellect." — Be Monarch, i. 3, 4. "It is necessary for men 
 to live together {in multitudinem), both for their mutual assistance, 
 and that by the diverse occupations which their rational nature finds 
 for them, each man may have his proper aim." — Thorn, de Reyim. 
 Princip. i. i. 
 
 2 De Monarch, i. 4. ^ Com: iv. 4. 
 
 * " When a multitude of men live together, their welfare and 
 safety depend on the preservation of their unity, and this is called 
 peace. . . . But this unity is evidently better obtained by that which 
 is itself one, than by that which is of many, and therefore the govern- 
 ment of one individual excels that of many persons." — Be Regim. 
 Princip. i. 2. 
 
 2 A 
 
370 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 " ' Say, were it worse for man, 
 If he lived not in fellowship on earth ? ' 
 Yea,' answer'd I ; ' nor here a reason needs.' " 
 
 — Par. viii. 1 20. 
 
 " By thi sjo rm of gov ernment j then, can man best attain 
 thftt pcrfcotion -Adiish^consists~iir4a4s4ikenes^ God, and 
 to thaJL unity which eman ates- from C kMi. who is One Him- 
 self. Of this unity the Emperor is the centre and foun- 
 dation, so that the Empire corresponds most fully to the 
 divine ideal and to the end of man, and mankind, as a 
 whole, becomes an image of Heaven, being ruled by one 
 prince . . . and one law." ^ The opposite of peace is strife, 
 and as long as the contending parties, princes and people, 
 are independent of each other, strife will last. Hence, 
 again, arises the necessity of the Emperor as a supreme 
 judge, to whom all are subject. As Aristotle well says, 
 "In a multitude of rulers there is evil ; therefore let 
 there be one prince." ^ Again, the decisions between con- 
 tending parties must bear the stamp of justice, and the 
 nature of justice is to be ever the same and to suffer 
 neither more nor less ; ^ but in practice it admits of degrees 
 of purity, which happens either when the will is not free 
 from inordinate desire, or not strong enough to enforce 
 what justice demands. *' For, seeing that justice is a virtue 
 regulating our conduct towards other men, how shall any 
 act according to justice if he have not the power of ren- 
 dering to all their due ? " * It follows, then, that earthly 
 justice is strongest when vested in one who has the purest 
 will and sovereign power, that is, in the Emperor ; for in 
 him are united the two conditions for its free and unfettered 
 
 ^ De Monarch, i. 9. 
 
 2 Aristot. Metaph. xii. 10. Cf. Homer, Iliad, ii. 204. 
 
 2 De Monarch, i. 1 1. 
 
 * De Monarch, i. ii. According to St. Thomas, justice is the habit 
 by which a man gives to each his right, with the constant and abiding 
 intention of so doing. S. ii. 2. q. 58, a. i. 
 
THE EMPIRE PERFECT UNITY. 371 
 
 administration, disinterestedness and might. The Emperor 
 is not tempted to greed ; his dominion is not bounded by 
 other lands, like that of minor princes,^ but by the ocean 
 alone. Being lord of all, he desires nought. 
 
 In the heaven of Jupiter the poet beholds the choir of 
 blessed spirits ranged in form of a fiery scroll, upon which 
 is inscribed : " Diligite justitiam, qui judicatis terram," — 
 " Love justice, ye that are judges of the earth : " ^ 
 
 " The characters, 
 Vocal and consonant, were five-fold seven. 
 In order, each, as they appear'd, I mark'd. 
 
 * Diligite justitiam,' the first, 
 
 Both verb and noun aU blazon'd ; and the extreme, 
 
 * Qui judicatis terram.'" — Par. xviii. 81. 
 
 Again, while covetousness dulls the sense of justice, 
 charity sharpens it. Covetousness despises human society, 
 and " seeks for other things outside it. Charity seeks 
 only God and the good of men, and despises all else. And 
 this presents another proof of the superiority of the im- 
 perial justice. For while other princes care only for their 
 respective subjects, and are united to them mediately 
 through the monarch, the care of the Emperor extends to 
 all men, and his relations with them are primary and direct. 
 He is the first and supreme cause of tranquillity and 
 power ; theirs is derived from him as from the fount : he 
 desires, therefore, more earnestly than those who are mere 
 
 1 Dante addresses the Emperor Henry VII. in similar terms. " The 
 Roman power was not limited by the boundaries of Italy, nor by the 
 coast of three-horned Europe. True, under adverse pressure Rome 
 withdrew her ships on all sides, yet in the exercise of her inalienable 
 right she still navigated the billows of Amphitrites, and refused to be 
 circumscribed by the empty waves of ocean. For it is M'ritten : 
 
 * Then Caesar from the Julian stock shall rise. 
 Whose empire ocean, and whose fame the skies 
 Alone shall bound.' — ^n. I 39." 
 
 2 Cf. Wisd. i. I. 
 
372 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 intermediaries that justice may be done. His right to the 
 supreme administration is implied in his very name of 
 monarch; for a real monarch has no enemies." ^ Justice, 
 the most admirable of virtues, is the brightest jewel of the 
 imperial crown, and even those who transgress it most, 
 as thieves and robbers, according to Aristotle, hold it in 
 esteem.^ Thus in the circle of Jupiter, Dante beholds the 
 glory of this imperial virtue, which, apart from the 
 Emperor,^ languishes " like a heliotrope deprived of sun- 
 shine." 4 
 
 By his just administration the Emperor offers a guard- 
 ianship for true freedom, man's highest good : 
 
 " Supreme of gifts, which God, creating, gave 
 Of His free bounty, sign most evident 
 Of goodness, and in His account most prized, 
 Was liberty of will ; the boon, wherewith 
 All intellectual creatures, and them sole, 
 He hath endow'd." — Par. v. i8. 
 
 Now, " he alone is free who exists, not for another's sake, 
 but for his own. For everything which exists for the sake 
 of some other thing is under its dominion." But man 
 can only enjoy true freedom under imperial rule, for " the 
 Emperor loves his subjects, and desires the spiritual good 
 of all men." Indeed, freedom signifies a state wherein it 
 is possible for man to become good. The Emperor is sole 
 guardian of freedom, " whilst democratic republics, oligar- 
 chies, and tyrannies drive men into slavery." " But citizens 
 exist, not for the good of consuls, nor the nation for the 
 
 ^ De Monarch, i. ii. 2 (7o^t,. i. 12. ^ Par. xviii. 70-117. 
 
 * To the Princes and Lords of Italy. St. Thomas enlarges the same 
 thought {De Regim. Princip. i. 9) when he says that "the eternal reward 
 that God will bestow upon His earthly representati\'es is the supreme 
 and ultimate motive, which impels the monarch to be just. But since 
 a pre-eminent degree of virtue is requisite in order that he may govern 
 justly, that is, without respect to any personal advantages, therefore a 
 just prince merits a far higher reward than others." 
 
PERFECT JUSTICE AND FREEDOM. 373 
 
 good of its king, but the consuls for the good of the citi- 
 zens, and the king for. the good of his nation. For as the 
 laws are made for the state, and not the state for the laws, 
 so those who live under the laws do not take their direc- 
 tion from the legislator, but he from them." "Hence, 
 too, it is clear that though the king or consul rule over the 
 other citizens in respect of the means of government, yet in 
 respect of the end of government they are the servants of 
 the citizens, and especially the monarch, who without doubt, 
 must be held the servant of all." ^ 
 
 Again, as it belongs to God to obtain great results by 
 few means, the imperial rule is a benefit in strict harmony 
 with the divine operations in nature ; the rule of many, on 
 the contrary, is an evil. But the Empire must not degene- 
 rate into a rigid centralisation, for the Emperor is only the 
 highest authority in the commonwealth of nations, which 
 comprises the most divergent states and forms of govern- 
 ment. Natural, climatic, and historic differences are, there- 
 fore, not to be obliterated by a code of laws sharply defined, 
 and imposed by the will of the Emperor alike upon all. 
 " When we say that mankind may be ruled by one supreme 
 prince, we do not mean that the most trifling judgments 
 for each particular town are to proceed immediately from 
 him; for municipal laws sometimes fail and need guid- 
 ance. . . . Nations and kingdoms have each of them certain 
 peculiarities, which must be regulated by different laws. . . . 
 Thus the Scythians need one rule, for they . . . suffer cold 
 which is almost unbearable ; whilst the Garamantes need 
 a different law, for their country is equinoctial. . . . But 
 our meaning is, that, in matters common to all, men should 
 be ruled by one monarch, and be governed by a common 
 
 1 De Monarch, i. 12. " Laws are just as regards their end, when they 
 are ordained to the common good." — S. i. 2. q. 94, a. 4. According to 
 St. Thomas, a man is free who is his own end, and a slave who, with 
 what he is, belongs to another {qui quod est, alterius est)." — De Regim. 
 Princip. i. I. 
 
'374 ^^^ CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE, 
 
 rule, with a view to their peace. And the individual 
 princes must receive their rule of life or law from him." ^ 
 
 When the will of the Emperor becomes the rule and 
 guide of all men, true union, which consists in the " uniform 
 motion of many wills " towards one common aim, shall be 
 re-established upon earth. ^ Thus we find that when Christ 
 our Lord was born, Augustus being then Emperor of Eome, 
 for the first time since Adam's fall reigned universal peace. 
 Then was in truth "the fulness of time," when not only- 
 Heaven, but earth itself was, as Holy Scripture itself 
 attests, prepared to receive its Saviour ; ^ and Divine Provi- 
 dence brought about this blessed condition of the world, by 
 and in the universal monarchy of the Roman Emperor. 
 
 Dante concludes the first book of the De MonarcMa by 
 an earnest appeal to the princes and peoples of his time. 
 " How the world has fared since that seamless robe has 
 been rent by the claws of ambition, we may read in books ; 
 would that we saw not with our own eyes. race of man ! 
 storm-tossed and shipwrecked must thou be, as long as thou 
 art a beast of many heads and strivest after contrary things. 
 Thy higher and thy lower reason are diseased ; not even 
 the sweetness of divine persuasion charms thy heart, when, 
 through the music of the Holy Spirit, it breathes into thee : 
 * Behold how good and how pleasant a thing it is, brethren, 
 to dwell together in unity ! ' " * " O miserable rulers ! " he 
 exclaimed to his contemporaries, " and most miserable ye 
 who are ruled ! Search as you will, ask whom you will, you 
 will find no authority of reason to defend your rule. To 
 you the Preacher cries : ' Woe unto thee, land, when thy 
 king is a child ! ' Whilst to none can be said what follows : 
 ' blessed is the land whose king is noble ! ' Take heed, 
 O ye enemies of God ! who have seized upon the sceptres of 
 Italy. I say to you kings, Charles and Frederic, and to 
 
 1 De Monarch, i. 14. ^ De Monarch, i. 15. 
 
 ^ Conv, iv. 5. * De Monarch, i. 16. 
 
THE EMPEROR NO TYRANT. 375 
 
 you also, princes and tyrants, look well to those who sit 
 beside you in the council, and reckon how often your 
 advisers have shown you the true end of life. Better far 
 to fly low like the swallows, than like vultures to circle on 
 high over the basest things." ^ 
 
 Thus in the constitution of the already fallen Empire, 
 Dante traced the outlines of his political theory. Weighed 
 down by the miseries of his country and the feuds of its 
 people, and starting from the ideas of Aristotle and St. 
 Thomas, he grasped with his whole energy the fading ideal 
 of an universal empire, and set it forth, idealised and 
 transformed, as the only hope of deliverance for Italy. His 
 prince is not, as Machiavelli would have him, a political 
 compound of cunning and fraud; not a despot, like the 
 Leviathan of Hobbes, brandishing his iron sceptre over a 
 gang of slaves; not a Louis XIV., crying, "L'etat c'est 
 moi ; " still less a Frederick 11. with his Oriental theories 
 of life and morals, who would sever the necessary union 
 of the imperial authority and philosophy,^ and give inde- 
 pendence to the nation only as a means to make himself 
 supreme. An Emperor of Dante's type is no grasping 
 oppressor, but the impersonation of justice and charity, and 
 from him, as from an exalted and living centre, the world 
 would be renewed. 
 
 Dante's scheme of an universal monarchy rests upon 
 general and abstract principles, consistently embodied in 
 his ideal Emperor. It is the ideal of the philosopher, 
 theologian, and poet, rather than of a statesman, who 
 has to deal with facts and to seek what is practical. 
 His poetic genius raises him above the bounds of historic 
 development; his ideal does not correspond with the 
 
 ^ Conv. iv. 6. " Awake ! all ye inhabitants of Italy, and rise up to 
 meet him, and offer him not only your obedience, but also, as free men, 
 the government {come liberi U reggimenio)." — To the Princes and Lords 
 of Italy. 
 
 2 Conv. iv. 5, 6. 
 
376 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 realities of life. In this he is the direct opposite of his 
 countryman, Machiavelli, who exalts success, and all that 
 tends towards it, as the sole rule of government. Machia- 
 velli's prince is the symptom of a national life infected 
 by a false pagan civilisation, combined with periidiousness 
 and unbridled barbarism. Dante's theory of politics is 
 founded upon the right, and informed with the idea of 
 justice. The right to him is nothing else than the likeness 
 of God's will, as it exists first in the mind of God and is 
 one with His Being. ^ But whatever does not agree with 
 the Divine Will cannot be right, nor can its issue be 
 blessed. Thus the Emperor who proclaims the right is, in 
 the highest sense, God's instrument upon earth. Machia- 
 velli's prince knows nothing of the right, except so far as it 
 serves his plans, and morality has no place in his politics. 
 Dante's soars on high, and points out to the nations the 
 way of deliverance. Machiavelli's crawls serpent-wise, and 
 enslaves the people under the bondage of tyranny. Yet 
 several reigning powers of his time adopted his policy and 
 attempted to justify it, while Dante's theories produced no 
 result. Like Plato's state, they were merely the dreams 
 of an aspiring and noble nature. Machiavelli's maxims, 
 on the contrary, found support in the strong passions of 
 his age, and spread their baneful influence far and wide 
 among princes and people. Both men strove alike for the 
 unity of Italy, but by very different means. Dante, the 
 most Italian of Italians, invited the Germans to take 
 possession of his country to secure its lasting peace. In 
 him the cosmopolitanism of the Middle Ages triumphs. 
 Free from merely selfish nationalism, he embraces all men 
 in one universal idea, because that idea is Christian and 
 divine. Machiavelli conceives a united Italy under the 
 sway of a tyrant, with energy and power to enforce his will. 
 Accordingly he extols Borgia, and denounces the Papacy 
 ^ Be Monarch, ii. 2. 
 
. DANTE AND MACHIAVELLI. ^77 
 
 for having prevented the unity of Italy. He speaks as if 
 Milan and Florence would not, apart from the Pope, have 
 jealously defended their own independence. He ignores 
 the fact, that Italy's high early civilisation was largely due 
 to that very varied independent polity of her different cities ; 
 and says nothing of the disasters to the Church and the 
 Pope himself, which would have followed from a tyrant of 
 Machiavelli's type. Yet the unity which Machiavelli strove 
 to realise in the domain of politics, Dante had already 
 created in the inner and nobler life of his nation through its 
 language and literature ; and in comparison with this higher 
 unity, mere political centralisation was for him of little 
 moment. But Dante's ideal Emperor is, further, a religious 
 and consecrated person. To him he refers those passages of 
 Holy Scripture, which the Church only applies to Christ. 
 He is " He that is to come," "the lofty One of the stem of 
 Juda," " the Lamb of God." ^ The Empire appears to him 
 radiant with celestial glory, so that great indeed is their 
 guilt who obstruct its light and trouble this divine order : 
 
 " Thus more than thousand twinkling lustres hence 
 Seem'd reascending, and a higher pitch 
 Some mounting, and some less, e'en as the sun, 
 Which kindleth them, decreed. And when each one 
 Had settled in his place ; the head and neck 
 Then saw I of an eagle, Uvelily 
 Graved in that streaky fire. 
 
 Sweet star ! what glorious and thick-studded gems 
 Declared to me our justice on the earth 
 To be the effluence of that Heaven, which thou, 
 Thyself a costly jewel, dost inlay." — Par. xviii. 95. 
 
 Even when, with Henry YII.'s death, the realisation of 
 his ideal had vanished, the poet still hoped on. Beatrice 
 thus predicts its future glory : ^ 
 
 ^ Luke vii. 20 ; Isai. xlix. 7 j John i 29 ; Apoc. v. 6. 
 * C£. above, p. 232. 
 
378 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE, 
 
 " Without an heir for ever shall not be 
 That eagle, he, who left the chariot plumed, 
 Which monster made it first and next a prey, 
 Plainly I view, and therefore speak, the stars 
 E'en now approaching, whose conjunction, free 
 From all impediment and bar, brings on 
 A season, in the which, one sent from God, 
 (Five hundred, five, and ten, do mark him out), 
 That foul one, and the accomplice of her guilt, 
 The giant, both shall slay." — Purg. xxxiii. ^y. 
 
 But this exaggerated conception of an universal imperial 
 power reveals the source whence it sprung, and also of 
 Dante's error in his whole scheme of politics. All the 
 religious enthusiasm of the preceding age for the Church 
 and her Head, Dante sought to reawaken for the Empire. 
 All that the Pope was intended to be, and for centuries 
 had been, in the minds of Christian people, in the 
 consciousness of the nations — "the rock of justice," 
 "the dispenser of peace," "the avenger of wrong," "the 
 judge of disputants," 1 — all this was now to be transferred to 
 the Emperor ; and this all the more, because of the increas- 
 ing divisions among the German princes. Hence the task 
 which Dante sets before the Emperor, and the religious 
 cultus which he offers to him, simply indicate the reaction 
 against that very influence of the Popes in politics, which 
 Dante condemned. His own theory, restricting their 
 authority to matters purely spiritual, is, as we have seen, 
 not only erroneous, but wholly incompatible with the de- 
 velopment of the Church, the progress of Western civilisa- 
 tion, and the conditions of national life in the preceding 
 centuries. Thus his ideal Emperor could never be other 
 
 ^ Cf. Joan. Saresb. Polycrat. viii. 23 ; Bernard, Ep. 199 ad Innoc. II. ; 
 Petr. Venerab. vi. Ep. 28 ad Eugen. Ill: "Your throne is that of 
 which it is said, 'Justice and judgment are the preparation of thy 
 throne' (Ps. Ixxxviii, 15); and again, 'Thy right hand is full of 
 justice ' (Ps. xlvii. 1 1 ) ; and once more, ' Who executeth judgment for 
 them that suffer wrong ' (Ps. cxlv. 7). 
 
«D£ monarchia;' ii. 379 
 
 than a poetic fiction, for it was absolutely opposed to the 
 thoughts and requirements of the nations. Suarez says,^ 
 ** Whatever power the Emperor may have, for the sake of 
 defending the Church, to summon the Catholic princes and 
 call them to arms, and whatever like authority he may 
 possess to settle disputes among them ; yet he derives this 
 power, if it does exist, from the Pope. Although the 
 Emperor, for a long period, alone bore the title of Majesty 
 and occupied the first place among all peoples; yet they 
 always maintained their independent rights." 
 
 Less interest attaches to the second book of the De Mon- 
 archia, in which Dante endeavours to prove that the Empire 
 belongs of right to Rome. According to him, reason and 
 revelation alike declared that city the seat of empire. He 
 quotes Virgil 2 to show that -^neas was fitted to be the 
 founder of Rome no less by his talents and virtoes than 
 by his noble birth, and that miracles further confirmed his 
 sway. The shield which fell from Heaven whilst Numa 
 Pompilius offered sacrifice;^ the timely warning of the 
 geese, which saved the Capitol from the Gauls ; * the hail- 
 storm which arrested Hannibal and his victorious troops ; ^ 
 the escape of the captive Clelia across the Tiber, during the 
 siege of Rome by Porsenna ; ^ — all these marked the divine 
 approval of ^neas, and of the capital of his choice. That 
 the Romans, as Cicero declares, made use of this world- 
 wide dominion for the good of mankind ^ is proved by the 
 noble examples of Cincinnatus, Fabricius, Camillus, the elder 
 Brutus, Mucins Scaevola, the Decii, Cato, and others. 
 
 But further, the course of history clearly shows the 
 divine will, that the empire of the world should belong to 
 Rome. That Empire had no previous existence. Alexander 
 
 1 Snarez, De Leg. iii. 8. 
 
 2 jEn. i. 544, vi. i66, viil 134, iii 339, iv. 171, xii. 936. 
 
 3 Lucan, Pharsal. ix. 477. * Liv. v. 47 ; 2En. viii. 652. 
 5 Ores. Hist. iv. 17. ^ Liv. ii. 13. 
 
 7 Cicer. De Offic. it 8. 
 
38o THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 the Great, who attempted to found it, died in the midst of 
 his enterprise. Rome alone, says Boethius,^ won the prize, 
 as St. Luke also testifies.^ Again, Rome was always vic- 
 torious in single combat, that direct appeal to God's judg- 
 ment, which is authorised to give sentence ^ when no human 
 judge duly qualified can be invoked. Thus, in the several 
 combats between ^neas and Turnus, king of the Rutuli, 
 the Horatii and Curiatii, the Sabines and Samnites, God 
 always pronounced in favour of Rome. 
 
 Finally, Christ Himself, the Representative of the whole 
 human race, testified to the legality of Rome's sovereignty, 
 in that He obeyed the decree of Augustus, went up to be 
 numbered, paid the imperial taxes, and, under Tiberius, 
 suffered death upon the Cross. For that death could 
 not have been a perfect satisfaction for Adam's sin, un- 
 less ordained as its just punishment by legal authority. 
 But as these conditions were fulfilled, in perfect truth 
 was the cry uttered, " Consummatum est." The Roman 
 Empire, then, according to Dante, had a divine origin. 
 Not direct, as that of the Church, from Christ through the 
 vocation of Peter ; but indirect, in so far as God has declared 
 His will in the course of history. The will of God is indeed 
 in itself invisible, but ** the invisible things of Him are 
 
 ^ " Yet spreads her sceptral sway o'er all the race 
 Which Phcebus bathes with light, in farthest East, 
 And Trion's seven bind fast in chains of frost, 
 And hot scirocco burns in scorching sand." 
 
 — Boeth. Be Consol. fi. Met. 6. 
 
 2 " And it came to pass that in those days there went out a decree 
 from Csesar Augustus; that the whole world should be enrolled." — 
 Luke iii. i. 
 
 3 Single combat by way of ordeal was a recognised tribunal among 
 German nations. The practice had ecclesiastical sanction only, when, 
 by a compromise between opposing commanders, a general action was 
 thereby averted. But in other cases, to discover a truth or settle a 
 dispute, the Church opposed it. Cf. Thorn, in Aristot. Polit. iv, i6. 
 The custom was only tolerated conditionally, with a view to its entire 
 abolition. 
 
DIVINE APPROVAL OF THE EMPIRE, 381 
 
 clearly seen, being understood by the things that are 
 made." ^ For when the seal is out of sight, the wax which 
 has its impression gives manifest evidence of it, though it 
 be unseen. 
 
 St. Paul in the above passage confirms our view, for he 
 speaks of the knowledge of God gained from the contempla- 
 tion of His works. For as the revelation of God in creation, i- 
 which is manifest to all men, is not, in the true sense of* 
 the word, a revelation, so neither is a monarchy or empire { 
 a divine institution, except in a wide sense, in so far as it 
 is an expression of the Divine Will, revealing itself in 
 nature and history, and therefore in a manner which is 
 incomplete : 
 
 " Were the wax 
 Moulded with nice exactness, and the Heaven 
 In its disposing influence supreme, 
 The brightness of the seal should be complete : 
 But Nature renders it imperfect ever ; 
 Resembling thus the artist, in her work, 
 Whose faltering hand is faithless to his skill." 
 
 — Far. xiii. 67. 
 
 Thus it was under the guidance of Providence that Ex3me 
 became the seat of the Papacy, and of the Empire : 
 
 " Rome, that tum'd it into good. 
 Was wont to boast two suns, whose several beams 
 Cast light on either way, the world's and God's." 
 
 — Purg. xvi. 109. 
 
 According to the views of Dante and his contemporaries, 
 it was equally impossible to imagine either an Empire or 
 a Papacy without Rome. 
 
 In the third book, which is by far the most impor- 
 tant of the treatise, Dante attempts to solve the ques- 
 tion, "Does the authority of the Roman monarch, who, 
 
 ^ Rom. L 20. 
 
382 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 as we have proved in the second book, is the monarch 
 of the world, depend immediately on God, or on some 
 minister or vicar of God; by whom I understand the 
 successor of Peter, who truly has the keys of the king- 
 dom of heaven? " ^ To this he replies in the negative by 
 refuting the arguments of his opponents, especially those in 
 Holy Writ. The simile of the sun and the moon, the lesser 
 light illumined by the greater, had been used by Popes St. 
 Gregory VII. and Innocent III., Gerhoch von Reichers- 
 berg, Berengosus, Alvarus Pelagius, and others, to denote 
 the relation between the Empire and the Papacy. Against 
 this interpretation Dante urges, that as the sun and moon 
 were created on the fourth day, but man not until the sixth, 
 " God would have used a perverted order, by producing the 
 accidents before their substance ; " ^ that is, figuratively, the 
 government of mankind by Pope or Emperor before man 
 himself existed. The sun and moon, again, were created be- 
 fore the Fall, and this first called into existence both Papacy 
 and Empire. Still Dante admits that, although the moon 
 does not derive its being from the sun, yet the flood of light 
 which it receives therefrom adds to its brilliancy and power. 
 " Therefore," he concludes, " the temporal power does not 
 receive its being from the spiritual power, nor its power 
 which is its authority, nor its working considered in itself. 
 Yet it is good that the temporal power should receive from 
 the spiritual the means of working more effectually by the 
 light of grace." ^ Accordingly, in his Epistle to the Princes 
 and Lords of Italy, Dante calls the Empire "the lesser 
 light." ^ Next he brings forward the types of Levi, the 
 
 ^ De Monarch, iii. i. ^ De Monarch, iii. 4. ^ Be Monarch, iii. 4. 
 
 ^ Even Ockham expresses himself similarly. " In a certain sense only 
 is the simile of the sun and moon correct. As the sun is a higher and 
 nobler luminary than the moon, so also the Papacy, being a spiritual 
 power, is higher and nobler than the Empire, which is temporal. And 
 as the moon derives its light from the sun, so does the Emperor receive 
 guidance from the Pope, if he be a good and wise Catholic ; guidance, 
 that is, in spiritual things." — Dialog, c. 24. 
 
"Z)£ MONARCHIA,'' III. 383 
 
 priesthood, and Juda, the kingdom, to confute the argument 
 that because " Levi preceded Juda in his birth, therefore the 
 Church precedes the Empire in authority." ^ Again, accord- 
 ing to Dante, Saul's deposition by Samuel ^ cannot be cited 
 as a precedent, because in this case Samuel acted in virtue 
 of a divine commission. The Pope is doubtless God's 
 Vicar, but for that very reason his jurisdiction has its 
 appointed limits ; nor can he, without God's express com- 
 mand, assume to himself authority which belongs to God 
 alone. The power of binding and loosing " all " was indeed 
 given to Peter, as the context proves,^ for this refers to the 
 keys of the kingdom of Heaven. " Yet it does not there- 
 fore follow that he can bind and loose the decrees of the 
 Empire, that is, in temporal things." * 
 
 The obligation of the two swords to assist each other 
 was recognised as a first principle, alike by Popes Innocent 
 III. and Gregory IX., and by the Emperor Frederic Bar- 
 barossa, Frederic IL, and Henry lY.^ The early patristic 
 doctrine,*^ that the Imperial power is bound to protect the 
 Church, was reaffirmed in the sixteenth century in the 
 treaty between the Emperor Charles Y. and Pope Leo X.'' 
 According to the Guelfs, the temporal sword was given 
 directly to the Pope, and to the Emperor through him ; 
 according to the Ghibellines, to the Emperor direct, with- 
 
 1 Be Monarch, iil 5. ^ i Kings xv. 25, 28. 
 
 3 *' And I will give to thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven : and, 
 whatsoever thou shalt bind upon earth, it shall be bound also in Heaven : 
 and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth, it shall be loosed also in 
 Heaven." — Matt. xvi. 19. 
 
 ^ De Monarch, iii. 8. 
 
 5 Walter, Pontes, p. 30 : "And since the material sword was ordained 
 to help the spiritual sword," &c. 
 
 ^ *' Thou who perseveringly devotest to the care of temporal things 
 the service of a religious foresight based on the divine and eternal 
 order." — Leo M. to the Emperor Leo, Ep. 156, 157 : "That thy earthly 
 kingdom may be the guide to the kingdom of heaven." — Gregor. M. to 
 the Emperor Mauricius, Ep. iii. 65. 
 
 ^ Cf. Lanz, Brief e vnd Actenstilcke zur Geschichte Karl's V., p. 256; 
 Bellarm. Ue Rom. Pontif. \. ^; De Verb. Dei, iii 3. 
 
\ 
 
 384 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE: 
 
 out Papal intervention. In order to evade the force of the 
 argument, as founded by Pope Boniface VIII. upon this 
 text ^ of Holy Scripture, Dante altogether denies its alle- 
 gorical meaning. This Bellarmine afterwards admitted, 
 but added, that if the passage is to be understood figura- 
 tively, the preceding persecution and conflict must also be 
 interpreted in a spiritual sense. 
 
 Again, Dante tries to weaken the proofs which his 
 opponents alleged from history. Laurentius Valla was the 
 first to question the authenticity of the deed of gift, by 
 which the Emperor Constantine surrendered Home and its 
 kingdom to Pope Sylvester I., after having been cleansed 
 from his leprosy through the Pontiff's intercession : 
 
 " As in Soracte, Constantine besought, 
 To cure his leprosy, Sylvester's aid." 
 
 — Hell, xxvii. 89. 
 
 Dante does not indeed deny the fact itself, but its lawful- 
 ness.^ He maintains that Constantine had no right to give 
 up the Western Empire ; for the Emperor is to maintain 
 the unity of mankind, and therefore that division of the 
 Empire was a dereliction of his charge. " As the Church 
 cannot alienate the divine right on which she is founded, 
 neither can the Empire give up its right, which is purely 
 human. Besides, the Empire is a jurisdiction . . . prior 
 to the judge who has it ; he is only Emperor by virtue of 
 this dignity, which not only existed before him, but is of 
 
 ^ Matt. xvi. 19. 
 
 2 Constantine transferred the Empire and its code of laws to the 
 East. His intention was good, that of exalting the Name of Jesus 
 (as Dante's master, Brunetto Latini, says in his Tesoro). Doubtless, 
 therefore, he has not suffered for the evil consequences of his deed. In 
 the eleventh and twelfth centuries the " Donatio Constantini " had the 
 credit of being an authentic document. Popes attested the proofs of 
 its validity, which since Baronius' time has been considered doubtful. 
 Its force lay, not in yellow parchments, but in the universal acquiescence 
 of the Christian world. 
 
THE GIFT OF CONSTANTINE. 385 
 
 superior rank." Still, granting the transaction legal 
 on the part of the Emperor, it would never be so on the 
 part of the Church; for the Church is altogether in- 
 capable of receiving temporal things, seeing our Lord's 
 prohibition : " Do not possess gold, nor silver, nor money in 
 your purses." ^ It is, therefore, plain that the Church could 
 neither acquire dominion by such a gift, nor Constantino 
 lawfully make the donation ; though the Emperor, as 
 protector of the Church, could allot to her a patrimony 
 (patrimomwn) and other things, if he did not thereby im-i 
 pair his supreme dominion, the unity of which does not 
 allow a division. And the Yicar of Christ could receive such | 
 things, not as their independent possessor, but as a stewarc^l 
 to dispense the fruits of them to the poor of Christ.^ Thus! 
 in the Paradise the mystic Eagle declares : 
 
 " The other following, with the laws and me, 
 To yield the shepherd room, pass'd o'er to Greece, 
 From good intent, producing evil fruit : 
 Now knoweth he, how all the Ul, derived 
 From his well-doing, doth not harm him aught, 
 Though it have brought destruction on the world." 
 
 — Far. XX. 50. 
 
 And in the Inferno the poet exclaims : 
 
 " Ah, Constantine ! to how much ill gave birth. 
 Not thy conversion, but that plenteous dower, 
 Which the first wealthy Father gaiu'd from thee." 
 
 — Hell, xix. 118. 
 
 In the Purgatory, Dante sees this despoiling of the 
 Imperial Eagle, whose feathers are left in the mystic 
 chariot, the type of the Church : 
 
 1 Matt. X. 9. 
 
 2 The numerous possessions of the Roman Church in Italy were 
 called the Patrimony of St. Peter {Patnmcmium S. Petri). 
 
 '^ De Monarch, iii 10. 
 
 2 B 
 
386 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 " From whence before he came, 
 I saw the Eagle dart into the hull 
 O' the car, and leave it with his feathers lined." 
 
 — Furg. xxxii. 122. 
 
 According to Dante, the coronation of the Emperor 
 Charlemagne by the Pope was no evidence of his right 
 to confer that dignity, but was done by usurped authority. 
 Nor, on the other hand, do the deposition of Pope Bene- 
 dict Y. and the restoration of Leo YIII. by Otho I. prove 
 that " the Church is dependent on the Empire." ^ Dante 
 does not even admit the argument from reason. His oppo- 
 nents laid down the principle that all must be governed 
 by one, that is, by the Pope : " That all things belonging 
 to one genus, are to be brought under one head, which 
 is the standard and measure of all which that genus 
 includes. And as all men belong to one genus, all must 
 be brought under one head, as their common standard 
 and measure. . . . And since the Pope cannot be subject 
 to any other man, the Emperor, together with all other 
 men, must be subject to him, as the measure and rule of 
 all."^ To this Dante objects, again, that "man" is an 
 essential, " Pope or Emperor," on the contrary, an acci- 
 dental definition ; that there is one standard under which 
 they come as '' Pope and Emperor; " and that as such they 
 stand to each other in a relation, which has its higher unity 
 in God. 
 
 Having thus dealt with the objections of his adversaries, 
 Dante goes on to give positive reasons for his thesis, that 
 the authority of the Empire is not derived from that of the 
 Church. Since the Empire existed, he says, with full power 
 of action before the Church, the authority of the Empire 
 cannot depend upon her. 
 
 " Christ confirms it by His birth and His death ; . . . 
 the Church confirms it in the words which Paul spoke to 
 1 De Monarch, iii. 11. ^ De Monarch, iii. 12. 
 
THE CHURCH'S DOMINION SPIRITUAL. 387 
 
 Festus, in the Acts of the Apostles : * I stand at Caesar's 
 judgment-seat, where I ought to be judged,' and by the 
 words which an angel of God spoke to Paul a little after- 
 wards : * Fear not, Paul, thou must be brought ^ before 
 Caesar.'" 2 Again, "If the Church had power to bestow 
 authority on the Roman prince, she would have it either 
 from God, or from herself, or from some Emperor, or 
 from the universal consent of mankind, or at least of the 
 majority. . . . But she held it not from any of these 
 sources. . . . This power is not permitted by the natural 
 law, . . . since the Church is not an effect of nature, 
 but of God, Who said, 'Upon this rock I will build My 
 Church ; ' ^ nor by the divine law, for the whole of the 
 divine law is contained in the bosom of the Old or of 
 the New Testament, and I cannot find therein that any 
 thought or care for worldly matters was commanded, 
 either to the early or to the latter priesthood. I find 
 rather such care taken away from the priests of the Old 
 Testament by the express command of God to Moses, and 
 from the priests of the New Testament by the express 
 command of Christ to His disciples." * 
 
 " The cause I now discern, 
 Why of the heritage no portion came 
 To Levi's oflfepring." — Purg. xvi. 1 34. 
 
 *'This power the Church evidently did not receive from 
 herself, for nothing can give what it has not. . . . But it 
 is plain that if the Church gave to herself this power, she 
 had it not before she gave it. . . . But, as has been 
 already shown, she received it not from any Emperor ; nor, 
 further, from the consent of all mankind, seeing that not 
 only all the inhabitants of Asia and Africa, but even 
 
 ^ Acts of the Apostles, xxv. 10. xxvii. 24. Cf. xxviii. 19, "I was con- 
 strained to appeal unto Csesar." ^ De Monarch, iii. 13. 
 2 Matt. xvi. 18. * De Monarch, iii. 14. 
 
388 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE, 
 
 the greater number of Europeans, hold the thought in 
 abhorrence." ^ 
 
 It follows, therefore, that the temporal power is contrary 
 to the nature of the Church. For "the nature of the 
 Church means the form or essence of the Church, which 
 is nothing else than the life of Christ, as it is contained 
 both in His sayings and in His deeds. For His Ufe is 
 the exemplar and ideal of the militant Church, especially 
 of its pastors, and above all of its chief pastor, to whom 
 it belongs to feed the sheep and lambs of Christ. . . . But 
 Christ denied before Pilate that His rule was of this world, 
 saying, ' My kingdom is not of this world : if My kingdom 
 were of this world, then would My servants fight that I 
 should not be delivered to the Jews; but now is My 
 kingdom not from hence.' " ^ 
 
 From these premisses Dante infers, that the Emperor 
 depends immediately upon God, and that man has need 
 of two guides — the Emperor for his temporal, and the Pope 
 for his spiritual aid. And the Emperor, as man's temporal 
 guide, is under the special Providence of God, Who, as He 
 ordered the course of the heavens, and through them 
 guides and governs all things, so does He alone choose and 
 confirm Caesar, who has no earthly superior over him. 
 " Hence neither ought those who have been called Electors 
 to have that name ; rather they are to be held as heralds 
 of the providence of God." And if they sometimes dis- 
 agree, it is because " all or some of them have been blinded 
 by their evil desires, and have not discerned the face of 
 God's appointment."^ 
 
 "It is therefore clear that the authority of temporal 
 monarchy comes with no intermediate will from the Foun- 
 tain of universal authority Yet in certain matters 
 
 the Eoman Prince is subject to the Roman Pontiff. For 
 
 ^ De Monarch, iii. 14. ^ Be Monarch, iii. 15 ; John, xviii. 2^. 
 
 ^ De Monarch, iii. 16. 
 
DIRECT DOMINION. 389 
 
 that happiness, which is subject to mortality, in a sense 
 is ordered with a view to the happiness which shall not 
 taste of death. Let, therefore, Caesar be reverent to Peter, 
 as the first-bom son to his father, that he may be illumi- 
 nated with the light of his father's grace, and so may be 
 stronger to illuminate the world over which he has been 
 placed by Him alone. Who is the Ruler of all things 
 spiritual as well as temporal." ^ 
 
 If we turn from the arguments in the De Monarchia, 
 which often seem to us strange and obscure, to the facts, 
 it is evident that the idea of the whole book is based on 
 error. The error, we have already shown (p. 356), lies in 
 Dante's attempting to identify the Holy Roman Empire 
 with that of ancient Rome, and in his overlooking the 
 historical development of the Christian Empire of Germany, 
 which was connected indeed with the old Roman Empire, 
 but was in no sense its legitimate successor. How completely 
 the new Empire was regarded by Dante's contemporaries 
 as the creation of the Church and dependent on her, is 
 seen by the following quotation from Gervase of Tilbury : 
 "The Empire," he says to the Emperor Otho TV., "is not 
 thine, but Christ's; not thine, but Peter's; it came not to 
 thee from thyself, but from the Yicar of Christ and suc- 
 cessor of Peter. Rome received again the name of Empire 
 in Charlemagne's time, not by his act, but by the favour of 
 the Pope. It was first granted to the King of the Franks 
 by the favour of the Pope, and by his favour it now belongs 
 to the King of the Germans, not to the Franks. The 
 Empire does not devolve upon him to whom Germany 
 belongs, but upon him to whom the Pope decides to 
 commit it."^ On the other hand, Dante is fully justified 
 in rejecting the theory,^ which he frequently quotes, of 
 
 ^ De Monarch, iii. 16. ^ Otia imperiaZia Dec. ii. c. 19. 
 
 3 "In my opinion, when Christ came, all honour, pre-eminence, 
 dominion, and jurisdiction were rightfully and with just cause taken 
 
390 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 Cardinal de Segusia, Bishop of Ostia, of Augustinus Tri- 
 umphus, Al varus Pelagius, John of Salisbury, ^gidius 
 Colonna, and a few others, and which was no less strenu- 
 ously controverted by St. Thomas and Bellarmine,^ viz., 
 " that St. Peter and his successors were endowed by God 
 with plenary powers of binding and loosing in things tem- 
 poral as well as spiritual ; that all temporal jurisdiction over 
 the whole world, including even heathen princes, was con- 
 ferred by Christ on Peter and his successors ; that to the 
 Popes, therefore, belongs the government of the whole 
 world, both directly by their own spiritual jurisdiction, 
 and indirectly by the temporal power which they intrust 
 to kings and princes ; that temporal lawgivers are merely 
 vassals of the Church, which holds them responsible for 
 the government of their realms, and upholds or deposes 
 them as they succeed or fail." This view is termed the 
 system of the Church's immediate jurisdiction. Against 
 it Bellarmine^ lays down the following propositions: 
 I, the Pope is not ruler of the whole world ; 2, the 
 Pope is not ruler of the whole Christian world ; 3, the 
 Pope has no direct temporal jurisdiction. The view of 
 De Segusia finds few advocates among theologians and 
 canonists. 
 
 Moreover, Dante is correct in maintaining that the tem- 
 poral power is derived directly from God, and is absolutely 
 independent in its own sphere. For, as he shows in the 
 introduction to the De Monarchia, "As God wills the 
 development of man, and as this again is only possible in 
 
 from the infidel, by Him Who is both supreme and infallible, and 
 transferred to the faithful." — Card, de Segusia, Commentar. in Decret. 
 lib. iii. tit. 34, c. 8, n. 26. 
 
 ^ *' Infidelity in itself is not incompatible with dominion, for dominion 
 finds place in the law of nations,, which is the human (natural) law ; 
 whereas the distinction of faithful and infidel belongs to the (positive) 
 divine law. It is not within the province of the Church to punish 
 infidelity in those who have never received the faith." — S. ii. 2. q. I2 
 a. 2 ^ De Rom. Pontif. v. i. 89. 
 
SPIRITUAL AUTHORITY SUPREME. 391 
 
 a society which presupposes a supreme authority, political 
 power, as such, must proceed wholly from Him." Still, 
 both the form of the government itself and the persons 
 in whom its power is vested are the product of histoiic 
 development, in which contracts agreed to and the consent 
 of authorised representatives find place. It is precisely 
 this important condition that Dante has overlooked. The 
 German monarchy was elective, and therefore a dignity 
 totally distinct from that of the Roman Emperor, which, 
 being created by the Sovereign Pontiff, depended on his 
 consent. Besides, as the head of the Empire had many 
 ecclesiastical duties to perform, the supreme Pontiff 
 claimed the right of examining the Emperor-elect before 
 his coronation in regard to his relations to the Church 
 and the Holy See, and of deposing him if these did not 
 prove satisfactory. Otherwise an excommunicated person 
 might have become lawful Emperor of Rome. Nor was 
 the right of the Pontiff thus to interrogate the sovereign- 
 elect ever questioned by any Emperor, from Frederic II. to 
 Henry VII.i 
 
 Gregorovius, in our day, has raised another weighty 
 objection to Dante's theory, and not, as it seems to us, 
 without ground. " Dante became as warm an advocate for 
 the absolute power of the Emperor as were, in an earlier 
 age, the framers of the Justinian Code. With philosophic 
 gravity he maintained, that all princes, nations, and coun- 
 tries belong by right to one Caesar. Nay, more, that every 
 living man is subject to the Roman Emperor." And ad- 
 dressing the princes of Italy he exclaims : " Ye drink from 
 his springs, your ships sail on his seas, the sand on the 
 sea-shore and the Alpine peaks are his, whilst all public and 
 private rights are yours only by virtue of his ordinances. 
 All that the heavens embrace is his garden, and his lake, 
 for the sea is God's (Who gave it him), and He made it, and 
 ^ Hbfler, Kaiserthum und Papsttkum, 1862, p. 124. 
 
392 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 His hands formed the dryland."^ "In this perfect ideal 
 of the world-wide sway of a pacific Emperor, the germs 
 of other Neros, Domitians, and Caracallas are necessarily 
 hidden, ready, in the conditions of the world such as it is, 
 to be developed into despotism." ^ 
 
 And, in fact, only three years after the great poet's death, 
 during the contest between Louis of Bavaria and Pope 
 John XXII., Marsilius of Padua, the Emperor's physician, 
 published his "Defensor Pacis." According to him, the 
 Pope is merely the Emperor's vicar at Rome ; all priests 
 are equal in dignity ; the Episcopate is a human institution ; 
 the Pope has no jurisdiction over the Bishops, nor is he 
 the successor of Peter, who was never in Rome ; nor has 
 he any higher authority than the other Apostles. The 
 Church is the congregation of the people {congregatio 
 popuU) ; the selection of the clergy belongs to the civil 
 court, which may compel priests to dispense the sacraments. 
 Priests are simply teachers; their power of absolution is 
 merely declaratory, not real. The prince alone has power 
 to punish heretics and schismatics. True, the Emperor was 
 always crowned by the Pope, yet this he did only by order 
 of the Roman people. The prince was God's vicegerent, 
 bound to govern according to the law which is promulgated 
 by the commonwealth, and his offences against this law 
 could be punished by deposition. 
 
 Marsilius thus wipes out the history of the Church for 
 thirteen hundred years, ignores the great work of the 
 priesthood, the Church, and the Papacy in the civilisation of 
 
 ^ The preamble of Henry VII.'s edict on the crime of high treason 
 runs thus {M. Germ. Leg. ii. p. 554) : " In order to repress the crimes of 
 many persons, who break the bonds of that entire fidelity which they 
 owe, and take up arms with hostile intent against the Roman Empire, 
 on the peace of which the order of the whole world reposes ; to say 
 nothing of the precepts, not only human, but divine, which com- 
 mand that every human soul shall be subject to the Prince of the 
 Romans," &c. 
 
 ^ Gregorovius, GescJiichie der Stadt Rom im 3fiitelcdter, vi. p. 24. 
 
DEVELOPMENT OF DANTE'S THEORY. 393 
 
 Europe, and constructs out of abstract formulas a Church 
 dependent for her very existence upon the whims of an 
 earthly potentate. We see here the seeds of the subsequent 
 heresies of Huss, Wickliff, and Luther, and also the prin- 
 ciples of an intolerable absolutism under an Emperor at 
 once pope and king, which must ultimately lead to revolu- 
 tion. The practical results of the new civil and ecclesias- 
 tical law were seen in the choice of Peter of Corbara as 
 antipope, his coronation by Louis, and the condemnation 
 of John XXIL as a heretic and traitor. By these pro- 
 ceedings the Empire, which had received the imperial 
 diadem from the Roman people, was dishonoured, no less 
 than the Papacy, in the eyes of Christendom. 
 
 In order to found an absolute and universal empire, 
 human learning, enslaved by the imperial power, destroyed 
 the hierarchical order, and let loose the flood of democracy 
 on the Church herself. Yet, after the lapse of only a few 
 months, the head of the Empire was ignominiously driven 
 out of Rome, pelted with stones, and compelled, shortly 
 after, to sue humbly to the Pope for absolution and re- 
 conciliation. For this reformer of Church and State was 
 always ready to renounce his theory, provided he could 
 gain his end by other means. ^ Great indeed was the con- 
 trast between Dante's ideal Emperor and Louis of Bavaria, 
 who received the imperial crown from the Roman people, 
 and whose language, coarse manners, and habits the poet 
 regarded with disgust. ^ But the scriptural argument which 
 he had employed, to show that the Church should confine 
 her authority to spiritual matters, was further strained by 
 later innovators to favour the greed of the temporal power, 
 and its spoliation of the Church. " My kingdom is not of 
 this world," were the words spoken by our Lord before 
 Pilate and the secular authority of the Romans. " Possess 
 neither gold, nor silver, nor money in your purses" was 
 1 Holier, loc. ciL, p. 158. ^ Be Vulgar i Eloquio, i., iL 
 
394 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 given as a counsel to the Disciples on their mission.^ Yet 
 in these texts Marsilius and the heretical Mystics, the 
 Fraticelli and Beguines, found a precept forbidding the 
 Church to hold property. At the same time they paid no 
 regard to such passages as the following : — " Give you them 
 to eat ; " " His disciples were gone into the city to buy 
 meat;" "All they that believed were together, and had 
 all things common." ^ 
 
 The occupation of the States of the Church and the cap- 
 ture of Kome by the Piedmontese were the final acts of a 
 drama which, prolonged throughout the succeeding cen- 
 turies, deprived the Church of her divinely appointed 
 position among the kingdoms of the world. But for the 
 sustaining Hand of Him Whose protection has never failed 
 her, her spiritual and moral authority must have also suc- 
 cumbed. That his theory involved such disastrous conse- 
 quences to Church and Empire, Dante could never have 
 foreseen. Yet we are told that he was the first to pro- 
 mulgate the idea of the complete " separation of Church 
 and State." ^ Such a thought was, as Mamiani * remarks, 
 foreign to himself and to his age. Dante fails, indeed, 
 as we have seen, to recognise the true relation of the 
 Empire and the Papacy, yet he maintains, with St. Thomas, 
 that the temporal welfare of nations is only secondary 
 in importance, and that even the first of all earthly bless- 
 
 ^ John, xviii. 36, also quoted by Marsilius ; Matt. x. 9. Arnold of 
 Brescia had already urged the Church, on the strength of these texts, 
 to renounce all temporal possessions. The Church has always under- 
 stood the passages as a counsel of evangelical perfection, not as a precept 
 of universal obligation. Among the propositions of Marsilius con- 
 demned by Pope John XXII.,, 1327, the first is entitled, " That all the 
 temporal possessions of the Church are under the dominion {subsunt) 
 of the Emperor, who can dispose of them as his own," 
 
 2 Cf. Mark vi. 37 ; Luke ix. 13 ; John iv. 8, xii. 6, xiii. 29 ; Acts 
 ii. 44, iv. 34, V. I. 
 
 3 Derichsweiler, Das politische System Dante's, 1872, p. 72. 
 
 ^ T. Mamiani, La Politica di Dante, in the compilation " II Secolo 
 di Dante," 1865, p. 148. 
 
BASIS OF THE CHURCH'S SUPREMACY. 395 
 
 ings, unity in peace, can only be attained by a moral and 
 religious life.^ As St. Thomas says, " The temporal power 
 is subordinate to the spiritual power, so far as God has 
 appointed ; that is, in all which relates to eternal salvation. 2 
 Thus Dante concludes his treatise on the Empire with the 
 proposition, that it is subject in one respect to the Roman 
 Pontiff, inasmuch as this earthly happiness is, in a certain 
 sense, ordered with a view to our eternal felicity.^ Pope 
 Innocent III. proclaimed the same principle : " We do not 
 intend to give sentence as to the fief, but to judge the sin."* 
 So also Boniface VIII : " The king is subject to us in respect 
 of his morals " ^ (ration^ peecati) ; and Hefele rem arks, ^ 
 that Boniface YIII. in his Bull " Ausculta fili," falsified 
 by the crown lawyers of France, only claims a submission 
 ratione peecati. According to this Bull, affairs of state, as 
 such, are not under the Papal jurisdiction, but those only 
 which involve sin. " This constitutes a vital difference in 
 principle, for, even under the present changed conditions 
 of the world, we may say, that although a Catholic king is 
 independent as to his government in temporalihus, yet in 
 respect of the sin which he may therein commit he is subject 
 to his confessor, to whom it belongs of right to warn and 
 rebuke the monarch, and to impose a penance for his evil 
 deed ; and this not only when the prince voluntarily accuses 
 
 1 Thorn. De Regim. Princip. i. 14. "TJnitas pacis." Cf. De 
 Monarch, ill. 16 : "That life may pass in freedom and with peace." 
 
 2 Thom. in ii. Bist. 44, q. 42, a. 3. 
 
 3 "Yet the truth of this latter question must not be received so 
 narrowly as to deny that in certain matters the Roman Prince is 
 subject to the Roman Pontiff. For that happiness, which is subject to 
 mortality, is in a sense ordered with a view to the happiness which 
 shall not taste of death." — De Mon. iii. 16. Also Thom. De Regim. 
 Princip. i. 14, 15. * Decret. Gregor. lib. ii. tit. i. c. 13. 
 
 5 Cf. Du Puy, Histoire de differ, de Bonif., 1655, p. 72. "The 
 supreme Pontiff has cognisance of all temporal matters, and can 
 pronounce judgment on them as to their moral character {ratione 
 peecati), as both the Cardinal Bishop of Porto and Boniface VIII. 
 himself declared in the Consistory of a.d. 1302." 
 
 « Hefele, C. G. vi. p. 298. 
 
396 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 himself, but also when the affair is notorious. Now, 
 throughout the Middle Ages the Pope considered himself 
 to be the spiritual director of Catholic princes." And in 
 our day, through the Episcopate and the Confessors, who 
 receive from him ecclesiastical jurisdiction and instruc- 
 tion in its use, the Pope still exercises spiritual power in 
 spiritualihiis over Catholic princes. The following predic- 
 tion of a modern author as to the issue of the present con- 
 flict between Church and State would have been a truth 
 accepted by all in Dante's age, and in a far higher sense. 
 " If I am not altogether mistaken," says Baumann,^ " with 
 Catholics and Protestants alike the view prevails, that the 
 contest between the Church and the State is really grounded 
 on two distinct and mutually exclusive ideas ; the one which 
 has for its end the 'hereafter,' the other limited to the 
 * here.' And this comes from the diffusion, since Hegel's 
 time, of the belief that moral perfection can be realised in 
 the state. ^ If the battle be fought on these lines, then 
 the triumph of the Church is assured ; for, under one form 
 or another, the religious and supernatural view will always 
 maintain its supremacy over mankind." 
 
 Dante, though he regards the Emperor as the ideal of 
 morality, justice, and charity, yet places the Sovereign 
 Pontiff at his side, as his teacher and guide in the super- 
 natural life, which, including, as it does, the natural order, 
 invests it with light and force. Nor is the poet inconsistent 
 in this. "According to Dante," says Scartazzini,^ "the 
 relations of the State to the Church are those of the earthly 
 to the heavenly, the temporal to the eternal, reason to 
 revelation. But the question suggests itself, does not 
 
 ^ Die Staatslehre des heiligen Thomas, 1873, p. 21. 
 
 ^ According to Hegel, the state is " the realisation of the moral 
 ideal, the moral spirit, as the manifest will, clear to itself, which 
 knows itself and accomplishes that which it knows, and to the full 
 extent of its knowledge." 
 
 ^ Dante AUghieri, seine Zeit, sein Leben, und seine Werke, 1879, p. 310. 
 
TEMPORAL POWERS SUBORDINATE. 30,7 
 
 Dante here prove the very opposite of his own argument 1 
 He wishes to show that the State, being endowed with 
 privileges equal to those of the Church, cannot therefore 
 depend on her. But surely, if their relations be indeed 
 that of the temporal to the eternal, of the earthly to the 
 heavenly, the State must evidently be subordinate to the 
 Church. This difficulty the poet has not wholly overlooked. 
 But he can only escape from it by abandoning, in a measure, 
 the principles for which he so earnestly contends. Thus, 
 in his concluding assertion that the Emperor is in one 
 respect subject to the Pope, we see an inconsistency which 
 opens the door to the Papal pretensions and influence." We 
 do not think this holds; for Dante's political theory is 
 based on the Christian system, in which the power of the 
 lawgiver is not, as a rule, absolute, but limited by circum- 
 stances, national spirit, and customs. It is religion, there- 
 fore, and pre-eminently the Christian religion, which, as the 
 highest expression of morality, gives to law the character 
 of Right. Thus every commonwealth must depend morally 
 upon the religious convictions of its citizens, which comes 
 to the same thing as the right of the Church ratione peccati 
 to judge the State, although the latter is in temporal 
 matters independent and supreme. But as Dante in his 
 De Monar cilia is not blind to the higher order of life, which 
 is founded upon revealed truth and supernatural charity, 
 ever developed and nurtured by the Church, he is able to 
 give a religious consecration to the monarch, and to teach 
 his subjects that they owe him obedience on deeper grounds 
 and for higher aims. 
 
 Therefore he places King David before us as a pattern 
 of humility in his reverence for the Ark of the Covenant, 
 which merited for him, in the sight of God, higher honour 
 than his royal dignity : 
 
 " Preceding the blest vessel, onward came 
 With hght dance leaping, girt in humble guise, 
 
398 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 Israel's sweet harper : in that hap he seem'd 
 Less, and yet more, than kingly." — Purg. x. 58. 
 
 Only in harmony with the Church was Justinian to 
 reign; hence he could not govern the realm, nor frame 
 his code of laws, a divinely appointed task, until he had 
 professed the true faith and was in communion with Pope 
 Agapetus : ^ 
 
 " Soon as my feet 
 
 Were to the Church reclaim'd, to my great task, 
 
 By inspiration of God's grace impell'd, 
 
 I gave me wholly ; and consign'd mine arms 
 
 To Belisarius." — Far. vi. 21. 
 
 In the Paradise, the golden Eagle, as the symbol of 
 Imperial greatness, repeatedly declares that the Emperor 
 must submit his will to the Divine Will, as made known 
 in revelation, and interpreted for us by the Sovereign 
 Pontiff : 
 
 " None ever hath ascended to this realm. 
 Who hath not a believer been in Christ, 
 Either before or after the blest Limbs 
 Were nail'd upon the wood." — Par. xix. loi. 
 
 Finally, Yirgil, the poet of the Empire, constantly 
 acknowledges that the province of temporal government 
 is by no means final and complete by itself, but is destined 
 to be the condition and preparation for a higher order. 
 For God established peace by means of the Roman Empire, 
 in order thus to prepare a place for His Church : 
 
 1 The intriguing Empress Theodosia had helped to place the 
 Monophysite Antliimus in the Patriarchal Chair of Constantinople. 
 "When Pope Agapetus I. a.d. 535, came to Constantinople, he re- 
 fused, notwithstanding Justinian's threats, to hold intercourse with 
 Anthimus. And in the end, Justinian was compelled by the Pope's 
 firmness to depose and banish Anthimus. Cf. Mansi, Collect. Cone. 
 viii. p. 873 et seq. Cf. p. 427. 
 
DANTE'S REVERENCE FOR THE PAPACY. 399 
 
 " Both which, if truth be spoken, were ordain'd 
 And stablish'd for the holy place, where sits 
 Who to great Peter's sacred Chair succeeds." 
 
 — Hell, ii. 24. 
 
 This leads us on to recapitulate, in conclusion, Dante's 
 conception of the Holy See. 
 
 The poet's idea of the Papacy is embodied in the titles of 
 honour which he bestows upon the Pope. He is the High 
 Priest, 1 the Shepherd and Guide of the flock, ^ the Spouse of 
 the Church, who is his Bride,^ and his chair is at Borne.'* 
 He is the Yicar of Christ,^ the Head of the World,^ 
 the Father of fathers,'^ to whom all owe reverence, even the 
 Emperor himself, as the first-bom son to his father;* 
 " the Chief Pontiff, Vicar of our Lord Jesus Christ and 
 successor of Peter, to whom we owe, not indeed all that we 
 owe to Christ, but all that we owe to Peter." ^ Therefore 
 the Papacy is the highest and holiest dignity, the " robe of 
 sovereignty ; " ^^ and to renounce the Papacy is " the great 
 renunciation " ^^ (il gran rijiuto). To the Pope is committed 
 the power of the keys ; he holds " the keys of glory " ^^ 
 assigned by Christ to Peter, " within whose mighty grasp 
 our Lord did leave the keys." ^^ To him also it belongs to 
 feed the sheep and the lambs. ^* 
 
 The power of the keys is effectual in the next world and 
 before God ; and the faith which sees 
 
 " To hoise the sail, 
 And follow where the Fisherman had led," 
 
 — Purg. xxii. 62, 
 
 1 Hell, xxvii. 67. 2 Purg. xvi. 102, 104. 
 
 3 Hell, xix. 58 ; Purg. xxiv. 23. 
 
 ■* Letter to the Italian Cardinals, conclusion. 
 
 5 Purg. XX. 86 ; Par. xxv. 16. ^ Purg. viii. 131. 
 
 '' Letter to Emperor Henry VII., n. 7. ^ De Monarch, iii. 16. 
 
 8 De Monarch, iii. 3. '^'^ Purg. xix. 102. 
 
 " Hell, iii. 56 ; Hell, xxvii. lOO ; Par. xxx. 143. 
 12 De Monarch, iii. i : " Who truly has the keys of the kingdom of 
 heaven." " Par. xxiii. 134, xxiv. 34. 1* Par. v. 77. 
 
40O THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 — that is, the Roman Pontiff, — is the faith of the Catholic 
 Church. He is the Standard of the truth, and the Roman 
 flock is the true flock, because union with Rome is the test 
 of Catholicity ; ^ in this Church alone is salvation, and its 
 centre is 
 
 " Where Tiber's wave grows salt." — Purg. ii. 97. 
 
 In his official pronouncements, even a worldly Pope teaches 
 truth: 2 
 
 " He chews the cud, but doth not cleave the hoof." 
 
 — Purg. xvi. 102. 
 
 To the Pope also belongs plenary authority to dispense 
 from vows, when there is a sufficient cause, to order fasts, 
 to grant indulgences.^ 
 
 As the Papal dignity is superior to all others,'* those sin 
 grievously who attack it. Although Dante repeatedly 
 condemns to eternal torments Boniface YIII., he denounces 
 no less severely, as we have seen, Philip the Fair for out- 
 raging the Vicar of Christ. Again, to Nicholas III., whom 
 he places in Hell for simony, he says : 
 
 " If reverence of the keys restrain'd me not, 
 Which thou in happier time didst hold, I yet 
 Severer speech might use." — Hell, xix. 104. 
 
 ^ Lette7^ to the Italian Cardinals, n. 2 : " To Peter it was said, Feed 
 the sacred Roman sheepfold." Cf. Ambrose in Ps. xi. 4. "Where 
 Peter is, there is the Church. " — Jerom. adv. Rufin. \. 4 . 
 
 ^ The old covenant permitted the eating of clean beasts, that is, of 
 those which have the hoof divided and chew the cud {Levit. xi. 3 ; 
 Deut. xiv. 7). In a spiritual sense, St. Thomas explains that chew- 
 ing the cud signifies a right understanding of Holy Scripture ; the 
 divided hoof, the discernment between good and evil ; or, again, the 
 distinction between the two natures in Christ. (S. i. 2. q. 102, a. 6. ) 
 The earlier commentators explain the figure to mean, the union of the 
 two powers. 
 
 ^ Par. V. 54 ; Purg. ii. 94 ; Par. xxvii. 36. ■* Purg. xix. 102. 
 
DEVOTION TO ST. PETER. 401 
 
 So too in Purgatory the poet bends the knee before Pope 
 Adrian V., who here expiates his avarice, and only rises 
 when Adrian entreats him, urging that in Purgatory the 
 Pope is only like other men : ^ 
 
 " My knees I stoop'd, and would have spoke ; but he, 
 Ere my beginning, by his ear perceived 
 I did him reverence ; and ' What cause,' said he, 
 
 * Hath bowed thee thu»? ' ' Compunction,' I rejoined, 
 
 * And inward awe of your high dignity ! ' 
 
 * Up ! ' he exciaim'd, ' brother ! upon thy feet 
 Arise ; err not : thy fellow-servant I, 
 (Thine and all others'), of one Sovran Power. 
 If thou hast ever mark'd those holy sounds 
 
 Of Gospel truth, ' nor shall be given in marriage,' 
 Thou mayest discern the reasons of my speech.' " 
 
 — Purg. xix. 126 
 
 Before Peter, whose faith exceeded even that of John, 
 the beloved disciple, ^ Dante makes his confession of 
 faith, whilst Beatrice thus addresses the Prince of the 
 apostles : 
 
 " O Everlasting Light 
 Of him, within whose mighty grasp our Lord 
 Did leave the keys, which of this wondrous bliss 
 He bare below ! tent this man as thou wilt. 
 With lighter probe or deep, touching the Faith, 
 By the which thou didst on the billows walk. 
 If he in love, in hope, and in belief, 
 Be steadfast, is not hid from thee : for thou 
 Hast there thy ken, where all things are beheld 
 In liveliest portraiture." — Par. xxiv. 34. 
 
 1 In allusion to the passage in Luke xx. 35, "They that shall be 
 accounted worthy of that world and of the resurrection from the dead, 
 shall neither" be married, nor take wives," which Pope Adrian thus 
 expounds : That in the other world the Pope's marriage with the 
 Church is dissolved, and he is only like other Christians. 
 
 2 Par. xxiv. 122. 
 
 2 C 
 
402 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 And Peter approves Dante's faith as true : 
 
 " As the master hears, 
 Well pleased, and then enfoldeth in his arms 
 The servant, who hath joyful tidings brought, 
 And having told the errand keeps his peace ; 
 Thus benediction uttering with song, 
 Soon as my peace I held, compass'd me thrice 
 The Apostolic radiance, whose behest 
 Had oped my lips : so well their answer pleased." 
 
 — Par. xxiv. 144. 
 
 Again, Dante never questions the right of the Popes to 
 hold as stewards their temporal possessions. On the con- 
 trary, he maintains that the Emperor could lawfully be- 
 stow the " patrimonium '' for the protection of the Church ; 
 that the Vicar of Christ could lawfully accept the gift, 
 and that its misuse does not affect the legality of the 
 transaction.^ Nor does the supremacy over all Christen- 
 dom which he attributes to the Emperor override the 
 territorial rights of individual princes. That Charlemagne 
 himself did not regard his supremacy as implying terri- 
 torial dominion is clear from the terms used in dividing 
 his kingdom ; for in the distribution of the Italian pro- 
 vinces he makes the express reservation, " to the boundaries 
 of St. Peter." 2 
 
 1 De Monarch, iii. 13. "To say that the Church so misuses the 
 patrimony assigned to her is very unseemly." Cf. iii. 10 : " It is true 
 that the Emperor, as protector of the Church, could allot to the 
 Church a patrimony and other things, . . . And the Vicar of Christ 
 could receive such things, not to possess them, but as a steward to 
 dispense the fruits of them to the poor of Christ." 
 
 2 See Pertz, Monument. Germ. Leg. tom. i. p. 141, n. 4. Cf. 
 Vering, xlii. p. 226. Otho I. promised after his coronation to take 
 steps for the restitution of the usurped patrimony of Peter, and especi- 
 ally reserved to the Pope the territorial supremacy over the Roman 
 states. " In Rome I shall make no decree or ordinance without thy 
 counsel, concerning those things which belong to the Romans. . . . 
 Let them observe due obedience to their Apostolic Lord . . . and to 
 the officials and judges." — Pertz, tom. ii. p. 959. . . 
 
DANTE AN ARISTOCRAT. 403 
 
 For his overthrow of the Lombards, who had attacked 
 the Pope and the States of the Church, Dante thus extols 
 Charlemagne : 
 
 " And when the Lombard tooth, with fang impure, 
 Did gore the bosom of the Holy Church, 
 Under its wings, victorious Charlemain 
 Sped to her rescue." — Par. vi. 96. 
 
 j( Matilda, Margravine of Tuscany, again, who had en- 
 dowed the Holy See with her vast estates, is made the 
 object of the poet's special praise, and is chosen by him as 
 the type of the active life.^ 
 
 With all his reverence for the Papacy, Dante advocated, 
 as we have said and for the reasons given, the separation 
 of the spiritual and temporal power. To their separation, 
 doubtless, was mainly due the religious and political de- 
 velopment of the Middle Ages. Still, both Guelfs and 
 Ghibellines admitted that the division could never be so 
 complete as to leave nothing temporal to the spiritual, or 
 spiritual to the temporal, since both were designed for 
 mutual co-operation. 
 
 In conjunction with the Empire, Dante supports the 
 aristocracy against the newly founded republican states, 
 and blames the Popes, whose protection these latter had 
 invoked against the oppression of feudalism and the exorbi- 
 tant claims of the Emperor. He devotes an entire canto 
 to the Florentine nobles, and contends that, during their 
 ascendancy, commerce and the rapid acquisition of wealth 
 had not as yet demoralised the citizens ; that the people 
 then led simple, moral, and orderly lives, and honoured the 
 Empire, which they now cast off : 
 
 " But ye are sick, 
 And in your tetchy wantonness are blind, 
 
 ^ Purg. xx-viii. 41, xxxi. 91, xxxiii. 119. 
 
404 THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE, 
 
 As is the bantling, that of hunger dies, 
 And drives away the nurse." — Far. xxx. 137. 
 
 Yet his efforts to retard the fall of the Empire were 
 vain ; neither he nor others possessed a spell which was 
 able to bring back its scattered elements to the unity of the 
 Christian family. Nations and states continually broke 
 away from the community of the Imperium Christianitatis ; 
 new forms of government were instituted upon different 
 bases ; the cities, and with them the third estate, rose into 
 prominence, and the principle of nationalities henceforth 
 became dominant. Two hundred years after Dante's death 
 began the " Reformation," which completed the victory 
 of the individual over the universal, of nationalism over 
 Catholicism. The petty prince, however mean and despi- 
 cable he might be in other respects, now assumed the 
 absolute sovereignty of his territory. Nor did he merely 
 seize upon those rights which Dante assigns to the Emperor 
 alone j he went much farther. He constituted himself the 
 head of religion, the legislator for the conscience of his 
 subjects ; and the Church, the freeborn Spouse of Christ, 
 was to be the slave of worldly interests. 
 
 Let those who deem excessive the claims of Innocent III. 
 or Boniface YIII. recall the pretensions of secular princes, 
 subsequent to the Reformation. James I. of England did 
 not hesitate to assert that "kings are in truth gods, for 
 they exercise on earth a kind of divine power. All the 
 attributes of their supreme dignity correspond to those of 
 the divine prerogatives. God is able to create and to 
 destroy ', He is the Lord of life and death ; body and soul 
 obey Him. To kings belong those same powers. They 
 can deal with their subjects as with the pieces on a chess- 
 board, and at their pleasure make peasants either into 
 bishops or knights. The affections of the soul and the 
 service of the body are theirs of right. And as he is 
 guilty of blasphemy who in the events of his life blames 
 
. THE TRUE HUMAN FAMILY. 405 
 
 the Providence of God, so in like manner do subjects incur 
 the guilt of rebellion whenever they trangress the com- 
 mands of the king's authority. ... I make both law and 
 gospel." 1 It was Philip the Fair, the antagonist and 
 morally the murderer of Boniface YIII., who first paved 
 the way for the absolute power of kings. The Pope vainly 
 strove to prevent the arbitrary taxation of the Church, by 
 which the king was supplied with means for carrying on 
 his sanguinary wars, but the Pontiff's efforts were opposed 
 by the French nation, which thus wilfully forfeited its 
 freedom. 
 
 The condition of European countries became more and 
 more degraded, until, towards the close of the last century, 
 the climax of stagnation was reached, both in the state and 
 in society. At length the word "humanity" was pro- 
 nounced, and fell like a burning spark on the minds of 
 men. The ideal proclaimed with enthusiasm by Lessing, 
 Herder, and Schiller, the leaders of German literature, was 
 that of a noble and united humanity. It taught men to 
 look beyond the narrow confines of their own country, and 
 to realise a community of aims and interests, higher than 
 that of each separate nation. This cosmopolitan spirit, 
 which especially distinguishes Schiller and Goethe, has 
 often been censured ; yet it was only the inevitable reaction 
 of minds, hitherto isolated from each other and restricted 
 to the narrowest limits, now suddenly inspired with nobler 
 views of life. This attempt to revive the notion of one 
 great family of nations, although by different means and 
 upon other principles, shows that the Imperial ideal of the 
 Middle Ages corresponded to man's highest aspirations. 
 
 ^ Hofler, ad loc. p. 203. Cf. J. Forster, Essays, 1858, i. 227. 
 According to the English code of law, the king is " Pontifex maximus 
 summus regni custos, ultimus regni haeres omnipraeseus, omnipotens 
 et infallibilis." — Schubert, Handhuch der aUgem. Staatenkundet i 2, 
 p. 549- 
 
^ 
 
 406. THE CHURCH AND THE EMPIRE. 
 
 But the weakness of the Humanitarian theory was, that it 
 offered man a mere abstraction, destitute alike of sound 
 basis or definite aim. It had not, nor could ever have, a 
 place in history, and could never, therefore, requicken 
 public life. 
 
 The Empire has fallen. Yet it only represented the 
 earthly and transitory side of the great commonwealth of 
 nations. In its spiritual and immortal life the human 
 family still remains united, and exhibits a vitality new and 
 astounding in the midst of a decaying world. The bond of 
 this union is the Catholic Church, with her centre, the 
 Sovereign Pontiff. The Roman Empire was his creation. 
 His consecration alone gave it that place and authority, 
 which the nations of Europe regarded with awe. The 
 Church saw the Empire born and die, and stood by it in its 
 cradle and its grave. 
 
 Many a sceptre may yet be broken, many a crown 
 lost ; but the visible and divine kingdom of the Catholic 
 Church lives on, and will endure unto the end. Not in 
 vain has the blood of Christ and His Vicars been shed 
 for her : 
 
 " But for the purchase of this happy life, 
 Did Sixtus, Pius, and Callistus bleed, 
 And Urban."- — Par. xxvii. 39. 
 
 The finger of God has touched her. His Spirit renders 
 her incorruptible. Wearied with the tumults of the world 
 and the conflicts of the hour, to the Church we turn as to 
 our true home. From her perpetual and life-giving streams, 
 we draw a strength divine. And when all else is shaken, 
 and the very groundwork of society threatens to give way, 
 our feet stand secure, for the Church is built on " a Rock 
 of diamond." ^ 
 
 I ■ . . ^ Puvf/. ix. 95. . 
 
THE KINGDOM OF CHRIST. 407 
 
 " Non fu la Sposa di Cristo allevata 
 
 Del sangue mio, di Lin, di quel di Cleto, 
 Per essere ad acqiiisto d'oro usata ; 
 Ma per acquisto d esto viver lieto 
 E Sisto e Pio Calisto ed Urbano 
 Sparser lo sangue dopo molto fleto.^ 
 
 — Pur. xxvii. 40. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 [References to the " Summa " are under Aquinas, St. Thomas.] 
 
 Academicians, the, 238 
 
 Acheron, 105, 106, iii, 254 
 
 Achilles, 114 
 
 Adam, 197, 216, 224, 296 
 
 Admont, Engelbert von, Abbot, 365 
 
 Adrian V., Pope, 179, 401 
 
 ^iieas, 113, 366, 379, 380 
 
 Agapetus 1., Pope, 288, 390 
 
 Agobbio, Oderigi of, 12, 169 
 
 Alagia, wife of Count Malaspina, 26 
 
 Alberigo, 138 
 
 Albert I., Emperor, 27 
 
 Albertus Magnus, 230, 238 
 
 Aldighiera of the Aldighieris, 7 
 
 Aldobrandesco, Guglielmo, 168 
 
 Aldobrandesco, Omberto, 168 
 
 Alecto, the Fury, 173 
 
 Alexander the Great, 121, 379 
 
 Alfred, King, on Boethius, 242 
 
 All, Caliph, 135 
 
 Alphonso X. of Spain, 349 
 
 Aman, 173 
 
 Amata, wife of Latinus, 173 
 
 Ambrose, St., 323 
 
 Ananias, 180 
 
 Anastasius II., Pope, 119 
 
 Anaxagoras, 238 
 
 Angelico, Fra, 91 
 
 Angelo, Michael, 91, 98 
 
 Anjou, Charles of, 165, 349 
 
 Annas, 132 
 
 Anne, St., 224, 296 
 
 Anonimo, Fiorentino, on the Divina 
 Commedia, 100 
 
 Anselm, St., on animal symbolism, 71; 
 on the reason of eternal punishment, 
 160 ; on truth and Holy Scripture, 
 301 ; on the charity of the blessed, 
 
 339 
 Antenor, the Trojan, 138 
 Antenora, 138 
 Ant«eus, 137 
 
 Aquasparta, Matteo d', Cardinal, 21 
 
 Aquinas, St. Thomas — 
 
 Active and contemplative life, 305 
 
 Action of God and creatures, how dis- 
 tinguished, 260 
 
 Amor benevoUntice ct concupiscentice, 304 
 
 Angels, their nature, 265 ; why created, 
 ib. ; knowledge of, 266 ; bow illu- 
 minated, 340 ; hierarchies of, 269 ; 
 rule corporeal things, 271 
 
 Attributes, how appropriated, 261 ; 
 why, 102 
 
 Authority on matters of faith, 245 
 
 Baptism, substitute for, in luw of na- 
 ture, 325 
 
 Beatitude, three constituents of, 56 ; 
 essence of, 270; degiees of, how 
 determined, 357 
 
 Beatific vision, natural desire of, 54 ; 
 indefectible, 336 
 
 Blessed, the, their knowledge, 234, 235 ; 
 their joy unaffected by their past 
 sins, 329 ; their dispositions towards 
 the lost, 131 
 
 Body, resurrection of, necessary for 
 man's integrity, 342 ; merited by 
 resurrection of Chri-st, 343 
 
 Bodies of the damned, 344 
 
 Causes, second, agency of, and the 
 intercession of the saints, 341 
 
 Charity, 303 ; its mutual relations with 
 faith, 322 
 
 Clarity, gift of, 343 
 
 Christ, His age at His resurrection, 69 ; 
 all grace necessarily in soul of, 287 
 
 Church and state, 356 
 
 Complacency, desire, and love, 177 
 
 Contrition, 327 
 
 Deposing power, 362 
 
 Desire, complacency, and love, 177 
 
 Distinction, all knowledge based on 
 accurate, 79 
 
410 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Aqtiinas, St. Thomas {continued) — 
 
 Emperor, an, advantages of, 369 
 
 Envy, its attendant sins, 73 
 
 Faith, source of hope, 246 ; virtue of, 
 301; implicit, 316; how related to 
 charity, 322 
 
 Flattery, 129 
 
 Fortitude, 161 
 
 Freedom, true, 373 
 
 Free-will, result of reason, 275 
 
 Generation and perfection, twofold 
 order of, 322 
 
 God, supieme being and good, 52 ; 
 likeness to, in creatures, 53; natu- 
 rally loved by all creatures, even 
 the irrational, 54 ; alone gives con- 
 tent, 176 ; essential truth, 227 ; seen 
 in Himself, not through created 
 species, 244 ; His colicursus, triple 
 mode of, 257; :icls immediately in 
 creatures, 263 ; lo^ ed for His own 
 sake and for benefits received, 304 
 
 Good, the, love of, natural, 279; oiiject 
 and cause of charity, 303 
 
 Goodness in all things one, 55 
 
 Grace operating and co-operating, 76 ; 
 necessity of, 152, 314 
 
 Heresies works ot the flesh, 120 
 
 Hoof, the divided (Levit. xi. 3), 4CK) 
 
 Hope, 303 
 
 Infants, unbaptized, 112 
 
 Infidelity compatible with dominion, 
 
 390 
 Instinct and reason, 177 
 Intellect, the, active and passive, 
 
 277 
 : Introduces Dante to theology, 50, 206 ; 
 
 to Aristotle, 238 
 Justice, 370 ; in the monarch, 372 
 Keys, the, distinction and significance 
 
 of, 153 
 Knowledge first through the senses, 
 
 276 
 Law, human, depends on the Eternal, 
 
 258 
 Light of glory, 221 
 Love, necessary and free, true and 
 
 false, 173; connection with compla- 
 cency and desire, 177 
 Lucifer, nature of his sin, 266 
 Merit, 315 
 Movements, first, of the soul from 
 
 God, 75 
 Natura Integra, 79 
 Ordeal of single combat, 380 
 Optimism, 244 
 Passion, the, of Christ, voluntary, 285 ; 
 
 condignly satisfied, 285 ; justice and 
 
 miercy combined in, 286 
 Perfection, absolute, found only in 
 
 three created things, 244 
 ' Philosophy, moral, governs the other 
 
 sciences, 241 
 
 Aquinas, St. Thomas (continued)— 
 
 Predestination and free-will, 264 
 
 Purgatory, need of, 331 ; intense pains 
 of, 331 
 
 Reason and instinct, 177, 256 
 
 Refutes Averroes, 239'; praises St. 
 Francis Assisi, 200 
 
 Reprobate, the, obduracy of, 125 
 
 Revelation, need of, 248 
 
 Revelations of the saints, when our 
 guide, 151 
 
 Satisfaction, vicarious, how offered by 
 a creature, 332 
 
 Simony, Pope may commit, 130 
 
 Salvation of Pagans, 211 
 
 Self-subsisting beings, 275 
 
 Sin, triple penalty of, 159 ; sins of 
 ignorance and malice, 106 ; conse- 
 quences of carnal sin, 114 ; the seven 
 deadly sins, 176 
 
 Slave, "qui quod est, alterius est," 373 
 
 Society necessary for man's develop- 
 ment, 369 
 
 Soul, the human, rational, and there- 
 fore created, 276; the one principle 
 of all its faculties, 280 
 
 "Status vice et status termini," 330 
 
 Subtlety, gift of glorified body, 334 
 
 Substances, spiritual, material, 276 
 
 Symbolism, Scriptural use of, 250 
 
 Temperance, 161 
 
 Theology, its use of human sciences, 
 77 ; scholastic and mystic, 232 ; dig- 
 nity of, 241 ; a science, 247 
 
 Trajan, legend of, 212 
 
 Trinity, the Holy, evidence of, in 
 creatures, 53; "type" how appro- 
 priated to, 221 
 
 Ti-uth in mind and things, 256 
 
 Tyrants, 121 
 
 Usury, 107 
 
 Virtues, tiie cardinal, 322 
 
 Vows, 306 
 
 Word, the one, expresses all things, 
 261 
 
 Works, good, revival of, 157 
 
 Wrathful men, three kinds of, 117 
 Aragon, Frederick of, 349 
 Arena, Madonna dell', cliapel of, 12 
 Aretino, Leonardo, 12, 13, 20, 21, 26 
 Arezzo, Guittoue di, 9, 20, 25 
 Aristotle — 
 
 Anger, different kinds of, 117 
 
 God, the first 'mover, 255 
 
 Imagination, the source of error, 120 
 
 Incontinence, 108 
 
 Limbo, Christ's entry into, 289 
 
 Met by Dante, 113 
 
 Philosophy, Dante's master in, :?37 
 
 Plato preferred by Dante to, 238 
 
 Sciences regulated by justice, 241 
 Arius, 193 
 Aroux, E., 345 , , 
 
INDEX. 
 
 411 
 
 Attila, 122 
 St. Augustine — 
 Blessed, contentment of the, in their 
 
 various degiecs of bliss, 338 
 Blessed, mutual love of tiie, 171 
 Church, one of the four doctors of the, 
 
 323 
 Conscience, value of, 157 
 Conversion, joy of, 326 
 Eden, the symbolism of, 187 
 Eternal punishment, 103 
 Evil, dominion of, 160 
 Fortune, 272 
 God loved by all creatures, even the 
 
 unintelligent, 53 
 Heaven, defines happiness of, and the 
 
 three theological virtues, 56 
 Heaven, his place in, 224 
 Heresy, the iusidiousness of, 193 
 Iiidefectibility and free-will, 337 
 Mysticism, founder of Christian, 231, 
 
 232 
 Perseverance, 299 
 Rome, God's providence over, 367 
 Sin, the saint's memory of past, 204 
 Symbolism, animal, 71, 72 
 Time, the beginning of, 260 
 Trinity, the evidence of, in creatures, 
 
 53 
 Augustus, Emperor, 380 
 Averroes on Aristotle, 113, 238 
 Avicenna, 113, 238 
 
 Babel, Tower of, 137 
 
 Babylon, mystical significance of, 158 
 
 Balbo, Vita di Dante, 18, 39, 45, 99, 140, 
 146, 358 
 
 Bardi, Simon di, husband of Beatrice, 15 
 
 Bargigi, Guinforto degli, on the Divina 
 Commedia, 100 
 
 Bartsch's translation of the Divina Corn- 
 media, 100 
 
 Basil, iSt., union with God, 228 
 
 Battifolle, Guido da, 30, 32 
 
 Bavaria, Louis of, 558 
 
 Bavaria, Otto of, 3 
 
 Beatrice, passim 
 
 Beauvais, Vincent of, 10 
 
 Bebenberg, Leopold von, 365 
 
 Bede, Venerable, 59, 207, 238 
 
 Beguines, the, 394 
 
 Belacqua, 13, 165 
 
 Bella, mother of Dante, 7, 8 
 
 Bella, Giano deUa, 21 
 
 Bellarmine, 345, 355, 362; legend of 
 Trajan's salvation, 212 ; on tiie in- 
 tercession of the Holy Souls, 312 ; 
 dominion, direct and indirect, of the 
 Pope, 384 
 
 Berabo, Bernard, 36 
 
 Benedict, St., 214, 224, 309, 350 
 
 Benedict V., Pope, 386 
 
 Benevento, battle of, 7 
 
 Benvenuto da Imola, 9, 12; on the 
 Divina Commedia, 100, 331 
 
 Beranger, Raymond, Count of Provence, 
 202 
 
 Berardinelli, on the Divina Commedia, 
 100 
 
 Berdseus, 354 
 
 Berengosus, 382 
 
 Bernard, St., 74, 90, 232, 297, 323, 346, 
 350, 363 ; the feeling of the blessed 
 towards the losr, 131, 223, 226; union 
 with God, 228; founder of Christian 
 mysticism, 231 ; the two swords, 
 
 364 
 
 Berti, Bellincion, 5 
 
 Bianchi, 362 
 
 Bianchi, the, 21, 22, 24, 26 
 
 Blanc on the Divina Commedia, 100 
 
 Boccaccio, Vita di Dante, passim: on the 
 Divina Commedia, 100, 234, 346; on the 
 heliotrope, 133 
 
 Boethius, 207, 233, 237, 238. 239, 241, 242, 
 380 ; on animal symbolism, 72 ; true 
 philosophy of, 78 
 
 Boissard, 345 
 
 Bologna, University of, 9, 25, 26 
 
 Bologna, Guido GuinceUi of, ii 
 
 Bolognese, Franco, 12 
 
 Bonaventure, St. — 
 Church, abuses in the, 346 
 God, aU creatures lead to, 52 
 God, all knowledge and light from, 
 
 51 
 
 Heaven, h's place in, 238 
 
 Mary, on the seven virtues of, 292 
 
 Mystics, chief of the, 231, 232 
 
 Praises St. Dominic, 208 
 
 Sorrow, Christian, 179 
 
 Virtues, mutual connection of the, 154, 
 Boniface, St., 59 
 Boniface VIII., Pope, 21, 22, 264, 216, 
 
 352. 353> 384 ; last days of, 181 ; 
 
 "Ausculta Jidei," " Unam sanctam," 
 
 395. 400, 404 
 Bordeaux, Archbishop of, 32 
 Bossuet, on the triple expiation for sin, 
 
 159 
 Botticelli, Sandro, 91 
 Bouillon, Godfrey de, 210 
 Bouterweck on the Divina Commedia, 
 
 48 
 Brender, St., voyage of. 59 
 Brescia, Arnold of, on Church property 
 
 ^394 
 
 Briareus, 137 
 
 Bridget, St., vision of, 58 
 
 Brosse, Peter de la, 19 
 
 Brunellesco, Filippo, 91 
 
 Brutus, 145, 253 
 
 Brutus, the elder, 379 
 
 Bubwith, Nicholas, Bishop of Bath, 9 
 
 Buonconvento, 29 
 
 Buondelmonti, 6, 136 
 
4tZ 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Buti on the Divina Commedia, loo 
 Byron, Lord, poem on Cain, 125 
 
 Cacciaguida, s, 7, 25, 65, 200, 210 
 
 Caeflfeteau, Bishop, 345 
 
 Cahorsines and Gascons, the, 36 
 
 Cain, Lord Byron's poem on, 125 
 
 Caina, city of Cain, 138 
 
 Caiphas, 132 
 
 Calvary, Mount of, 103, 149 
 
 Camerata, 13 
 
 Campaldino, 20, 290 
 
 Camilla, 113 
 
 Camillus, 379 
 
 Cantu, C, 352 
 
 Capaneus, 124, 125 
 
 Capet, Hugh, 180 
 
 Caprona, fortress of, 20 
 
 Casella, 12, 163 
 
 Cassius, 145, 253 
 
 Catherine, St., of Genoa, on the conso- 
 lations of Purgatory, 151 
 
 Catherine, St., of Sienna, on the feeling 
 of the blessed towards the lost, 131 
 346 
 Cavalcanti del Cavalcanti, n 
 Cavalcanti, Guido, 9, n, 34, 40, 120, 146 
 Celestine V., St., Pope, 93, no 
 Centaurs, the, 105, 121, 126 
 Cerberus, 115, 253 
 Cerchi, the, 21 
 Chateaubriand on the Divina Commedia 
 
 48 
 Charlemagne, 201, 210, 260, 389, 402 
 Charles V., Emperor, 383 
 Charon, 105 ; and the lost souls, m, 150, 
 
 253 
 Christ, 214, 215 ; ancestresses of, 224 
 Chrysostom, Sc, 71, 208 
 Ciacco, 116 
 Cianghella, 6 
 Cicero, 237, 238, 239, 241, 379 ; on different 
 
 classes of sin, 106 
 Cincinnatus, 6, 379 
 Cimabue, 12 
 Clare, St., 19 
 
 CourQon, Robert de, 239 
 Crassus, 180 
 
 Cuningham, vision of, 59 
 Curio, the Tribune, 135 
 Cyril of Alexandria, St., union with God. 
 228 
 
 Damascene, St. John, on union with 
 
 God, 228 
 Damian, St. Peter, 213, 214, 308, 346, 363 
 Daniel, 9 
 Daniello, Arnaldi, author of Lancelot 
 
 du Lac, 185 
 Dante, passim 
 Dante Giacopo di, 331 
 Dantis, Petrus, 100 
 Davanzati, Chiaro, 9 
 
 David, 167 5?^i 
 
 Decii, the, 379 
 Delacluze, 345 
 
 Delf, Hugo, on the Divina Commedia, 84 
 Democritus, 238 
 Dido, 114 
 Diogenes, 238 
 Diomede, 134 
 
 Dionisi on the Divina Commedia, 85 
 Dionysius the Areopagite, 206, 238 ; on 
 
 the purgative, illuminative, and uni- 
 
 tive ways, 158 
 Dionysius, Cassius, on Trajan, 167 
 Dionysius, Pseudo, on union with God, 
 
 228 
 Dis, city of, 106, 253, 271 
 " Disputa," by Raphael, 234 
 Divina Commedia, 14, 27, 34 ; editions 
 
 of, 47 ; commentaries on, 9, 99, 100 ; 
 
 translations of, 100; symbolism of, • 
 
 251 
 Dolcino, Fra, 135 
 Dollinger, Dr., on Pope Anastasius II., 
 
 119 
 
 Clelia, 379 
 Clement V., Pope, 32 
 Cleopatra, 114 
 Cocytus, 105, 137, 143, 254 
 Cajsar, 113, 145, 178 
 Colonna, Egidius, 390 
 Comester, Peter, 208 
 Constance, Council of, 9 
 Constance, mother of Frederick II., 201 
 Constantine, Emperor, 212, 354, 385 
 Corbora, Peter of, 392 
 Cornelia, 6, 113 
 Cornelius, 91 
 ">^Cornwall, Richard of, 12a 
 Corso, Domenico, Cardinal, 36 
 Corvo, Santa Croce del, 27 
 
 -Dominicans, Order of, 308, 350 
 Donati, Corso, 21, 22, 200 
 Donati, Forese, 182 
 Donati, Gemma, wife of Dante, 15, 22 
 Donatus, ^lius, 208 
 Doni, Salvino, 9 
 Dor6, 91 
 
 Duca, Guido del, 171 
 Dupin, 362 
 Du Plessis, Marly, 345 
 
 Electra, 113 
 
 Elizabeth, St., visited by Mary, 178 
 Elizabeth, St., of Hungary, 19 
 Elizabeth, St., of Schonau, vision of, 58 
 Elner's translation of the Divina Comme- 
 dia, 100 
 Empedocles, 238 
 Empyrean, the, 196, 197, 218, 251, 257 : 
 
 represents theology, 241 
 Ephialtes, 137 
 
INDEX, 
 
 413 
 
 Eiinoe, stream of, revives and recalls the 
 memory of good works, 157, 187, 194, 
 329 
 
 Eve, 197, 224, 253, 296 
 
 Ezechias, King, 212 
 
 Ezechiel animal symbolism, 72 ; the 
 four mystic creatures of, 188, 321 
 
 Ezzelino, 5, 122 ; Cunizza, sister of, 204 
 
 Fabricius, 180, 379 
 
 Faggiuola, Uguccione della, 25, 27, 29, 30, 
 
 Fiirinata degli Ubertl, 119, 120, 146 
 Faust, died without .faith, pardoned 
 
 through Mary, 77 
 Fedelfo, 234 
 Feltro, Bishop of, 351 
 Feuerlein, ?, 346, 355 
 Ficker, 358 
 Fiesole, 6, 23 
 Flaccus, Matthias, 345 
 Flaxman, 91 
 
 Flora in Calabria, Joachim, Abbot of, 209 
 Florence, 4, 5, 6, 13, 20, 21, 25, 36, 105, 
 
 233 ; Church of Santa Maria Novella 
 
 at, 239 
 Florentines, the, 10, 44, 209 
 Florentine nobles, the, 401 
 Folco, 204 
 
 Fonte Avellana, Santa Croce di, 29 
 Forli, 25 
 
 Foscoli, Ugo, 345 
 Francis, St., of Assisi, Tertiaries of, 19 ; 
 
 Canticle of the Sun, 49, 208, 224 
 Franciscans, the, 19 ; Cord of the, 127 ; 
 
 Order of, 308, 350 
 Franciscan poets, 49 
 FraticeUi on the Divina Commedla, 41, 85, 
 
 146 
 FraticeUi, the, 394 
 Frederick II., Emperor, 3, 4, 7, 120, 126, 
 
 132, 375> 383, 391 ; Manfred, son of, 
 
 164 ; Constance, mother of, 201 
 Frederick Barbarossa, Emperor, 383 
 Fiiedberg, 355 
 
 Furies, the, 105, 118, 119, 253 
 Fussey, St., 59 
 
 Gabriel, St., the Archangel, 215. 226, 
 
 29s 
 Gauls, the, 379 
 
 Gemini, constellation of, 8, 214 
 Geometry, 240 
 Germanus, St., on Mary, 299 
 Geryon, 126, 127, 128 
 Gherardesca, Ugolino della, 20, 139, 140 
 Giacopo, son of Dante, 34 
 Giantruffetti, the, 7 
 Giotto di Bordone, 12, 40 
 Giraldi, Cinzio, 33 
 Giudecca, city of Judas, 138, 150 
 
 Giuliani, G., on the Divina Comniedia, 
 100, 345, 346 
 
 Goetue, wish of, 89 ; compared with 
 Dante, 95 ; his philosophy pure pes- 
 simism, 96 ; humanity, 405 
 
 Golgotha, 104 
 
 Gonzago, Valenti, Cardinal, 36 
 
 Goschel, C. F., on the Divina Commedia, 
 187, 346 
 
 Got, Richard de, Archbishop of Bor- 
 deaux, 32 
 
 Gratian, 238 
 
 Graul, C, 346 
 
 Gregorovius on the Empire, 28 ; Dante's 
 absolutism, 391 
 
 Gregory, St., the Great, 59, 176, 317, 323, 
 383 
 
 Gregory VII., 3, 210, 382 
 
 Gregory IX., 239, 363, 383 
 
 Gryphon, the mystic, 188, 193, 321, 367 
 
 Gualandi, tower of, 140 
 
 Guelphs and Ghibellines, the, why so 
 called, 3 ; contests of, 6, 7, 20, 24, 
 119; Dante impartial towards, 146, 
 201, 368, 383 
 
 Guerrazzi, 115 
 
 Guerrionnifere, La, 363 
 
 Guinizza, sister of Ezzelino, 204 
 
 Guiscard, Robert, 210 
 
 Hannibal, 379 
 
 Hapsburg, Albert of, 368 
 
 Hapsburg, Rudolph of, 349, 368 
 
 Harpies, the, 105, 122, 126, 254 
 
 Heaven of the fixed stars, 214, 240, 241 
 
 Hector, 113 
 
 Hefele on the indirect dominion claimed 
 by Boniface VIII., 395 
 
 Hegel, K., 355 ; moral perfection realised 
 in the state, 396 
 
 Helen, 114 
 
 Heliodorus, 180 
 
 Hispanus, Peter, 208 
 
 Henry II., Emperor, 361 
 
 Henry IV., Emperor, 383 
 
 Henry VI. of England, 221 
 
 Henry VII. of Luxembourg, Emperor 
 27, 29. 222, 365, 371, 377, 391, 392 
 
 Henry VIII. of England, 221 
 
 Henry, son of Richard of Cornwall, 122 
 
 Heraclitus, 238 
 
 Hercules, 137 
 
 Hesiod, the Theogony of, 126 
 
 Hilarius, Prior of Santa Croce del Corvo, 
 27 
 
 Hildegarde, St., vision of, 58 
 
 Hobbes, author of Leviathan, 375 
 
 Hofl&nger's translation of Divina Com- 
 media, 100 
 
 Hofler on the Empire, 28, 393, 405 
 
 Hohenstaufen, Conrad of, 3 
 
 Homer and Dante, 96, 112 
 
nn 
 
 index: 
 
 Horace, lo, 112, 237 
 Horatii and Curiatii, the, 380 
 Huber on the Mvina Commedia, 48 
 Humboldt, Von, on Dante, 93 
 Huss, Jolin, 393 
 
 Iliad, the, and the Divina Commedia, 95 
 nion, 168 
 
 Innocent III., Pope, 379, 383, 395, 404 
 Innocent IV., Pope, 354 
 
 Jamep, St., 188, 323 
 James I. of England, 404 
 JaHssen, Sebastian Franck, 352 
 Jeremias on animal symbolism, 71 
 Jerome, St., 323 
 
 Jerusalem, 103, 104 ; mystical signifi- 
 cance of, 158 
 John, St., Baptist, 181, 224 
 John, St., the Evangelist, 188, 216, 323 
 John XXII., Pope, ^92, 393 
 Joseph in the Temple, 171 
 Josue, 205, 210 
 Judas, city of, 143 ; treachery of, 145, 
 
 253 
 Jude, St., 188, 323 
 Judith, ancestress of Christ, 224 
 Jupiter, 196. 197, 210, 240, 371 
 Justinian, Emperor, 201 
 
 Kamegiesser's translation of Divina 
 Commedia, 100 
 
 Klopstock and Dante, 49 
 
 Koch, 91 
 
 Kopisch's translation of Divina Com- 
 media, 100 
 
 Lactantius on Cato, 162 
 
 Lamartine on the Divina Commedia, 48 
 
 Lamberti, Mosca, 136 
 
 Lana, Jacopo, on the Divina Commedia, 
 
 100, 331 
 Lancelot, Sir, romance of, 115 
 Lanciotto, 19 
 Landino, 234 
 Lanfranchi, 140 
 Lapo, Guido, 9 
 Lateran, the, 29 
 Lateran, fourth council, date of creation, 
 
 260 
 Latini, Brunetto, 9, 10, 23, 126 146 
 Latinus, wife of, 173 
 Leo, St., on the chair of St. Peter and 
 
 its occupant, 320, 367, 383 
 Leo III., Pope, 360 
 LeoVilL, Pope, 386 
 Leo X., Pope, 383 
 Lethe, stream of, effaces the memory of 
 
 sin, 157, 187, 191, 329 
 
 Xevia f7i on of Hobbes, 375 
 
 Lia, 1 56 
 
 Livy on treachery, 107 
 
 Lodi, 29 
 
 Lombard, Peter, 206 
 
 Lombardo, Marco, 172 
 
 Louis, St., of France, 19 
 
 Louis XIV. of France, 375 
 
 Lucan, poems of, 9, 112, 237 
 
 Lucchtsi, the, 20 
 
 Lucia, St., Dante's devotion to her, 39, 
 
 75 ; symbolises prevenient grace, 152, 
 
 224 
 Lucifer, fall of, 103; city of, 118, 125, 
 
 168, 251, 253 ; nature of bis sin, 266 
 Lucretia, 113 
 Luke, St., 188, 323 
 Luther, 393 
 Lyall, 345 
 
 Macaulay on Dante, 93 
 
 Maccabees, Judas, 138, 210 
 
 Machiavelli, 375, 376, 377 
 
 Maggi, Gian Antonio, 345 
 
 Mahomet, 135, 193 1 
 
 Malrispina, Count, 17, 26, 30 
 
 Mala testa, 5 
 
 Malebolge, 128 
 
 Manfred, son of Frederick II., 164 
 
 Maniani, 394 
 
 Mantua, Sordello of, 165, 293 
 
 Marchetti on the Divina Commedia, 85 
 
 Marco, San, Piazza di, at Florence, 25 
 
 Mars, 196, 197, 209, 240 
 
 Marsilius of Padua, 358, 392, 394 
 
 Martel, Charles, 203, 204 
 
 Martha and Mary, 305 
 
 Mary, Mother of God — 
 Annunciation of, 167 
 l^ethlehem. in the cave of, 180 
 Delivers Dante, 74 
 Gabriel salutes her, 215, 226, 295 
 Heaven, her place in, 197, 214, 253 
 Heaven, the Queen of, 224, 296 
 Marriage feast, at the, 182 
 Mother of God, 74, 299 
 Typifies the Divine mercy, 290 
 Vision of, in the Temple, 171 
 Visits Elizabeth, 178 
 
 Mary, Queen of England, 221 
 
 Matilda, Margravine of Tuscany, 187, 
 191, 194, 305, 403 
 
 Matthew, St., 232 
 
 Manrus, Rabanus, 208 
 
 Mechtildis, St., vision of, 58 
 
 Medusa, 118 
 
 Melchior, Canus, office of scholastic 
 theology, 237 ; on defects in Popes, 
 
 353 
 Mercury, ig6, 197, 201, 243 
 Mezi^res, Perot de, 345 
 Michael, St., 116 
 
index: 
 
 Al. 
 
 Midas, 1 80 
 
 Milton and Dante, 49 
 
 Minerva, Temple of, 134 
 
 Minieh, 187, 345 
 
 Minos, 105, 114, 253 
 
 Minotaur, the, 121 
 
 Montaperti, battle of, 7 
 
 Monte Casino, Alberic of, his vision, 58 
 
 Montecatino, battle of, 30 
 
 Montefeltio, Guido da, 19, 134, 310 
 
 Montefeltro, Buoneonte da, 165, 290 
 
 Montemalo. 5 
 
 Montfort, Guy de, 122 
 
 Moon, the, 196, 197, 199, 240 
 
 Mordecai, 173 
 
 Moses, 224 
 
 Myrrha, 146 
 
 Nathan, the prophet, 208 
 
 Neri, the, 21, 22, 25 
 
 Nerli, 6 
 
 Nero, 194 
 
 Nessus, the centaur, 122 
 
 Newman, Dr., translation of hymn, 184 
 
 Nicholas, St., of Bari, 180 
 
 Nicholas III., Pope, 400 
 
 Nimrod, 137 
 
 Niobe, 168^ 
 
 Norbert, St., 35 t 
 
 Notter's translation of DlviTia Commedia, 
 
 100 
 Novatian on animal symbolism, 71 
 
 OoKHAM ; 358, on Church and State, 382 
 
 Olympuri, 137 
 
 Orcagno, Bernardo, 91 
 
 Orcagno, Giotto, 91 
 
 OrdelaflS, Scarpetta degli, 25 
 
 Oriflamme, the, 297 
 
 Orlandi, Guido, 9 
 
 Orosius, Paulus, 206, 367 
 
 Ossa, 137 
 
 Otho I.. Emperor, 386 
 
 Otho IV., Emperor, 389 
 
 Ottimo on the Divina Commedia, loo 
 
 Ovid, 10, 112, 237 
 
 Oxford visited by Dante, 9 
 
 Oza, 167 
 
 Ozanam, 345, 359 
 
 Padua, University of, 9 
 Pannochiesciii, Nello de', 165 
 Paradise, the earthly, 104, 150, 187 
 Paris visited by Dante, 9 ; Synod of, 
 
 239 
 Patri«k, St., Purgatory of, 59 
 Paul, St., Apostle, 188, 232, 323, 180' 
 Paul the Deacon, 167 
 Pelagius, Alvarus, 382, 390 
 Pelion, 137 
 
 Peripatetics, 238 
 
 Peter, St., 71, 188, 213, 215, 216, 224, 296, 
 
 323. 404 
 Peter the Venerable, 351 
 Petrarch, 33 
 Pfeiderer, 346 
 Phaeton, 128 
 Pherae, Alexander of, jai 
 Philaletlies on the Divina Commedia, 
 
 100, 128 
 Philip the Bold, 19 
 Philip the Fair, 3, 181, 349, 364, 400, 
 
 405 
 Phlegethon, 105, 126, 128, 254 
 Phlegyas, 118 
 
 Pia, wife of XeUo de' Pannochieschi, 165 
 Pianini, 345 
 
 Piccarda, sister of Corso Donati, 200 
 Pietro, son of Dante, 33, 34 
 Pisa, Church of Santa Caterina at, 238 ; 
 
 Ruggieri, Archbishop of, 139, 146, 
 
 351 
 
 Pisistratus of Athens, 171 
 
 Pistoja, Ciiio da, 9, 21, 25. 26 
 
 Pius IX., Pope, 346; on the deposing 
 power, 362 
 
 Plato, eternal punishment. 147 ; God. 
 and good one, 256; God essential 
 truth, 2^0, 234 ; God, the progress of 
 the soul towards, 278 ; penance, the 
 need of, 78, 102, 113 
 
 Pluto, 116, 253 
 
 Poet's creed, the, 45 
 
 Polenta, Guido Novello da, 34, 35 
 
 Polenta, Ostnsio da, 36 
 
 Pompilius, Numa, 379 
 
 Porsenna, 379 
 
 Portinari, Falco, father of Beatrice, 15 
 
 Potiphar, wife of, 136 
 
 Poyet, Bertrand du, 36 
 
 Prato, Nicholas del, Cardinal, 25 
 
 Preston, Richard Graham, Viscount, on 
 Boethius, 242 
 
 Primum mobile, the, 196, 197, 217, repre- 
 sents moral philosophj', 241 
 
 Prometheus Vinctus, 125 
 
 Provencal minstrelsy, 16 
 
 Prudentius, 367 
 
 Ptolemsea, 138 
 
 Ptolemaic system, 196, 240 
 
 Ptolemy, 138, 238 
 
 Puliciano, battle of, 25 
 
 Purgatory, Mount of, 104, 271 ; purpose 
 of, 151 
 
 Purification, Mount of, 149, 150, 187 
 
 Pygmalion, 180 
 
 Pythagoras, 242 
 
 Rachel, 186, 224, 253 
 
 Ilahab, 205 
 
 Raphael, 40, 91, 234 
 
 Ravignani, Bellincion Berti de', 5 
 
4i6 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Rebecca, ancestress of Christ, 224 
 
 Reichersberg, Gerhocb von, 382 
 
 Reuter, 209 
 
 Rimini, Francesca da, loi, 115, 116 
 
 Rimini, Paolo da, 115 
 
 Rimini, Lanciotto da, 115 
 
 Ripheus, the Trojan, 212, 316 
 
 Ripoli, Piano di, 13 
 
 Roboam, 168 
 
 Roland, 210 
 
 Rome, 6, 29 
 
 Romeo, minister of Raymond B6ranger, 
 
 202 
 Romuald, St., 351 
 Rose, the mystic, 220, 296 
 Rosetti, 85, 345 
 Ruggieri, Archbishop of Pisa, 139, 146, 
 
 351 
 Ruskin, Dante's influence on art, 91 
 Ruth, ancestress of Christ, 224 
 Ruth on Dante, 89 ; on the Bivina Corn- 
 media, 100, 147 
 
 Sabines, the, 380 
 
 Saladin, 113 
 
 Salisbury, John of, 351, 390 
 
 Salisbury, Robert Halam of, 9 
 
 Salterello, 6 
 
 Salvani, Provinzano, 169 
 
 Saluzzo, Amedio di. Cardinal, 9 
 
 Samnites, the, 380 
 
 Sanhedrim, chiefs of, 133 
 
 Santafiore, 27 
 
 Sapphira, 180 
 
 Sara, ancestress of Christ, 224 
 
 Sardauapalas, 5 
 
 Satan, the seat of, 143, 145 
 
 Saturn, 196, 197 ; the sphere of the con- 
 templative, 213, 240, 251 
 
 Saul, 168 
 
 Scala, Alboni della, 30 
 
 Scala, Bartolommeo della, 30 
 
 Scala, Can Grande della, 30, 32, 34, 44, 
 63, 99, 232 
 
 Scaevola, Mutius, 379 
 
 Scaliger, 34 
 
 Scartazzini, 100, 128, 187, 396 
 
 Schelling on the Divina Commedia, 62, 97 
 
 Schiller, 405 
 
 Schlegel, A, W. von, 345 
 
 Schlosser on the Divina Commedia, 97, 
 
 345 
 Sctiolasticism and mysticism, 246 
 Schundeler, 85 
 Scolari, F., on the Divina Commedia, 
 
 100, 345 
 Segusia, Cardinal di, Bishop of Ostia, on 
 
 the direct dominion of the Pope, 390 
 Semiramis, 114 
 Seneca, 238 
 Sennacherib, 168 
 Serravalle, Giovanni da. Bishop of Fermo, 
 
 on the Divina Commedia, 9, 26, 246 
 
 Seville, Isidore of, 207, 238 
 
 Shakespeare and Dante, 48, 49, 93 
 
 Sicilian Vespers, the, 20 
 
 Sienna, Sapia of, 169 
 
 Siennese, the, 7 
 
 Sigebert, 19, 207 
 
 Signorelli, Luca, gi 
 
 Sismondi, 140 
 
 Socrates, 237, 238 
 
 Solomon, 206 
 
 Sophonias on animal symbolism, 72 
 
 Statins, poems of, 9, 10, 159, 181, 182, 
 
 300 
 St. Stephen, Protomartyr, 171 ; church 
 
 of, at Florence, 233 
 Streckfuss's translation of the Divina 
 
 Commedia, 100 
 Stygian marsh, the, 117 
 Styx, the, 105, 119, 254, 271 
 Suarez on defects in Popes, 353, 379 
 Sun, the, 196, 197, 205, 240 
 Sylvester, Pope, 354 
 
 Tacitus and Dante, 93 
 
 Tanner's translation of the Divina Com* 
 
 media, 100 
 Tauler on union with God, 228 
 Templars, Order of, 181 
 TertuUian on the Lord's Prayer, 311 
 Thais, 130, 146 
 Thales, 238 
 
 Tiberius, Emperor, 380 
 Tilbury, Gervase of, 386 
 Tintoretti, 91 
 Tiraboschi, 9, 346 
 Todi, Jacopone of, his hymns, 16 ; author 
 
 of Stabat Mater, 49 
 Tommasseo, Nicolo, on the Divina Com- 
 
 media, 100 
 Torrigiani, the, 40 
 Tosa, Rosellino della, 200 
 Traini, 239 
 
 Trajan, Emperor, 167, 212, 317 
 Trent, Council of, 114, 152, 153, 156, 160, 
 
 301, 314, 359 
 Tristan, 114 
 
 Triuraphus, Augustinus, 390 
 Trivium and quadrivium, 8, 240 
 Troubadours, the, 15 
 Troy, 6 
 Turnus, king of the Rutuli, 380 
 
 Ubaldini, Cardinal, 146 
 Ulysses, 134 
 Urban V., Pope, 164 
 Utica, Cato of, 162, 379 
 
 Valois, Charles of, 21, 22, 349 
 
 Vecchio, 6 
 
 Venus, 196, 197, 202 
 
INDEX. 
 
 417 
 
 Vicenza, Bishop of, 351 
 
 Victor, St., Hugo of, 49, 231, 236 ; on the 
 six days of creation, 70 ; on tl)e 
 mystical significance of Jerusalem, 
 158 ; on the Paternoster, 168 
 
 Victor, St., Richard of, 49, 207, 231, 232, 
 238 ; happiness of God, proof of Tri- 
 nity of Persons, 259 
 
 Vigne, Piero delle, 123, 146 
 
 Villani, 3, 10, 26, 29, 36, 60, 234 
 
 Vilmar on the spirit of Christianity, 2 
 
 Virgil, passim 
 
 Virgilio, Giovanni di, 36. 45 
 
 Visconti, Archbishop of Milan, 346 
 
 Visconto, Nino, 5, 140 
 
 Voltaire, on Shakespeare and Dante, 48, 
 49 
 
 Warnkoxig, 357 
 Wenceslaus, 349 
 Wegele on the Divina Commedia, 84, 97, 
 
 100, 346, 357 
 Wichfif, 393 
 Witte, De, on Dante, 44 ; on the JHvina 
 
 Comviedia, 63, 84, loo 
 Witte, K., 99 
 
 William the Good, king of Sicily, 212 
 Worms, Concordat of, 3 
 Wurzburg, Diet of, 358 
 
 Zexo, 238 
 Zinelli, 345 
 Zoroaster, creed of, 73 
 
 2 D 
 
INDEX OF REFERENCES TO THE COMMEDIA. 
 
 
 
 HELL. 
 
 
 
 Canto 
 
 Verse 
 
 Page 
 
 Canto 
 
 Fersg 
 
 Page 
 
 I. 
 
 I 
 
 2 
 
 III. 
 
 35 
 
 ... 267 
 
 
 2 
 
 187 
 
 », 
 
 49 
 
 no 
 
 
 lO 
 
 6s 
 
 ,j 
 
 55 
 
 93 
 
 
 17 
 
 96 
 
 ,, 
 
 56 
 
 no, 352, 399 
 
 
 21 
 
 92 
 
 ,, 
 
 60 
 
 no 
 
 
 30 
 
 74 
 
 J, 
 
 78 
 
 103 
 
 
 48 
 
 66 
 
 ,, 
 
 100 
 
 ni 
 
 
 63 
 
 274 
 
 ,, 
 
 104 
 
 in 
 
 
 .. 74-85 
 
 81 
 
 IV. 
 
 9 
 
 112 
 
 
 75 
 
 10 
 
 j> 
 
 30 
 
 112, 324 
 
 
 88 
 
 66 
 
 5, 
 
 49 
 
 ... 289 
 
 
 96 
 
 73 
 
 », 
 
 SO 
 
 290 
 
 
 98 
 
 - 32, 99 
 
 », 
 
 69 
 
 ... 80, 313 
 
 
 106 
 
 72 
 
 ,' 
 
 95 
 
 113 
 
 
 120 
 
 105 
 
 ,, 
 
 lOI 
 
 240 
 
 
 132 
 
 67 
 
 5, 
 
 107 
 
 ... 39, "3 
 
 II. 
 
 .. 14-30 
 
 ... 81, 366 
 
 ,» 
 
 128 
 
 237 
 
 
 24 
 
 ... 67, 399 
 
 '' 
 
 141 
 
 239 
 
 
 25 
 
 320 
 
 V. 
 
 4 
 
 114 
 
 
 31 
 
 67 
 
 „ 
 
 27 
 
 12 
 
 
 32 
 
 301 
 
 J» 
 
 32 
 
 348 
 
 
 54 
 
 78 
 
 ,, 
 
 38 
 
 n4 
 
 
 83 
 
 38 
 
 ,, 
 
 113 
 
 n4 
 
 
 93 
 
 74 
 
 ,, 
 
 121 
 
 115 
 
 
 94 
 
 289 
 
 >, 
 
 135 
 
 115 
 
 
 97 
 
 .-. 39,75 
 
 M 
 
 137 
 
 93 
 
 
 103 
 
 76 
 
 VI. 
 
 6 
 
 n6 
 
 
 105 
 
 15 
 
 5» 
 
 27 
 
 116 
 
 y» 
 
 127 
 
 68 
 
 ,» 
 
 74 
 
 72 
 
 III. 
 
 I 
 
 94 
 
 5» 
 
 96 
 
 344 
 
 
 4 
 
 102, 148 
 
 ^" 
 
 105 
 
 344 
 
 
 15 
 
 109 
 
 VII. 
 
 3 
 
 80 
 
 
 17 
 
 256 
 
 »» 
 
 13 
 
 n6 
 
 
 18 
 
 267 
 
 ,» 
 
 18 
 
 103 
 
 
 21 
 
 ... 12, no 
 
 JJ 
 
 28 
 
 117 
 
 
 . 34, 39 
 
 no 
 
 >, 
 
 62 
 
 J17 
 
INDEX TO THE COM MEDIA. 
 
 419 
 
 Canto 
 
 Verse 
 
 Page 
 
 Canto 
 
 Verse 
 
 
 Page 
 
 VII. .. 
 
 80 
 
 272 
 
 XIX ... 
 
 26 
 
 
 130 
 
 »> 
 
 88 
 
 273 
 
 j> 
 
 54 
 
 352 
 
 » 353 
 
 >» 
 
 95 
 
 273 
 
 »j 
 
 58 
 
 
 399 
 
 j» 
 
 "5 
 
 ;;; 117 
 
 „ 
 
 86 
 
 ... 
 
 352 
 
 ,^'- 
 
 124 
 
 117 
 
 j> 
 
 93 
 
 
 320 
 
 VIII. .. 
 
 7 
 
 80 
 
 >> 
 
 104 
 
 130/353 
 
 ,400 
 
 ») 
 
 35 
 
 268 
 
 ,, 
 
 106 
 
 
 354 
 
 »» •• 
 
 42 
 
 ... 7, 38 
 
 ., 
 
 118 
 
 354, 385 
 
 »» •• 
 
 47 
 
 118 
 
 XX. 
 
 I 
 
 
 6x 
 
 .U- 
 
 49 
 
 ... 348 
 
 J> 
 
 4 
 
 ... 
 
 131 
 
 IX. 
 
 40 
 
 118 
 
 „ 
 
 25 
 
 ... 
 
 131 
 
 J» 
 
 56 
 
 118 
 
 XXT. ... 
 
 1-137 
 
 ... 
 
 268 
 
 »> 
 
 63 
 
 1x9 
 
 j> 
 
 40 
 
 ... 
 
 132 
 
 »» 
 
 111 
 
 19 
 
 j» 
 
 92 
 
 
 20 
 
 1 ;:: 
 
 125 
 
 302 
 
 j> 
 
 no 
 
 
 132 
 
 II 
 
 344 
 
 
 128 
 
 ... 
 
 132 
 
 >» 
 
 16 
 
 120 
 
 xxiii. Z 
 
 58 
 
 ... 
 
 132 
 
 »» ••• 
 
 35 
 
 119 
 
 XXIV. ... 
 
 46 
 
 
 133 
 
 »> ••• 
 
 57 
 
 ... II, 120 
 
 ,, 
 
 76 
 
 
 133 
 
 
 81 
 
 271 
 
 XXVI. ... 
 
 I 
 
 ... 
 
 134 
 
 XI. !!! 
 
 8 
 
 352 
 
 XXVII. ... 
 
 27 
 
 ... 
 
 64 
 
 »> 
 
 23 
 
 108 
 
 ,, 
 
 38 
 
 
 34 
 
 »♦ ••• 
 
 100 
 
 278 
 
 ,, 
 
 64 
 
 
 310 
 
 XII. ... 
 
 21 
 
 121 
 
 1 » 
 
 67 
 
 
 399 
 
 ,, 
 
 33 
 
 289 
 
 >> 
 
 89 
 
 
 384 
 
 r» ••• 
 
 37 
 
 121, 290 
 
 >> 
 
 100 
 
 
 399 
 
 »> 
 
 46 
 
 121 
 
 >1 ... 
 
 108 
 
 ... 
 
 135 
 
 »» 
 
 86 
 
 12 
 
 J» 
 
 113 
 
 ... 
 
 328 
 
 »» 
 
 119 
 
 122 
 
 „ 
 
 118 
 
 ... 
 
 267 
 
 XTTT. ... 
 
 3 
 
 122 
 
 XXIX. ... 
 
 44 
 
 ... 
 
 136 
 
 »» 
 
 68 
 
 348 
 
 ,, 
 
 117 
 
 
 24 
 
 „ 
 
 96 
 
 123 
 
 XXX. ... 
 
 129 
 
 ... 
 
 38 
 
 XIV. 
 
 25 
 
 124 
 
 5> 
 
 133 
 
 
 39 
 
 »» 
 
 42 
 
 90 
 
 ^"^, 
 
 142 
 
 
 136 
 
 >> 
 
 47 
 
 124 
 
 XXXT. ... 
 
 21 
 
 
 137 
 
 ,, 
 
 59 
 
 125 
 
 ■,■, 
 
 100 
 
 ... 
 
 39 
 
 XV. 
 
 61 
 
 23 
 
 XXXII. ... 
 
 23 
 
 ... 
 
 137 
 
 >> ••' 
 
 79 
 
 9 
 
 „ 
 
 47 
 
 
 138 
 
 
 81 
 
 126 
 
 ., 
 
 130 
 
 
 139 
 
 ., 
 
 92 
 
 38 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 I 
 
 139 
 
 .351 
 
 XVL ... 
 
 IS 
 
 86 
 
 >» 
 
 16 
 
 
 141 
 
 ,, 
 
 61 
 
 155 
 
 »J 
 
 55 
 
 
 93 
 
 »» 
 
 62 
 
 151 
 
 »> 
 
 94 
 
 ... 
 
 139 
 
 
 106 
 
 19 
 
 », 
 
 109 
 
 ... 
 
 138 
 
 XVII. .": 
 
 102 
 
 128 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 12 
 
 ... 
 
 144 
 
 xvm. ... 
 
 I 
 
 129 
 
 )i 
 
 27 
 
 
 105 
 
 » 
 
 82 
 
 38 
 
 J» 
 
 49 
 
 ... 
 
 144 
 
 »» ••♦ 
 
 100 
 
 38 
 
 ,, 
 
 no 
 
 ... 
 
 290 
 
 „ 
 
 "3 
 
 129 
 
 »> 
 
 "5 
 
 104, 
 
 267 
 
 
 128 
 
 130 
 
 ,, 
 
 131 
 
 
 145 
 
 xix. Z 
 
 18 
 
 38 
 
 
 
 
 
420 
 
 INDEX OF REFERENCES 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 Canto 
 I. 
 
 II. 
 
 III. 
 
 IV. 
 
 <n. 
 
 Verse 
 
 Page 
 
 13 
 
 94 
 
 31 
 
 162 
 
 59 
 
 38 
 
 70 
 
 155 
 
 114 
 
 149 
 
 8 
 
 38 
 
 28 
 
 .. 163 
 
 29 
 
 271 
 
 39 
 
 38 
 
 45 
 
 12 
 
 84 
 
 .. 13,39 
 
 87 
 
 39 
 
 94 
 
 324, 400 
 
 97 
 
 324, 400 
 
 109 
 
 .. 163 
 
 10, II 
 
 39 
 
 32 
 
 259 
 
 37 
 
 300 
 
 77-86 
 
 •• . 39 
 
 131 
 
 164, 324 
 
 135 
 
 294 
 
 141 
 
 324 
 
 I 
 
 230, 274 
 
 42 
 
 154 
 
 65-71 
 
 149 
 
 85 
 
 154 
 
 102 
 
 13 
 
 126 
 
 . 164 
 
 129 
 
 324, 332 
 
 1-133 
 
 164 
 
 51 
 
 316 
 
 54 
 
 313 
 
 66 
 
 332 
 
 70 
 
 324 
 
 84 
 
 333 
 
 90 
 
 20 
 
 95 
 
 290 
 
 lOI 
 
 271 
 
 102 
 
 268 
 
 no 
 
 268 
 
 23 
 
 19 
 
 26 
 
 333 
 
 44 
 
 239 
 
 62 
 
 91 
 
 -^f-G^ — "^ 
 
 -; -4 
 
 ^=^ .. 
 
 . 256 
 
 95 
 
 27 
 
 27 
 
 304 
 
 33 
 
 240 
 
 73 
 
 . 165 
 
 82 
 
 291 
 
 VIII, 
 
 m> 
 
 X. 
 
 XI. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Verse 
 
 
 Page 
 
 92 
 
 ... 
 
 164 
 
 94 
 
 165, 349 
 
 103 
 
 ... 
 
 349 
 
 III 
 
 — — - 
 
 349 
 -165 
 
 I 
 
 ... 
 
 310 
 
 10 
 
 ... 
 
 166 
 
 13 
 
 161 
 
 ,293 
 
 22 
 
 166, 271 
 
 . 293 
 
 37 
 
 271 
 
 , 293 
 
 39 
 
 
 166 
 
 53 
 
 
 314 
 
 70 
 
 
 333 
 
 71 
 
 ... 
 
 324 
 
 94 
 
 
 294 
 
 los 
 
 ... 
 
 294 
 
 131 
 
 ... 
 
 399 
 152 
 
 <^>— 
 
 
 -^26 
 
 Bo 
 
 ... 
 
 326 
 
 86 
 
 ..." 
 
 327 
 
 93 
 
 
 328 
 
 95 
 
 ... 
 
 406 
 
 98 
 
 
 38 
 
 no 
 
 
 153 
 
 119 
 
 
 167 
 
 ^33 
 
 
 12 
 
 3^ 
 
 161, 288 
 
 , 29T 
 
 37 
 
 ... 
 
 288 
 
 58 • 
 
 ... 
 
 397 
 
 97 
 
 
 33^ 
 
 112 
 
 
 25T 
 
 122 
 
 
 167 
 
 I 
 
 
 3" 
 
 3 
 
 ... 
 
 257 
 
 13 
 
 ... 
 
 315 
 
 30 
 
 ... 
 
 333 
 
 43 
 
 ... 
 
 284 
 
 58 
 
 ... 27 
 
 161 
 
 61 
 
 
 168 
 
 69 
 
 
 331 
 
 85 
 
 
 169 
 
 89 
 
 ... 
 
 331 
 
 91 
 
 
 168 
 
 95 
 
 
 II 
 
 96 
 
 
 IT 
 
 98 
 
 ... 92, 
 
 168 
 
 lOI 
 
 
 330 
 
 121 
 
 
 169 
 
 88 
 
 ... 
 
 284 
 
 103 
 
 12, 162, 
 
 170 
 
TO THE COM MEDIA. 
 
 421 
 
 Canto 
 XII. 
 
 xiii. 
 
 Verse 
 
 XIY. 
 XV. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 xvn. 
 
 xvni. 
 
 xrs. 
 
 Z24 
 
 Page 
 
 Canto 
 
 154 
 
 XIX. 
 
 280 
 
 XX. 
 
 292 
 
 >, 
 
 161 
 
 »» 
 
 170 
 
 ,1 
 
 ... 316 
 
 ,» 
 
 171. 328 
 
 », 
 
 332 
 
 J> 
 
 324 
 
 ,, 
 
 ... 40, 161 
 
 XXL 
 
 38 
 
 ,» 
 
 171 
 
 xxn. 
 
 162 
 
 », 
 
 171 
 
 ,» 
 
 292 
 
 », 
 
 161 
 
 )j 
 
 172 
 
 »» 
 
 ... 289 
 
 
 172 
 
 xxin. 
 
 62 
 
 — Trrn 
 
 ,, 
 
 280 
 
 >» 
 
 279 
 
 ,» 
 
 55 
 
 ,, 
 
 399,400 
 
 »» 
 
 399 
 
 ,, 
 
 173, 366 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 320, 367, 381 
 
 >, 
 
 ... 387 
 
 JJ 
 
 -^ ... 162 
 
 »> 
 
 >.. 173 
 
 J, 
 
 ).. 174 
 
 ,, 
 
 /.. 278 
 
 XXV. 
 
 ^... 278 
 
 ,» 
 
 ^_^o. I^ 
 
 . ,, >* 
 
 j^^ry^^A 
 
 
 '•'/] ^7^ 
 
 
 •f J 3^ 
 
 X*' / 
 
 /../ A7'7j 
 
 / » A/ 
 
 rff f'^lj 
 
 " r 
 
 ... / 2d2 
 
 ,, X 
 
 ... / jtX-i 
 
 ^xx/iS 
 
 ... V>^6i 
 
 ^"if^vp. 
 
 S. ... 349 
 
 »»/ / 
 
 
 '(/^ 
 
 ^JWri ^78 
 
 'T^ 
 
 1... lOc 
 
 
 /... 2^ 
 
 '^vS. 
 
 /... /^9 
 
 " t! 
 
 / 13^, 352 
 
 " / 
 
 1 399, 400, 
 
 „ / 
 
 ;;Vj2 
 
 xxvni 
 1, 
 
 Verse 
 
 Page 
 
 140 
 
 26 
 
 10 
 
 73 
 
 21 
 
 292 
 
 42 
 
 161 
 
 73 
 
 39 
 
 81 
 
 181 
 
 84 
 
 181 
 
 86 
 
 38, 289, 399 
 
 r^^ 
 
 349 
 
 \i^ 
 
 \ ". 42 
 
 32 
 
 \.. 80 
 
 5 
 
 \. 162 
 
 26 
 
 .1 161 
 
 64 
 
 .1 161 
 
 /67 
 
 81 
 
 /89 
 
 300 
 
 /123 
 
 159 
 
 /139 
 
 ...\ 292 
 
 ' 16 
 
 •••V 151 
 
 20 
 
 ... \l82 
 
 36 
 
 r^ 
 
 67 
 
 28^ 
 
 74 
 
 328 
 
 7^ 
 
 X 332 
 
 /$^ 
 
 -v^A 348 
 
 >^> 
 
 yC^K'^^ 
 
 23 
 
 76/ 
 
 fi7 
 
 I40 
 
 ^162 
 
 184 
 
 159 
 
 187, 403 
 283 
 
422 
 
 INDEX OF REFERENCES 
 
 Canto 
 
 Ve7'se 
 
 
 Page 
 
 Canto 
 
 Verse 
 
 Page 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 127 
 
 
 329 
 
 XXXI. ... 
 
 31 
 
 89 
 
 J> 
 
 135 
 
 
 157 
 
 ,, 
 
 43 
 
 190 
 
 
 145 
 
 ... 
 
 282 
 
 )> 
 
 62 
 
 190 
 
 XXIX. . 
 
 38 
 
 
 38 
 
 J> 
 
 91 
 
 403 
 
 >> 
 
 48 
 
 
 277 
 
 
 98 
 
 191 
 
 J» 
 
 80 
 
 ... 
 
 321 
 
 ,, 
 
 134 
 
 192 
 
 
 140 
 
 ... 
 
 188 
 
 ,, 
 
 141 
 
 38 
 
 XXX. *. 
 
 1-146 
 
 
 17 
 
 XXXII. ... 
 
 1-157 
 
 192 
 
 J> 
 
 12 
 
 ... 
 
 343 
 
 »> 
 
 51 
 
 3^7 
 
 >» 
 
 49 
 
 
 159 
 
 J, 
 
 102 
 
 334 
 
 >> 
 
 •• 53, 71 
 
 
 188 
 
 » 
 
 118 
 
 303 
 
 »» 
 
 64 
 
 
 252 
 
 », 
 
 122 
 
 ... 386 
 
 il 
 
 109 
 
 ... 
 
 38 
 
 
 127 
 
 354 
 
 » ■ • 
 
 no 
 
 
 14 
 
 XXXIII." * 
 
 37 
 
 378 
 
 J» 
 
 114 
 
 
 314 
 
 J> ... 
 
 40 
 
 193 
 
 J> 
 
 120 
 
 ... 
 
 315 
 
 ,, 
 
 
 245 
 
 J> 
 
 123 
 
 ... 15 
 
 ,189 
 
 ,, 
 
 87 
 
 8s 
 
 
 132 
 
 
 240 
 
 »» 
 
 119 
 
 403 
 
 XXXT. 
 
 4. 29 
 
 ... 
 
 190 
 
 »> 
 
 139 
 
 194 
 
 
 
 PARA 
 
 DISE. 
 
 
 
 I. 
 
 I 
 
 ... 94 
 
 , 257 
 
 IV. 
 
 69 
 
 ... 248 
 
 >> 
 
 45 
 
 ... 
 
 199 
 
 >» 
 
 116 
 
 39 
 
 »> 
 
 63 
 
 ... 
 
 333 
 
 ,, 
 
 119 
 
 54 
 
 5> 
 
 73 
 
 
 243 
 
 V. 
 
 6 
 
 279 
 
 >> 
 
 100 
 
 ... 52 
 
 ,236 
 
 ,, 
 
 12 
 
 ... 306 
 
 J» 
 
 102 
 
 
 II 
 
 ,, 
 
 18 
 
 279, 372 
 
 J> 
 
 103 
 
 ... 
 
 266 
 
 ,, 
 
 54 
 
 400 
 
 >» 
 
 los 
 
 
 53 
 
 ,, 
 
 61 
 
 307 
 
 J> 
 
 109 
 
 ... 
 
 256 
 
 J> 
 
 73 
 
 307 
 
 >> 
 
 131 
 
 ... 
 
 199 
 
 ,, 
 
 76 
 
 . ... 38, 318 
 
 II. 
 
 I 
 
 ... 56 
 
 19s 
 
 >» • ••• 
 
 77 
 
 399 
 
 J» 
 
 n 
 
 
 57 
 
 ,, 
 
 90 
 
 201 
 
 J> 
 
 31 
 
 ... 
 
 199 
 
 „ 
 
 97 
 
 339 
 
 J» 
 
 36 
 
 
 335 
 
 VI. 
 
 ir 
 
 201, 356 
 
 >> 
 
 43 
 
 '- 77 
 
 247 
 
 ,, 
 
 14 
 
 288 
 
 Ji 
 
 45 
 
 
 278 
 
 J> 
 
 21 
 
 ... 398 
 
 J> 
 
 47 
 
 
 39 
 
 ,, 
 
 30 
 
 282 
 
 »» 
 
 56 
 
 
 245 
 
 >, 
 
 96 
 
 403 
 
 )) 
 
 120 
 
 88, 200 
 
 262 
 
 ,, 
 
 102 
 
 20I 
 
 1J 
 
 127 
 
 
 271 
 
 ?» 
 
 106 
 
 ... 86, 368 
 
 III. 
 
 9 
 
 
 200 
 
 ,, 
 
 118 
 
 202 
 
 >> 
 
 35 
 
 
 245 
 
 ») 
 
 122 
 
 339 
 
 JJ 
 
 42 
 
 ... 
 
 341 
 
 }, 
 
 134 
 
 .... 348 
 
 J> 
 
 46 
 
 ... 
 
 200 
 
 ,, 
 
 141 
 
 202 
 
 J> 
 
 52 
 
 
 201 
 
 VII. 
 
 23 
 
 ... 284 
 
 J> 
 
 69 
 
 ... 
 
 198 
 
 J> 
 
 29 
 
 288 
 
 ,. 
 
 79 
 
 ... 
 
 338 
 
 >» 
 
 39 
 
 287 
 
 IV. 
 
 28 
 
 
 196 
 
 ,, 
 
 55 
 
 202, 249 
 
 >» 
 
 40 
 
 250, 
 
 277 
 
 ,, 
 
 63 
 
 262 
 
 »> 
 
 67 
 
 ,.. 
 
 301 
 
 >J 
 
 78 
 
 159, 285 
 
TO THE CO MM EDI A, 
 
 423 
 
 Canto 
 
 Ferse 
 
 Page 
 
 Canto 
 
 Verse 
 
 Page 
 
 VII. 
 
 127 
 
 262, 27s 
 
 XIII. . 
 
 113 
 
 301 
 
 »> 
 
 138 
 
 275 
 
 ,, 
 
 122 
 
 302 
 
 „ 
 
 141 
 
 281, 343 
 
 XIV. . 
 
 16 
 
 12 
 
 VIII. 
 
 •• 18, 19 
 
 ... 12, 202 
 
 
 25 
 
 330 
 
 »> 
 
 35 
 
 341 
 
 
 26 
 
 259 
 
 j» 
 
 50 
 
 341 
 
 
 28 
 
 257 
 
 >> 
 
 57 
 
 39 
 
 
 35 
 
 12 
 
 i> 
 
 103 
 
 263 
 
 
 39 
 
 342 
 
 »» 
 
 120 
 
 281, 370 
 
 
 47 
 
 343 
 
 »» 
 
 132 
 
 203 
 
 
 57 
 
 342 
 
 j» 
 
 145 
 
 203 
 
 
 81 
 
 39 
 
 j> 
 
 151 
 
 348 
 
 
 96 
 
 209 
 
 
 154 
 
 347 
 
 
 109 
 
 12 
 
 IX. 
 
 7 
 
 256 
 
 XV. '. 
 
 8 
 
 103 
 
 J» 
 
 10 
 
 347 
 
 
 48 
 
 335 
 
 Jf 
 
 19 
 
 341 
 
 
 49 
 
 257 
 
 »> 
 
 25 
 
 341 
 
 
 59 
 
 335 
 
 »» 
 
 •• 34, 99 
 
 204 
 
 
 71 
 
 257 
 
 »> 
 
 47 
 
 351 
 
 
 90 
 
 331 
 
 >> 
 
 50 
 
 351 
 
 
 92 
 
 - 5.348 
 
 »» 
 
 128 
 
 354 
 
 
 94 
 
 ... 348 
 
 
 129 
 
 354 
 
 ,, 
 
 108 
 
 348 
 
 X. '. 
 
 I 
 
 261, 323 
 
 XVI. . 
 
 13 
 
 115 
 
 >> 
 
 31 
 
 205 
 
 
 31 
 
 7 
 
 J> 
 
 36 
 
 205 
 
 
 66 
 
 ... 365 
 
 »' 
 
 51 
 
 20s 
 
 
 67 
 
 348 
 
 >» 
 
 57 
 
 205 
 
 
 77 
 
 329 
 
 >» 
 
 79 
 
 315, 316 
 
 
 78 
 
 330 
 
 >> 
 
 88 
 
 50 
 
 XVIL '. 
 
 14 
 
 335 
 
 
 91 
 
 206 
 
 
 23 
 
 38 
 
 >> 
 
 98 
 
 230 
 
 
 40 
 
 ... 264 
 
 »» 
 
 120 
 
 242 
 
 
 55 
 
 209 
 
 i> 
 
 134 
 
 310 
 
 
 57 
 
 25 
 
 
 136 
 
 19 
 
 
 60 
 
 25 
 
 xi. 
 
 I 
 
 218 
 
 
 68 
 
 32 
 
 »> 
 
 19 
 
 ... 336 
 
 
 74 
 
 73 
 
 >» 
 
 27 
 
 ... 308 
 
 
 83 
 
 39 
 
 »> 
 
 66 
 
 
 
 120 
 
 58 
 
 j> 
 
 70 
 
 308 
 
 
 125 
 
 65 
 
 
 116 
 
 350 
 
 xvni. . 
 
 4 
 
 76 
 
 xii. ! 
 
 .. 1-135 
 
 323 
 
 
 8 
 
 243 
 
 >> 
 
 6 
 
 337 
 
 
 51 
 
 243 
 
 » > * 
 
 36 
 
 323 
 
 
 . 70-117 
 
 372 
 
 »» 
 
 56 
 
 324 
 
 
 81 
 
 371 
 
 »» • 
 
 65 
 
 309 
 
 
 95 
 
 377 
 
 »» 
 
 83 
 
 320 
 
 
 118 
 
 353 
 
 i» 
 
 104 
 
 350 
 
 
 124 
 
 353 
 
 
 119 
 
 231 
 
 XIX. 
 
 I 
 
 210 
 
 xiii. ! 
 
 21 
 
 337 
 
 
 20 
 
 210 
 
 >f 
 
 48 
 
 ... 52, 347 
 
 
 37 
 
 243 
 
 >> 
 
 67 
 
 ... ^ 381 
 
 
 51 
 
 25s 
 
 >» 
 
 70 
 
 ... 262,347 
 
 
 59 
 
 302 
 
 »> 
 
 73 
 
 347 
 
 
 66 
 
 211 
 
424 
 
 INDEX OF REFERENCES 
 
 Canto 
 
 Ferse 
 
 Page 
 
 Canto 
 
 Verse 
 
 Page 
 
 XIX. . 
 
 74 
 
 211 
 
 XXIV. . 
 
 88 
 
 39, 216, 301 
 
 j» 
 
 83 
 
 . 258 
 
 ,, 
 
 90 
 
 39, 246 
 
 5» 
 
 lOI 
 
 .300,398 
 
 55 
 
 95 
 
 247 
 
 J> 
 
 104 
 
 301 
 
 JJ 
 
 109 
 
 353 
 
 »» 
 
 112 
 
 349 
 
 >5 
 
 117 
 
 ... 316 
 
 XX. 
 
 29 
 
 212 
 
 55 
 
 122 
 
 401 
 
 »> 
 
 SO 
 
 • 385 
 
 55 
 
 128 
 
 248, 255 
 
 J> 
 
 59 
 
 348 
 
 »» 
 
 134 
 
 259 
 
 >> 
 
 70 
 
 266 
 
 55 
 
 144 
 
 402 
 
 >> 
 
 99 
 
 3^7 
 
 XXV. . 
 
 I 
 
 24. 78, 233 
 
 >» 
 
 103 
 
 39 
 
 55 
 
 16 
 
 399 
 
 J» 
 
 III 
 
 317 
 
 ,, 
 
 36 
 
 330 
 
 J> 
 
 122 
 
 . 318 
 
 »» 
 
 • 45-59 
 
 ... 39, 62 
 
 *> 
 
 126 
 
 266 
 
 55 
 
 67 
 
 216, 303 
 
 ,, 
 
 133 
 
 12 
 
 55 
 
 69 
 
 314. 316 
 
 XXI. . 
 
 3 
 
 213 
 
 >> 
 
 85 
 
 39 
 
 J> 
 
 9 
 
 334 
 
 „ 
 
 127 
 
 297 
 
 »J 
 
 22 
 
 213 
 
 XXVI. . 
 
 18 
 
 555 248 
 
 >> 
 
 25 
 
 197 
 
 »5 
 
 25 
 
 249 
 
 »» 
 
 85 
 
 213 
 
 >5 
 
 28 
 
 256, 303 
 
 5» 
 
 86 
 
 62 
 
 55 
 
 54 
 
 39, 303 
 
 JJ 
 
 90 
 
 266 
 
 »> 
 
 89 
 
 282 
 
 ,, 
 
 102 
 
 310 
 
 J> 
 
 105 
 
 24s 
 
 >» 
 
 117 
 
 351 
 
 ii 
 
 106 
 
 ... 256 
 
 „ 
 
 124 
 
 351 
 
 )j • 
 
 114 
 
 283 
 
 XXII. . 
 
 I 
 
 214 
 
 J5 
 
 129 
 
 ... 283 
 
 » 
 
 10 
 
 12 
 
 55 
 
 137 
 
 283 
 
 ?» 
 
 16 
 
 349 
 
 XXVII. . 
 
 I 
 
 216, 259 
 
 »> 
 
 44 
 
 309 
 
 55 
 
 17 
 
 352 
 
 >J 
 
 61 
 
 214 
 
 55 
 
 19 
 
 2175 352, 353 
 
 » 
 
 75 
 
 350 
 
 55 
 
 28 
 
 217 
 
 „ 
 
 76 
 
 214 
 
 55 
 
 36 
 
 354, 400 
 
 »J 
 
 79 
 
 214 
 
 >5 
 
 39 
 
 ... 406 
 
 J» 
 
 83 
 
 347 
 
 Jl 
 
 40 
 
 407 
 
 >» 
 
 108 
 
 8 
 
 *> 
 
 49 
 
 329 
 
 ,, 
 
 129 
 
 214. 249 
 
 55 
 
 53 
 
 36 
 
 XXIII. . 
 
 I 
 
 92 
 
 55 
 
 "5 
 
 ... 284 
 
 ,, 
 
 25 
 
 337 
 
 55 
 
 118 
 
 351 
 
 » 
 
 . 70y 71 
 
 297 
 
 55 
 
 120 
 
 313 
 
 >» 
 
 76 
 
 215 
 
 55 
 
 123 
 
 348 
 
 >» 
 
 . 85, 39 
 
 290 
 
 55 
 
 129 
 
 ■ 349 
 
 
 89 
 
 295 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 38 
 
 258 
 
 >> 
 
 93 
 
 12 
 
 55 
 
 SO 
 
 347 
 
 ,, 
 
 125 
 
 215 
 
 55 
 
 92 
 
 ... 269 
 
 «1 
 
 134 
 
 399 
 
 55 
 
 103 
 
 271 
 
 XXIV. . 
 
 I 
 
 215 
 
 55 
 
 105 
 
 314, 316 
 
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GENERAL LIBRARY - U.C. BERKEL 
 
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