{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_36479/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_36479","id":"gutenberg_36479","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/36479","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: History - Medieval/Middle Ages","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Dante Alighieri, 1265-1321"],"text":"</pre>\n\n\n\nProduced by Curtis Weyant, Diane Monico, and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This\nbook was produced from scanned images of public domain\nmaterial from the Google Print project.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nDANTE\n\n\n\n\nDANTE\n\n_SIX SERMONS_\n\nBY\n\nPHILIP H. WICKSTEED\n\nM.A.\n\n[Illustration]\n\nLONDON\nC. KEGAN PAUL & CO., 1 PATERNOSTER SQUARE\n1879\n\n\n(_The rights of translation and of reproduction are reserved_)\n\n\n\n\n_PREFACE._\n\n\nThe five Sermons which form the body of this little book on Dante were\ndelivered in the ordinary course of my ministry at Little Portland\nStreet Chapel, in the autumn of 1878, and subsequently at the Free\nChristian Church, Croydon, in a slightly altered form.\n\nThey are now printed, at the request of many of my hearers, almost\nexactly as delivered at Croydon.\n\nThe substance of a sixth Sermon has been thrown into an Appendix.\n\nIn allowing the publication of this little volume, my only thought is\nto let it take its chance with other fugitive productions of the Pulpit\nthat appeal to the Press as a means of widening the possible area\nrather than extending the period over which the preacher's voice may\nextend; and my only justification is the hope that it may here and\nthere reach hands to which no more adequate treatment of the subject\nwas likely to find its way.\n\nThe translations I have given are sometimes paraphrastic, and virtually\ncontain glosses or interpretations which make it necessary to warn the\nreader against regarding them as in every case Dante's _ipsissima\nverba_. For the most part the renderings are substantially my own; but\nI have freely availed myself of numerous translations, without special\nacknowledgment, whenever they supplied me with suitable phrases.\n\nI have only to add the acknowledgment of my obligations to Fraticelli's\nedition of Dante's works (whose numbering of the minor poems and the\nletters I have adopted for reference), to the same writer's 'Life of\nDante,' and to Mr. Symonds' 'Introduction to the Study of Dante.'\n\n                                                    P. H. W.\n\n_June 1879._\n\n\n\n\n_CONTENTS._\n\n                                              PAGE\n\nI. DANTE: AS A CITIZEN OF FLORENCE               1\n\nII. DANTE: IN EXILE                             29\n\nIII. HELL                                       59\n\nIV. PURGATORY                                   89\n\nV. HEAVEN                                      119\n\nAPPENDIX                                       145\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nDANTE'S LIFE AND PRINCIPLES\n\n_I. AS A CITIZEN OF FLORENCE_\n\n\nThere are probably few competent judges who would hesitate to give\nDante a place of honour in the triad of the world's greatest poets; and\namongst these three Dante occupies a position wholly his own, peerless\nand unapproached in history.\n\nFor Homer and Shakespeare reflect the ages in which they lived, in all\ntheir fullness and variety of life and motive, largely sinking their\nown individuality in the intensity and breadth of their sympathies.\nThey are great teachers doubtless, and fail not to lash what they\nregard as the growing vices or follies of the day, and to impress upon\ntheir hearers the solemn lessons of those inevitable facts of life\nwhich they epitomise and vivify. But their teaching is chiefly\nincidental or indirect, it is largely unconscious, and is often almost\nas difficult to unravel from their works as it is from the life and\nnature they so faithfully reflect.\n\nWith Dante it is far otherwise. Aglow with a prophet's passionate\nconviction, an apostle's undying zeal, he is guided by a philosopher's\nbreadth and clearness of principle, a poet's unfailing sense of beauty\nand command of emotions, to a social reformer's definite and practical\naims and a mystic's peace of religious communion. And though his works\nabound in dramatic touches of startling power and variety, and\ndelineations of character unsurpassed in delicacy, yet with all the\ndepth and scope of his sympathies he never for a moment loses himself\nor forgets his purpose.\n\nAs a philosopher and statesman, he had analysed with keen precision the\nsocial institutions, the political forces, and the historical\nantecedents by which he found his time and country dominated; as a\nmoralist, a theologian, and a man, he had grasped with a firmness that\nnothing could relax the essential conditions of human blessedness here\nand hereafter, and with an intensity and fixity of definite\nself-conscious purpose almost without parallel he threw the passionate\nenergy of his nature into the task of preaching the eternal truth to\nhis countrymen, and through them to the world, and thwarting and\ncrushing the powers and institutions which he regarded as hostile to\nthe well-being of mankind. He strove to teach his brothers that their\ntrue bliss lay in the exercise of virtue here, and the blessed vision\nof God hereafter. And as a step towards this, and an essential part of\nits realisation, he strove to make Italy one in heart and tongue, to\nraise her out of the sea of petty jealousies and intrigues in which she\nwas plunged; in a word, to erect her into a free, united country, with\na noble mother tongue. These two purposes were one; and, supported and\nsupplemented by a never-dying zeal for truth, a never-failing sense of\nbeauty, they inspired the life and works of Dante Alighieri.\n\nIt is often held and taught, that a strong and definite didactic\npurpose must inevitably be fatal to the highest forms of art, must clip\nthe wings of poetic imagination, distort the symmetry of poetic\nsympathy, and substitute hard and angular contrasts for the melting\ngrace of those curved lines of beauty which pass one into the other.\nHad Dante never lived, I know not where we should turn for the decisive\nrefutation of this thought; but in Dante it is the very combination\nsaid to be impossible that inspires and enthrals us. A perfect artist,\nguided in the exercise of his art by an unflagging intensity of moral\npurpose; a prophet, submitting his inspirations to the keenest\nphilosophical analysis, pouring them into the most finished artistic\nmoulds, yet bringing them into ever fresher and fuller contact with\ntheir living source; a moralist and philosopher whose thoughts are fed\nby a prophet's directness of vision and a poet's tender grace of love,\na poet's might and subtlety of imagination--Philosopher, Prophet, Poet,\nsupreme as each, unique as a combination of them all--such was Dante\nAlighieri! And his voice will never be drowned or forgotten as long as\nman is dragged downward by passion and struggles upward towards God, as\nlong as he that sows to the flesh shall of the flesh reap corruption,\nand he that sows to the spirit reaps of the spirit life everlasting, as\nlong as the heart of man can glow responsive to a holy indignation\nwith wrong, or can feel the sweetness of the harmonies of peace.\n\nIt is little that I can hope to do, and yet I would fain do something,\ntowards opening to one here and there some glimpse into that mighty\ntemple, instinct with the very presence of the Eternal, raised by the\nmaster hand, nay rather wrought out of the mighty heart of Dante; but\nbefore we can even attempt to gather up a few fragments of the 'Divine\nComedy,' as landmarks to guide us, in our turn, through Hell and\nPurgatory up to Heaven, it is needful for us to have some conception\nwho Dante Alighieri was, and what were his fortunes in this mortal\nlife.\n\nAnd here I must once for all utter a warning, and thereby discharge\nmyself of a special duty. The Old Testament itself has not been more\nruthlessly allegorised than have Dante's works and even his very life.\nThe lack of trustworthy materials, in any great abundance, for an\naccount of the poet's outward lot, the difficulty of fixing with\ncertainty when he is himself relating actual events and when his\napparent narratives are merely allegorical, the obscurity,\nincompleteness, and even apparent inconsistency of some of the data he\nsupplies, the uncertainty as to the exact time at which his different\nworks were composed and the precise relation in which they stand to\neach other, and the doubts which have been thrown upon the authenticity\nof some of the minor documents upon which the poet's biographers\ngenerally rely, have all combined to involve almost every step of his\nlife in deep obscurity. Here, then, is a field upon which laborious\nresearch, ingenious conjecture, and wild speculation can find unending\nemployment, and consequently every branch of the study has quite a\nliterature of its own.\n\nNow into this mass of controversial and speculative writings on Dante,\nI do not make the smallest pretensions to have penetrated a single\nstep. I am far from wishing to disparage such studies, or to put\nforward in my own defence that stale and foolish plea, the refuge of\npretentious ignorance in every region of inquiry, that a mind coming\nfresh to the study has the advantage over those that are already well\nversed in it; but surely the students who are making the elucidation of\nDante their life work would not ask or wish, that until their endless\ntask is completed all those whose souls have been touched by the direct\nutterance of the great poet should hold their peace until qualified to\nspeak by half a life of study.\n\nWith no further apology, then, for seeming to venture too rashly on the\ntask, we may go on to a brief sketch of Dante's life and principles.\nThe main lines which I shall follow are in most cases traced distinctly\nenough by Dante's own hand, and to the best of my belief they represent\na fair average of the present or recent conclusions of scholars; but,\non the other hand, there have always been some who would unhesitatingly\ntreat as allegory much of what I shall present to you as fact, who for\ninstance would treat all Dante's love for Beatrice, and indeed\nBeatrice's very existence, as purely allegorical; and, again, where the\nallegory is admitted on all hands, there is a ceaseless shifting and\nendless variety in the special interpretations adopted and rejected by\nthe experts.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nDante, or properly Durante, Alighieri was born in Florence of an\nancient and noble family, in the year 1265. We may note that his life\nfalls in a period which we used to be taught to regard as an age of\nintellectual stagnation and social barbarism, in which Christianity had\ndegenerated into a jumbled chaos of puerile and immoral superstitions!\nWe may note also that in the early years of his life the poet was a\ncontemporary of some of the noblest representatives of the\nfeudo-Catholic civilisation, that is to say of mediaeval philosophy,\ntheology, and chivalry, while his manhood was joined in loving\nfriendship with the first supremely great mediaeval artist, and before\nhe died one of the great precursors and heralds of the revival of\nlearning was growing up to manhood and another had already left his\ncradle. To speak of Roger Bacon, Thomas Aquinas, and St. Louis, as\nliving when Dante was born, of Giotto as his companion and friend, of\nPetrarch and Boccaccio as already living when he died, is to indicate\nmore clearly than could be done by any more elaborate statement, the\nposition he occupies at the very turning point of the Middle Ages when\nthe forces of modern life had begun to rise, but the supremacy of\nmediaeval faith and discipline was as yet unbroken. Accordingly Dante,\nin whom the truest spirit of his age is, as it were, 'made flesh,' may\nbe variously regarded as the great morning star of modern\nenlightenment, freedom, and culture, or as the very type of mediaeval\ndiscipline, faith, and chivalry. To me, I confess, this latter aspect\nof Dante's life is altogether predominant. To me he is the very\nincarnation of Catholicism, not in its shame, but in its glory. Yet the\nfuture is always contained in the present when rightly understood, and\njust because Dante was the perfect representative of his own age, he\nbecame the herald and the prophecy of the ages to come, not, as we\noften vainly imagine them, rebelling against and escaping from the\novershadowing solemnity of the ages past, but growing out of them as\ntheir natural and necessary result.\n\nIn the year 1265, then, Dante was born in Florence, then one of the\nmost powerful and flourishing, but also, alas! one of the most factious\nand turbulent of the cities of Europe. He was but nine years old when\nhe first met that Beatrice Portinari who became thenceforth the\nloadstar of his life. As to this lady we have little to say. The\ndetails which Dante's early biographers give us add but little to our\nknowledge of her, and so far as they are not drawn from the poet's own\nwords, are merely such graceful commonplaces of laudatory description\nas any imagination of ordinary capacity would spontaneously supply for\nitself. When we have said that Beatrice was a beautiful, sweet, and\nvirtuous girl, we have said all that we know, and all that we need care\nto know, of the daughter of Folco Portinari, who lived, was married,\nand died in Florence at the end of the thirteenth century. All that she\nis to us more than other Florentine maidens, she is to us through that\npoet who, as he wept her untimely death, hoped with no vain hope 'to\nwrite of her, what ne'er was writ of woman.'[1]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nIt puts no great strain on our powers of credence, to accept Dante's\nown statement of the rush of almost stupefying emotions which\noverwhelmed his childish heart when at the age of nine he went with his\nfather to Portinari's house, and was sent to play with other children,\namongst them the little Beatrice, a child of eight years old. The 'New\nLife' waked within him from that moment, and its strength and purity\nmade him strong and pure.[2]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNine more years have passed. Dante is now eighteen. He has made rapid\nprogress in all the intellectual and personal accomplishments which are\nheld to adorn the position of a Florentine gentleman. His teachers have\nin some cases already discerned the greatness of his powers, and he has\nbecome aware, probably by essays which never saw the light, that he has\nnot only a poet's passions and aspirations, but a poet's power of\nmoulding language into oneness with his thought. He and Beatrice know\neach other by sight, as neighbours or fellow-citizens, but Dante has\nnever heard her voice address a word to him. Yet she is still the\ncentre of all his thoughts. She has never ceased to be to him the\nperfect ideal of growing womanhood, and to his devout and fervid\nimagination, just because she is the very flower of womanly courtesy,\ngrace, and virtue, she is an angel upon earth. Not in the hackneyed\nphrase of complimentary commonplace, not in the exaggerated cant of\nwould-be poetical metaphor, but in the deep verity of his inmost life,\nDante Alighieri believes that Beatrice Portinari, the maiden whose\npurity keeps him pure, whose grace and beauty are as guardian angels\nwatching over his life, has more of heaven than of earth about her and\nclaims kindred with God's more perfect family.\n\nBeatrice is now seventeen, she is walking with two companions in a\npublic place, she meets Dante and allows herself to utter a few words\nof graceful greeting. It is the first time she has spoken to him, and\nDante's soul is thrilled and fired to its very depths. Not many hours\nafterwards, the poet began the first of his sonnets that we still\npossess, perhaps the first he ever wrote.[3]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nLet us pass over eight or nine years more. Dante, now about twenty-six,\nis the very flower of chivalry and poetry. The foremost men of his own\nand other cities--artists, musicians, poets, scholars, and\nstatesmen--are his friends. Somewhat hard of access and reserved, but\nthe most fascinating of companions and the faithfulest of friends to\nthose who have found a real place in his heart, Dante takes a rank of\nacknowledged eminence amongst the poets of his day. His verses, chiefly\nin praise of Beatrice, are written in a strain of tender sentiment,\nthat gives little sign of what is ultimately to come out of him, but\nthere is a nervous and concentrated power of diction, a purity and\nelevation of conception in them, which may not have been obvious to his\ncompanions as separating him from them, but which to eyes instructed by\nthe result is full of deepest meaning.\n\nAnd what of Beatrice? She is dead. It was never given to Dante to call\nher his. We know not so much as whether he even aspired to more than\nthat gracious salutation in which, to use his own expression, he seemed\nto touch 'the very limits of beatitude.'[4]\n\nBe this as it may, it is certain that Beatrice married a powerful\ncitizen of Florence several years before her death. But she was still\nthe guardian angel of the poet's life, she was still the very type of\nwomanhood to him; and there was not a word or thought of his towards\nher but was full of utter courtesy and purity. And now, in the flower\nof her loveliness she is cut down by death, and to Dante life has\nbecome a wilderness.[5]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nYet eight or nine years more. Dante is now in what his philosophical\nsystem regards as the very prime of life.[6] He is thirty-five. The\ndate is 1300. Since we left him weeping for the death of Beatrice, the\nunity of his life has been shattered and he has lost his way, but only\nfor a time. Now his powers and purposes are richer, stronger, more\nconcentrated than ever.\n\nIn his first passion of grief for Beatrice's death he had been\nprofoundly touched by the pity of a gentle-eyed damsel whom a far from\ngroundless conjecture identifies with Gemma Donati, the lady whom he\nmarried not long afterwards. With this Gemma he lived till his\nbanishment, and they had a numerous family. The internal evidence of\nDante's works, and the few circumstances really known to us, give\nlittle support to the tradition that their marriage was an unhappy one.\n\nDante's friends had hoped that domestic peace might console him for his\nirreparable loss, but he himself had rather sought for consolation in\nthe study of philosophy and theology; and it befell him, he tells us,\nas one who in seeking silver strikes on gold--not, haply, without\nguidance from on high;--for he began to see many things as in a dream,\nand deemed that Dame Philosophy must needs be supreme![7]\n\nBut neither domestic nor literary cares and duties absorbed his\nenergies. In late years he had begun to take an active part in the\npolitics of his city, and was now fast rising to his true position as\nthe foremost man of Florence and of Italy.\n\nThus, we see new interests and new powers rising in his life, but for a\ntime the unity of that life was gone. While Beatrice lived Dante's\nwhole being was centred in her, and she was to him the visible token of\nGod's presence upon earth, the living proof of the reality and the\nbeauty of things Divine, born to fill the world with faith and\ngentleness. But when she was gone, when other passions and pursuits\ndisputed with her memory the foremost place in Dante's heart, it was as\nthough he had lost the secret and the meaning of life, as though he had\nlost the guidance of Heaven, and was whirled helplessly in the vortex\nof moral, social, and political disorder which swept over his country.\nFor Italian politics at this period form a veritable chaos of shifting\ncombinations and entanglements, of plots and counterplots, of intrigue\nand treachery and vacillation, though lightened ever and again by\ngleams of noblest patriotism and devotion.\n\nYet Dante's soul was far too strong to be permanently overwhelmed.\nGradually his philosophical reflections began to take definite shape.\nHe felt the wants of his own life and of his country's life. He pierced\ndown to the fundamental conditions of political and social welfare; and\nwhen human philosophy had begun to restore unity and concentration to\nhis powers, then the sweet image of the pure maiden who had first waked\nhis soul to love returned glorified and transfigured to guide him into\nthe very presence of God. She was the symbol of Divine philosophy. She,\nand she only, could restore his shattered life to unity and strength,\nand the love she never gave him as a woman, she could give him as the\nprotecting guardian of his life, as the vehicle of God's highest\nrevelation.[8]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWith his life thus strengthened and enriched, with a firm heart and a\nsteady purpose, Dante Alighieri stood in the year 1300 at the helm of\nthe State of Florence. And here accordingly it becomes necessary for us\nto dwell for a moment on some of the chief political forces with which\nhe had to deal.\n\nThe two great factions of the Guelfs and Ghibellines were tearing the\nvery heart of Italy; and without going into any detail, we must try to\npoint out the central ideas of each party. The Ghibellines, then,\nappear to have represented an aristocratic principle of order,\nconstantly in danger of becoming oppressive, while the Guelfs\nrepresented a democratic principle of progress, ever verging upon\nchaotic and unbridled licence. The Ghibellines longed for a national\nunity, resting on centralisation; the Guelfs aimed at a local\nindependence which tended to national disintegration. The Ghibellines,\nregarding the German Empire as the heir and representative of the\nEmpire of Rome, and as the symbol of Italian unity, espoused the\nEmperor's cause against the Pope, declared the temporal power\nindependent of the spiritual, and limited the sphere of the priests\nentirely to the latter. The Guelfs found in the political action of the\nPope a counterpoise to the influence of the Emperor; the petty and\nintriguing spirit of the politics of the Vatican made its ruler the\nnatural ally of the disintegrating Guelfs rather than the centralising\nGhibellines, and accordingly the Guelfs ardently espoused the cause of\nthe Pope's temporal power, and often sought in the royal house of\nFrance a further support against Germany.\n\nThese broad lines, however, were constantly blurred and crossed by\npersonal intrigue or ambition, by family jealousies, feuds, and\nrivalries, by unnatural alliances or by corruption and treachery.\n\nNow Dante was by family tradition a Guelf. Florence too was nominally\nthe head quarters of Guelfism, and Dante had fought bravely in her\nbattles against the Ghibellines. But the more he reflected upon the\nsources of the evils by which Italy was torn, the more profoundly he\ncame to distrust the unprincipled meddling of the greedy princes of the\nhouse of France in Italian politics, and the more jealously did he\nwatch the temporal power of the Pope. Perhaps the political opinions he\nafterwards held were not as yet fully consolidated, but his votes and\nproposals--which we read with a strange interest in the city archives\nof Florence nearly six hundred years after the ink has dried--show that\nin 1300 he was at any rate on the highway to the conclusions he\nultimately reached. And we may therefore take this occasion of stating\nwhat they were.\n\nIt appeared to Dante that Italy was sunk in moral, social, and\npolitical chaos, for want of a firm hand to repress the turbulent\nfactions that rent her bosom; and that no hand except an Emperor's\ncould be firm enough. The Empire of Rome was to him the most imposing\nand glorious spectacle offered by human history. God had guided Rome by\nmiracles and signs to the dominion of the world that the world might be\nat peace.\n\nAnd parallel with this temporal Empire founded by Julius Caesar, was the\nspiritual Empire of the Church, founded by Jesus Christ. Both alike\nwere established by God for the guidance of mankind: to rebel against\neither was to rebel against God. Brutus and Cassius, who slew Julius\nCaesar, the embodiment of the Empire, are placed by Dante in the same\ndepth of Hell as Judas Iscariot, who betrayed Jesus Christ, the\nincarnation of the Church.[9] These three had done what in them lay to\nreduce the world to civil and religious chaos, for they had compassed\nthe death of the ideal representatives of civil and religious order.\nBut both powers alike laid a mighty trust upon the human agents who\nadministered them; and as the Empire and the Church were the sublimest\nand the holiest of ideal institutions, so a tyrannical Emperor and a\ncorrupt or recreant Pope were amongst the foulest of sinners, to be\nrebuked and resisted with every power of body and soul.\n\nDante could no more conceive of the spiritual life without the\nauthoritative guidance of the all-present, all-pervading Church, than\nhe could conceive of a well-ordered polity without the all-penetrating\nforce of law. But it appeared to him as monstrous for the Pope to seek\npolitical influence and to use his spiritual powers for political ends\nas he would have judged it for the Emperor to exercise spiritual\ntyranny over the faith of Christians.[10]\n\nThere can have been little in the political life of Florence at this\ntime to attract one who held such views. But Dante of all men hated and\ndespised weak shrinking from responsibility. If there is one feature in\nhis stern character more awful than any other, it is his unutterable,\nwithering contempt for those who lived without praise or blame, those\nwretches who never were alive. He saw them afterwards in the outer\ncircle of Hell, mingled with that caitiff herd of angels who were not\nfor God and yet were not for the rebels, but were only for themselves.\n\n    Heaven drove them forth, Heaven's beauty not to stain,\n    Nor would the deep Hell deign to have them there\n    For any glory that the damned might gain!\n\nNo fame of them survives upon the earth, Pity and Justice hold them in\ndisdain, their cries of passion and of woe are ever whirled through the\nstarless air, and their forgotten lot appears to them so base that they\nenvy the very torments of the damned. 'Let us not speak of them,' says\nVirgil to Dante, 'but gaze and pass them by.'[11]\n\nSo Dante shrank not from his task when called to public office, but\nlaid his strong hand upon the helm of Florence. During a part of this\nyear 1300, he filled the supreme magistracy, and at that very time the\nold disputes of Guelf and Ghibelline broke out in the city afresh under\na thin disguise. We have seen that Dante's sympathies were now almost\ncompletely Ghibelline, but as the first Prior of Florence his duty was\nfirmly to suppress all factious attempts to disturb the city's peace\nand introduce intestine discord. It was not by party broils that Italy\nwould be restored to peace and harmony. He behaved with a more than\nRoman fortitude, for it is easier for a father to chastise a rebellious\nson than for a true friend to override the claims of friendship.\nDante's dearest friend, Guido Cavalcanti, bound to him by every tie of\nsympathy and fellowship which could unite two men in common purposes\nand common hopes, was one of the leaders of the party with which Dante\nhimself sympathised; and yet, for the good of his country and in\nobedience to his magisterial duty, he tore this friend from his side\nthough not from his heart, and pronounced on him the sentence of\nbanishment, the weight of which he must even then have known so well.\nIt speaks to the eternal honour of Guido, as well as Dante, that this\ndeed appears not to have thrown so much as a shadow upon the friendship\nof the two men.[12]\n\nHad Dante's successors in office dealt with firmness and integrity\nequal to his own, all might have been well; but a vacillating and\nequivocal policy soon opened the door to suspicions and recriminations,\nFlorence ceased to steer her own course and permitted foreign\ninterference with her affairs, while the Pope, with intentions that may\nhave been good but with a policy which proved utterly disastrous,\nfurthered the intervention of the French Prince Charles of Valois. It\nwas a critical moment. An embassy to the Papal Court was essential, and\na firm hand must meanwhile hold the reins at Florence. 'If I go, who\nshall stay? If I stay, who shall go?' Dante is reported to have said;\nand though the saying is probably apocryphal, yet it points out happily\nenough the true position of affairs. Dante was now no longer the chief\nmagistrate of his city, but he was in fact, though not in name, the one\nman of Florence, the one man of Italy.\n\nFinally he resolved to go to Rome. But the blindness or corruption of\nthe Papal Court was invincible; and while Dante was still toiling at\nhis hopeless task, Charles of Valois entered Florence with his troops,\nsoon to realise the worst suspicions of those who had opposed his\nintervention. Nominally a restorer of tranquillity, he stirred up all\nthe worst and most lawless passions of the Florentines; and while Dante\nwas serving his country at Rome, the unjust and cruel sentence of\nbanishment was launched against him, his property was confiscated and\nseized, a few months afterwards he was sentenced to be burned to death\nshould he ever fall into the power of the Florentines, and, not content\nwith all this, his enemies heaped upon his name the foulest calumnies\nof embezzlement and malversation--calumnies which I suppose no creature\nfrom that hour to this has ever for one moment believed, but which\ncould not fail to make the envenomed wound strike deeper into Dante's\nheart.\n\nSo now he must leave 'all things most dear--this the first arrow shot\nfrom exile's bow,' in poverty and dependence his proud spirit must\nlearn 'how salt a taste cleaves to a patron's bread, how hard a path to\ntread a patron's stair;' and, above all, his unsullied purity and\npatriotism must find itself forced into constant association or even\nalliance with selfish and personal ambition, or with tyranny,\nmeanness, and duplicity.[13] How that great soul bore itself amid all\nthese miseries, what it learnt from them, where it sought and found a\nrefuge from them, we shall see when we take up again the broken thread\nwhich we must drop to-day.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 1: _Vita Nuova_, xliii.]\n\n[Footnote 2: _Vita Nuova_, i, ii.]\n\n[Footnote 3: _Vita Nuova_, iii.; _Inferno_, xv. 55 sqq. &c.]\n\n[Footnote 4: _Vita Nuova_, iii.]\n\n[Footnote 5: _Vita Nuova_, iv-xxx.]\n\n[Footnote 6: _Convito_, iv. 23.]\n\n[Footnote 7: _Convito_, ii. 13.]\n\n[Footnote 8: _Vita Nuova_, xxxi-xliii.; _Convito_, ii.; _Purgatorio_,\nxxx, xxxi.]\n\n[Footnote 9: _Inferno_, xxxiv. 55-67.]\n\n[Footnote 10: See the _De Monarchia_. Compare _Purgatorio_, xvi.\n103-112; _Paradiso_, xviii. 124-136.]\n\n[Footnote 11: _Inferno_, iii. 22-51.]\n\n[Footnote 12: Compare _Inferno_, x. 52-72, 109-111.]\n\n[Footnote 13: _Paradiso_, xvii. 55-63.]\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nDANTE'S LIFE AND PRINCIPLES\n\n_II. IN EXILE_\n\n\nA rapid sketch of the most decisive events and the leading motives of\nthe life of Dante Alighieri has brought us to the eventful period of\nhis Priorate in 1300 and his banishment in 1302. His unsuccessful\nefforts to carry out a firm and statesmanlike policy in Florence, with\nthe wreck of his own fortunes consequent upon their failure, may be\nregarded as the occasion if not the cause of his conceiving his\ngreatest work, the 'Divine Comedy.'\n\nNineteen years elapsed between Dante's exile and his death, and both\ntradition and internal evidence indicate that the main strength of his\nlife was poured during the whole of this period into the channels\nalready laid down in its opening years. 'Forging on the anvil of\nincessant toil' the several parts of his great work, and 'welding them\ninto imperishable symmetry,'[14] the might of his intellect and the\npassion of his heart grappled for nineteen years with the task of\ngiving worthy utterance to his vast idea. Line by line, canto by canto,\nthe victory was won. Dante had shown that his mother tongue could rise\nto loftier themes than Greek or Roman had ever touched, and had wrought\nout the fitting garb of a poem that stands alone in the literature of\nthe world in the scope and sublimity of its conception.\n\nBarely to realise what it was that Dante attempted, wakes feelings in\nour hearts akin to awe. When we think of that work and of the man who,\nknowing what it was, deliberately set himself to do it, an appalling\nsense of the presence of overwhelming grandeur falls upon us, as when a\ngreat wall of rocky precipice rises sheer at our side, a thousand and\nyet a thousand feet towards heaven. Our heads swim as we gaze up to the\nsky-line of such a precipice, the ground seems to drop from beneath our\nfeet, all our past and present becomes a dream, and our very hold of\nlife seems to slip away from us. But the next moment a great exultation\ncomes rushing upon our hearts, with quickened pulses and drawing\ndeeper breath we rise to the sublimity of the scene around us, and our\nwhole being is expanded and exalted by it. After holding converse with\nsuch grandeur our lives can never be so small again. And so it is when\nthe meaning of Dante's Comedy breaks upon us. When we follow the poet\nstep by step as he beats or pours his thought into language, when we\nnote the firmness of his pace, the mastery with which he handles and\ncommands his infinite theme, the unflinching directness, the godlike\nself-reliance, with which he lays bare the hearts of his fellow-men and\nmakes himself the mouthpiece of the Eternal, when we gaze upon his\nfinished work and the despair of Hell, the yearning of Purgatory, the\npeace of Heaven, sweep over our hearts, we are ready to whisper in\nawe-struck exultation:\n\n    What immortal hand or eye\n    Dared form thy fearful symmetry?\n\nThe allegory with which the 'Divine Comedy' opens, shadows forth the\nmeaning and the purpose of the whole poem. In interpreting it we may\nat first give prominence to its political signification, not because\nits main intention is certainly or probably political, but because we\nshall thus be enabled to pass in due order from the outer to the inner\ncircle of the poet's beliefs and purposes.\n\nIn the year 1300, then, Dante Alighieri found that he had wandered, he\nknew not how, from the true path of life, and was plunged into the\ndeadly forest of political, social, and moral disorder which darkened\nwith terrific shade the fair soil of Italy. Deep horror settled upon\nthe recesses of his heart during the awful night, but at last he saw\nthe fair light of the morning sun brightening the shoulders of a hill\nthat stretched above: this was the peaceful land of moral and political\norder, which seemed to offer an escape from the bitterness of that\nghastly forest. Gathering heart at this sweet sight, Dante set himself\nmanfully to work, with the nether foot ever planted firmly on the soil,\nto scale that glorious height. But full soon his toilsome path would be\ndisputed with him. The dire powers of Guelfism would not allow the\nrestoration of peace and order to Italy. His first foe was the\nincurable factiousness and lightness of his own fair Florence. Like a\nlithe and speckled panther it glided before him to oppose his upward\nprogress, and forced him once and again to turn back upon his steps\ntowards that dread forest he had left. But though forced back, Dante\ncould not lose hope. Might he not tame this wild but beauteous beast?\nYes; he might have coped with the fickle, lustful, factious, envious\nbut lovely Florence, had not haughty France rushed on him like a lion,\nat whose voice the air must tremble, had not lean and hungry Rome,\nladen with insatiable greed, skulked wolf-like in his path. It was the\nwolf above all that forced him back into the sunless depths of that\nforest of dismay, and dashed to the ground his hopes of gaining the\nfair height. When could he, when could his Italy, rise from this chaos\nand be at peace? Not till some great political Messiah should draw his\nsword. With no base love of pelf or thirst for land, but fed with\nwisdom, love, and virtue, he should exalt the humbled Italy and drive\naway her foes. Like a noble hound, he should chase the insatiable wolf\nof Roman greed from city to city back to the Hell from which it\ncame.[15]\n\nDante's hope in this political Messiah rose and fell, but never died in\nhis heart. Now with the gospel of Messianic peace, now with the\ndenunciation of Messianic judgment on his lips, he poured out his lofty\nenthusiasm in those apostolic and prophetic letters, some few of which\nsurvive amidst the wrecks of time as records of his changing moods and\nhis unchanging purposes.\n\nNow one and now another of the Ghibelline leaders may have seemed to\nDante from time to time to be the hero, the Messiah, for whom he\nwaited. But again and yet again his hopes were crushed and blighted,\nand the panther, the lion, and the wolf still cut off the approach to\nthat fair land.\n\nMore than once the poet's hopes must have hung upon the fortunes of the\nmighty warrior Uguccione, whose prodigies of valour rivalled the fabled\ndeeds of the knights of story. To this man Dante was bound by ties of\nclosest friendship; to him he dedicated the Inferno, the first cantica\nof his Comedy, and he may possibly have been that hero ''twixt the two\nFeltros born'[16] to whom Dante first looked to slay the wolf of Rome.\n\nFar higher probably, and certainly far better grounded, were the poet's\nhopes when Henry VII. of Germany descended into Italy to bring order\ninto her troubled states. To Dante, as we have seen, the Emperor was\nEmperor of Rome and not of Germany. He was Caesar's successor, the\nnatural representative of Italian unity, the Divinely appointed\nguardian of civil order. With what passionate yearning Dante looked\nacross the Alps for a deliverer, how large a part of the woes of Italy\nhe laid at the feet of Imperial neglect, may be gathered from many\npassages in his several works; but nowhere do these thoughts find\nstronger utterance than in the sixth canto of the Purgatory. The poet\nsees the shades of Virgil and the troubadour Sordello join in a loving\nembrace at the bare mention of the name of Mantua, where both of them\nwere born. 'O Italy!' he cries, 'thou slave! thou hostelry of woe! Ship\nwithout helmsman, in the tempest rude! No queen of provinces, but\nhouse of shame! See how that gentle soul, e'en at the sweet sound of\nhis country's name, was prompt to greet his fellow-citizen. Then see\nthy living sons, how one with other ever is at war, and whom the\nself-same wall and moat begird, gnaw at each other's lives. Search,\nwretched one, along thy sea-bound coasts, then inward turn to thine own\nbreast, and see if any part of thee rejoice in peace. Of what avail\nJustinian's curb of law, with none to stride the saddle of command,\nexcept to shame thee more? Alas! ye priests, who should be at your\nprayers, leaving to Caesar the high seat of rule, did ye read well the\nword of God to you, see ye not how the steed grows wild and fell by\nlong exemption from the chastening spur, since that ye placed your\nhands upon the rein? O German Albert! who abandonest, wild and untamed,\nthe steed thou should'st bestride, may the just sentence from the stars\nabove fall on thy race in dire and open guise, that he who follows thee\nmay see and fear. For, drawn by lust of conquest otherwhere, thou and\nthy sire, the garden of the empire have ye left a prey to desolation.\nCome, thou insensate one, and see the Montagues and Capulets, Monaldi,\nPhilippeschi, for all whom the past has sadness or the future fear.\nCome, come, thou cruel one, and see oppression trampling on thy\nfaithful ones, and heal their ills.... Come thou, and see thy Rome, who\nweeps for thee, a lonely widow crying day and night, \"My Caesar,\nwherefore hast thou left me thus?\" Come, see how love here governs\nevery heart! Or if our sorrows move thee not at all, blush for thine\nown fair fame.--Nay, let me say it: O Thou God Most High, Thou Who wast\ncrucified for us on earth, are Thy just eyes turned otherwhither now?\nOr in the depth of counsel dost Thou work for some good end, clean cut\noff from our ken? For all Italia's lands are full of tyrants, and every\nhind--so he be factious--grows Marcellus-high.'[17]\n\nSuch was the cry for deliverance which went up from Dante's heart to\nthe Emperor. Picture his hopes when Henry VII. came with the blessing\nof the Pope, who had had more than his fill of French influence at\nlast, to bring peace and order into Italy; picture the exultation with\nwhich he learnt alike from Henry's deeds and words that he was just,\nimpartial, generous, and came not as a tyrant, not as a party leader,\nbut as a firm and upright ruler to restore prosperity and peace;\npicture his indignation when the incurable factiousness and jealousies\nof the Italian cities, and of Florence most of all, thwarted the\nEmperor at every step; picture the bitterness of his grief when, after\nstruggling nigh three years in vain, Henry fell sick, and died at\nBuonconvento. In Paradise the poet saw the place assigned to 'Henry's\nlofty soul--his who should come to make the crooked straight, ere Italy\nwas ready for his hand;' but the dream of his throne on earth was\nbroken for ever.[18]\n\nHenry died in 1313. This blow was followed by the fall of Uguccione\nwhen he seemed almost on the point of realising some of Dante's dearest\nhopes. The poet and the warrior alike found refuge at Verona now, with\nCan Grande della Scala, to whom Dante dedicated the third cantica of\nhis Comedy, the Paradise.[19] Did the exile's hopes revive again at\nthe Court of Verona? Did the gallant and generous young soldier whose\ngracious and delicate hospitality called out such warm affection from\nhis heart,[20] seem worthy to accomplish that great mission in which\nUguccione and Henry had failed? It is more than probable that such\nthoughts found room in Dante's sorrow-laden heart. And yet we cannot\nbut suppose that while his certainty remained unshaken that in God's\ngood time the deliverer would come, yet the hopes which centred in any\nsingle man must have had less and less assurance in them as\ndisappointment after disappointment came.\n\nBe this as it may, near the close of his life Dante was still able to\nmake Beatrice testify of him in the courts of Heaven: 'Church militant\nhas not a son stronger in hope than he. God knows it.'[21] Simple as\nthese words are, yet by him who has scanned Dante's features and\npondered on his life, they may well be numbered amongst those moving\nand strengthening human utterances that ring like a trumpet through the\nages and call the soul to arms.\n\nBut were Dante's hopes all concentrated on the advent of that political\nMessiah who was not to come in truth till our own day? Had it been so,\nthe 'Divine Comedy' would never have been born.\n\nWhen Dante realised his own helplessness in the struggle against the\npanther of Florence, the lion of France, and the wolf of Rome, when he\nsaw that to reorganise his country and remodel the social and political\nconditions of life would need the strong hand and the keen sword of\nsome great hero raised by God, he also saw that for himself another way\nwas opened, an escape from that wild forest into which his feet had\nstrayed, an escape which it must be the task of his life to point out\nto others, without which the very work of the hero for whom he looked\nwould be in vain.\n\nThe deadly forest represented moral as well as political confusion; the\nsunlit mountain, moral as well as political order; and the beasts that\ncut off the ascent, moral as well as political foes to human progress.\n\nFrom this moral chaos there was deliverance for every faithful soul,\ndespite the lion and the wolf; and though the noble hound came not to\nchase the foul beasts back to Hell, yet was Dante led from the forest\ngloom even to the light of Heaven.\n\nAnd how was he delivered? By Divine grace he saw Hell and Purgatory and\nHeaven--so was he delivered. He saw the souls of men stripped of every\ndisguise, he saw their secret deeds of good or ill laid bare. He saw\nPopes and Emperors, ancient heroes and modern sages, the rich, the\nvaliant, the noble, the fair of face, the sweet of voice; and no longer\ndazzled, no longer overawed, he saw them as they were, he saw their\ndeeds, he saw the fruits of them. So was he delivered from the\nentanglements and perplexities, from the delusions and seductions of\nthe world, so were his feet set upon the rock, so did he learn to sift\nthe true from the false, to rise above all things base, and set his\nsoul at peace, even when sorrow was gnawing his heart to death. He,\nwhile yet clothed in flesh and blood, went amongst the souls of the\ndeparted, 'heard the despairing shrieks of spirits long immersed in\nwoe, who wept each one the second death; saw suffering souls contented\nin the flames, for each one looked to reach the realms of bliss, though\nlong should be the time,' and lastly he saw the souls in Heaven, and\ngazed upon the very light of God.[22]\n\nAll this he saw and heard under the guidance of human and Divine\nphilosophy, symbolised, or rather concentrated and personified, in\nVirgil and Beatrice.\n\nOf Virgil, and the unique position assigned to him in the Middle Ages,\nit is impossible here to speak at length. Almost from the first\npublication of the AEneid, and down to the time when the revival of\nlearning reopened the treasures of Greek literature to Western Europe,\nVirgil reigned in the Latin countries supreme and unchallenged over the\ndomain of poetry and scholarship. Within two generations of his own\nlifetime, altars were raised to him, by enthusiastic disciples, as to a\ndeity. When Christianity spread, his supposed prediction of Christ in\none of the Eclogues endowed him with the character of a prophet; and a\nmagic efficacy had already been attributed to verses taken from his\nworks. Throughout the Middle Ages, his fame still grew as the supreme\narbiter in every field of literature, and as the repositary of more\nthan human knowledge, while fantastic legends clustered round his name\nas the great magician and necromancer. To Dante there must also have\nbeen a special fascination in the Imperial scope and sympathies of the\nAEneid; for Virgil is pre-eminently the poet of the Roman Empire. But we\nmust not pause to follow out this subject here. Suffice it that Dante\nfelt for Virgil a reverence so deep, an admiration so boundless, and an\naffection so glowing, that he became to him the very type of human\nwisdom and excellence, the first agent of his rescue from the maze of\npassion and error in which his life had been entangled.\n\nBut Beatrice, the loved and lost, was the symbol and the channel of a\nhigher wisdom, a diviner grace. She it was round whose sweet memory\ngathered the noblest purposes and truest wisdom of the poet's life. If\never he suffered the intensity of his devotion to truth and virtue for\na moment to relax; if ever, as he passed amongst luxurious courts, some\nsiren voice soothed his cares with a moment of unworthy forgetfulness\nand ignoble ease; if ever he suffered meaner cares or projects to draw\nhim aside so much as in thought from his great mission, then it was\nBeatrice's glorified image that recalled him in tears of bitter shame\nand penitence to the path of pain, of effort, and of glory. It was her\nlove that had rescued him from the fatal path; Virgil was but her agent\nand emissary, and his mission was complete when he had led him to her.\nHuman wisdom and virtue could guide him through Hell and Purgatory,\ncould show him the misery of sin, and the need of purifying pain and\nfire, but it was only in Beatrice's presence that he could _feel_ the\nutter hatefulness and shame of an unworthy life, could _feel_ the\nblessedness of Heaven.[23]\n\nUnder the guidance of Virgil and Beatrice, then, Dante had seen Hell\nand Purgatory and Heaven. This had snatched his soul from death, had\ntaught him, even in the midst of the moral and political chaos of his\nage, how to live and after what to strive. Could he show others what\nhe himself had seen? Could he save them, as he was saved, from the\nmeanness, from the blindness, from the delusions of the life they led?\nHe could. Though it should be the toil of long and painful years, yet\nin the passionate conviction of his own experience he felt the power in\nhim of making real to others what was so intensely real to him. But\nwhat did this involve? The truth if wholesome was yet hard. He had dear\nand honoured friends whose lives had been stained by unrepented sin,\nand whose souls he had seen in Hell. Was he to cry aloud to all the\nworld that these loved ones were amongst the damned, instead of\ntenderly hiding their infirmities? Again, he was poor and an exile, he\nhad lost 'all things most dear,' and was dependent for his very bread\non the grace and favour of the great; yet if he told the world what he\nhad seen, a storm of resentful hatred would crash upon him from every\nregion of Italy. How would proud dames and lords brook to be told of\ntheir dead associates in sin and shame cursing their names from the\nvery depths of Hell, and looking for their speedy advent there? How\nwould pope and cardinal and monarch brook to be told by the powerless\nexile what he had heard from souls in Heaven, in Purgatory, and in\nHell? E'en let them brook it as they might. His cry should be like the\ntempest that sweeps down upon the loftiest forest trees, but leaves the\nbrushwood undisturbed. The mightiest in the land should hear his voice,\nand henceforth none should think that loftiness of place or birth could\nshield the criminal. He would tell in utter truth what he had seen. He\nknew that power was in him to brand the infamous with infamy that none\ncould wash away, to rescue the fair memory of those the world had\nwrongfully condemned, to say what none but he dare say, in verse which\nnone but he could forge, and bring all those who hearkened through Hell\nand Purgatory into Heaven.[24]\n\nTo deliver this message was the work of his life, the end to which all\nhis studies were directed, from the time of his exile to that of his\ndeath. Hence his studious labours came to have a representative and\nvicarious character in his mind. He was proudly conscious that he\nlived and worked for mankind, and that his toil deserved the grateful\nrecognition of his city and his country.\n\nThis trait of his character comes out with striking force in the noble\nletter which he wrote in answer to the proffered permission to return\nto his beloved Florence, but upon disgraceful conditions which he could\nnot accept. The offer came when his fortunes were at their lowest ebb.\nHenry VII. was dead, Uguccione had lost his power. All hope of the\nexile's returning in triumph seemed at an end. Then came the offer of a\npardon and recall, for which he had longed with all the passionate\nintensity of his nature. And yet it was but a mockery. It was a custom\nin Florence upon the Day of St. John the Baptist, the patron saint of\nthe city, to release certain malefactors from the public gaols on their\nperforming set acts of contrition; and a decree was passed that all the\npolitical exiles might return to their home on St. John's Day in 1317\nif they would pay a sum of money, walk in procession, with tapers in\ntheir hands and with other tokens of guilt and penitence, to the\nchurch, and there offer themselves as ransomed malefactors to the\nsaint.\n\nMany of the exiles accepted the terms, but Dante's proud and indignant\nrefusal shows us a spirit unbroken by disappointment and disaster,\nscorning to purchase ease by degradation. 'Is this,' he cries to the\nfriend who communicated to him the conditions upon which he might\nreturn, 'is this the glorious recall by which Dante Alighieri is\nsummoned back to his country after well-nigh fifteen years of exile? Is\nthis what innocence well known to all, is this what the heavy toil of\nunbroken study, has deserved? Far be it from him who walks as her\nfamiliar with Philosophy to stoop to the base grovelling of a soul of\nclay and suffer himself thus to be treated like a vile malefactor. Far\nbe it from the preacher of justice, when suffering outrage, to pay the\nacknowledgment of fair desert to the outrageous.\n\n'Not by this path can I return. But let a way be found that hurts not\nDante's honour and fair fame, and I will tread it with no tardy feet.\nIf no such road leads back to Florence, then will I never enter\nFlorence more. What! can I not gaze, wherever I may be, upon the\nspectacle of sun and stars? Can I not ponder on the sweetest truths in\nany region under heaven, but I must first make myself base and vile\nbefore the people of the State of Florence?'[25]\n\nSuch was the answer of Dante Alighieri to that cruel insult which makes\nour cheeks glow even now with indignation. Such was the temper of the\nman who had seen Hell and Purgatory and Heaven, and who shrank not from\nthe utterance of all that he had seen.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nDante must now have been engaged in writing the Paradise. Amongst the\nsufferings and burdens which were fast drawing him to the grave,\namongst the agonies of indignation, of regret, of hope, of\ndisappointment which still wracked his soul, the deep peace of God had\ncome upon him; beneath a storm of passion at which our hearts quail was\na calm of trustful self-surrender which no earthly power could disturb;\nfor the harmonies of Paradise swelled in the poet's heart and sought\nfor utterance in these last years.\n\nBut though his spirit was thus rapt to Heaven, he never lost his hold\nupon the earth; never disdained to toil as best he might for the\nimmediate instruction or well-being of his kind. More than once his\neloquence and skill enabled him to render signal service to his\nprotectors in conducting delicate negotiations, and at the same time to\nfurther that cause of Italian unity which was ever near his heart. Nor\ndid the progress of his great work, the Comedy, withhold him from a\nvaried subsidiary activity as a poet, a moralist, and a student of\nlanguage and science.\n\nOne characteristic example of this by-work must suffice. In the last\nyear but one of his life when he must have been meditating the last,\nperhaps the sublimest, cantos of the Paradise, when he might well have\nbeen excused if he had ceased to concern himself with any of the lower\ngrades of truth, he heard a certain question of physics discussed and\nre-discussed, and never decided because of the specious but sophistical\narguments which were allowed to veil it in doubt. The question was\nwhether some portions of the sea are or are not at a higher level than\nsome portions of the land; and Dante, 'nursed from his boyhood in the\nlove of truth,' as he says, 'could not endure to leave the question\nunresolved, and determined to demonstrate the facts and to refute the\narguments alleged against them.'[26] Accordingly he defended his thesis\non a Sunday in one of the churches of Verona under the presidency of\nCan Grande.\n\nThis essay is a model of close reasoning and sound scientific method,\nand the average nineteenth century reader, with the average contempt\nfor fourteenth century science, would find much to reflect upon should\nhe read and understand it. The vague and inconclusive style of\nreasoning against which Dante contends is still rampant everywhere,\nthough its forms have changed; while the firm grasp of scientific\nmethod and the incisive reasoning of Dante himself are still the\nexception in spite of all our modern training in research.\n\nThus Dante was engaged to the last upon the whole field of human\nthought. Such was the scope and power of his mind that he could embrace\nat the same moment the very opposite poles of speculation; and such\nwas his passion for truth that, when gazing upon the very presence of\nGod, he could not bear to leave men in error when he could set them\nright, though it were but as to the level of the land and sea.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBut we must hasten to a close. Let us turn from the consideration of\nDante's work to a picture of personal character drawn by his own hand.\nIt is his ideal of a life inspired by that 'gentleness' for which,\nsince the days of chivalry, we have had no precise equivalent in\nlanguage, and which is itself too rare in every age.\n\n    The soul that this celestial grace adorns\n      In secret holds it not;\n      For from the first, when she the body weds,\n      She shows it, until death:\n      Gentle, obedient, and alive to shame,\n      Is seen in her first age,\n      Adding a comely beauty to the frame,\n      With all accomplishments:\n      In youth is temperate and resolute,\n      Replete with love and praise of courtesy,\n      Placing in loyalty her sole delight:\n      And in declining age\n      Is prudent, just, and for her bounty known;\n      And joys within herself\n      To listen and discourse for others' good:\n      Then in the fourth remaining part of life\n      To God is re-espoused,\n      Contemplating the end that draws a-nigh,\n      And blesseth all the seasons that are past:\n      --Reflect now, how the many are deceived![27]\n\nCherishing such an ideal, Dante wandered from court to court of Italy,\nfinding here and there a heart of gold, but for the most part moving\namongst those to whom grace and purity and justice were but names. Can\nwe wonder that sometimes the lonely exile felt as if his own\nsorrow-laden heart were the sole refuge upon earth of love and\ntemperance?\n\nThree noble dames, he tells us--noble in themselves but in nought else,\nfor their garments were tattered, their feet unshod, their hair\ndishevelled, and their faces stained with tears--came and flung\nthemselves at the portal of his heart, for they knew that Love was\nthere. Moved with deep pity, Love came forth to ask them of their\nstate. They were Rectitude, Temperance, and Generosity, once honoured\nby the world, now driven out in want and shame, and they came there for\nrefuge in their woe. Then Love, with moistened eyes, bade them lift up\ntheir heads. If they were driven begging through the world, it was for\nmen to weep and wail whose lives had fallen in such evil times; but not\nfor them, hewn from the eternal rock--it was not for them to grieve. A\nrace of men would surely rise at last whose hearts would turn to them\nagain. And hearing thus how exiles great as these were grieved and\ncomforted, the lonely poet thought his banishment his glory.\n\nYet when he looked for his sweet home and found it not, the agony that\ncould not break his spirit fast destroyed his flesh, and he knew that\ndeath had laid the key upon his bosom.[28]\n\nWhen this sublime and touching poem was composed we have no means of\nknowing, but it can hardly have been long before the end. When that end\ncame, Dante can barely have completed his great life work, he can\nbarely have written the last lines of the 'Divine Comedy.' He had been\non an unsuccessful mission in the service of his last protector, Guido\nda Polenta of Ravenna. On his return he was seized with a fatal\nillness, and died at Ravenna in 1321, at the age of fifty-six.\n\nWho can grudge him his rest? As we read the four tracts of the\n'Convito,' which were to have been the first of fourteen, but must now\nremain alone, as we are brought to a sudden stand at the abrupt\ntermination of his unfinished work on the dialects and poetry of\nItaly,[29] as we ponder on the unexhausted treasures that still lay in\nthe soul of him who could write as Dante wrote even to the end, we can\nhardly suppress a sigh to think that our loss purchased his rest so\nsoon. But his great work was done; he had told his vision, that men\nmight go with him to Hell, to Purgatory, and to Heaven, and be saved\nfrom all things base. Then his weary head was laid down in peace, and\nhis exile was at an end. 'That fair fold in which, a lamb, he lay'[30]\nwas never opened to him again, but he went home, and the blessings of\nthe pure in heart and strong in love go with him.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe thoughts with which we turn from the contemplation of Dante's life\nand work find utterance in the lines of Michael Angelo. 'The works of\nDante were unrecognised, and his high purpose, by the ungrateful folk\nwhose blessing rests on all--except the just. Yet would his fate were\nmine! For his drear exile, with his virtue linked, glad would I change\nthe fairest state on earth.'\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 14: See Symonds, p. 186.]\n\n[Footnote 15: See _Inferno_, i. 1-111.]\n\n[Footnote 16: _Inferno_, i. 105.]\n\n[Footnote 17: _Purgatorio_, vi. 76-126.]\n\n[Footnote 18: See especially Epistolae v-vii.; _Paradiso_, xxx.\n133-138.]\n\n[Footnote 19: See Epistola xi.]\n\n[Footnote 20: _Paradiso_, xvii. 70-93.]\n\n[Footnote 21: _Ibid._ xxv. 52-54.]\n\n[Footnote 22: _Inferno_, i. 112-129.]\n\n[Footnote 23: _Inferno_, i. 121-123, ii. 52-142; _Purgatorio_, xxx.\nsqq.; _Paradiso_, passim.]\n\n[Footnote 24: _Paradiso_, xvii. 103-142.]\n\n[Footnote 25: Epistola x.]\n\n[Footnote 26: _Quaestio de Aqua et Terra_, Sec. 1.]\n\n[Footnote 27: Canzone xvi., 'Le dolci rime,' st. vii. See _Convito_,\ntrat. iv. Translation slightly altered from Lyell.]\n\n[Footnote 28: Canzone xix., 'Tre donne.']\n\n[Footnote 29: _De Vulgari Eloquio._]\n\n[Footnote 30: _Paradiso_, xxv. 5.]\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nHELL\n\n\nThe first cantica of the 'Divine Comedy'--the Inferno or Hell--is the\nbest known of all Dante's works in prose or verse, in Latin or Italian;\nand though students of Dante may sometimes regret this fact, yet no one\ncan be at a moment's loss to understand it.\n\nFor the attributes of heart and brain requisite for some kind of\nappreciation of the Inferno are by many degrees more common than those\nto which the other works of Dante appeal. It is easy to imagine a\nreader who has not even begun truly to understand either the poet or\nthe poem nevertheless rendering a sincere tribute of admiration to the\ncolossal force of the Inferno, and feeling the weird spell of\nfascination and horror ever tightening its grasp on him as he descends\nfrom circle to circle of that starless realm.\n\nThere is no mystery in the inveterate tendency to regard Dante as\npre-eminently the poet of Hell. Nor is it a new phenomenon. Tradition\ntells of the women who shrank aside as Dante passed them by, and said\none to another, shuddering as they spoke, 'See how his black hair\ncrisped in the fire as he passed through Hell!' But no tradition tells\nof awe-struck passers-by who noted that the stains had been wiped from\nthat clear brow in Purgatory, that the gleam of that pure and dauntless\neye had been kindled in Heaven.\n\nThe machinery of the Inferno, then, is moderately familiar to almost\nall. Dante, lost in the darksome forest, scared from the sunlit heights\nby the wild beasts that guard the mountain side, meets the shade of\nVirgil, sent to rescue him by Beatrice, and suffered by Omnipotence to\nleave for a time his abode in the limbo of the unbaptised, on this\nmission of redeeming love. Virgil guides Dante through the open gate of\nHell, down through circle after circle of contracting span and\nincreasing misery and sin, down to the central depth where the\narch-rebel Satan champs in his triple jaws the arch-traitors against\nChurch and State, Judas Iscariot, and Brutus and Cassius.[31]\n\nThrough all these circles Dante passes under Virgil's guidance. He sees\nand minutely describes the varying tortures apportioned to the varying\nguilt of the damned, and converses with the souls of many illustrious\ndead in torment.\n\nAnd is this the poem that has enthralled and still enthrals so many a\nheart? Are we to look for the strengthening, purifying, and uplifting\nof our lives, are we to look for the very soul of poetry in an almost\nunbroken series of descriptions, unequalled in their terrible\nvividness, of ghastly tortures, interspersed with tales of shame, of\nguilt, of misery? Even so. And we shall not look in vain.\n\nBut let us listen first to Dante's own account of the subject-matter of\nhis poem. Five words of his are better than a volume of the\ncommentators. 'The subject of the whole work, literally accepted,' he\nsays, 'is the state of souls after death.... But if the work is taken\nallegorically the subject is MAN, as rendering himself liable, by good\nor ill desert in the exercise of his free will, to rewarding or\npunishing justice.'[32]\n\nAccording to Dante, then, the real subject of the Inferno is 'Man, as\nrendered liable, by ill desert in the exercise of his free will, to\npunishing justice.' Surely a subject fraught with unutterable sadness,\ncompassed by impenetrable mystery, but one which in the hands of a\nprophet may well be made to yield the bread of life; a subject fitly\nintroduced by those few pregnant words, 'The day was going, and the\ndusky air gave respite to the animals that are on earth from all their\ntoils; and I alone girt me in solitude to bear the strain both of the\njourney and the piteous sight, which memory that errs not shall\nretrace.'[33]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nNow if this be the true subject of the poem, it follows that all those\nphysical horrors of which it seems almost to consist must be strictly\nsubordinate to something else, must be part of the machinery or means\nby which the end of the poet is reached, but in no way the end itself.\n\nIf the subject of the poem is a moral one, then the descriptions of\nphysical torment and horror must never even for a moment overbalance or\noverwhelm the true 'motive' of the work, must never even for a moment\nso crush or deaden the feelings as to render them incapable of moral\nimpressions, must never in a single instance leave a prevailingly\nphysical impression upon the mind.\n\nAnd it is just herein that the transcendent power of the Inferno is\ndisplayed. Horrors which rise and ever rise in intensity till they\nculminate in some of the ghastliest scenes ever conceived by mortal\nbrain are from first to last held under absolute control, are forced to\nsupport and intensify moral conceptions which in less mighty hands they\nwould have numbed and deadened.\n\nOh, the pity of this sin, the unutterable, indelible pity of it! Its\nwail can never be stilled in our hearts while thought and memory\nremain. The misery of some forms of sin, the foul shame of others, the\nvileness, the hatefulness, the hideous deformity of others yet--this,\nand not horror at the punishment of sin, is what Dante stamps and\nbrands upon our hearts as we descend with him towards the central\ndepths, stamps and brands upon our hearts till the pity, the loathing,\nthe horror can endure no more;--then in the very depth of Hell, at the\ncore of the Universe, with one mighty strain that leaves us well-nigh\nspent, we turn upon that central point, and, leaving Hell beneath our\nfeet, ascend by the narrow path at the antipodes.\n\nWith the horror and the burden of the starless land far off, we lift up\nour eyes again to see the stars, and our souls are ready for the\npurifying sufferings of Purgatory.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nSometimes the tortures of the damned are a mere physical translation,\nso to speak, of their crimes. Thus the ruthless disseminators of strife\nand dissension who have torn asunder those who belonged one to another,\nthose who had no proper existence apart from one another, are in their\nturn hewn and cleft by the avenging sword; and ever as their bodies\nreunite and their wounds are healed, the fierce blow falls again.\nAmongst them Dante sees the great troubadour Bertram de Born, who\nfostered the rebellion of the sons of our own king Henry II. In that\nhe made father and son each other's enemy, his head is severed from his\ntrunk, his brain from its own root.[34]\n\nIn other cases a transparent metaphor or allegory dictates the form of\npunishment; as when the hypocrites crawl in utter weariness under the\ncrushing weight of leaden garments, shaped like monkish cloaks and\ncowls, and all covered with shining gold outside.[35] Or when the\nflatterers and sycophants wallow in filth which fitly symbolises their\nfoul life on earth.[36]\n\nIt is probable that some special significance and appropriateness might\nbe traced in almost all the forms of punishment in Dante's Hell, though\nit is not always obvious. But one thing at least is obvious: the\nuniform congruousness of the impression which the physical and moral\nfactors of each description combine to produce. In fact, the Inferno is\nan account of 'man, as deserving ill by the exercise of his free will,'\nin which all the external surroundings are brought into precise accord\nwith the central conception. The tortures are only the background; and\nas in the picture of a great artist, whether we can trace any special\nsignificance and appropriateness in the background or not, we always\nfeel that it supports the true subject of the picture and never\noverpowers it, so it is here. Man as misusing his free will. This is\nthe real subject of the Inferno. All else is accessory and subordinate.\n\nBut if this be so, we should expect to find an endless variety and\ngradation, alike of guilt and punishment, as we pass through the\ncircles of Hell. And so we do. At one moment indignation and reproof\nare all swallowed up in pity, and the suffering of the exiled soul only\nserves to quicken an infinite compassion in our hearts, a compassion\nnot so much for the punishment of sin as for sin itself with its woeful\nloss and waste of the blessings and the holiness of life. At another\nmoment we are brought face to face with a wretch whose tortures only\nserve to throw his vileness into sharper relief; and when we think of\nhim and of his deeds, of him and of his victims, we can understand\nthose awful words of Virgil's when Dante weeps, 'Art thou too like the\nother fools? The death of pity is true pity here.'[37] Infinite pity\nwould indeed embrace the most abandoned, but it is only weak and\nmisdirected pity that wakes or slumbers at the dictate of mere\nsuffering.\n\nAnd as there is infinite variety of guilt and woe, so is there infinite\nvariety of character in Dante's Hell. Though the poet condemns with\nsternest impartiality all who have died in unrepented sin, yet he\nrecognises and honours the moral distinctions amongst them. What a\ndifference, for instance, between the wild blaspheming robber Vanni\nFucci,[38] and the defiant Capaneus,[39] a prototype of Milton's Satan,\nthe one incited by the bestial rage of reckless self-abandonment, the\nother by the proud self-reliance of a spirit that eternity cannot\nbreak--alike in their defiance of the Almighty, but how widely severed\nin the sources whence it springs.\n\nLook again where Jason strides. The wrongs he did Medea and Hypsipyle\nhave condemned him to the fierce lash under which his base companions\nshriek and fly; but he, still kingly in his mien, without a tear or cry\nbears his eternal pain.[40]\n\nSee Farinata, the great Florentine--in his ever burning tomb he stands\nerect and proud, 'as holding Hell in great disdain;' tortured less by\nthe flames than by the thought that the faction he opposed is now\ntriumphant in his city; proud, even in Hell, to remember how once he\nstood alone between his country and destruction.[41]\n\nSee again where Pietro delle Vigne, in the ghastly forest of suicides,\nlongs with a passionate longing that his fidelity at that time when he\n'held both the keys of the great Frederick's heart' should be\nvindicated upon earth from the unjust calumnies that drove him to\nself-slaughter.[42]\n\nAnd see where statesmen and soldiers of Florence, themselves condemned\nfor foul and unrepented sin, still love the city in which they lived,\nstill long to hear some good of her. As the flakes of fire fall 'like\nsnow upon a windless day' on their defenceless bodies, see with what\ndismay they gaze into one another's eyes when Dante brings ill news to\nthem of Florence.[43]\n\nIn a word, the souls in Hell are what they were on earth, no better and\nno worse. This is the key-note to the comprehension of the poem. No\nchange has taken place; none are made rebels to God's will, and none\nare brought into submission to it, by their punishment; but all are as\nthey were. Even amongst the vilest there is only the rejection of a\nthin disguise, no real increase of shamelessness. Many souls desire to\nescape notice and to conceal their crimes, just as they would have done\non earth; many condemn their evil deeds and are ashamed of them, just\nas they would have been on earth; but there is no change of character,\nno infusion of a new spirit either for good or ill; with all their\nvariety and complexity of character, the unrepentant sinners wake in\nHell as they would wake on earth our mingled pity and horror, our\nmingled loathing and admiration. Man as misusing his free will, in all\nthe scope and variety of the infinite theme, is the subject of the\npoem.\n\nAnd this brings us to another consideration: the eternity of Dante's\nHell. Those who know no other line of Dante, know the last verse of the\ninscription upon the gate of Hell: 'All hope relinquish, ye that enter\nhere.' The whole inscription is as follows: 'Through me the way lies to\nthe doleful city; through me the way lies to eternal pain; through me\nthe way lies 'mongst the people lost. 'Twas justice moved my Lofty\nMaker; Divine Power made me, Wisdom Supreme and Primal Love. Before me\nwere no things created, save things eternal; and I, too, last eternal.\nAll hope relinquish, ye that enter here.'[44]\n\nThe gates of Hell reared by the Primal Love! If we believe in the\neternity of sin and evil, the eternity of suffering and punishment\nfollows of necessity. To be able to acquiesce in the one, but to shrink\nfrom the thought of the other, is sheer weakness. The eternity and\nhopelessness of Dante's Hell are the necessary corollaries of the\nimpenitence of his sinners. To his mind wisdom and love cannot exist\nwithout justice, and justice demands that eternal ill-desert shall reap\neternal woe.\n\nBut how could one who so well knew what an eternal Hell of sin and\nsuffering meant, believe it to be founded on eternal love? Why did not\nDante's heart in the very strength of that eternal love rebel against\nthe hideous belief in eternal sin and punishment? I cannot answer the\nquestion I have asked. Dante believed in the Church, believed in the\ntheology she taught, and could not have been what he was had he not\ndone so. Had he rejected any of the cardinal beliefs of the\nChristianity of his age and rebelled against the Church, he might have\nbeen the herald of future reformations, but he could never have been\nthe index and interpreter to remotest generations of that mediaeval\nCatholic religion of which his poem is the very soul.\n\nMeanwhile note this, that if ever man realised the awful mystery and\ncontradiction involved in the conception of a good God condemning the\nvirtuous heathen to eternal exile, that man was Dante. If ever heart\nof man was weighed down beneath the load of pity for the damned, that\nheart was Dante's. The virtuous heathen he places in the first round of\nHell; here 'no plaint is to be heard except of sighs, which make the\neternal air to tremble;' here, with no other torture than the death of\nhope without the death of longing, they live in neither joy nor sorrow,\neternal exiles from the realms of bliss.[45]\n\nDante, as we shall see hereafter, longed with a passionate thirsty\nlonging to know how the Divine justice could thus condemn the innocent.\nBut his thirst was never slaked. It was and remained an utter mystery\nto him; and there are few passages of deeper pathos than those in which\nhe remembers that his beloved and honoured guide and master, even\nVirgil, the very type of human wisdom and excellence, was himself\namongst these outcasts.[46]\n\nAgain and again, as we pass with Dante through the circles of Hell, we\nfeel that his yearning pity for the lost, racking his very soul and\nflinging him senseless to the ground for misery, shows an awakening\nspirit which could not long exist in human hearts without teaching them\nthat God's redeeming pity is greater and more patient than their own.\nSo, too, when Francesca and Paolo, touched by Dante's pitying sympathy,\nexclaim, 'Oh, thou gracious being, if we were dear to God, how would we\npray for thee!'[47] who can help feeling that Dante was not far from\nthe thought that all souls are dear to God?\n\nMeanwhile, how strong that faith which could lift up all this weight of\nmystery and woe, and still believe in the Highest Wisdom and the Primal\nLove! Only the man who knew the holiness of human life to the full as\nwell as he knew its infamy, only the man who had seen Purgatory and\nHeaven, and who had actually felt the love of God, could know that with\nall its mystery and misery the universe was made not only by the Divine\nPower, but by the Supreme Wisdom and the Primal Love, could weave this\nTrinity of Power, Wisdom, Love, into the Unity of the all-sustaining\nGod, who made both Heaven and Hell.\n\nAnd we still have to face the same insoluble mystery. The darker shade\nis indeed lifted from the picture upon which we gaze; we have no\neternal Hell, no eternity of sin, to reckon with; but to us too comes\nthe question, 'Can the world with all its sin and misery be built\nindeed upon the Primal Love?' And our answer too must be the answer not\nof knowledge but of faith. Only by making ourselves God's fellow\nworkers till we _feel_ that the Divine Power and the Primal Love are\none, can we gain a faith that will sustain the mystery it cannot solve.\nAlas! how often our weaker faith fails in its lighter task, how often\ndo we speak of sin and misery as though they were discoveries of\nyesterday that had brought new trials to our faith, unknown before; how\noften do we feel it hard to say even of earth what Dante in the might\nof his unshaken faith could say of Hell itself--that it is made by\nPower, Wisdom, Love!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBut perhaps we have dwelt too long already on this topic, and in any\ncase we must now hasten on. Dante's Hell, as we have seen, represents\nsinful and impenitent humanity with all its fitting surroundings and\naccessories, cut off from everything that can distract the attention,\nconfuse the moral impression, or alleviate its appalling strength. And\nas the magic power of his words, with the absolute sincerity and\nclearness of his own conceptions, forces us to realise the details of\nhis vision as if we had trodden every step of the way with him, this\nresult follows amongst others: that we realise, with a vividness that\ncan never again grow dim, an existence without any one of those sweet\nsurroundings and embellishments of human life which seem the fit\nsupport and reflection of purity and love.\n\nWe have been in a land where none of the fair sounds or sights of\nnature have access, no flowers, no stars, no light, and if there are\nstreams and hills there they are hideously transformed into instruments\nand emblems not of beauty but of horror. We are made to realise all\nthis, and to feel that it is absolutely and eternally fitting as the\nabode of sin and of impenitence. And when once this association has\nbeen stamped upon our minds, the beauty and the sweetness of the world\nin which we live gain a new meaning for us. They become the standing\nprotest of all that is round us against every selfish, every sinful\nthought or deed; the standing appeal to us to bring our souls into\nsweet harmony with their surroundings, since God in His mercy brings\nnot their surroundings into ghastly harmony with them.\n\nWhen we have been with the poor wretch, deep down in Hell, who gasps in\nhis burning fever for 'the rivulets that from the green slopes of\nCasentino drop down into the Arno, freshening the soft, cool channels,\nwhere they glide,'[48] and have realised that in that land there are\nnot and ought not to be the cooling streams and verdant slopes of\nearth; we can never again enjoy the sweetness and the peace of nature\nwithout our hearts being consciously or unconsciously purified, without\nevery evil thing in our lives feeling the rebuke.\n\nWhen we have known what it is to be in a starless land, and have felt\nhow strange and incongruous the fair sights of Heaven would be, have\nfelt that they would have no place or meaning there, have felt that\ncheerless gloom alone befits the souls enveloped there, then when we\nleave the dreary realms, and once more gaze upon the heavens by night\nand day, they are more to us than they have ever been before, they are\nindeed what Dante so often calls them, using the language of the\nfalconers, the _lure_ by which God summons back our wayward souls from\nvain and mean pursuits.\n\nLook, again, upon this fearful picture. Dante and Virgil come to a\nblack and muddy lake in which the passionate tear and smite one another\nin bestial rage; and all over its surface are bubbles rising up. They\ncome from the cries of the morose and sullen ones 'who are fixed in the\nslime at the bottom of the lake. They cry: \"Gloomy we were in the sweet\nair that the sun gladdens, bearing in our hearts the smoke of\nsullenness; now we are gloomy here in the black slime\"--such is the\nstrain that gurgles in their throats, but cannot find full\nutterance.'[49] Who that has seen those bubbles rise upon the lake can\never suffer himself again to cherish sullenness within his heart\nwithout feeling at the very instant the rebuke of the 'sweet air that\nthe sun gladdens,' and thinking of that gurgling strain of misery?\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAnother of the lessons taught by the Inferno is, that no plea, however\nmoving, can avail the sinner, or take away the sinfulness of sin, that\nno position can place him above punishment, that no authority can\nshield him from it.\n\nThe guilty love of Francesca and Paolo, so strong, so deathless in that\nit was love, has sunk them to Hell instead of raising them to Heaven in\nthat it was guilty. Stronger to make them one than Hell to sever them,\nit is powerless to redeem the sin to which it has allied itself, and\nits tenderness has but swelled the eternal anguish of those whom it\nstill joins together, because it has suffered the sanctuary of life,\nwhich love is set to guard, to be polluted and betrayed. Sung in those\nstrains of deathless tenderness and pity where 'tears seem to drop from\nthe very words,' the story of this guilty love reveals the fatalest of\nall mischoice, and tells us that no passion, however wild in its\nintensity, however innocent in its beginnings, however unpremeditated\nin its lawless outburst, however overmastering in its pleas, however\nloyal to itself in time and in eternity, may dare to raise itself above\nthe laws of God and man, or claim immunity from its wretched\nconsequences for those who are its slaves. How infinite the pity and\nthe waste, how irreparable the loss, when the love that might have been\nan ornament to Heaven, adds to the unmeasured guilt and anguish of Hell\na wail of more piercing sorrow than rings through all its lower depths!\n\nNor could any height of place claim exemption from the moral law. Dante\nwas a Catholic, and his reverence for the Papal Chair was deep. But\nagainst the faithless Popes he cherished a fiery indignation\nproportioned to his high estimate of the sacred office they abused. In\none of the most fearful passages of the Inferno he describes, in terms\nthat gain a terrible significance from one of the forms of criminal\nexecution practised in his day, how he stood by a round hole in one of\nthe circles of Hell, in which Pope Nicholas III. was thrust head\nforemost--stood like the confessor hearing the assassin's final words,\nand heard the guilty story of Pope Nicholas.[50]\n\nIt is characteristic of Dante that he tells us here, as if quite\nincidentally, that these holes were about the size of the baptising\nstands or fonts in the Church of San Giovanni, 'one of which,' says he,\n'I broke not many years ago to save one who was drowning in it. Let\nthis suffice to disabuse all men.' Evidently he had been taxed with\nsacrilege for saving the life of the drowning child at the expense of\nthe sacred vessel, and it can hardly be an accident that he recalls\nthis circumstance in the Hell of the sacrilegious Popes and Churchmen.\nThese men, who had despised their sacred trust and turned it to basest\ntrafficking, were the representatives of that hard system of soulless\nofficialism that would pollute the holiest functions of the Church,\nwhile reverencing with superstitious scruple their outward symbols and\ninstruments.\n\nAnd if the Papal office could not rescue the sinner that held it,\nneither could the Papal authority shield the sins of others. It is said\nthat Catholics have not the keeping of their own consciences. Dante at\nleast thought they had. In the Hell of fraudulent counsellors, wrapped\nin a sheet of eternal flame one comes to him and cries, 'Grudge not to\nstay and speak with me a while. Behold, I grudge it not, although I\nburn.' It is Guido da Montefeltro, whose fame in council and in war had\ngone forth to the ends of the earth. All wiles and covert ways he knew,\nand there had ever been more of the fox than of the lion in him. But\nwhen he saw himself arriving at that age when every man should lower\nsails and gather in his ropes, then did he repent of all that once had\npleased him, and girding him with the cord of St. Francis he became a\nmonk. Alas! his penitence would have availed him well but for the\nPrince of the new Pharisees, Pope Boniface VIII., who was waging war\nwith Christians that should have been his friends, hard by the Lateran.\n'He demanded counsel of me,' continues Guido, 'but I kept silence, for\nhis words seemed drunken. Then he said to me, \"Let not thy heart\nmisdoubt: henceforth do I absolve thee, but do thou teach me so to act\nthat I may cast Prenestina to the ground. Heaven I can shut and open,\nas thou knowest.\" ... Then the weighty arguments impelled me to think\nsilence worse than speech; and so I said, \"Father, since thou dost\ncleanse me from that guilt wherein I now must fall, long promise and\nperformance short will make thee triumph in thy lofty seat.\" Then when\nI died St. Francis came for me, but one of the black cherubim said to\nhim: \"Do me no wrong, nor take thou him away. He must come down amongst\nmy menials, e'en for the fraudulent advice he gave, since when I have\nkept close upon his hair. He who repents not cannot be absolved, nor\ncan one will the same thing he repents, the contradiction not\npermitting it.\" Ah wretched me! how did I shudder then, for he laid\nhold of me, and with the cry, \"Haply thou knew'st not I was a\nlogician?\" bore me to judgment.'[51]\n\nWho can fail to recognise the utter truth of Dante's teaching here?\nWhat can stand between a man's own conscience and his duty? Though the\nvery symbol and mouthpiece of the collective wisdom and piety of\nChristendom should hold the shield of authority before the culprit, yet\nit cannot ward off the judgment for one single deed done in violation\nof personal moral conviction. When once we have realised the meaning of\nthis awful passage, how can we ever urge again as an excuse for\nunfaithfulness to our own consciences, that the assurance of those we\nloved and reverenced overcame our scruples? Here as everywhere Dante\nstrips sin of every specious and distracting circumstance, and shows it\nto us where it ought to be--in Hell.\n\nContrast with the scene we have just looked upon the companion picture\nfrom the Purgatory; where Buonconte di Montefeltro tells how he fled on\nfoot from the battle-field of Campaldino, his throat pierced with a\nmortal wound ensanguining the earth. Where Archiano falls into the Arno\nthere darkness came upon him, and he fell crossing his arms upon his\nbreast and calling on the name of Mary with his last breath. 'Then,' he\ncontinues, 'God's angel came and took me, and Hell's angel shrieked, \"O\nthou of Heaven, wherefore dost thou rob me? Thou bear'st with thee the\neternal part of him, all for one wretched tear which saves it from me.\nBut with the other part of him I'll deal in other fashion.\"' Upon which\nthe infuriated demon swells the torrent with rain, sweeps the\nwarrior's body from the bank, dashes away the hateful cross into which\nits arms are folded, and in impotent rage rolls it along the river bed\nand buries it in slime so that men never see it more; but the soul is\nmeanwhile saved.[52]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nHere we must pause. I have made no attempt to give a systematic account\nof the Inferno, still less to select the finest passages from it. I\nhave only tried to interpret some of the leading thoughts which run\nthrough it, some of the deep lessons which it can hardly fail to teach\nthe reader.\n\nLike all great works, the Inferno should be studied both in detail and\nas a whole in order to be rightly understood; and when we understand\nit, even partially, when we have been with Dante down through all the\ncircles to that central lake of ice in which all humanity seems frozen\nout of the base traitors who showed no humanity on earth, when we have\nfaced the icy breath of the eternal air winnowed by Satan's wings, and\nhave been numbed to every thought and feeling except one--one which\nhas been burned and frozen into our hearts through all those rounds of\nshame and woe--the thought of the pity, the misery, the hatefulness of\nsin; then, but then only, we shall be ready to understand the\nPurgatory, shall know something of what the last lines of the Inferno\nmeant to Dante: 'We mounted up, he first and second I, until through a\nround opening I saw some of those beauteous things that Heaven bears;\nand thence we issued forth again to see the stars.'[53]\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 31: Compare pp. 21-23.]\n\n[Footnote 32: Epistola xi. Sec. 8.]\n\n[Footnote 33: _Inferno_, ii. 1-6.]\n\n[Footnote 34: _Inferno_, xxviii.]\n\n[Footnote 35: _Ibid._ xxiii. 58 sqq.]\n\n[Footnote 36: _Ibid._ xviii. 103-136.]\n\n[Footnote 37: _Inferno_, xx. 27, 28: 'Qui vive la pieta quand' e ben\nmorta.' The double force of pieta, 'pi[e]ty,' is lost in the\ntranslation.]\n\n[Footnote 38: _Ibid._ xxiv. 112-xxv. 9 &c.]\n\n[Footnote 39: _Ibid._ xiv. 43-66.]\n\n[Footnote 40: _Inferno_, xviii. 82-96.]\n\n[Footnote 41: _Ibid._ x. 22-93.]\n\n[Footnote 42: _Ibid._ xiii. 55-78.]\n\n[Footnote 43: _Inferno_, xvi. 64-85.]\n\n[Footnote 44: _Inferno_, iii. 1-9.]\n\n[Footnote 45: _Inferno_, iv. 23-45, 84.]\n\n[Footnote 46: Compare e.g. _Purgatorio_, iii. 34-45, xxii. 67-73.]\n\n[Footnote 47: _Inferno_, v. 88, 91, 92.]\n\n[Footnote 48: _Inferno_, xxx. 64-67.]\n\n[Footnote 49: _Inferno_, vii. 117-126.]\n\n[Footnote 50: _Inferno_, xix.]\n\n[Footnote 51: _Inferno_, xxvii.]\n\n[Footnote 52: _Purgatorio_, v. 85-129.]\n\n[Footnote 53: _Inferno_, xxxiv. 136-139.]\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nPURGATORY\n\n\n'Leaving behind her that so cruel sea, the bark of poesy now spreads\nher sails to speed o'er happier waters; and I sing of that mid kingdom\nwhere the soul of man is freed from stain, till worthy to ascend to\nHeaven.'[54] Such are the opening words of Dante's Purgatory, and they\ndrop like balm upon our seared and wounded hearts when we have escaped\nfrom the dread abode of eternal ill-desert.\n\n'Man, atoning for the misuse of his free will,' may be regarded as the\nsubject of this poem. And it brings it in a sense nearer to us than\neither the Hell or the Paradise. Perhaps it ought not to surprise us\nthat the Purgatory has not by any means taken such a hold of the\ngeneral imagination as the Hell, and that its machinery and incidents\nare therefore far less widely known; for the power of the Purgatory\ndoes not overwhelm us like that of the Inferno whether we understand or\nno. There are passages indeed in the poem which take the reader by\nstorm and force themselves upon his memory, but as a whole it must be\nfelt in its deeper spiritual meaning to be felt at all. Its gentleness\nis ultimately as strong as the relentless might of the Hell, but it\nworks more slowly and takes time to sink into our hearts and diffuse\nits influence there. Nor again need we be surprised that the inner\ncircle of Dante students often concentrate their fullest attention and\nadmiration upon the Paradise, for it is the Paradise in which the poet\nis most absolutely unique and unapproached, and in it his admirers\nrightly find the supreme expression of his spirit.\n\nAnd yet there is much in the Purgatory that seems to render it\npeculiarly fitted to support our spiritual life and help us in our\ndaily conflict, much which we might reasonably have expected would give\nits images and allegories a permanent place in the devout heart of\nChristendom; for, as already hinted, it is nearer to us in our\nstruggles and imperfections, in our aspirations and our conscious\nunworthiness, nearer to us in our love of purity and our knowledge that\nour own hearts are stained with sin, in our desire for the fullness of\nGod's light, and our knowledge that we are not yet worthy or ready to\nreceive it; it is nearer to us in its piercing appeals, driven home to\nthe moral experience of every day and hour, nearer to us in its mingled\nlonging and resignation, in its mingled consolations and sufferings,\nnearer to us in its deep unrest of unattained but unrelinquished\nideals, than either the Hell in its ghastly harmony of impenitence and\nsuffering, or the Paradise in its ineffable fruition.\n\nMoreover, the allegorical appropriateness of the various punishments is\nfar more obvious and simple, and the spiritual significance of the\nwhole machinery clearer and more direct, in the Purgatory than in the\nHell. In a word, the Purgatory is more obviously though not more truly,\nmore directly though not more profoundly, moral and spiritual in its\npurport than the Hell.\n\nDante addresses some of the sufferers on the fifth circle of Purgatory\nas 'chosen ones of God whose pains are soothed by justice and by\nhope.'[55] And in truth the spirits in Purgatory are already utterly\nseparated from their sins in heart and purpose, are already chosen ones\nof God. They are deeply sensible of the justice of their punishment,\nand they are fed by the certain hope that at last, when purifying pain\nhas done its work, their past sins will no longer separate them from\nGod, they will not only be parted in sympathy and emotion from their\nown sinful past, but will be so cut off from it as no longer to feel it\nas their own, no longer to recognise it as a part of themselves, no\nlonger to be weighed down by it. Then they will rise away from it into\nGod's presence. 'Repenting and forgiving,' says one of them, 'we passed\nfrom life, at peace with God, who pierces our hearts with longing to\nsee Him.'[56]\n\nThe souls in Purgatory, then, are already transformed by the thirst for\nthe living water, already filled with the longing to see God, already\nat one with Him in will, already gladdened by the hope of entering into\nfull communion with Him. But they do not wish to go into His presence\nyet. The sense of shame and the sense of justice forbid it. They feel\nthat the unexpiated stains of former sin still cleave to them, making\nthem unfit for Heaven, and they love the purifying torments which are\nburning those stains away. In the topmost circle of Purgatory, amongst\nthe fierce flames from which Dante would have hurled himself into\nmolten glass for coolness, he sees souls whose cheeks flush at the\nmemory of their sin with a shame that adds a burning to the burning\nflame; whilst others, clustering at the edge that they may speak with\nhim, yet take good heed to keep within the flame, lest for one moment\nthey should have respite from the fierce pain which is purging away\ntheir sins and drawing them nearer to their desire.[57]\n\nSweet hymns of praise and supplication are the fitting solace of this\npurifying pain; and as Dante passes through the first of the narrow\nascents that lead from circle to circle of Purgatory, he may well\ncontrast this place of torment with the one that he has left, may well\nexclaim, 'Ah me! how diverse are these straits from those of Hell!'[58]\n\nPenitence, humility, and peace--though not the highest or the fullest\npeace--are the key-notes of the Purgatory.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nWhen Dante issued from the deadly shades of Hell, his cheeks all\nstained with tears, his eyes and heart heavy with woe, his whole frame\nspent with weariness and agony, the sweet blue heavens stretched above\nhim, and his eyes, that for so long had gazed on nought but horror,\nrested in their peaceful depths; Venus, the morning star, brightened\nthe east, and the Southern Cross poured its splendour over the heavens;\ndaybreak was at hand, and the poets were at the foot of the mount of\nPurgatory.\n\nThe sea rippled against the mountain, and reeds, the emblems of\nhumility, ever yielding to the wave that swept them, clustered round\nthe shore. Dante and Virgil went down to the margin, and there the\nliving poet bathed away the stains and tears of Hell.\n\nEre long the waves were skimmed by a light bark, a radiant angel\nstanding in the prow, bearing the souls of the redeemed, who must yet\nbe purified, singing the psalm, 'When Israel came out of Egypt.'\nAmongst the shades thus borne to the mount of purification was Dante's\nfriend Casella, the singer and musician. How often had his voice lulled\nall Dante's cares to sleep, and 'quieted all his desires,' and now it\nseemed as though he were come to bring his troubled heart to peace, to\nrest him in his utter weariness of body and of soul.\n\nSo, at his entreaty, Casella raised his voice, and all the shades\ngathered entranced around him as he sang a noble canzone composed by\nDante himself in years gone by.[59] The sweet sound never ceased to\necho in the poet's memory--not even the ineffable harmonies of Paradise\ndrowned those first strains of peace that soothed him after his awful\ntoil.\n\nBut Purgatory is no place of rest, and Casella's song was rudely\ninterrupted by the guardian of the place, who cried aloud, 'How now, ye\nsluggard souls! What negligence and what delay is here? Speed to the\nmountain! Rid you of the crust that lets not God be manifest to you!'\nTo purge away our sins is not to rest; and no longing for repose must\ntempt us to delay even for a moment.[60]\n\nDante draws no flattering picture of the ease of self-purification;\nHell itself hardly gives us such a sense of utter weariness as the\nfirst ascent of the mount of Purgatory. Virgil is on in front, and\nDante cries out, altogether spent, 'Oh, my sweet father, turn thou and\nbehold how I am left alone unless thou stay;' but Virgil still urges\nhim on, and after a time comforts him with the assurance that though\nthe mountain is so hard to scale at first, yet the higher a man climbs\nthe easier the ascent becomes, till at last it is so sweet and easy to\nhim that he rises without effort as a boat drops down the stream: then\nhe may know that the end of his long journey has come, that the weight\nof sin is cast off, that his soul obeys its own pure nature, and rises\nunencumbered to its God.[61]\n\nThe lower portion of the mountain forms a kind of ante-Purgatory,\nwhere the souls in weary exile wait for admission to the purifying pain\nfor which they long. Here those who have delayed their penitence till\nthe end of life atone for their wilful alienation by an equal term of\nforced delay ere they may enter the blessed suffering of Purgatory.\nHere those who have lived in contumacy against the Church expiate their\noffences by a thirty-fold exile in the ante-Purgatory; but as we saw in\nHell that Papal absolution will not shield the sinful soul, so we find\nin Purgatory that the Papal malediction, the thunders of\nexcommunication itself, cannot permanently part the repentant soul from\nthe forgiving God.[62]\n\nWhen this first exile is at an end, and the lower mountain scaled, the\ngate of the true Purgatory is reached. Three steps lead up to it, 'the\nfirst of marble white, so polished and so smooth that in it man beholds\nhim as he is.' This represents that transparent simplicity and\nsincerity of purpose that, throwing off all self-delusion, sees itself\nas it is, and is the first step towards true penitence. 'The second\nstep, darker than purpled black, of rough and calcined stone, all rent\nthrough length and breadth,' represents the contrite heart of true\naffliction for past sin. 'The third and crowning mass methought was\nporphyry, and flamed like the red blood fresh spouting from the vein.'\nThis is the glowing love which crowns the work of penitence, and gives\nthe earnest of a new and purer life. Above these steps an angel stands\nto whom Peter gave the keys--the silver key of knowledge and the golden\nkey of authority--bidding him open to the penitent, and err rather\ntowards freedom than towards over-sternness.[63]\n\nWithin the gate of Purgatory rise the seven terraces where sin is\npurged. On the three lower ledges man atones for that perverse and\nill-directed love which seeks another's ill--for love of some sort is\nthe one sole motive of all action, good or bad.[64] In the lowest\ncircle the pride that rejoices in its own superiority, and therefore in\nthe inferiority of others, is purged and expiated. 'As to support a\nceiling or a roof,' says Dante, 'one sees a figure bracket-wise with\nknees bent up against it bosom, till the imaged strain begets real\nmisery in him who sees, so I beheld these shades when close I scanned\nthem. True it is that less or greater burdens cramped each one or less\nor more, yet he whose mien had most of patience, wailing seemed to say,\n\"I can no more!\"'[65]\n\nIn the second circle the blind sin of envy is expiated. Here the\neyelids of the envious are ruthlessly pierced and closed by the stitch\nof an iron wire, and through the horrid suture gush forth tears of\npenitence that bathe the sinner's cheeks. 'Here shall my eyes be\nclosed,' says Dante, half in shame at seeing those who saw him not,\n'here shall my eyes be closed, though open now--but not for long. Far\nmore I dread the pain of those below; for even now methinks I bend\nbeneath the load.'[66]\n\nIn the third circle the passionate wend their way through a blinding,\nstinging smoke, darker than Hell; but all are one in heart, and join\nin sweet accord of strain and measure singing the 'Agnus Dei.'\n\nIn these three lower circles is expiated the perverse love that, in\npride, in envy, or in passion, seeks another's ill.\n\nRound the fourth or central ledge hurry in ceaseless flight the\nlaggards whose feeble love of God, though not perverse, was yet\ninadequate.\n\nThen on the succeeding circles are punished those whose sin was\nexcessive and ill-regulated love of earthly things.\n\nThere in the fifth round the avaricious and the prodigal, who bent\ntheir thoughts alike to the gross things of earth and lost all power of\ngood, lie with their faces in the dust and their backs turned to\nheaven, pinioned and helpless.\n\nIn the sixth circle the gluttonous in lean and ghastly hunger gaze from\nhollow eyes 'like rings without the gems,' upon the fruit they may not\ntaste.[67]\n\nAnd lastly, in the seventh circle the sin of inchastity is purged, in\nflames as fierce as its own reckless passion.\n\nThrough all of these circles to which its life on earth has rendered\nit liable, the soul must pass, in pain but not in misery; at perfect\npeace with God, loving the pain that makes it fit to rise into His\npresence, longing for that more perfect union, but not desiring it as\nyet because still knowing itself unworthy.\n\nAt last the moment comes when this shrinking from God's presence, this\nclinging to the pain of Purgatory, has its end. The desire to rise up\nsurprises the repentant soul, and that desire is itself the proof that\nthe punishment is over, that the soul is ripe for Heaven. Then, as it\nascends, the whole mountain shakes from base to summit with the mighty\ncry of 'Gloria in excelsis!' raised by every soul in Purgatory as the\nransomed and emancipated spirit seeks its home.[68]\n\nThrough all these circles Dante is led by Virgil, and here as in Hell\nhe meets and converses with spirits of the departed. He displays the\nsame unrivalled power and the same relentless use of it, the same\npassionate indignation, the same yearning pity, which take the soul\ncaptive in the earlier poem. In the description of Corso Donati's\ncharger dragging his mangled body towards the gorge of Hell in ever\nfiercer flight; in the indignant protest against the factious spirit of\nItaly and the passionate appeal to the Empire; in the description of\nthe impotent rage of the fiend who is cheated by 'one wretched tear' of\nthe soul of Buonconte; in the scathing denunciations of the cities of\nthe Arno;[69] in these and in many another passage the poet of the\nPurgatory shows that he is still the poet of the Hell; but it is rather\nto the richness of the new thoughts and feelings than to the unabated\nvigour and passion of the old ones, that we naturally direct our\nattention in speaking of the Purgatory. And these we have by no means\nexhausted.\n\nWhen Dante first entered the gate of Purgatory he heard 'voices mingled\nwith sweet strains' chanting the Te Deum, and they raised in his heart\nsuch images as when we hear voices singing to the organ and 'partly\ncatch and partly miss the words.'[70] And this sweet music, only to\nfind its fullest and distinctest utterance in the Paradise, pervades\nalmost the whole of the Purgatory, filling it with a reposeful longing\nthat prepares for the fruition it does not give.\n\nThere is a tender and touching simplicity in the records of their\nearthly lives which the gentle souls in Purgatory give to our poet.\nTake as an example, the story of Pope Adrian V., whom Dante finds\namongst the avaricious: 'A month and little more I felt the weight with\nwhich the Papal mantle presses on his shoulders who would keep it from\nthe mire. All other burdens seem like feathers to it. Ah me! but late\nwas my conversion; yet when I became Rome's Shepherd then I saw the\nhollow cozenage of life; for my heart found no repose in that high\ndignity, and yonder life on earth gave it no room to aim yet higher;\nwherefore the love of this life rose within me. Till then was I a\nwretched soul severed from God, enslaved to avarice, for which, thou\nseest, I now bear the pain.'[71]\n\nMost touching too are the entreaties of the souls in Purgatory for the\nprayers of those on earth, or their confession that they have already\nbeen lifted up by them. 'Tell my Giovanna to cry for me where the\ninnocent are heard,' says Nino to Dante;[72] and when the poet meets\nhis friend Forese, who had been dead but five years, in the highest\ncircle but one of Purgatory, whereas he would have expected him still\nto be in exile at the mountain's base, he asks him to explain the\nreason why he is there, and Forese answers, 'It is my Nella's broken\nsobs that have brought me so soon to drink the sweet wormwood of\ntorment. Her devout prayers and sighs have drawn me from the place of\nlingering, and freed me from the lower circles. My little widow, whom I\ngreatly loved, is all the dearer and more pleasing to God because her\ngoodness stands alone amid surrounding vice.'[73]\n\nSurely it is a deep and holy truth, under whatever varying forms\nsucceeding ages may embody it, that the faithful love of a pure soul\ndoes more than any other earthly power to hasten the passage of the\npenitent through Purgatory. When under the load of self-reproach and\nshame that weighs down our souls, we dare not look up to Heaven, dare\nnot look into our own hearts, dare not meet God, then the faithful\nlove of a pure soul can raise us up and teach us not to despair of\nourselves, can lift us on the wings of its prayer, can waft us on the\nbreath of its sobs, swiftly through the purifying anguish into the\nblissful presence of God.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nA feature of special beauty in the Purgatory is formed by the\nallegorical or typical sculptures on the wall and floor of some of the\nterraces, by the voices of warning or encouragement that sweep round\nthe mountain, and by the visions that from time to time visit the poet\nhimself. Let one of these visions suffice. Dante is about to enter the\ncircles in which the inordinate love of earthly things, with all vain\nand vicious indulgence, is punished. 'In dream there came to me,' he\nsays, 'a woman with a stuttering tongue, and with distorted eyes, all\ntwisted on her feet, maimed in her hands, and sallow in her hue. I\ngazed at her, and as the sun comforts the chilled limbs by the night\noppressed, so did my look give ease unto her speech, and straightway\nrighted her in every limb, and with love's colours touched her haggard\nface. And when her speech was liberated thus, she sang so sweetly it\nwere dire pain to wrest attention from her. \"I,\" she sang, \"am that\nsweet siren who lead astray the sailors in mid sea, so full am I of\nsweetness to the ear. 'Twas I that drew Ulysses from his way with\nlonging for my song; and he on whom the custom of my voice has grown,\nfull rarely leaves me, so do I content him.\"' In the end this false\nsiren is exposed in all her foulness, and Dante turns from her in\nloathing.[74]\n\nThroughout Purgatory Dante is still led and instructed by Virgil. I\nthink there is nothing in the whole Comedy so pathetic as the passages\nin which the fate of Virgil, to be cut off for ever from the light of\nGod, is contrasted with the hope of the souls in Purgatory. The\nsweetness and beauty of Virgil's character as conceived by Dante grow\nsteadily upon us throughout this poem, until they make the\ncontemplation of his fate and the patient sadness with which he speaks\nof it more heartrending than anything that we have heard or seen in\nHell. After this we hardly need to hear from Dante the direct\nexpression he subsequently gives of his passionate thirst to know the\nmeaning of so mysterious a decree as that which barred Heaven against\nthe unbaptised.\n\nIn Purgatory, Virgil and Dante meet the emancipated soul of the Roman\npoet Statius, freed at last after many centuries of purifying pain, and\nready now to ascend to Heaven. Virgil asks him how he became a\nChristian, and Statius refers him to his own words in one of the\nEclogues, regarded in those days as containing a prophecy of Christ.\n'Thou,' says Statius, 'didst first guide me to Parnassus to drink in\nits grottoes, and afterwards thou first didst light me unto God. When\nthou didst sing, \"The season is renewed, justice returns, and the first\nage of man, and a new progeny descends from Heaven,\" thou wast as one\nwho, marching through the darkness of the night, carries the light\nbehind him, aiding not himself, but teaching those who follow him the\nway. Through thee was I a poet, and through thee a Christian.' Not a\nshade of envy, not a thought of resentment or rebellion, passes over\nVirgil's heart as he hears that while saving others he could not save\nhimself.[75]\n\nBut now, without dwelling further on the episodes of the poem, we must\nhasten to consider the most beautiful and profoundest of its closing\nscenes.\n\nUnder Virgil's guidance Dante had traversed all the successive circles\nof the mount of Purgatory. He stood at its summit, in the earthly\nParadise, the Garden of Eden which Eve had lost. There amid fairest\nsights and sounds he was to meet the glorified Beatrice, and she was to\nbe his guide in Heaven as Virgil had been his guide in Hell and\nPurgatory.\n\nIn any degree to understand what follows we must try to realise the\nintimate blending of lofty abstract conceptions and passionate personal\nemotions and reminiscences in Dante's thoughts of Beatrice.\n\nThis sweet and gentle type of womanhood, round whose earthly life the\ngenius and devotion of Dante have twined a wreath of the tenderest\npoetry, the most romantic love, that ever rose from heart of man, had\nbeen to him in life and death the vehicle and messenger of God's\nhighest grace. Round her memory clustered all the noblest purposes and\npurest motives of his life, and in her spirit seemed to be reflected\nthe divinest truth, the loftiest wisdom, that the human soul could\ncomprehend. And so, making her objectively and in the scheme of the\nuniverse what she had really been and was to him subjectively, he came\nto regard her as the symbol of Divine philosophy as Virgil was the\nsymbol of human virtue and wisdom.\n\nTouched by the glow of an ideal love, Dante had reached a deeper\nknowledge, a fuller grace, than the wisdom of this world could teach or\ngain. The doctors of the Church, the sweet singers, the mighty heroes,\nthe profound philosophers, who had instructed and supported him, had\nnone of them touched his life so deeply, had none of them led him so\nfar into the secret place of truth, had none of them brought him so\nnear to God, as that sweet child, that lovely maid, that pure woman,\nwho had given him his first and noblest ideal.\n\nNow to Dante and to his age it was far from unnatural to erect concrete\nhuman beings into abstract types or personifications. Leah and Rachel\nare the active and the contemplative life respectively. Virgil, we have\nseen, is human philosophy. Cato of Utica represents the triumph over\nthe carnal nature and the passions. And it is not only the Old\nTestament and classical antiquity that furnish these types. The\ncelebrated Countess Matilda, who lived only about two centuries before\nDante himself, becomes in his poem, according to the generally received\ninterpretation, one of the attributes of God personified. And so\nBeatrice became the personification of that heavenly wisdom, that true\nknowledge of God, of which she had been the vehicle to Dante.\n\nBut to the poet and to the age in which he lived, it was impossible to\nseparate this heavenly wisdom in its simple, spiritual essence, from\nthe form which its exposition had received at the hands of the great\nteachers of the Church. To them true spiritual wisdom, personal\nexperience and knowledge of God, were inseparable from _theology_. The\ntwo united in the conception of Divine philosophy. Thus by a strange\nbut intelligible gradation Dante blended in his conception of Beatrice\ntwo elements which seem to us the very extreme of incompatibility. She\nis in the first place the personification of scholastic theology, with\nall its subtle intricacy of pedantic method; she is in the second place\nthe maiden to whom Dante sang his songs of love in Florence, and whose\nearly death he wept disconsolate. And in the closing scenes of the\nPurgatory these two conceptions are more intimately blended, perhaps,\nthan anywhere else in Dante's writings.\n\nAfter wandering, as it were, in the forest of a bewildered life, the\npoet is led through Hell and Purgatory until he stands face to face at\nlast with his own purest and loftiest ideal; and the fierceness of his\nown self-accusation when thus confronted with Beatrice he expresses\nunder the form of reproaches which he lays upon _her_ lips, but which\nwe must retranslate into the reproachful utterances of his own tortured\nheart, if we are to retain our gentle thoughts of Beatrice.\n\nWe need not dwell even for a moment on the gorgeous pageantry with\nwhich Dante introduces and surrounds Beatrice. Suffice it to say that\nshe comes in a mystic car, which represents the Church, surrounded by\nsaints and angels.\n\nNo sooner does Dante see her, although closely veiled, than the might\nof the old passion sweeps upon him, and like a child that flees in\nterror to its mother, so does he turn to Virgil with the cry: 'Not one\ndrop of blood but trembles in my veins! I recognise the tokens of the\nancient flame.' But Virgil is gone. Dante has no refuge from his own\noffended and reproachful ideal. As he bursts into lamentations at the\nloss of Virgil's companionship, Beatrice sternly calls him back:\n'Dante! weep not that Virgil has gone from thee. Thou hast a deeper\nwound for which to weep.'\n\nAs one who speaks, but holds back words more burning than he utters, so\nshe stood. A clear stream flowed between her and Dante, and as she\nbegan to renew her reproaches he cast down his eyes in shame upon the\nwater;--but there he saw himself! The angels sang a plaintive psalm,\nand Dante knew that they were pleading for him more clearly than if\nthey had used directer words. Then the agony of shame and penitence\nthat Beatrice's reproof had frozen in his bosom, as when the icy north\nwind freezes the snow amid the forests of the Apennine, was melted by\nthe angels' plea for him as snow by the breezes of the south, and\nburst from him in a convulsion of sobs and tears.\n\nHow was it possible that he should have gone so far astray, have been\nso false to the promise and the purpose of his early life, have abused\nhis own natural gifts and the superadded grace of heaven? How was it\npossible that he should have let all the richness of his life run wild?\nThat after Beatrice had for a time sustained him and led him in the\ntrue path with her sweet eyes, he should have turned away from her in\nHeaven whom he had so loved on earth? How could he have followed the\nfalse semblances of good that never hold their word? His visions and\nhis dreams of the ideal he was deserting had not sufficed, and so deep\nhad he sunk that nothing short of visiting the region of the damned\ncould save him from perdition. Why had he deserted his first purposes?\nWhat obstacle had baffled or appalled him? What new charm had those\nlower things of earth obtained to draw him to them? 'The false\nenticements of the present things,' he sobbed, 'had led his feet aside,\nsoon as her countenance was hid.' But should not the decay of that\nfair form have been itself the means of weaning him from things of\nearth, that he might ne'er again be cheated by their beauty or drawn\naside by them from the pursuit of heavenly wisdom and of heavenly love?\nWhen the fairest of all earthly things was mouldering in the dust,\nshould he not have freed himself from the entanglements of the less\nbeauteous things remaining?\n\nTo all these reproaches, urged by Beatrice, Dante had no reply. With\neyes rooted to the ground, filled with unutterable shame, like a child\nrepentant and confessing, longing to throw himself at his mother's\nfeet, but afraid to meet her glance while her lips still utter the\nreproof, so Dante stood. From time to time a few broken words, which\nneeded the eye more than the ear to interpret them, dropped from his\nlips like shafts from a bow that breaks with excess of strain as the\narrow is delivered.\n\nAt last Beatrice commanded him to look up. The wind uproots the oak\ntree with less resistance than Dante felt ere he could turn his\ndowncast face to hers; but when he saw her, transcending her former\nself more than her former self transcended others, his agony of\nself-reproach and penitence was more than he could bear, and he fell\nsenseless to the ground.[76]\n\nWhen he awoke he was already plunged in the waters of Lethe, which with\nthe companion stream of Eunoe would wash from his memory the shame and\nmisery of past unfaithfulness, would enable him, no longer crushed by\nself-reproach, to ascend with the divine wisdom and purity of his own\nideal into the higher realms.\n\nAnd here the Purgatory ends, the Paradise begins.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 54: _Purgatorio_, i. 1-6.]\n\n[Footnote 55: _Purgatorio_, xix. 76, 77.]\n\n[Footnote 56: _Ibid._ v. 55-57.]\n\n[Footnote 57: _Purgatorio_, xxvi. 13-15, 81; xxvii. 49-51.]\n\n[Footnote 58: _Purgatorio_, xii. 112, 113.]\n\n[Footnote 59: Canzone xv. 'Amor, che nella mente.' See also _Convito_,\ntrat. iii.]\n\n[Footnote 60: _Purgatorio_, i. ii.]\n\n[Footnote 61: _Ibid._ iv. 37-95.]\n\n[Footnote 62: _Purgatorio_, iii. 112-145, iv. 127-135.]\n\n[Footnote 63: _Purgatorio_, ix. 76-129.]\n\n[Footnote 64: For the general scheme of Purgatory, see _Purgatorio_,\nxvii. 91-139.]\n\n[Footnote 65: _Purgatorio_, x. 130-139.]\n\n[Footnote 66: _Ibid._ xiii. 73, 74, 133-138.]\n\n[Footnote 67: _Purgatorio_, xxiii. 31.]\n\n[Footnote 68: _Purgatorio_, xx. 124-151, xxi. 34-78.]\n\n[Footnote 69: _Purgatorio_, v. 85-129, vi. 76-151, xiv. 16-72, xxiv.\n82-87.]\n\n[Footnote 70: _Ibid._ ix. 139-145.]\n\n[Footnote 71: _Purgatorio_, xix. 103-114.]\n\n[Footnote 72: _Purgatorio_, viii. 71, 72.]\n\n[Footnote 73: _Ibid._ xxiii. 85-93.]\n\n[Footnote 74: _Purgatorio_, xix. 7-33.]\n\n[Footnote 75: _Purgatorio_, xxii. 55-73.]\n\n[Footnote 76: _Purgatorio_, xxx. 22--xxxi. 90.]\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nHEAVEN\n\n\nWhen Dante wrote the Paradise, he well knew that he was engaged in the\nsupreme effort of his life, to which all else had led up. He well knew\nthat he was engaged in no pastime, but with intensest concentration of\nmatured power was delivering such a message from God to man as few\nindeed had ever been privileged or burdened to receive. He well knew\nthat the words in which through long years of toil he had distilled the\nsweetness and the might of his vision were immortal, that to latest\nages they would bear strength and purity of life, would teach the keen\neye of the spirit to gaze into the uncreated light, and would flood the\nsoul with a joy deeper than all unrest or sorrow, with a glory that no\ngloom could ever dispel. He knew moreover that this his last and\ngreatest poem would speak to a few only in any generation, though\nspeaking to those few with a voice of transforming power and grace.\n\n'Oh, ye,' he cries almost at the beginning of the Paradise, 'who,\ndesirous to hear, have followed in slight bark behind my keel, which\nsings upon its course, now turn you back and make for your own shores,\ntrust not the open wave lest, losing me, ye should be left bewildered.\nAs yet all untracked is the wave I sail. Minerva breathes, Apollo leads\nme on, and the nine Muses point me to the pole. Ye other few, who\ntimely have lift up your heads for bread of angels fed by which man\nliveth but can never surfeit know, well may ye launch upon the ocean\ndeep, keeping my furrow as ye cut your way through waters that return\nand equal lie.'[77]\n\nIn these last words, comparing the track he leaves to the watery furrow\nthat at once subsides, Dante seems to indicate that he was well aware\nhow easily the soul might drop out of his verses, how the things he had\nto say were essentially unutterable, so that his words could at best be\nonly a suggestion of his meaning dependent for their effect upon the\nsubtlest spiritual influences and adjustments, as well as upon the\nreceptive sympathy of those to whom they were addressed. And if there\nare so many that fail to catch the spirit and feel the heavenly harmony\nof the music when it is Dante's own hand that touches the strings, how\nhopeless seems the task of transferring even its echo, by translated\nextracts, or descriptions, from which the soul has fled.\n\nThere is indeed much that is beautiful, much that is profound, in the\nParadise which is capable of easy reproduction, but the divine aroma of\nthe whole could only be translated or transferred by another Dante.\nPetal after petal of the rose of Paradise may be described or copied,\nbut the heavenly perfume that they breathed is gone.\n\n'His glory that moves all things,' so Dante begins the Paradise,\n'pierces the universe; and is here more, here less resplendent. In that\nHeaven which of His light has most, was I. There I saw things which he\nwho thence descends has not the knowledge or power to retell. For as it\ndraws anigh to its desire, our intellect pierces so deep that memory\ncannot follow in its track. But of that sacred empire so much as I had\npower in my mind to store, shall now be matter of my poesy.'[78]\n\nAnd again, almost at the close he sings, 'As is he who dreams, and when\nthe dream is broke still feels the emotion stamped upon his heart\nthough all he saw is fled beyond recall, e'en such am I; for, all the\nvision gone well-nigh without a trace, yet does the sweetness that was\nborn of it still drop within my heart.'[79]\n\nIf so much as an echo of that echo, if so much as a dream of that\ndream, falls upon our ears and sinks into our hearts, then we are\namongst those few for whom Dante wrote his last and his divinest poem.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThrough the successive heavens of Paradise Dante is conducted by\nBeatrice; and here again the intimate blending in the divine guide of\ntwo distinct almost contradictory conceptions forms one of the great\nobstacles towards giving an intelligible account of the poem. This\nobstacle can only disappear when patient study guided by receptive\nsympathy has led us truly into the poet's thought.\n\nIn the Paradise, however, the allegorical and abstract element in the\nconception of Beatrice is generally the ruling one. She is the\nimpersonation of Divine Philosophy, under whose guidance the spiritual\ndiscernment is so quickened and the moral perceptions so purified, that\nthe intellect can thread its way through subtlest intricacies of\ncasuistry and theology, and where the intellect fails the eye of faith\nstill sees.\n\nEven in this allegorical character Beatrice is a veritable personality,\nas are Lucia, the Divine Grace, and the other attributes or agents of\nthe Deity, who appear in the Comedy as personal beings with personal\naffections and feelings, though at the same time representing abstract\nideas. Thus Beatrice, as Divine Philosophy impersonated, is at once an\nabstraction and a personality. 'The eyes of Philosophy,' says Dante\nelsewhere, 'are her demonstrations, the smile of Philosophy her\npersuasions.'[80] And this mystic significance must never be lost sight\nof when we read of Beatrice's eyes kindling with an ever brighter glow\nand her smile beaming through them with a diviner sweetness as she\nascends through heaven after heaven ever nearer to the presence of God.\nThe demonstrations of Divine Philosophy become more piercing, more\njoyous, more triumphant, her persuasions more soul-subduing and\nentrancing, as the spirit draws nearer to its source.\n\nBut though we shall never understand the Paradise unless we perceive\nthe allegorical significance and appropriateness not only of the\ngeneral conception of Beatrice, but also of many details in Dante's\ndescriptions of her, yet we should be equally far from the truth if we\nimagined her a mere allegory. She is a glorified and as it were divine\n_personality_, and watches over and guides her pupil with the\ntenderness and love of a gentle and patient mother. The poet constantly\nlikens himself to a wayward, a delirious, or a frightened child, as he\nflies for refuge to his blessed guide's maternal care.[81]\n\nAgain, they are in the eighth heaven, and Beatrice knows that a\nglorious manifestation of saints and angels is soon to be vouchsafed\nto Dante. Listen to his description of her as she stands waiting:\n'E'en as a bird amongst the leaves she loves, brooding upon the nest of\nher sweet young throughout the night wherein all things are hid,\nforeruns the time to see their loved aspect and find them food, wherein\nher heavy toil is sweet to her, there on the open spray, waiting with\nyearning longing for the sun, fixedly gazing till the morn shall rise;\nso did she stand erect, her eyes intent on the meridian. And seeing her\nsuspended in such longing I became as one who yearns for what he knows\nnot, and who rests in hope.'[82]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nUnder Beatrice's guidance, then, Dante ascends through the nine heavens\ninto the empyrean heights of Paradise. Here in reality are the souls of\nall the blessed, rejoicing in the immediate presence and light of\nGod,[83] and here Dante sees them in the glorified forms which they\nwill wear after the resurrection. But in order to bring home to his\nhuman understanding the varied grades of merit and beatitude in\nParadise, he meets or appears to meet the souls of the departed in the\nsuccessive heavens through which he passes, sweeping with the spheres\nin wider and ever wider arc, as he rises towards the eternal rest by\nwhich all other things are moved.\n\nIt is in these successive heavens that Dante converses with the souls\nof the blessed. In the lower spheres they appear to him in a kind of\nfaint bodily form like the reflections cast by glass unsilvered; but in\nthe higher spheres they are like gems of glowing light, like stars that\nblaze into sight or fade away in the depths of the sky; and these\nliving topaz and ruby lights, like the morning stars that sing together\nin Job, break into strains of ineffable praise and joy as they glow\nupon their way in rhythmic measure both of voice and movement.\n\nThus in the fourth Heaven, the Heaven of the Sun, Dante meets the souls\nof the great doctors of the Church. Thomas Aquinas is there, and\nAlbertus Magnus and the Venerable Bede and many more. A circle of these\nglorious lights is shining round Dante and Beatrice as Aquinas tells\nthe poet who they were on earth. 'Then like the horologue, that summons\nus, what hour the spouse of God rises to sing her matins to her\nspouse, to win his love, wherein each part urges and draws its fellow,\nmaking a tinkling sound of so sweet note that the well-ordered spirit\nswells with love: so did I see the glorious wheel revolve, and render\nvoice to voice in melody and sweetness such as ne'er could noted be\nsave where joy stretches to eternity.\n\n'Oh, senseless care of mortals! Ah, how false the thoughts that urge\nthee in thy downward flight! One was pursuing law, and medicine one,\nanother hunting after priesthood, and a fourth would rule by force or\nfraud; one toiled in robbery, and one in civil business, and a third\nwas moiling in the pleasures of the flesh all surfeit-weary, and a\nfourth surrendered him to sloth. And I the while, released from all\nthese things, thus gloriously with Beatrice was received in\nHeaven.'[84]\n\nWhen Beatrice fixes her eyes--remember their allegorical significance\nas the demonstrations of Divine philosophy--upon the light of God, and\nDante gazes upon them, then quick as thought and without sense of\nmotion, the two arise into a higher heaven, like the arrow that finds\nits mark while yet the bow-string trembles; and Dante knows by the\nkindling beauty that glows in his guardian's eyes that they are nearer\nto the presence of God and are sweeping Heaven in a wider arc.\n\nThe spirits in the higher heavens see God with clearer vision, and\ntherefore love Him with more burning love, and rejoice with a fuller\njoy in His presence than those in the lower spheres. Yet these too rest\nin perfect peace and oneness with God's will.\n\nIn the Heaven of the Moon, for instance, the lowest of all, Dante meets\nPiccarda. She was the sister of Forese, whom we saw in the highest\ncircle but one of Purgatory, raised so far by his widowed Nella's\nprayers. When Dante recognises her amongst her companions, in her\ntransfigured beauty, he says, '\"But tell me, ye whose blessedness is\nhere, do ye desire a more lofty place, to see more and to be more loved\nby God?\" She with those other shades first gently smiled, then answered\nme so joyous that she seemed to glow with love's first flame, \"Brother,\nthe power of love so lulls our will, it makes us long for nought but\nwhat we have, and feel no other thirst. If we should wish to be exalted\nmore, our wish would be discordant with His will who here assigned us;\nand that may not be within these spheres, as thou thyself mayst see,\nknowing that here we needs must dwell in love, and thinking what love\nis. Nay, 'tis inherent in this blessedness to hold ourselves within the\nwill Divine, whereby our wills are one. That we should be thus rank by\nrank throughout this realm ordained, rejoices all the realm e'en as its\nKing, who draws our wills in His. And His decree is our peace. It is\nthat sea to which all things are moved which it creates and all that\nnature forges.\" Then was it clear to me how every where in Heaven is\nParadise, e'en though the grace distil not in one mode from that Chief\nGood.'[85]\n\nSo again in the second heaven, the Heaven of Mercury, the soul of\nJustinian tells the poet how that sphere is assigned to them whose\nlofty aims on earth were in some measure fed by love of fame and glory\nrather than inspired by the true love of God. Hence they are in this\nlower sphere. Yet part of their very joy consists in measuring the\nexact accord between the merits and the blessedness of the beatified.\n'As diverse voices make sweet melody,' he continues, 'so do the diverse\nranks of our life render sweet harmony amidst these spheres.'[86]\n\nIndeed, one of the marvels of this marvellous poem is the extreme\nvariety of character and even of incident which we find in Heaven as\nwell as in Hell and Purgatory. In each of the three poems there is one\nkey-note to which we are ever brought back, but in each there is\ninfinite variety and delicacy of individual delineation too. The saints\nare no more uniform and characterless in their blessedness than are the\nunrepentant sinners in their tortures or the repentant in their\ncontented pain.\n\nNor must we suppose that the Paradise is an unbroken succession of\ndescriptions of heavenly bliss. Here too, as in Hell and Purgatory, the\nthings of earth are from time to time discussed by Dante and the\nspirits that he meets. Here too the glow of a lofty indignation flushes\nthe very spheres of Heaven. Thus Peter cries against Pope Boniface\nVIII: 'He who usurps upon the earth my place, _my place_, MY PLACE,\nwhich in the presence of the Son of God is vacant now, has made the\ncity of my sepulture a sink of blood and filth, at which the rebel\nSatan, who erst fell from Heaven, rejoices down in Hell.' And at this\nthe whole Heaven glows with red, and Beatrice's cheek flushes as at a\ntale of shame.[87]\n\nDante is still the same. The sluggish self-indulgence of the monks, the\nreckless and selfish ambition of the factious nobles and rulers, the\nvenal infamy of the Court of Rome, cannot be banished from his mind\neven by the beatific visions of Heaven. Nay, the very contrast gives a\ndepth of indignant sadness to the denunciations of the Paradise which\nmakes them almost more terrible than those of Hell itself.\n\nInterwoven too with the descriptions of the bliss of Heaven, is the\ndiscussion of so wide a range of moral and theological topics that the\nParadise has been described as having 'summed up, as it were, and\nembodied for perpetuity ... the quintessence, the living substance, the\nultimate conclusions of the scholastic theology;'[88] and it may well\nbe true that to master the last cantica of the 'Divine Comedy' is to\npierce more deeply into the heart of mediaeval religion and theology\nthan any of the schoolmen and doctors of the Church can take us. At the\ntouch of Dante's staff, the flintiest rock of metaphysical dogma yields\nthe water of life, and in his mouth the subtlest discussion of\ncasuistry becomes a lamp to our feet.\n\nAnd beyond all this, such is the marvellous concentration of Dante's\npoetry, there is room in the Paradise for long digressions,\nbiographical, antiquarian, and personal; whilst all these parts,\napparently so heterogeneous, are welded into perfect symmetry in this\none poem.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nAmongst the most important of the episodes is the account of ancient\nFlorence given to Dante by his ancestor Cacciaguida, who also predicts\nthe poet's exile and wanderings, and in a strain of lofty enthusiasm\nurges him to pour out all the heart of his vision and brave the hatred\nand the persecution that it will surely bring upon him.\n\nThis Cacciaguida was a Crusader who fell in the Holy Land, and Dante\nmeets him in the burning planet of Mars, amongst the mighty warriors of\nthe Lord whose souls blaze there in a ruddy glow of glory. There is\nJoshua, there Judas Maccabaeus, and Charlemagne and Orlando and Godfrey\nand many more.\n\nA red cross glows athwart the planet's orb, and from it beams in mystic\nguise the Christ; but how, the poet cannot say, for words and images\nare wanting to portray it. Yet he who takes his cross and follows\nChrist, will one day forgive the tongue that failed to tell what he\nshall see when to him also Christ shall flash through that glowing dawn\nof light.\n\nHere the souls, like rubies that glow redder from the red-glowing cross\nas stars shine forth out of the Milky Way, pass and repass from horn to\nhorn, from base to summit, and burst into a brighter radiance as they\njoin and cross, while strains of lofty and victorious praise, unknown\nto mortal ears, gather upon the cross as though it were a harp of many\nstrings, touched by the hand of God, and take captive the entranced,\nadoring soul.\n\nThere Cacciaguida hailed his descendant Dante, and long they conversed\nof the past, the present, and the future. Alas for our poor pride of\nbirth! What wonder if men glory in it here? For even there in Heaven,\nwhere no base appetite distorts the will and judgment, even there did\nDante glow with pride to call this man his ancestor.\n\nAt last their converse ended; Cacciaguida's soul again was sweeping the\nunseen strings of that heavenly harp, and Dante turned again to look\nfor guidance from his guardian. Beatrice's eyes were fixed above; and\nquick as the blush passes from a fair cheek, so quick the ruddy glow of\nMars was gone, and the white light of Jupiter shone clear and calm in\nthe sixth heaven--the Heaven of the Just.\n\nWhat a storm of passions and emotions swept through Dante's soul when\nhe learnt where he was! 'O chivalry of Heaven!' he exclaimed in agony,\n'pray for those who are led all astray on earth by foul example.' When\nwould the Righteous One again be wroth, and purge His temple of the\ntraffickers--His temple walled by miracles and martyrdoms? How long\nshould the Pope be suffered to degrade his holy office by making the\npenalties of Church discipline the tools of selfish politics--how long\nshould his devotion to St. John the Baptist, whose head was stamped\nupon the coins of Florence, make him neglect the fisherman and Paul?\n\nSuch were the first thoughts that rose in Dante's mind in the Heaven of\nthe Just; but they soon gave way to others. Here surely, here if\nanywhere, God's justice must be manifest. Reflected in all Heaven, here\nmust it shine without a veil. The spirits of the just could surely\nsolve his torturing doubt. How long had his soul hungered and found no\nfood on earth, and now how eagerly did he await the answer to his\ndoubt! They knew his doubt, he need not tell it them; oh, let them\nsolve it!\n\nYes, they knew what he would say: 'A man is born upon the bank of\nIndus, and there there is none to speak of Christ, or read or write of\nhim. All this man's desires and acts are good, and without sin, as far\nas human eye can see, in deed or word. He dies unbaptised, without the\nfaith. Where is that justice which condemns him? Where is his fault in\nnot believing?' Yes, they knew his doubt, but could not solve it. Their\nanswer is essentially the same as Paul's: 'Nay, but, O man, who art\nthou that repliest against God?'\n\nThe Word of God, say the spirits of the just, could not be so expressed\nin all the universe but what it still remained in infinite excess. Nay,\nLucifer, the highest of created beings, could not at once see all the\nlight of God, and fell through his impatience. How then could a poor\nmortal hope to scan the ways of God? His ken was lost in His deep\njustice as the eye is lost in the ocean. We can see the shallow bottom\nof the shore, but we cannot see the bottom of the deep, which none the\nless is there. So God's unfathomable justice is too deep, too just, for\nus to comprehend. The Primal Will, all goodness in itself, moves not\naside from justice and from good. Never indeed did man ascend to heaven\nwho believed not in Christ, yet are there many who cry, Lord, Lord,\nand in the day of judgment shall be far more remote from Christ than\nmany a one that knew him not.[89]\n\nWith this answer Dante must be content. He must return from Heaven with\nthis thirst unslaked, this long hunger still unsatisfied. Ay, and with\nthis answer must we too rest content. And yet not with this answer, for\nwe do not ask this question. That awful load of doubt under which Dante\nbent is lifted from our souls, and for us there is no eternal Hell,\nthere are no virtuous but rejected Heathen. Yet to us too the ocean of\nGod's justice is too deep to pierce. And when we ask why every\nblessing, every chance of good, is taken from one child, while another\nis bathed from infancy in the light of love, and is taught sooner than\nit can walk to choose the good and to reject the evil, what answer can\nwe have but Dante's? Rest in faith. You know God's justice, for you\nfeel it with you in your heart when you are fighting for the cause of\njustice; you know God's justice, for you feel it in your heart like an\navenging angel when you sin; you know God's justice--but you do not\nknow it all.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThere in the Heaven of the Just was David; now he knew how precious\nwere his songs, since his reward was such. There too was Trajan, who by\nexperience of the bliss of Heaven and pain of Hell knew how dear the\ncost of not obeying Christ. There were Constantine, and William of\nSicily, and Ripheus, that just man of Troy. 'What things are these?'\nwas the cry that dropped by its own weight from Dante's lips. The\nheathens Trajan and Ripheus here! No, not heathens. Ripheus had so\ngiven himself to justice when on earth, that God in His grace revealed\nto him the coming Christ, and he believed. Faith, Hope, and Charity\nwere his baptism more than a thousand years ere baptism was known. And\nfor Trajan, Gregory had wrestled in prayer for him, had taken the\nKingdom of Heaven by storm with his warm love and living hope; and\nsince no man repents in Hell, God at the prayer of Gregory had recalled\nthe imperial soul back for a moment to its mouldering clay. There it\nbelieved in Christ, and once more dying, entered on his joy.[90]\n\nThus did Dante wrestle with his faith, and in the passion of his love\nof virtue and thirst for justice seek to escape the problem which he\ncould not solve.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBut we must hasten to the close. Dante and Beatrice have passed through\nall the heavens. The poet's sight is gradually strengthened and\nprepared for the supreme vision. He has already seen a kind of symbol\nof the Uncreated, surrounded by the angelic ministers. It was in the\nninth heaven, the Heaven of the Primum Mobile, that he saw a single\npoint of intensest light surrounded by iris rings, upon which point,\nsaid Beatrice, all Heaven and all nature hung.[91]\n\nBut now they have passed beyond all nine revolving heavens into the\nregion of 'pure light, light intellectual full of love, love of the\ntruth all full of joy, joy that transcends all sweetness.'[92] And here\nthe poet sees that for which all else had been mere preparation.\n\nBut I will not strive to reproduce his imagery, with the mighty river\nof light inexhaustible, with the mystic flowers of heavenly perfume,\nwith the sparks like rubies set in gold ever passing between the\nflowers and the river. Of this river Dante drank, and then the true\nforms of what had hitherto been shadowed forth in emblems only, rose\nbefore his eyes. Rank upon rank the petals of the mystic rose of\nParadise stretched far away around and above him. There were the\nblessed souls of the holy ones, bathed in the light of God that\nstreamed upon them from above, while the angels ever passed between it\nand them ministering peace and love.\n\nThere high up, far, far beyond the reach of mortal eye, had it been on\nearth, sat Beatrice, who had left the poet's side. But in Heaven, with\nno destroying medium to intervene, distance is no let to perfect sight.\nHe spoke to her. He poured out his gratitude to her, for it was she who\nhad made him a free man from a slave, she who had made him sane, she\nwho had left her footprints in Hell for him, when she went to summon\nVirgil to his aid. Oh, that his life hereafter might be worthy of the\ngrace and power that had so worked for him! Then from her distant\nplace in Heaven, Beatrice looked at him and smiled, then turned her\neyes upon the Uncreated Light.[93]\n\nSt. Bernard was at Dante's side, and prayed that the seer's vision\nmight be strengthened to look on God. Then Dante turned his eyes to the\nlight above. The unutterable glory of that light dazzled not his\nintent, love-guided gaze. Nay, rather did it draw it to itself and\nevery moment strengthen it with keener sight and feed it with intenser\nlove.\n\nDeeper and deeper into that Divine Light the seer saw. Had he turned\nhis eyes aside, then indeed he knew the piercing glory would have\nblinded them; but that could never be, for he who gazes on that light\nfeels all desire centred there--in it are all things else. So for a\ntime with kindling gaze the poet looked into the light of God,\nunchanging, yet to the strengthening sight revealing ever more.\nMysteries that no human tongue can tell, no human mind conceive, were\nflashed upon him in the supreme moment, and then all was over--'The\npower of the lofty vision failed.'\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nDante does not tell us where he found himself when the vision broke. He\nonly tells us this: that as a wheel moves equally in all its parts, so\nhis desire and will were, without strain or jar, revolved henceforth by\nthat same Love that moves the sun and all the other stars.[94]\n\nThis was the end of all that Dante had thought and felt and lived\nthrough--a will that rolled in perfect oneness with the will of God.\nThis was the end to which he would bring his readers, this was the\npurpose of his sacred poem, this was the meaning of his life.[95]\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 77: _Paradiso_, ii. 1-15.]\n\n[Footnote 78: _Paradiso_, i. 1-12.]\n\n[Footnote 79: _Ibid._ xxxiii. 58-63.]\n\n[Footnote 80: _Convito_, III. xv.]\n\n[Footnote 81: _Purgatorio_, xxx. 79-81, xxxi. 64-67; _Paradiso_, i.\n100-102, xxii. 1 sqq.]\n\n[Footnote 82: _Paradiso_, xxiii. 1-15.]\n\n[Footnote 83: _Ibid._ iv. 28-48.]\n\n[Footnote 84: _Paradiso_, x. 139--xi. 12.]\n\n[Footnote 85: _Paradiso_, iii. 64-90.]\n\n[Footnote 86: _Paradiso_, vi. 112-126.]\n\n[Footnote 87: _Paradiso_, xxvii, 22-34.]\n\n[Footnote 88: Milman.]\n\n[Footnote 89: _Paradiso_, xiv. 85--xix. 148.]\n\n[Footnote 90: _Paradiso_, xx.]\n\n[Footnote 91: _Ibid._ xxviii. 41, 42.]\n\n[Footnote 92: _Ibid._ xxx. 40-42.]\n\n[Footnote 93: _Paradiso_, xxxi. 52-93.]\n\n[Footnote 94: _Paradiso_, xxxiii. 143-145.]\n\n[Footnote 95: Compare Symonds, p. 183.]\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX\n\nAN ATTEMPT TO STATE THE CENTRAL\nTHOUGHT OF THE COMEDY\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX.\n\n\nDante's poem--the true reflection of his mind--is a compact and rounded\n_whole_ in which all the parts are mutually interdependent. Its\ndigressions are never excrescences, its episodes are never detached\nfrom its main purpose, its form is never arbitrary and accidental, but\nis always the systematic and deliberate expression of its substance.\nMoreover it is profoundly mediaeval and Catholic in conception and\nspirit. The scholastic theology and science of the Middle Ages and the\nspiritual institutions of the Catholic Church were no trammels to\nDante's thought and aspiration. Under them and amidst them he moved\nwith a perfect sense of freedom, in them he found the embodiment of his\nloftiest conceptions. Against their abuses his impetuous spirit poured\nout its lava-stream of burning indignation, but his very passion\nagainst those who laid impure hands upon the sacred things of God is\nthe measure of his reverence for their sanctity.\n\nIf the Catholic poet of the fourteenth century speaks with a voice that\ncan reach the ears and stir the hearts of the Protestant and heretic\nof the nineteenth, it is not so much because he rose above the special\nforms and conditions of the faith of his own age as because he went\nbelow them and touched the eternal rock upon which they rested. Not by\nneglecting or making light of the dogmas and institutions of his day,\nbut by piercing to their very heart and revealing their deepest\nfoundations, did he become a poet for all time.\n\nThe distinction, then, which we are about to draw between the permanent\nrealities of Dante's religion and the passing forms, the temporary\nconditions of belief, under which it was manifested, is a distinction\nwhich did not exist for him. His faith was a garment woven without\nseam, or, to use his own metaphor, a coin so true in weight and metal,\nso bright and round, that there was no 'perhaps' to him in its\nimpression.[96]\n\nThis unwavering certainty alike in principle and in detail, this\nunfaltering loyalty to the beliefs of his day alike in form and\nsubstance, is one of the secrets of Dante's strength.\n\nBut, again, such compactness and cohesion of belief could not have been\nattained except by the strict subordination of every article of\nconcrete faith to the great central conceptions of religion, rising out\nof the very nature and constitution of the devout human soul. And\ntherefore, paradox as it may seem, the very intensity with which Dante\nembraced beliefs that we have definitely and utterly rejected, is the\npledge that we shall find in his teaching the essence of our own\nreligion; and we may turn to the Comedy with the certainty that we\nshall not only discover here and there passages which will wake an echo\nin our bosoms, but shall also find at the very heart of it some guiding\nthought that will be to us as it was to him absolutely true.\n\nNow Dante himself, as we have seen, tells us what is the subject of his\nComedy. Literally it is 'The state of souls after death,' and\nallegorically 'Man, as rendering himself liable to rewarding or\npunishing justice, by good or ill desert in the exercise of his free\nwill.' The ideal requirements of Divine Justice, then, form the central\nsubject of this poem, the one theme to which, amidst infinite diversity\nof application, the poet remains ever true; and these requirements he\nworks out in detail and enforces with all the might, the penetration,\nthe sweetness of his song, under the conditions of mediaeval belief as\nto the future life.\n\nBut these conditions of belief are utterly foreign to our own\nconceptions. I say nothing of the rejection of the virtuous heathen,\nbecause Dante himself could really find no room for it in his own\nsystem of conceptions. It lay in his mind as a belief accepted from\ntradition, but never really assimilated by faith. Apart from this,\nhowever, we find ourselves severed from Dante by his fundamental dogma\nthat the hour of death ends all possibility of repentance or\namendment. With him there is no repentance in Hell, no progress in\nHeaven; and it is therefore only in Purgatory that we find anything at\nall fundamentally analogous to the modern conception of a progressive\napproximation to ideal perfection and oneness with God throughout the\ncycles of a future life. And even here the transition of Purgatory is\nbut temporal, nor is there any fundamental or progressive change of\nheart in its circles, for unless the heart be changed before death it\ncannot change at all.\n\nIn its literal acceptation, then, dealing with 'the state of souls\nafter death,' the 'Divine Comedy' has little to teach us, except\nindirectly.\n\nBut allegorically it deals with 'man,' first as impenitently sinful;\nsecond, as penitent; last, as purified and holy. It shows us the\nrequirements of Divine Justice with regard to these three states; and\nwhether we regard them as permanent or transitory, as severed by sharp\nlines one from the other or as melting imperceptibly into each other,\nas existing on earth or beyond the grave, in any case Dante teaches us\nwhat sentence justice must pronounce on impenitence, on penitence, and\non sanctity. Nay, independently of any belief in future retribution at\nall, independently of any belief in what our actions will receive,\nDante burns or flashes into our souls the indelible conviction of what\nthey deserve.\n\nNow to Dante's mind, as to most others, the conceptions of _justice_\nand _desert_ implied the conception of _free will_. And accordingly we\nfind the reality of the choice exercised by man, and attended by such\neternal issues, maintained with intense conviction throughout the poem.\nThe free will is the supreme gift of God, and that by which the\ncreature most closely partakes of the nature of the Creator. The free\ngift of God's love must be seized by an act of man's free will, in\nopposition to the temptations and difficulties that interpose\nthemselves. There is justice as well as love in Heaven; justice as well\nas mercy in Purgatory. The award of God rests upon the free choice of\nman, and registers his merit or demerit. It is true, and Dante fully\nrecognises it, that one man has a harder task than another. The\noriginal constitution and the special circumstances of one man make the\nstruggle far harder for him than for another; but God never suffers the\nhostile influence of the stars to be so strong that the human will may\nnot resist it. Diversity of character and constitution is the necessary\ncondition of social life, and we can see why God did not make us all\nalike; but when we seek to pierce yet deeper into the mystery of His\ngovernment, and ask why this man is selected for this task, why another\nis burdened with this toil, why one finds the path of virtue plain for\nhis feet to tread, while one finds it beset with obstacles before which\nhis heart stands still--when we ask these questions we trench close\nupon one of those doubts which Dante brought back unsolved from\nHeaven. Not the seraph whose sight pierces deepest into the light of\nGod could have told him this, so utterly is it veiled from all created\nsight.[97]\n\nBut amidst all these perplexities one supreme fact stands out to\nDante's mind: that, placed as we are on earth amidst the mysterious\npossibilities of good and evil, we are endowed with a genuine power of\nself-directed choice between them. The fullness of God's grace is\nfreely offered to us all, the life eternal of obedience, of\nself-surrender, of love, tending ever to the fuller and yet fuller\nharmony of united will and purpose, of mutually blessed and blessing\noffices of affection, of growing joy in all the supporting and\nsurrounding creation, of growing repose in the might and love of God.\n\nBut if we shut our eyes against the light of God's countenance and turn\nour backs upon His love, if we rebel against the limitations of mutual\nself-sacrifice to one another and common obedience to God, then an\nalternative is also offered us in the fierce and weltering chaos of\nwild passions and disordered desires, recognising no law and evoking no\nharmony, striking at the root of all common purpose and cut off from\nall helpful love.\n\nOur inmost hearts recognise the reality of this choice, and the justice\nand necessity of the award that gives us what we have chosen. That the\nhard, bitter, self-seeking, impure, mutinous, and treacherous heart\nshould drive away love and peace and joy is the natural, the necessary\nresult of the inmost nature and constitution of things, and our hearts\naccept it. That self-discipline, gentleness, self-surrender, devotion,\ngenerosity, self-denying love, should gather round them light and\nsweetness, should infuse a fullness of joy into every personal and\ndomestic relation, should give a glory to every material surrounding,\nand should gain an ever closer access to God, is no artificial\narrangement which might with propriety be reversed, it is a part of the\neternal and necessary constitution of the universe, and we feel that it\nought so to be.\n\nThere is no joy or blessedness without harmony, there is no harmony\nwithout the concurrence of independent forces, there is no such\nconcurrence without self-discipline and self-surrender.\n\nBut these natural consequences of our moral action are here on earth\nconstantly interfered with and qualified, constantly baulked of their\nfull and legitimate effect. Here we do not get our deserts. The actions\nof others affect us almost as much as our own, and artificially\ninterpose themselves to screen us from the results of what we are and\ndo ourselves. Hence we constantly fail to perceive the true nature of\nour choice. Its consequences fall on others; we partially at least\nevade the Divine Justice, and forget or know not what we are doing, and\nwhat are the demands of justice with regard to us.\n\nNow Dante, in his three poems, with an incisive keenness of vision and\na relentless firmness of touch, that stand alone, strips our life and\nour principles of action of all these distracting and confusing\nsurroundings, isolates them from all qualifying and artificial\npalliatives, and shows us what our choice is and where it leads to.\n\nIn Hell we see the natural and righteous results of sin, recognise the\ndirect consequences, the fitting surroundings of a sinful life, and\nunderstand what the sinful choice in its inmost nature is. As surely as\nour consciences accuse us of the sins that are here punished, so surely\ndo we feel with a start of self-accusing horror, 'This is what I am\ntrying to make the world. This is where we should be lodged if I\nreceived what I have given. This is what justice demands that I should\nhave. This is what I deserve. It is what I have chosen.'\n\nThe tortures of Hell are not artificial inflictions, they are simply\nthe reflection and application of the sinner's own ways and principles.\nHe has made his choice, and he is given that which he has chosen. He\nhas found at last a world in which his principles of action are not\nchecked and qualified at every turn by those of others, in which he is\nnot screened from any of the consequences of his deeds, in which his\nown life and action has consolidated, so to speak, about him, and has\nmade his surroundings correspond with his heart.\n\nIn the Hell, Dante shows us the nature and the deserts of impenitent\nsin; and though we may well shrink from the ghastly conception of an\neternal state of impenitence and hatred, yet surely there is nothing\nfrom which we ought to shrink in the conception of impenitent sin as\nlong as it lasts, whether in us or in others, concentrating its results\nupon itself, making its own place and therefore receiving its deserts.\n\nWhen we turn from Hell to Purgatory, we turn from unrepentant and\ntherefore constantly cherished, renewed, and reiterated sin, to\nrepentant sin, already banished from the heart. What does justice\ndemand with regard to such sin? Will it have it washed out? Will it, in\nvirtue of the sinner's penitence, interpose between him and the\nwretched results and consequences of his deeds? Who that has ever\nsinned and repented will accept for a moment such a thought? The\nrepentant sinner does not _wish_ to escape the consequences and results\nof his sin. His evil deeds or passions must bring and ought to bring a\nlong trail of wretched suffering for himself. This suffering is not\ncorrective, it is expiatory. His heart is already corrected, it is\nalready turned in shame and penitence to God; but if he had no\npunishment, if his evil deed brought no suffering upon himself, he\nwould feel that the Divine Justice had been outraged. He shrinks from\nthe thought with a hurt sense of moral unfitness. He wishes to suffer,\nhe would not escape into the peace of Heaven if he might.\n\nNever did Dante pierce more deeply into the truth of things, never did\nhe bring home the _justice_ of punishment more closely to the heart,\nthan when he told how the souls in Purgatory do not wish to rise to\nHeaven till they have worked out the consequences of their sins. The\nsin long since repented and renounced still haunts us with its shame\nand its remorse, still holds us from the fullness of the joy of God's\nlove, still smites us with a keener pain the closer we press into the\nforgiving Father's presence; and we would have it so. The deepest\nlonging of our heart, which is now set right, is for full, untroubled\ncommunion with God, yet it is just when nearest to Him that we feel the\nwretched penalty of our sin most keenly and that we least desire to\nescape it.\n\nBut if the sinful disposition be gone, then the source of our suffering\nis dried up with it, and the sense of oneness with God, of harmony and\ntrust, gradually overpowers the self-reproach, until from the state of\npenitence and suffering the soul rises to holiness and peace.\n\nIt is in giving us glimpses of this final state that Dante wields his\nmost transforming power over our lives. He shows us what God offers us,\nwhat it is that we have hitherto refused, what it is that we may still\naspire to, that here or hereafter we may hope to reach. Sin-stained and\nsorrow-laden as we are, it is only on wings as strong as his that we\ncan be raised even for a moment into that Divine blessedness in which\nsin has been so purged by suffering, so dried up by the sinner's love\nof God, so blotted out by God's love of him, that it has vanished as a\ndream, and the soul can say, 'Here we repent not.'[98] How mighty the\nspirit that can raise us even for a moment from the desolate weariness\nof Hell, and the long suffering of Purgatory, to the joy and peace of\nHeaven!\n\nAnd here too there is justice. Here too the deserts of the soul are the\ngauge of its condition. For, as we have seen, in the very blessedness\nof Heaven there are grades, and the soul which has once been stained\nwith sin or tainted with selfish and worldly passion, can never be as\nthough it had been always pure. Yet the torturing sense of unworthiness\nis gone, the unrest of a past that thwarts the present is no more; the\nsouls have cast off the burden of their sin, and are at perfect peace\nwith God and with themselves.\n\nSin, repentance, holiness, confronted with the Eternal Justice--what\nthey are and what they deserve--such is the subject of Dante\nAlighieri's Comedy.\n\nHave five and a half centuries of progress outgrown the poem, or are\nDante's still the mightiest and most living words in which man has ever\npainted in detail the true deserts of sin, of penitence, of sanctity?\nThe growing mind of man has burst the shell of Dante's mediaeval creed.\nIs his portrayal of the true conditions of blessedness as antiquated as\nhis philosophy, his religion as strange to modern thought as his\ntheology? Or has he still a power, wielded by no other poet, of taking\nus into the very presence of God and tuning our hearts to the harmonies\nof Heaven? Those who have been with him on his mystic journey, and have\nheard and seen, can answer these questions with a declaration as clear\nand ringing as the poet's own confession of faith in the courts of\nHeaven. If those who have but caught some feeble echoes of his song can\npartly guess what the true answer is, then those echoes have not been\nwaked in vain.\n\n\nLONDON: PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE AND\nPARLIAMENT STREET\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote 96: _Paradiso_, xxiv. 86, 87.]\n\n[Footnote 97: Compare _Purgatorio_, xvi. 67-84; _Paradiso_, iv. 73-114,\nv. 13 sqq., viii. 115-129, xxi. 76-102, xxxii. 49-75.]\n\n[Footnote 98: _Paradiso_, ix. 103.]\n\n\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n                   _A LIST OF\n            C. KEGAN PAUL AND CO.'S\n                 PUBLICATIONS._\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\n                                 _1, Paternoster Square, London._\n\nA LIST OF\nC. 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A. von).\n\n     =Operations of the German Engineers during the War of\n     1870-1871.= Published by Authority, and in accordance with\n     Official Documents. Translated from the German by Colonel G.\n     Graham, V.C., C.B., R.E. With 6 large Maps. Demy 8vo. Cloth,\n     price 21_s._\n\n\nGOLDIE (Lieut. M. H. G.)\n\n     =Hebe: a Tale.= Fcap. 8vo. Cloth, price 5_s._\n\n\nGOODENOUGH (Commodore J. G.), R.N., C.B., C.M.G.\n\n     =Memoir of, with Extracts from his Letters and Journals.=\n     Edited by his Widow. With Steel Engraved Portrait. Square\n     8vo. Cloth, 5_s._\n\n     * * * Also a Library Edition with Maps, Woodcuts, and Steel\n     Engraved Portrait. Square post 8vo. Cloth, price 14_s._\n\n\nGOODMAN (W.).\n\n     =Cuba, the Pearl of the Antilles.= Crown 8vo. Cloth, price\n     7_s._ 6_d._\n\n\nGOULD (Rev. S. Baring), M.A.\n\n     =The Vicar of Morwenstow: a Memoir of the Rev. R. S.\n     Hawker.= With Portrait. Third Edition, revised. Square post\n     8vo. 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Translated by Lieut.-Col. Theodore Wirgman, LL.B.\n     Large post 8vo. With Map. Cloth, price 12_s._\n\n\nHELVIG (Major H.).\n\n     =The Operations of the Bavarian Army Corps.= Translated by\n     Captain G. S. Schwabe. With Five large Maps. In 2 vols. Demy\n     8vo. Cloth, price 24_s._\n\n     =Tactical Examples=: Vol. I. The Battalion, price 15_s._\n     Vol. II. The Regiment and Brigade, price 10_s._ 6_d._\n     Translated from the German by Col. Sir Lumley Graham. With\n     numerous Diagrams. Demy 8vo. Cloth.\n\n\nHERFORD (Brooke).\n\n     =The Story of Religion in England.= A Book for Young Folk.\n     Crown 8vo. Cloth, price 5_s._\n\n\nHEWLETT (Henry G.)\n\n     =A Sheaf of Verse.= Fcap. 8vo. Cloth, price 3_s._ 6_d._\n\n\nHINTON (James).\n\n     =Life and Letters of.= Edited by Ellice Hopkins, with an\n     Introduction by Sir W. W. Gull, Bart., and Portrait engraved\n     on Steel by C. H. Jeens. Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 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KEGAN PAUL & CO., 1, PATERNOSTER SQUARE.\n\n\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nTranscriber's Notes\n\n\nBold text is shown within =equal signs=.\n\nText in italics is shown within _underscores_.\n\nThree asterisks represent an asterism.\n\nFive asterisks represent a thought break.\n\nCorrected unbalanced quotation marks.\n\nMade minor punctuation changes for consistency.\n\nPage 14 of Publications, under HOLROYD: Removed macron marks above\nboth a's in Kalam. (Tas-hil ul Kalam; or, Hindustani made Easy.)\n\nPage 19 of Publications, under MACNAUGHT: Spaced out the oe ligature.\n(Coena Domini: An Essay on the Lord's Supper,)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n<pre id=\"pg-footer\">","title":"Dante: Six Sermons","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":42805}