Purgatorial confinement to ascend to Heaven, states that the earthquake
was not due to natural causes, such as strong dry vapors producing wind,
but was caused by spiritual elements operative upon a soul's completing
the penance and term assigned.
* * * * *
"It quakes here when some soul feeleth herself cleansed, so that she may
rise up or set forth, to mount on high, and such a shout follows her. Of
the cleansing the will alone gives proof, which fills the soul, all free to
change her cloister, and avails her to will.... And I who have lain under
this torment five hundred years and more, only now felt free will for a
better threshold. Therefore didst thou feel the earthquake and hear the
pious spirits about the mount give praises to the Lord."
* * * * *
This Statius was a Roman poet who died in the year 96. His term in
Purgatory therefore has lasted a little more than eleven centuries. The
next longest period mentioned by Dante is that of Duke Hugh Capet who
has been in Purgatory over 350 years with his purification still
incomplete. Statius by Dante's poetic invention is represented first as
saved through the influence of Virgil's poems and then is shown to be a
Christian, having been led to embrace Christianity both from the heroic
example of the martyrs and from his meditation on Virgil's prophecy of
the Cumæan Sibyl interpreted in the Middle Ages to refer to Christ. In
the Divina Commedia Statius pays a glowing tribute to the Æneid and its
author, wholly ignorant that he is addressing Virgil himself. "Of the
Æneid I speak which was a mother to me and was to me a nurse in poesy
... and to have lived yonder when Virgil was alive, I would consent to
one sun more than I need perform." Dante is all aquiver to surprise
Statius with the information that Virgil is at hand, "but Virgil turned
to me with a look that silently said, 'be silent.'"
"But the power which wills
Bears not supreme control: laughter and tears
Follow so closely on the passion prompts them,
They wait not for the motions of the will
In nature most sincere. I did but smile,
As one who winks; and thereupon the shade
Broke off, and peer'd into mine eyes, where best
Our looks interpret. 'So to good event
Mayst thou conduct such great emprize,' he cried,
'Say, why across thy visage beam'd, but now,
The lightning of a smile.' On either part
Now am I straiten'd; one conjures me speak,
The other to silence binds me; whence a sigh
I utter, and the sigh is heard. 'Speak on,'
The teacher cried 'and do not fear to speak:
But tell him what so earnestly he asks.'
Whereon I thus: 'Perchance, O ancient spirit
Thou marvel'st at my smiling. There is room
For yet more wonder. He, who guides my ken
On high, he is that Mantuan, led by whom
Thou didst presume of men and gods to sing.
If other cause thou deem'dst for which I smiled,
Leave it as not the true one: and believe
Those words, thou spakest of him, indeed the cause.'
Now down he bent to embrace my teacher's feet;
But he forbade him: 'Brother! do it not:
Thou art a shadow, and behold'st a shade.'
He, rising, answer'd thus: 'Now hast thou proved
The force and ardor of the love I bear thee,
When I forget we are but things of air,
And, as a substance, treat an empty shade.'"
(XXI, 106.)
On the sixth terrace Dante with five P's removed, accompanied by Virgil
sees the souls of those who sinned by gluttony. They are an emaciated
crowd obliged to pass and repass before a fruit-laden tree bedewed with
clear water from a fountain, without being able to satisfy their hunger
or quench their thirst. Voices from this tree proclaim examples of
temperance; voices from another tree equally tantalizing, declare
examples of gluttony.
"People I saw beneath it (the tree) lift their hands
And cry I know not what towards the leaves,
Like little children eager and deluded,
Who pray, and he they pray to doth not answer
But, to make very keen their appetite
Holds their desire aloft and hides it not.
Then they departed as if undeceived."
(XXIV, 106.)
Here Dante recognizes among the gaunt attenuated figures of the
penitents, Forese Donati, his intimate friend and kinsman of his wife
Gemma. Our poet was surprised to find him so soon after his death on
one of the terraces of Purgatory, the assumption being that because of
his delay of conversion to the end of his life Forese would be in
Outer Purgatory for a term equal in duration to the length of his life
on earth. But the reason he had come so quickly to Purgatory is to be
found in the efficacy of the prayers of his widow for the repose of
his soul.
"Then answered he: 'That now I wander reaping
The bitter sweat of all this punishment
My Nella gained for me, her vigil keeping
In prayer devout and infinite lament.
Thus, here, beyond that shore of waiting sent,
I landed, from the lower circles freed.
And that more dear to God omnipotent
Lives on my little widow, is the meed
Of the lone life she spends in many a saintly deed.'"
(XXXIII, 85.)
Before ascending to the seventh and last terrace Dante describes how
the angel of abstinence removed the sixth P.
"And as the harbinger of early dawn,
The air of May doth move and breathe out fragrance
Impregnate all with herbage and with flowers,
So did I feel a breeze strike in the midst
My front, and felt the moving of the plumes
That breathed around an odor of ambrosia;
And heard it said; Blessed are they whom grace
So much illumines that the love of taste
Excites not in their breasts too great desire,
Hungering at all times so far as is just."
(XXIV, 145.)
And now our penitent as he reaches the seventh terrace, where sins
against the virtue of purity are expiated, enters upon the last stage of
his purification. Here the spirits pass and repass through the midst of
intensely hot flames, proclaiming examples of chastity. It is worthy of
note that this terrace is the only place in Dante's Purgatory where fire
is the punitive agent--a conception of our poet all the more remarkable
because it runs counter to the view commonly held by the churchmen in
the West, including St. Augustine, St. Gregory the Great, St. Thomas
Aquinas, St. Bonaventure, who teach that fire is the cleansing element
of all Purgatory. That indeed is only a theological opinion. The Church
itself, as the Greeks were assured at the Council of Florence, has never
put forth any dogmatic decree on the subject.
Bidden by the angel to enter the fire, Dante draws back paralysed with
fear. Scenes of burning at the stake come with horror to his mind. He
probably recalls also that Florence had condemned him to be burned
alive. So, for the first time in Purgatory he recoils at the penance he
must perform. Impassionately Virgil exhorts him. The stubborn pupil
yields only at the utterance of Beatrice's name. For love of her he will
endure the flame.
"The Mantuan spake: 'My son,
Here torment thou mayst feel, but canst not death.
Remember thee, remember thee, if I
Safe e'en on Geryon brought thee; now I come
More near to God, wilt thou not trust me now?
Of this be sure; though in its womb that flame
A thousand years contain'd thee, from thy head
No hair should perish. If thou doubt my truth,
Approach; and with thy hands thy vesture's hem
Stretch forth, and for thyself confirm belief.
Lay now all fear, oh! lay all fear aside.
Turn hither, and come onward undismay'd.'
I still, though conscience urged, no step advanced.
When still he saw me fix'd and obstinate,
Somewhat disturb'd he cried: 'Mark now, my son,
From Beatrice thou art by this wall
Divided.' As at Thisbe's name the eye
Of Pyramus was open'd (when life ebb'd
Fast from his veins) and took one parting glance,
While vermeil dyed the mulberry; thus I turned
To my sage guide, relenting, when I heard
The name that springs for ever in my breast.
He shook his forehead; and, 'How long,' he said,
'Linger we now'? then smiled, as one would smile
Upon a child that eyes the fruit and yields.
Into the fire before me then he walk'd;
And Statius, who erewhile no little space
Had parted us, he pray'd to come behind,
I would have cast me into molten glass
To cool me, when I entered; so intense
Raged the conflagrant mass. The sire beloved,
To comfort me, as he proceeded, still
Of Beatrice talk'd. 'Her eyes,' saith he,
'E'en now I seem to view.' From the other side
A voice, that sang did guide us; and the voice
Following, with heedful ear, we issued forth,
There where the path led upward. 'Come,' we heard,
'Come blessed of my Father.'"
(Canto, XXVII, 20.)
On emerging from the fire and on the very threshold of the Garden of
Eden, Dante is addressed by Virgil, no longer competent to guide him
higher. The Mantuan in touching words tells his disciple that having
passed through Purgatory he needs no other guide than his own will,
upright and sound, until he passes under the tutelage of Beatrice.
"The temporal fire and the eternal
Son, thou hast seen, and to a place art come
Where of myself no farther I discern.
By intellect and art I here have brought thee;
Take thine own pleasure for thy guide henceforth;
Beyond the steep ways and the narrow art thou.
Expect no more or word or sign from me;
Free and upright and sound is thy free will,
And error were it not to do its bidding
Thee o'er thyself I therefore crown and mitre."
(XXVII, 127.)
Brother Azarias gives us the mystical sense of this passage. "The soul
has conquered; therefore Virgil leaves the poet free from the dominion
of his passions; more than free, a king crowned triumphant over himself;
more than a king, a mitred priest, ruling the cloister of his heart, his
thoughts and his affections and mediator and intercessor before Divine
Mercy for himself and those commending themselves to his prayers."
So crowned and mitred over himself Dante now enters the Garden of Eden.
"Here did the parents of mankind dwell in innocence; here is there
perpetual spring and every fruit."
In the forest of Eden is a pure stream with two currents, Lethe and
Eunoe, "the first has the power of all past sins the memory to erase,
the other can restore remembrance of good deeds and pious days." On the
banks of this stream the poet sees Matilda, who represents the Active
Life.
"There appeared to me a lady all alone who went along singing and
selecting from among the flowers wherewith all her path was enamelled"
... suddenly "the lady turned completely round towards me, saying, 'My
Brother, look and listen'" (XXIX, 15). A solemn chant is heard, a
wonderful light is seen. It is a pageant representing the return of
mankind to Eden through membership in the Church.
First come, shedding heavenly light, the seven mystical candlesticks,
symbolic of the seven gifts of the Holy Ghost or the seven sacraments of
the Church. Next follow twenty-four ancients representating the books of
the Old Testament. Then are seen the four prophetic animals symbolizing
the four Evangelists. Christ drawing a chariot representing the Church,
the central figure of the pageant, advances under the form of the
fabulous griffin, half eagle and half lion, typifying the two-fold
nature of our Lord. On the right side of the chariot, dancing are three
nymphs, the theological virtues, Faith, Hope and Charity. On the left
side are four other nymphs--the cardinal virtues, Prudence, Justice,
Fortitude and Temperance. Next come two old men, dignified and grave,
St. Paul and St. Luke, who are followed by four others representing
other books of the New Testament viz., the Epistles of St. James, St.
Peter, St. John and St. Jude. The rear guard is an aged Solitary
symbolic of the Apocalypse.
"And when the chariot was opposite to me" writes Dante, "a clap of
thunder was heard; and those worthy folk seemed to have their further
march forbidden, and halted there with the first ensign" (XXIX, 153).
What is the meaning of this symbolic procession so common to Dante's
day, so alien to ours? We have already said that it is a dramatic
representation of the human race finding happiness, finding its Eden in
its membership in the Church. But it, also, is a symbolic lesson for the
individual. Dante, the type of humanity having done penance for his
sins, is about to be received through the sacrament of penance into the
soul of the Church i.e. into the full communion of grace. It is
fitting, therefore, that the Church should advance to meet him, the
repentant sinner, and should reveal itself to him before receiving him
into its bosom.
If objection be made that Dante already has been absolved from sin and
in Purgatory has made expiation for his offences, the answer is given by
Ozanam; "At the term of the expiatory course, as at its beginning, to
quit it as well as to enter upon it, we must render submission to a
religious authority and fulfill the conditions without which God does
not treat with us--confession for oblivion, fears for consolation and
shame for definitive rehabilitation." When the pageant comes to a halt
the participants group themselves about the Griffin and the Chariot, by
that act declaring that the goal and object of their desires are
centered in Christ and His Church. Then one of the company by divine
command calls aloud three times to a heavenly being, the spouse of the
Church, to appear and the cry is repeated by the whole company. From the
Chariot arise, as will arise the dead from their graves, a hundred
angels scattering flowers over and around the Chariot and also raising
their voices in the call for the Heavenly Bride. They first sing the
words of the Canticle of Palm Sunday. _Benedictus qui venis_ (Blessed
art thou who comest) and then the beautiful line from the Aeneid:
_Manibus o date lilia plenis_ (Oh! give lilies with full hands). Then
comes from the clouds through the midst of the flowers showering down
again within and without the Chariot, arrayed in the colors of the three
theological virtues, the object of the invocation.
"Crowned with olive over a white veil a Lady appeared to me, vestured in
hue of living flame under a green mantle." It is Beatrice, Dante's
beloved, now apotheosized in the personification of Revelation. What
other poet ever dreamed of so glorifying his beloved that for her coming
the natural virtues prepare the way, the supernatural virtues, as
handmaids accompany her to assist us to the understanding of her
doctrine, the angels sing her laudation and she herself in the role both
of unveiler of the Scriptures of the Prophets and the Apostles and the
mystical Bride of the Canticles is worthy to be called "O Light, O Glory
of the human race?"
Dante before seeing her face, recognizes her by some mysterious instinct
of love, recognizes her after a lapse according to fiction of ten years,
but in reality of twenty-four years since her death.
To Virgil, Dante turns to tell the joyous news but Virgil has gone and
tears course down the face of his disciple.
"Dante," says Beatrice, "weep not that Virgil leaves thee, nay weep thou
not yet, for thou wilt have to weep for another wound." Awed by her
appearance, he is taken back by her greeting. The mere thought of her
loveliness uplifted him in the world. The hope of seeing her carried him
through the horrors of Hell and the penance of Purgatory. Crowned and
mitred over himself he came to Eden to meet her. And she has only
reproaches for him. Particularly to the angels does she tell the story
of his defection from the high ideals which she inspired in him. "This
man was such in his new life potentially that every good talent would
have made wondrous increase in him--(but) so low sank he that all means
for his salvation were already short save showing him the lost people.
For this I visited the portal of the dead and to him who has guided him
up hither, weeping my prayers were borne. God's high decree would be
broken if Lethe were passed and such viands were tasted, without some
sort of penitence that may shed tears."
To her lover she turns for confirmation of the truth of her words: "Say,
say if this is true; to such accusation thy confession must be joined."
"Confusion and fear together mingled, drove forth from my mouth a
'Yea,'" a monosyllable of confession which showed the depth of his
shame.
But it is the sight of the superhuman beauty of Beatrice which completes
his contrition and resuscitates his love so as to fit him to pass
through the waters of the Lethe.
"My eyes beheld Beatrice, turned toward the animal (the Griffin) that is
One Person only (Christ) in twofold nature (i.e. God and man). Under her
veil and on the far side of the stream she seemed to me to surpass more
her ancient self, than she surpassed the others here when she was with
us. So much remorse gnawed at my heart that I fell vanquished and what I
then became she knoweth who gave me the cause." (XXXI, 82.)
When he recovers consciousness he finds his immersion in the Lethe in
progress by Matilda. Then he is led to Beatrice by the four nymphs (the
cardinal virtues) and at the request of the three nymphs who typify the
theological virtues she smiles upon him.
"The fair lady (Matilda) dipped me where I must needs swallow of the
water, then drew me forth and led me, bathed, within the dance of the
four fair ones, and each did cover me with her arm. 'Here we are nymphs
and in heaven are stars. Ere Beatrice descended to the world, we were
ordained for her handmaids: we will lead thee to her eyes: but the three
on the other side who deeper gaze will sharpen thine eyes to the joyous
light that is within."
Beholding the glorified beauty of Beatrice wholly inexpressible, Dante
is in such rapture that he is oblivious of everything else.
"Mine eyes with such an eager coveting
Were bent to rid them of their ten years' thirst
No other sense was waking; and e'en they
Were fenced on either side from heed of aught:
So tangled, in its custom'd toils, that smile
Of saintly brightness drew it to itself."
When our poet comes out of his rapture, the Chariot and the mystical
company are moving to a tree, the tree of the knowledge of good and evil
which according to a beautiful tradition has become the Cross of Christ,
the tree of salvation. To that tree is attached the Chariot which Christ
(the Griffin) now leaves to enter Heaven again with the ancients and the
angels. Beatrice remains with the seven nymphs to guard the Chariot (the
Church). Up to this point the picture of the Church has been one of
peace and happiness. Now with prophetic eye the poet beholds the
tribulations which the Church will suffer from without and within. The
description of the vision and the explanation of the symbolism are so
well set forth by Ozanam that I quote his words unable to improve upon
them, as I also share his view as to the unwarranted severity here of
Dante's censures of the Church.
"An eagle falls like lightning upon the tree, from which he tears the
bark, and upon the car, which bends beneath his weight. Then comes a fox
which finds its way within, and then a portion is torn off by a dragon
that issues from the gaping earth. Thus far it is easy to recognize the
persecutions of the Roman emperors which so harried the Church, the
heresies by which it was desolated, and the schisms by which it was
torn. Soon, the eagle reappeared, less menacing but not less dangerous;
he shook his plumes above the sacred car, which speedily underwent a
monstrous transformation. From divers parts of it arose seven heads
armed with ten horns; a courtesan was seated in the midst; a giant stood
at her side, exchanging with her impure caresses which he interrupted to
scourge her cruelly. Then, cutting loose the metamorphosed car, he bears
it away, and is lost with it in the depths of the forest.
"Is not this again the Church, enriched, by the gifts of princes who
have become her protectors, sadly marred in appearance, sundry of her
members defiled by the taint of the seven capital sins, and herself
ruled over by unworthy pontiffs? Is not this the court of Rome,
exchanging criminal flatteries with the temporal power, which flatteries
are to be followed by cruel injuries, when the Holy See, torn from the
foot of the cross of the Vatican, is transferred to a distant land, on
the banks of a foreign river? But these ills will not be without end nor
without retribution. The tree that lost and that saved the world cannot
be touched with impunity, and if the Church has been made militant here
below, it is with the liability of suffering from passing reverses, but
also with the assurance of final victory."
Dante's own eternal victory is now assured, Beatrice directs Matilda to
lead him to the Eunoe, whose waters will regenerate him and fit him to
ascend to Paradise. "Behold, Eunoe which gushes forth yonder, lead him
thereto and as thou art wont, revive in him again his fainting powers."
The poem closes with an address to the reader:
"If, Reader, I possessed a longer space
For writing it, I yet would sing in part
Of the sweet draught that ne'er would satiate me;
But inasmuch as full are all the leaves
Made ready for this second canticle,
The curb of art no farther lets me go.
From the most holy water I returned
Regenerate, in the manner of new trees
That are renewed with a new foliage,
Pure and disposed to mount unto the stars."
(Purg., XXXIII, 136.)
DANTE'S PARADISO
DANTE'S PARADISO
Of Dante's trilogy the Paradiso is truly his "medieval miracle of song,"
the supreme achievement of his genius. Here the poetry of the sublime
reaches its highest point--the summit on which Dante is a lonely and
unchallenged figure. "No uninspired hand," says Cardinal Manning, "has
ever written thoughts so high in words, so resplendent, as the last
stanza of the Divina Commedia." It was said of St. Thomas: "_Post Summam
Thomæ nihil restat nisi lumen gloriæ_." It may be said of Dante: "_Post
Dantis Paradisum nihil restat nisi visio Dei._" ("After Dante's Paradiso
nothing remains but the vision of God.")
Shelley's tribute to the supremacy of Dante's Heaven is no less
beautiful: "Dante's apotheosis of Beatrice and the gradations of his own
love and her loveliness by which, as by steps, he feigns himself to have
ascended to the throne of the Supreme Cause, is the most glorious
imagination of modern poetry."
Ruskin says: "Every line of the Paradiso is full of the most exquisite
and spiritual expressions of Christian truths and the poem is only less
read than the Inferno because it requires far greater attention and
perhaps, for its full enjoyment, a holier heart."
That Dante's Inferno is more popular reading than his Paradiso is due to
the fact that evil and its consequences offer to the artist richer
material for dramatic fascination and to the reader more lively interest
in characters intensely human, than does the less sensational story of
the Elects finding peace and happiness in a realm transcending the
experiences of human nature. Dante's Purgatorio also finds a wider
circle of readers because his penitents, suffering, struggling and
aspiring, like people upon earth, have more human traits and exhibit
more human interest than the saints confirmed in grace against human
weakness.
Another reason for lesser interest manifested in this part of the Divina
Commedia is the difficulty and obscurity of the Paradiso. It is not easy
reading, because it requires study, repetition, concentration,
meditation, qualities absent from the art of reading as it prevails
today. If we ever have time to look at a book, the habit of skimming
with inattentive rapidity so urges us onward that we find ourselves
flitting from page to page, from chapter to chapter, panting and
uninstructed. And if we belong to the bookless majority who have no time
to read, we rush to the moving picture theatre to get our mental
pabulum--often a season's best seller--boiled down, served in
rapid-fire order and bolted in the twinkling of an eye. For all such
Dante's Paradiso is an intellectual as well as a spiritual impossibility
and the poet begs such not to follow him on his voyage to the eternal
kingdom.