reached. "Direct thy mind to God in gratitude," she said, "who hath
united us with the first star." "Me seemed a cloud enveloped us, shining
dense, firm and polished like a diamond smitten by the sun. Within
itself the eternal pearl received us, as water doth receive a ray of
light, though still itself uncleft." This is the Heaven of the Moon, the
planet farthest removed from the Empyrean and therefore the sphere where
not only motion but also beatitude are least in the heavenly bodies. The
sphere of the Moon, indeed with those of Mercury and of Venus, is held
by Dante's cosmography to be within the shadow cast by the earth.
Consequently, the spirits in those three lowest Heavens are represented
as less perfect than those in the higher spheres, because in the moral
sense the shadow of earth fell upon their lives making them imperfect
through inconstancy, vain glory or unlawful love.
In the Heaven of the Moon a long disquisition is carried on by Beatrice
in explanation of Dante's question as to why there are spots on the
moon. It is very likely that this matter of apparent irrelevance in the
heavenly realms is introduced here at the very first stage of the ascent
to give the poet the opportunity of proclaiming that the first thing one
must learn in his passage heavenward--even if this is to be understood
in an allegorical sense--is that the laws of the laboratory are not the
_rationale_ of the heavenly world and that to employ them to explain the
supernal is to violate the very science of these laws, in an
application of scope to which in their very nature they protest. This
point of seeing natural causes for the unexplainable phenomenon of
Heaven and especially of relying upon the testimony of the senses is
soon brought out by Beatrice reproving Dante for thinking that the
spirits whom he now sees are only reflections of the human face:
"Marvel thou not," she said to me, "because
I smile at this thy puerile conceit,
Since on the truth it trusts not yet its foot,
But turns thee, as 'tis wont, on emptiness.
True substances are these which thou beholdest,
Here relegate for breaking of some vow.
Therefore speak with them, listen and believe."
(III, 25.)
So directed, the poet gazes again upon the faint forms appearing like
reflections seen in a plate of glass or in a dark, shallow pool. These,
the first spirits he meets, are apparitions in human form. In the other
spheres all that he will see of the souls will be the light which
envelopes them and which seemingly is identified with them, but here he
sees beautiful women divinely glorious even in their dim outline, who as
nuns had violated their vow of perpetual chastity. In the Inferno the
poet, to lead the reprobate soul to speak to him, promised earthly
fame; in Purgatorio there was the offer of intercessory prayer, here in
the first Heaven there is only an appeal to the charity which inflames
the spirit. All eagerness, Dante now addresses the spirit, who appears
most desirous to converse with him. This is Piccarda, kinswoman of his
wife and sister of his friend Forese (Purg. XXIII, 40), a Poor Clare
nun, who was compelled by her brother, Corse, to leave her convent and
marry Rossellino della Tosa in the expectation that the marriage would
promote a political alliance. So sacrificed, the young virgin sister of
lofty ideals and delicate spiritual sensibility, experienced
unhappiness, the intensity of which is revealed by the ellipsis
contained in the magic line: "And God doth know what my life became."
Dante addresses Piccarda:
"'O well-created spirit, who in the rays
Of life eternal dost the sweetness taste
Which being untasted ne'er is comprehended,
Grateful 'twill be to me, if thou content me
Both with thy name and with your destiny.'
Whereat, she promptly and with laughing eyes:
'Our charity doth never shut the doors
Against a just desire, except as she
Who wills that all her court be like herself.
I was a virgin sister in the world;
And if thy mind doth contemplate me well,
The being more fair will not conceal me from thee,
But thou shalt recognize I am Piccarda,
Who, stationed here among these other blessed,
Myself am blessed in the lowest sphere.
All our affections, that alone inflamed
Are in the pleasure of the Holy Ghost,
Rejoice at being of his order formed;
And this allotment, which appears so low,
Therefore is given us, because our vows
Have been neglected and in some part void.'
Whence I to her: 'In your miraculous aspects
There shines I know not what of the divine,
Which doth transform you from our first conceptions.
Therefore I was not swift in my remembrance;
But what thou tellest me now aids me so,
That the refiguring is easier to me.'"
(III, 37.)
Dante, you recall, had found the souls in Purgatory contented with their
lot, though they were enduring great suffering; in Heaven he is eager to
learn in the very beginning whether the Elect are satisfied with the
decree which awards to them happiness in unequal measure. So he asks
Piccarda whether she and the other spirits in this lowest sphere are not
eager for a higher place. The answer is one of the most touching and
beautiful passages in the poem, summing up in language of radiant
gladness the law of Heaven that in "God's will is our peace," words
which Gladstone says "appear to have an unexpressible majesty of truth
about them, to be almost as if they were spoken from the very mouth of
God."
"'But tell me, ye who in this place are happy,
Are you desirous of a higher place,
To see more or to make yourselves more friends?'
First, with those other shades, she smiled a little;
Thereafter answered me so full of gladness,
She seemed to burn in the first fire of love:
'Brother, our will is quieted by virtue
Of charity, that makes us wish alone
For what we have, nor gives us thirst for more.
If to be more exalted we aspired,
Discordant would our aspirations be
Unto the will of Him who here secludes us;
Which thou-shalt see finds no place in these circles,
If being in charity is needful here,
And if thou lookest well into its nature;
Nay 'tis essential to this blest existence
To keep itself within the will divine,
Whereby our very wishes are made one;
So that, as we are station above station
Throughout this realm, to all the realm 'tis pleasing,
As to the King, who makes His will our will.
And His will is our peace; this is the sea
To which is moving onward whatsoever
It doth create, and all that nature makes.'
Then it was clear to me how everywhere
In Heaven is Paradise, although the grace
Of good supreme there rain not in one measure."
(III, 64.)
Piccarda then tells the moving story of her life, how as a girl she
entered the order of St. Clare, only to be torn from the nunnery and
given into marriage.
"A perfect life and merit high in Heaven
A lady o'er us," said she, "by whose rule
Down in your world they vest and veil themselves,
That until death they may both watch and sleep
Beside that Spouse who every vow accepts
Which charity conformeth to his pleasure.
To follow her, in girlhood from the world
I fled, and in her habit shut myself,
And pledged me to the pathway of her sect.
Then men accustomed unto evil more
Than unto good, from the sweet cloister tore me;
God knows what afterward my life became."
(III, 97.)
Certain questions interesting to a seeker of truth grow out of
Piccarda's statement and these Beatrice proceeds to solve for the
edification of Dante. The first question asks whether in the assignment
to the lowest sphere of souls who violated their vows, there is divine
Justice; the second concerns Plato's teaching that souls really come
from the stars and return thither; the third is about the loss of merit
through coercion of the will, as exemplified in the case of Piccarda.
The solution of these difficulties need not detain us if only we
remember Dante's view that "the theories maintained by him in the Heaven
of the Moon are intended to manifest," as Gardner and Scartazzini point
out, "the moral freedom of man and to show that no external thing can
interfere with the soul that is bent upon attaining the end for which
God has destined it."
To the next Heaven, the sphere of Mercury, Beatrice and Dante soar more
swiftly than an arrow attains its mark while the bow is still vibrating.
Increasing in loveliness as she ascends, Beatrice, in the second realm,
radiates such splendor that Mercury itself, apart from its own light,
gains such glory from her that it seems to glitter or smile from very
gladness.
"My lady there so joyful I beheld
As unto the brightness of that heaven she entered
More luminous thereat the planet grew,
And if the star itself was changed and smiled
What became I who by my nature am
Exceeding mutable in every guise?" (V, 97.)
Greeting the travellers, more than a thousand spirits joyfully exclaim:
"Lo, one who shall increase our loves!" The Saints in Mercury thus
testify to their delight that one (Dante) has come to be the fresh
object of their love, just as it is said that "there shall be joy before
the angels of God upon one sinner doing penance." (Luke XV, 10.) These
splendors in Mercury are the souls of those in whose virtue there was
the alloy of ambition and vainglory--a combination, according to Dante,
which makes "the rays of true love less vividly mount upwards." The poet
is addressed by a spirit who bids him ask any question he will and
Beatrice confirms the invitation. "Speak, speak with confidence and
trust them even as gods." All eagerness for knowledge, Dante inquires of
the friendly splendor who he is and why he is in this particular Heaven.
The story told by the spirit of Emperor Justinian is a brief sketch of
his own life, with reference to his conversion from heresy by Pope
Agapetus, to the victories of his general, Belisarius, and to his own
great work of the codification of the Roman law. He then traces the
history of Rome from the time of Æneas to the thirteenth century, bent
upon showing that the Roman Empire, as a world-power over governments
and peoples, is divine in its institution and providentially protected
in its course. Two facts are adduced in crowning proof of this audacious
statement, viz., Christ's choosing to be born and to be registered as a
subject of Cæsar and His crucifixion under Tiberius, acting through
Pontius Pilate as the divinely constituted instrument of eternal justice
exercised by the Heavenly Father against His Son, at once the victim of
sin and its atonement.
Dante enlarges on this point in his Monarchia. "If the Roman Empire did
not exist by right, the sin of Adam was not punished in Christ.... If,
therefore, Christ had not suffered by the sentence of a regular judge,
the penalty would not have been properly punished; and none could be a
regular judge who had not jurisdiction over all mankind, for all mankind
was punished in the flesh of Christ, who 'hath borne our infirmities and
carried our sorrows,' as said the prophet Isaias. And if the Roman
Empire had not existed by right, Tiberius Cæsar, whose vicar was Pontius
Pilate, would not have had jurisdiction over all mankind." To us both
the argument and its conclusion are wholly indefensible. It seems indeed
a mockery and a blasphemy to attribute to such a monster as Tiberius
Cæsar glory because Christ was crucified in his reign. Dante's words,
however, as spoken by Justinian, leave no room for doubt that the poet
was convinced that all the ancient celebrity of Rome was insignificant
as compared to the glory that would come to it because it would carry
out the crucifixion of Christ.
"But what the standard that has made me speak
Achieved before, and after should achieve
Throughout the mortal realm that lies beneath,
Becometh in appearance mean and dim
If in the hand of the third Cæsar seen
With an eye unclouded and affection pure
Because the living Justice that inspires me
Granted it, in the hand of him I speak of
The glory of doing vengence for its wrath."
(VI, 82.)
Shining among the splendors of Mercury is a spirit who, though he was
not a lawmaker like Justinian, attained earthly renown by arranging the
marriages of four Kings. Known by the name of Romeo, a word meaning a
pilgrim of Rome, this man came a stranger to the Court of Raymond
Berenger, Court of Provence, multiplied the income without lessening the
grandeur of his master and brought about the marriages to royalty of the
four daughters of the household--Margaret to St. Louis of France,
Eleanor to Henry III of England, Sanzia to Richard, Earl of Cornwall
(brother of Henry III), elected King of the Romans, Beatrice to Charles
of Anjou, later by Papal investiture, King of Naples. Charged by jealous
barons with having wasted his master's goods, Romeo established his
innocence and then departed as he came, on a mule and with a pilgrim's
staff. From affluence he goes a-begging and this is so much like Dante's
own case that the poet's sympathy goes out to the calumniated man, and
he says with touching simplicity:
"If the world could know the heart he had
In begging bit by bit his livelihood,
Though much it laud him, it would laud him more."
(VI, 140.)
Justinian's words as to the crucifixion of Christ suggest to Dante this
question: Why was man's redemption effected by the death of Christ upon
the Cross rather than by some other mode? Investing the argumentative
propositions of St. Thomas with poetic beauty, Dante shows that while
God might have freely pardoned man without exacting any satisfaction,
on the hypothesis that He had chosen to restore mankind to His favor and
at the same time to require full satisfaction as a condition of pardon
and deliverance, there was only one way for the accomplishment of this
reconciliation and that was by the atonement of One who was both God and
Man. For sin, inasmuch as it is an act against the Infinite Being,
requires a satisfaction of infinite value. Man being finite is incapable
of adequately making such satisfaction. But the Word was made flesh that
by His atonement on the Cross Mercy would be declared and Justice would
be satisfied.
"Your nature, when it sinned in its totality in its first seed, from
these dignities, even as from Paradise, was parted; nor might they be
recovered, if thou look right keenly, by any way save passing one or the
other of these fords: either that God, of his sole courtesy, should have
remitted; or that man should of himself have given satisfaction for his
folly. Man had not power, within his own boundaries, even to render
satisfaction, since he might not go in humbleness by after-obedience so
deep down as in disobedience he had framed to exalt himself on high; and
this is the cause why from the power to render satisfaction by himself
man was shut off. Wherefore needs must God with his own ways reinstate
man in his unmaimed life, I mean with one way or with both the two. But
because the doer's deed is the more gracious the more it doth present
us of the heart's goodness whence it issued, the divine Goodness which
doth stamp the world, deigned to proceed on all his ways to lift you up
again; nor between the last night and the first day was, nor shall be,
so lofty and august a progress made on one or on the other, for more
generous was God in giving of himself to make man able to uplift himself
again, than had he only of himself granted remission; and all other
modes fell short of justice, except the Son of God had humbled him to
become flesh." (VII, 85.)
From Mercury to Venus the ascent has been so rapid that Dante is unaware
that he has reached the third Heaven until he sees the greater
loveliness of Beatrice represented by her greater radiance. As ascent is
made heavenward it will also be found that the spirits are seen not as
human faces, as was the case in the Heaven of the Moon, but as lights
increasing in intensity and manifesting a movement of greater speed to
the accompaniment of diverse music. It is necessary to keep in mind this
plan of the poet lest thinking the lovely lights, and lovely sounds and
lovely movements are only terms descriptive of physical, though
impalpable phenomena, we lose the deep and beautiful symbolism that is
the magic secret of the seraphic poesy of the Paradiso. Of the
brilliancy and movement of the spirits of the Sphere of Venus--spirits
who in this life failed in Christian ideals because of their amours,
Dante says, and his description is that of an expert musician
distinguishing between the singing of one who sustains the main-theme
and that of other voices rising and falling in subordination to the
principal melody:
"And as within a flame a spark is seen,
And as within a voice discerned,
When one is steadfast, and one comes and goes,
Within that light beheld I other lamps
Move in a circle, speeding more and less,
Methinks in a measure of their inward vision.
From a cold cloud descended never winds,
Or visible or not, so rapidly
They would not laggard and impeded seem
To any one who had those lights divine
Seen come towards us, leaving the gyration
Begun at first in the high Seraphim.
And behind those that most in front appeared
Sounded 'Osanna!' so that never since
To hear again was I without desire.
Then unto us more nearly one approached,
And it alone began: 'We all are ready
Unto thy pleasure, that thou joy in us.
We turn around with the celestial Princes,
One gyre and one gyration and one thirst,
To whom thou in the world didst say,
"Ye who, intelligent, the third heaven are moving;"
And are so full of love, to pleasure thee
A little quiet will not be less sweet.'"
(VIII, 16.)
The speaker discloses himself to be Charles Martel, once titular King of
Hungary, who on the occasion of a nineteen days' visit to Florence,
formed an intimate friendship with the poet. For the latter's
edification the spirit expounds the problem: Why from the same parents,
children grow up different in disposition, talent and career, a problem
just as interesting to the twentieth as the thirteenth century. We
account for the difference according to the principles of variation,
heredity and environment, but to stellar influence intent upon securing
the fulfillment of the law of individuality, was the difference
attributed by the medieval mind, which regarded the stars and planets
not as soulless spheres, but as orbs palpitating with the life of
angelic intelligences and radiating their influence upon the people of
the earth.
Hence it was held that the Heavens affected the diversity of the
characters of children who otherwise would be cut out the exact pattern
of their parents. "The begotten nature would ever take a course like its
begetters, did not divine provision overrule." (VIII, 136.) The
necessity for diversity in man's life is deduced from the fact that in
society men are providentially destined for different vocations.
"Wherefore is one born Solon (a legislator), another Xerxes (a soldier),
another Melchisedech (a priest), and the man who soaring through the
welkin lost his son." (Daedalus, the typical mechanician.) But stellar
influence always controlled by man's free will is often ignored,
especially when we put into the sanctuary one who should be on the
battle field and when we gave a throne to him whose right place is in
the pulpit.
"And if the world below would fix its mind
On the foundation which is laid by nature,
Pursuing that, 't would have the people good.
But you into religion wrench aside
Him who was born to gird him with the sword,
And make a king of him who is for sermons;
Therefore your footsteps wander from the road."
(VIII, 142.)
The next four spheres being beyond the earth's shadow are for spirits
whose virtue was undimmed by human infirmity and whose place in eternal
life is consequently one of greater vision and bliss. In the first of
these higher spheres, the Sphere of the Sun, the fourth Heaven, Dante
sees the spirits of great theologians and others who loved wisdom--great
teachers of men. Around him and Beatrice, as their center, twelve of
them appear in one circle and twelve in another, while behind those
dazzling splendors of spirits are other vivid lights probably
representing authors whom the poet had not read or comprehended or
symbolizing the men of science, the lovers of wisdom, who in the future
by their discoveries would add to our knowledge of truth. As one of the
basic truths of Revelation is the mystery of the Blessed Trinity, here
in the Heaven of the Doctors the dogma is made prominent by special
frequency of reference and symbolism. The Creation, as an act of the
Three Divine Persons, is mentioned in lines of exquisite grace:
"Looking into His Son with all the Love
Which each of them eternally breathes forth
The primal and unutterable Power
Whate'er before the mind or eye revolves
With so much order made, there can be none
Who thus beholds, without enjoying it."
(X, 1.)
Not only by thought, but by dancing, is the same truth expressed: "those
burning suns round about us whirled themselves three times." (X, 76.)
Again in song they proclaim the mystery of the Holy Trinity:
"The One and Two and Three who ever liveth
And reigneth ever in Three and Two and One
Not circumscribed and all circumscribing
Three several times was chanted by each one
Among those spirits, with such melody
That for all merit it were just reward."
(XIV, 27.)
In this Heaven we hear the eulogy of St. Francis of Assisi pronounced
by a Dominican and the praises of St. Dominic sung by a
Franciscan--consummate art that is an indirect invitation to the
two orders of monks upon earth to avoid jealousy and to practice mutual
respect. It has been said that these narratives give us the essence of
what constitutes true biography, viz., a picture of the spiritual
element in man drawn in such words as ever to command the understanding
and elicit the respect of the reader of every period. The first speaker
is St. Thomas Aquinas, and his reference to the mystical marriage of St.
Francis and Lady Poverty will be the better understood if we have before
the mind's eye Giotto's painting which hangs over the tomb of the
founder of the Franciscans. The figures in the pictures are described
by Gardiner (Ten Heavens, p. 113): Christ, standing upon a rock, unites
St. Francis to his chosen bride, who is haggard and careworn, clothed in
ragged and patched garments, barefooted and girded with a cord. Roses
and lilies spring up behind her and encircle her head; she wears the
aureole and has wings, though weak; but thorns and briars are around her
feet. Hope and Love are her bridesmaids; Hope clothed in green with
uplifted hand and Love with flame-colored flowers and holding a burning
heart. A dog is barking at the Bride and boys are assaulting her with
sticks and stones, but all around are bands of angelic witnesses, their
flowing raiment and mighty wings glowing with rainbow hues. In these
days when money seems the ideal of thousands, Poverty, whose mystical
appeal is so glowingly painted, still speaks to great numbers of men and
women who give up material comforts and ease to embrace as monks and
nuns the state of voluntary poverty. Let us now hear how St. Thomas
recounts the life and work of St. Francis of Assisi: