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 Rochester, New York 14609 
 
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flHMBHH 
 
 IS 
 
 [E 
 
 }N 
 
 Stories from 
 Dante 
 
 m\ 
 
I 
 
\i 
 
 '■ 
 
 f i 
 
 r^ 
 
 (Pre^cntm to 
 The Stuiuni' 
 
 (Bf 
 
 ^^)A 
 
•iWifciAiJ^-; 
 
 /•';. 
 
 Beatrice 
 
 Danlt: (i.il-.riel Ro-^M-tii 
 
STORIES FROM 
 
 DANTE 
 
 BY 
 
 SUSAN CUNNINGTON 
 
 AUTHOR or "STUDISS IN BROWNING" BTC. 
 
 TAis man descended to the doomed and dead 
 for our instruction ; then to God ascended ; 
 Heaven opened wide to him its portals splendid, 
 Who from his country's, closed against him, fled. 
 
 Longfb;i,i,ow 
 
 TORONTO 
 
 MCCLELLAND & GOODCHILD LIMITED 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
■^^ 
 
 FRINTBD Bt 
 
 TURNBULL AND SPEARS, 
 
 BDreSUBOU 
 
Contents 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 I. Thk City and the Poet , . 
 
 II. Dante and Beatrice 
 
 PAOB 
 
 9 
 
 23 
 
 PART ONE 
 
 I. The Inferno . . , 
 II. The Poet Virgil . 
 
 III. The Story of Bertrand de Born 
 
 IV. The Emperor Frederic II. 
 
 V. Ser Brunetto Latii.: . , 
 
 VI. Count Ugolino of Pisa , , 
 
 VII. GuiDo Cavalcanti . . 
 
 • « 
 
 . 36 
 
 • • 
 
 44 
 
 • • 1 
 
 66 
 
 
 66 
 
 • • 
 
 80 
 
 • t 1 
 
 90 
 
 * • 4 
 
 96 
 
 PART TWO 
 VIII. The Puroatorio . 
 IX. The Countkss Matilda 
 X. King Manfred of Sicily 
 XI. The Story op Sordello . 
 XII. Charles I. of Anjou , 
 
 XIII. ClUABUE AND GlOTTO . 
 
 . 105 
 
 fl 
 
 . 118 
 
 1 
 
 . 126 
 
 1 
 
 . 135 
 
 }^H 
 
 . 144 
 
 ^^1 
 
 • • • . i«e 1 
 
 ■ 
 
Stories from Dante 
 
 XIV. 
 
 PART THREE 
 The Paradiso . . . i 
 
 
 
 PAGE 
 
 , 169 
 
 XV. 
 
 CoNSTANTINB THK GrBAT i 
 
 
 
 
 180 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Sbverinus BoiSTHIUS 
 
 
 
 
 . 189 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Thb Emperor Justinian 
 
 
 
 
 196 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Charlemagne and Roland . 
 
 
 
 
 207 
 
 XIX. 
 
 The Story of Roh^o . 
 
 
 
 
 218 
 
 XX. 
 
 S. Dominic . . • 
 
 
 
 
 280 
 
 XXI. 
 
 S. Francis of Assisi . 
 
 
 
 
 , 239 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Albertus Magnus 
 
 Conclusion . . • 
 
 
 
 
 249 
 266 
 
Illustrations 
 
 Beatrice {Dante Gabriel Rossetti) . 
 
 Dante in the Streets of Florence 
 
 The Salutation of Beatrice 
 
 The Entrance to Hell . . , 
 
 The Seventh Circle 
 
 Virgil in Rome • . , , 
 
 The Court of Frederick II. 
 
 The Carroccio .... 
 
 Attack on the Donati by Guido Cavalcanti 
 
 The Meeting in Paradise 
 
 Sordello's Tribute to the dead Eglawor 
 
 Giotto the Painter . , , 
 
 The Heaven of Venus . , , 
 
 The Battle of Roncesvalles 
 
 Dominic and the Moorish Bandits 
 
 S. Francis of Assisi tending Lepers , 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Frontispiece 
 12 
 24 
 36 
 42 
 48 
 68 
 82 
 100 
 116 
 138 
 162 
 
 170 
 
 216 
 280 
 242 
 
J 
 b 
 d 
 w 
 
 ai 
 in 
 th 
 ai 
 E 
 as 
 
Stories from Dante 
 
 Introduction I 
 
 THE CITY AND THE POET 
 "Florence, the most famous and most beauteous daughter of Rome." 
 
 " O foster-nurse of man's abandoned glory, Dante. 
 
 Since Athens, its great mother, sunk in splendour ; 
 Thou shadowest forth that mighty shape in story. 
 As ocean its wrecked fanes, severe yet tender : 
 The light-invested angel Poesy 
 Was drawn from the dim world to welcome thee." 
 
 Shbllhy. 
 
 FLORENCE, on the river Arno, which has been 
 noted for centuries as one of the most beautiful 
 
 h, f f fl^"" *^ '^'''^^' ^^^' ^^^^ o"r story begins, 
 but few of the churches, palaces, and public buildfngs 
 decorated with sculpture and frescoes, which were after- 
 
 Zfd f ?if ^'' *^"'°^'- ^'' ^^*i^^^«' »^°^«ver, were 
 W . f *^^^^ *o^n and were continually rebuilding it 
 and extending their borders as their wealth and numbers 
 mcreased. In the thirteenth and fourteenth centurLs 
 they began to employ the wandering, or " Free » masons, 
 and the sculptors and painters, who, travelling over 
 
 JBiUroDe. erented pflthedrsl^ f'^ ^-- -^^ . . i ^. 
 
 as they went. '"^'*'^^^^' chux^uc:., una stately palaces, 
 
10 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 Like most medifleval towns, the city of Florence had 
 walls and gates, the different parts of the town being 
 called after these main entrances, as — Seste di Porti 
 San Piero, Seste di Porti San Pancranzio, and so on. It 
 possessed one of the few striking clocks at that time in 
 Europe, and, from the tower in the middle of the city, 
 the bell sounding the hours might be heard throughout 
 Florence. Instead of the many bridges that now span 
 the river, there were then only two — the " old bridge," 
 Ponte Vecchio, and the Ponte Rubaconte. Upon a 
 buttress of the former stood a huge statue of the god 
 Mars, in heathen days the patron of the city. 
 
 The streets were narrow, with high over-hanging 
 houses, so that only strips of bright blue sky could be 
 seen from the rough pavement. Even then, Florence 
 was known as a " City of towers," the nobles' houses 
 being built more like fortresses than palaces. This was 
 not surprising in a warlike age when all disputes, 
 whether between private persons, towns, or nations, 
 were wont to be settled by fighting. The great scholar- 
 statesman, Machiavelli, writes of them, " In Florence at 
 first the nobles were divided against each other, then the 
 people against the nobles, and, lastly, the people against 
 the populace ; and it oft-times happened that when one 
 of the parties got the upper hand, it split into two." 
 
 At the beginning of the thirteenth century the great 
 struggle of the people against the nobles was nearly 
 ended, and the burghers were strong enough to compel 
 every noble to become a member of one of the Greater 
 Guilds, before he could build, or occupy, a house within 
 the city walls. These Guilds were the money-changers, 
 the wool-merchants, the silk-m.erchants, the physicians 
 and apothecaries, the furriers, the judges, and the 
 notaries. Thus it came about that so late as the glorious 
 
The City and the Poet i r 
 
 days of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the proudest 
 rulers of Florence bore the distinctive surname, de Medid 
 
 of the physicians." In the year 1216 the supremacy o 
 the burghers over the nobles had been followed by the 
 split mentioned by the old writer. 
 
 For the heir to one of the noble houses of Florence 
 
 Z?LT r"° """'y *" '^^"S''*" °' «"other. trans! 
 ferred his al egianee to a different lady and married her. 
 This was bitterly resented by the insulted family, and 
 
 nnH wf """'' ?* *''°'*"'=^ ^^ °"« «de or the other, 
 until the personal quarrel had made a great party 
 division between them. The family of the tajured lady 
 and her supporters allied themselves with the great 
 political party of the Guelfs. as they were called, who 
 -many of the Italian cities, were struggling to establish 
 
 non.Sr*' .°';'>\P°P« ^' temporal ruler^ Their op 
 ponents joined the other great political party, the 
 Ghibellines who were planning to bring all Italy under 
 P^Ln r,,°J *« Emperor of Germany. So that 
 Florence which had hitherto been a city of united Guelf 
 sympathies, became bitterly divided, 
 jnie ill-feeling was deepened, some years later, by 
 another personal quarrel. The descendants of a famous 
 house of Pistoja had divided themselves into two riv^ 
 factions, through alliances made with other great 
 families, one branch calling themselves Bianchi, Ifter 
 the name Bianca, of the bride, and the other taking the 
 opposed itle of Neri. Thus the "Whites" andShe 
 ,„^ t^ , ^^'^ continually at strife with each other, 
 and their kinsmen and friends took sides in the quarrel 
 
 LllT 'f ^'^^'' embittered when a son of the 
 
 . !u i, "■''' '■^'=^'™'' « ''""nd from a young member 
 of the Neri in a H„»i Th» f-t'-— -' ■' , x " "'™oer 
 f« •< 11 " " — latucr oi me latter, thinkinff 
 
 to pacify the injured youth's people, sent his son to 
 
12 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 ' ! 
 
 apologise. But those were rough times, and, in- 
 stead of receiving the apology, the father chopped 
 off the offender's right hand with a hatchet, warning 
 him that such insults were not wiped away with words. 
 
 Henceforth the city nobles were divided between 
 Bianchi and Neri, and, though both had originally been 
 Guelfs, the one now became Ghibelline, and the bitter- 
 ness of private resentment strengthened the ill-feeling 
 between the political parties. The government of 
 Florence, consisting of a mayor, or podestd, and a council 
 of magistrates, was alternately Guelf and Ghibelline, 
 each party banishing the other and being banished in 
 turn. Much of the business of making laws, regulating 
 trade, and redressing grievances was carried on in the 
 great central square, surrounded by the tall houses of 
 the chief families of the city ; for then, as in the present 
 day, the people of continental towns lived much in the 
 open air, instead of, like the English, indoors. All over 
 Europe the Florentines were noted for their good wares, 
 and especially for the purity of their gold and silver. 
 The large gold coin, worth about eight shillings, was 
 named *' florin " after the town, which was called 
 Florence, it is supposed, on account of the great fields 
 of iris, or lilies, which decked the plain beneath Fiesole. 
 The three golden balls, now so well known as the sign of 
 lenders of money upon pledges, were the arms of the 
 Lamperti family, first famous as dealers in precious 
 stones and bullion. The city arms were, until the 
 middle of the thirteenth century, white lilies on a red 
 field ; but, in the great strife of political parties, the 
 Guelfs adopted a red lily on a white ground, whilst the 
 Ghibellines kept the ancient standard. 
 
 To the happy times before this division the patriots 
 of Florence looked back as to a golden age, seeing 
 
Dante in the Streets of Florence 
 
 12 
 
The City and the Poet 13 
 
 " Florence in such assured tranquillity, 
 Nhe had no cause at which to jfrieve . . . ne'er 
 The lily from the lance had hunjf reverse, 
 Or through division been with vermeil dyed." 
 
 Thus Dante, one of the no,^lest and the greatest of the 
 famous sons of Florence, commemorates thise past 
 glories. The supposed speaker is one of his ancestors, 
 a Florentine of note in the eleventh century. In the 
 year 1265 a certain Aldighiero Alighieri, a member of 
 the Notaries' Guild and a supporter of the Guelf party, 
 with his wife Bella, lived in one of the high old houses 
 overlooking the market square. To them was born a little 
 son, about whom his mother had dreamed a strange 
 dream, in which she had seen him able to do wonderful 
 thin-s. This assured them that there would be a 
 great future before the infant, and they agreed to name 
 him accordingly. So in the solemn Baptistery of San 
 Giovanni he was christened Durante, "he that en- 
 dures"; but ere long this was shortened by his 
 parents to Dante, " the giver," and has so come down 
 to us. 
 
 We may picture young Dante in the narrow, ill-paved 
 streets of old Florence, watching the busy scenes of 
 buymg and selling, the bargaining and weighing at the 
 tables of the bullion-dealers, or standing on the Ponte 
 Vecchio watching the swiftly-flowing Arno beneath 
 him. There would be much that was interesting and 
 excitmg to see in that busy city. Mountebanks and 
 jongleurs, parties of pilgrims, glittering bands of horse- 
 men, religious processions; and, on fete-days, sports 
 and games and daring exercises by which the Florentines 
 loved to keep alive the hardy contests of then- Roman 
 ancestors. On the feast of St John Baptist, June 24th, 
 11 .Ki x^.^,,; i»vvo, >Ticsuuig, quoit-thiowmg, Bud other 
 
'4 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 feats of strength and skill were carried on throughout 
 the long summer's dav. 
 
 For play-fellows nd ^^rtinpanions Dante Alighieri 
 had the somj and t^a. '^^ ers of thf neighbours in the 
 high old housr*, l^r . ^ l ^rcntines were sociable people 
 within the limitg of their ^ulllical divisions. We find 
 recorded tM xmpression made upon the boy on the 
 occasion of some frstivity at the house of the Portinari, 
 when he was only eight years old, an occasion which 
 made one of the gfe/i^ landmarks of his life Amongst 
 the children of the assr tabled guests was a liule girl of 
 about his own age, named Beatrice, which was often 
 shortened into the caressing Bice ; ^ gay and beautiful 
 in appearance, and gentle and agreeable in manner ; 
 indeed, her features were so delicate and beautifully 
 formed that many thought her almost an angel. Dante 
 himself records that, " She seemed not to be the daughter 
 of a mortal man, but of God," as Homer sang of Helen. 
 He tells us that he treasured the memory of her grace 
 and beauty, and sought opportunity to see her, if only 
 from afar. But their lives lay apart, so that it was 
 n ^y y^ars before Dante had again the happiness to 
 bfc neai ler. His mother had died whilst he was still 
 a baby, ind his grave young father was much taken up 
 with the affairs of the city, so that the little boy in the 
 quiet house found amusements very different from 
 those of a crowded nursery. We can fancy him listening 
 to the earnest political discussions of his elders, under- 
 standing a remark here and there, and becoming familiar 
 with the names of persons and places and events ; soon, 
 even, with true Florentine fervour, taking sides in his 
 own mind with on* or the other. 
 
 'In Italian the c has a sound rather like our ch in ''church," 
 Kence Beatrice is a word of -our syllables^ Beatriehe, and Fhs is Beche, 
 
tSII 
 
 The City and the Poet 15 
 
 In due time he went to school and studied the difficult 
 subjects then taught to boys. Books and parchment 
 were scarce and very dear, so that reading went on 
 from a few treasured volumes, which w. should now 
 think too hard for young nupils ; and sand-trays and 
 slate-tablets were used for practising writing, geometry 
 and anthmetic. Dante loved learning, .nd seen, i to 
 be abe to remember what he read or was told; he 
 delighted m the history of his own city and tho ^reat 
 names connected with it. The literatures of Greece 
 and Rome were studied, and almost all serious writing 
 was in Latm. Dante's native tongue, the Tuscan 
 dialect like English before Chaucer, ^was believed to 
 be not digrn.,ed enough for literature. A few poets 
 however, though', differently, and composed their verses 
 m the por.iilar tongue ; so that when Dante grew to be 
 a young man it had become fashionable for educated 
 gentlemen to practise writing poetry. 
 In earlier times the subjects for poems had been 
 
 Irrv'the^T '.T '"'^' '"* ^' *^^ *^i^-"h 
 century the Troubadours, as they were called, wrote 
 
 llZlT^' ^'"""'^^ dedicating their verses to some 
 beautiful woman. It was natural, therefore that the 
 reverent admiration of a young Florentine ^f^Dlt": 
 
 son; So^C T ""n"^ ^' ^°^^^' ^^^^^^ ^'^^P^^^ his 
 song. So that when Dante was eighteen years old and 
 
 Is on. 'f'^'^'^'S P«"^«"« adventures in her honour 
 as one of his ancestors might have done, he sought to 
 express his adoration in a series of poems. He tdls of 
 h^second r.eeting, and its effect upon his imagina on 
 When so many days had passed that nine veTrs 
 exactly w.re fulfilled, this wonderful creature a^pear'd 
 CO me r. white robes between two gentle iadfes who 
 
 i' i- 
 
 PH 
 
i6 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 were older than she ; and passing by the street, she 
 turned her eyes towards that place, where I stood very 
 t midly, and in her ineffable courtesy saluted me so 
 graciously that I seemed then to see the heights of all 
 blessedness.'' 
 
 The story of how he carried out his resolve to compose 
 some worthy verses in her honour, and how there came 
 to be written one of the most wonderful poems in the 
 world, will be told in our next chapter. He became 
 known as one of a band of young poets who delighted in 
 experiments in verse-making, much as Sir Philip Sidney 
 and others of Spenser's friends delighted in them in 
 England three hundred years later ; and their Canzone, 
 or songs, became admired and popular. How jealously 
 Dante cared for his work is shown by a story told of him 
 in those days.i " One day Dante, passing by the Porta 
 San Pietro, heard a blacksmith beating iron upon the 
 anvil, and singing some of his verses, jumbling the 
 lines together, mutilating and confusing them, so that 
 it seemed to Dante that he was receiving a great injury. 
 He said nothing, but going into the blacksmith's shop, 
 where there were many articles made in iron, he took 
 up his hammer and pincers and scales, and many other 
 things, and threw them out into the road. The black- 
 smith, turning round upon him, cried out, ' What are 
 3^ou doing ? are you mad ? ' 
 
 " * What are you doing ? ' said Dante. 
 «' * I am working at my proper business,' said the black- 
 smith, * and you are spoiling my work by throwing it 
 
 into the road.' 
 
 " Said Dante, * If you do not like me to spoil your 
 
 things, do not spoil mine.' 
 
 ' What things of yours am I spoiling ? ' said the man 
 
 * SiBMONW, 
 
 « < 
 
 ■jiWtfK^dSisfefii**^ 
 
n 
 
 The City and the Poet 17 
 
 ' And Dante replied, ' You are singing something of 
 mine, but not as I made it. I have no other trade but 
 this, and you spoil my work.' 
 
 " The blacksmith gathered up his things and went on 
 with his hammering, but when he sang again, sang of 
 Tristram and Lancelot, and left Dante alone." 
 
 A rude interruption came to Dante, amidst his be- 
 loved studies and writing of poetry, when a war broke 
 out between Florence and Pisa, a city which had for 
 long been a rival. We read that the young poet was 
 one of the first volunteers for a cavalry regiment of 
 Florentines, and fought bravely in the battle. Florence 
 was victorious, and became the leading Italian city, 
 though it is said that, " the arrogance of her people was 
 such that those of other towns loved her more in discord 
 than in peace, and obeyed her more from fear than 
 for love." In a letter written to a friend some time 
 afterwards Dante refers to his warlike experiences in 
 the spirit of sincerity and simplicity which marks all 
 that he says : " I had much dread and, at the end, the 
 greatest gladness, by reason of the varying chances 
 of the battle." 
 
 The year after the war ended, the beautiful Beatrice 
 died, and, though her marriage had removed her from 
 Dante's circle of friends, r;he had remained his " ideal 
 lady," and his devotion was now sorrowful and heart- 
 broken. In the busy years which followed, when Dante 
 became more and more engrossed with politics and, like 
 a good Florentine, gave himself up to his duties as a 
 citizen, he never forgot his early inspiration, but 
 cherished the resolve to write some great work to com- 
 memorate the beautiful Beatrice. Presently he was 
 elected prior, or magistrate, of th^ AnnfVi*.r.QrJ«c' n„;M 
 to which he belonged. Thus he spent much time in the 
 
 'i. 
 
 Ml 
 
 B 
 
 ••"K--sf<ifliS?:*5»*-!! 
 
i8 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 public square or the council-chamber, arranging leagues 
 and treaties with other towns, settling quarrels and 
 grievances of the citizens, planning the making of 
 bridges and conduits, building churches and halls for 
 the improvement of the city, and helping in the en- 
 couragement and protection of artists and scholars. 
 Then he married, and brought home his bride to one of 
 the old houses of the Alighieri in the ancient market 
 square ; and, while his sons were still little lads, he had 
 become one of the most important men in Florence. 
 A grave man and stern was he to look at, closely ob- 
 servant of the ways and manners of others, and easily 
 moved to indignation by the sight oi deeds of tyranny 
 and oppression. 
 
 Many things there were to trouble loyal Florentines 
 in those days of angry rivals and bitterly opposed 
 parties, and it was in the first year of the fourteenth 
 century, when Dante had been sent by his fellow- 
 citizens as an ambassador to Rome to procure aid from 
 the Pope, that the opposite party rose and banished 
 all who were against them. First and foremost in the 
 roll of exiles was Dante Alighieri, who was forbidden 
 to set foot in the city again, and whose goods and pos- 
 sessions were forfeited. His wife, who belonged to an im- 
 portant family in Florence, still powerful in the new 
 state of things, was sheltered and protected with her 
 little ones, ^i^hilst Dante wandered sadly from city to 
 city in Europe. From Rome to Paris, some say from 
 Paris to Oxford, he went, always hoping and eagerly 
 planning by some means to get back to his beloved 
 Florence, but never again did he set foot in his native 
 town. Writing of this miserable time, years later, he 
 says, " Since it has pleased the most beautiful and most 
 famous daughter of Rome, Florence, to cast me forth 
 
ig leagues 
 irrels and 
 laking of 
 halls for 
 n the en- 
 scholars, 
 to one of 
 it market 
 Is, he had 
 Florence, 
 losely ob- 
 md easily 
 f tyranny 
 
 lorentines 
 opposed 
 ourteenth 
 is fellow- 
 aid from 
 banished 
 )st in the 
 forbidden 
 and pos- 
 to an im- 
 the new 
 with her 
 a city to 
 say from 
 i eagerly 
 i beloved 
 lis native 
 later, he 
 and most 
 me forth 
 
 The City and the Poet 1 9 
 
 from her sweetest bosom, through almost all the regions 
 where this language is spoken I have gone a pilgrim 
 almost a beggar, striving against wrong, with the 
 wounds of fortune. Truly I have been a bark without 
 sail and without helm, blown about to different parts 
 
 bltrstrt'h'^*'^ ""' ™' ^'^^^ -^^^^^^^^ p--*^ 
 
 Presently he went to Bologna, and, under the shadow 
 of her famous University, tried to forget his sorrow in 
 hard study and writing. Here he was joined by his 
 eldest son, now a lad of thirteen, and thought to be old 
 enough to share his father's exile, and who must often 
 have wondered why the grave, sad father, who seemed 
 to know everything, was never again to return to dear 
 familiar Florence^ In the meantime, public feeling to- 
 wards the exiled Dante had become a little less bitter,lnd 
 under a new padestd, some of his precious books, care- 
 fully stored and hidden away, were permitted to be sent 
 to him. Amongst them was a manuscript with seven 
 cantos of a poem begun in the early years of his married 
 life Many persons in the great towns of Italy knew 
 of Dante s scholarship and genius, and with the un- 
 finished poem there reached him a respectful and friendly 
 request from the Marquis Mornello, a patron of learning, 
 that he would go on and finish it. He wrote in reply 
 I certainly supposed that this, along with all my othe^ 
 things and a quantity of writings, had been lost when 
 my house was sacked, and therefore I felt my mind and 
 my thoughts lightened of all care for it. But since it 
 has p eased God that it should not be lost but sent 
 back to me, I will do my best to follow up the work 
 according to my first intention." 
 
 Comforted nnrJ ineriir'^'^ 1 — j.i. - • . - . 
 
 „ ... "~ ~ -pirv^ tjy the possession of his 
 
 writings, and restored in his determination of long ago, 
 
I 
 
 20 Stories from Dante 
 
 he at once resumed his great task, beginning the eighth 
 canto with the words, " I say, continuing, that long 
 before we reached the foot of the high tower " ; and few 
 people in reading the wonderful book to-day realize the 
 long and sad interruption between the two cantos. For 
 the fragment found and sent to him was the beginning 
 of his " Vision," of which we shall tell in the next chapter. 
 Those seven cantos were in Latin, but in the years that 
 had passed since it was begun Dante had become more 
 than ever convinced that the Tuscan tongue was worthy 
 of poetry, so he translated them. The beginnings of 
 great poems are always interesting to notice, and we read 
 that his original lines opened thus : "Of the furthest 
 realms will I sing, conterminous with the world of 
 waters, which spread abroad for souls, doomed each 
 to the reward of his deserts." The new version began 
 thus, " In the midway of this our mortal life I found 
 me in a gloomy wood, astray." 
 
 For many quiet months he worked at his great poem, 
 copying it neatly into a small book of parchment. Then, 
 when it was done, and he must again wander on, he left 
 it with the monks of the monastery of Santa Croce del 
 Corvo. Fra Ilario tells the story of how the tall traveller, 
 whose face he did not know, when asked at the 
 convent door, " What would you ? " replied " Peace." 
 
 And then, handing to the monk the little book, he 
 watched his astonishment at finding it written in the 
 vulgar tongue, and explained why he had thus done. 
 Taking farewell of the monastery, he travelled on, and 
 presently rested at Pisa, the city against whose troops 
 he had made his first adventure in soldiering those many 
 years before. He appears to have been befriended by the 
 rviost. nowerful noble of Tuscany, who liked to be thought 
 the patron of poets and scholars, as well as a successful 
 
 ■ii 
 
The City and the Poet 1 1 
 
 warrior, and there he wrote the second book of his 
 great work. 
 
 With the downfall of this Prince, Dante lost his home 
 and journeyed on to Verona, where he found shelter 
 at the court of the famous Can Grande, a cultured 
 and magnificent ruler. He was proud to entertain 
 such a genms, but Dante found it hard to be dependent 
 upon the bounty and the moods of a capricious patron. 
 He worked on at his poem, and, indeed, dedicated it to 
 Can Grande, but it is easy to see that he felt the indignity 
 of his lack of freedom. He makes a character in the 
 book express his own feeling: "Thou shalt make trial 
 of how salt doth taste another's bread, and how hard 
 the path to descend and mount upon another's stair" 
 Saddened and disappointed, besides being deep in 
 thought about his poem, it is quite possible that Dante 
 was not an easy talker, nor one adapted to make banquets 
 mirthful and gay. A contemporary of his writes of 
 mm, Dante Alighieri, my townsman, was a very en- 
 lightened man for compositions in the vulgar tongue, 
 but m his habits and speech more independent than was 
 agreeable to the delicate ears and eyes of the princes of 
 our age. Who, being an exile from his country, and 
 dwelling with Can Grande, then the universal refuge 
 and consolation of the afflicted, was at first held by him 
 m great honour, but little by little fell back, and from 
 day to day became less agreeable to the prince " Pet- 
 rarch tells how one day, as the poet formed one of a 
 party of courtiers gathered around the great man, he 
 was rallied for his sober looks, and unfavourably con- 
 trasted with the buffoon, clad in parti, making jests for 
 his master s amusement. Dante with bitterness rephed, 
 _ i,,^e I irrcsentiy ne couid endure the 
 toolish jests and contemptuous treatment no longer, 
 
 
22 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 and wandered on to Ravenna, another stately city of 
 Italy. There many people had heard of him, and he was 
 received with homage and wonder. We read that the 
 simple townsfolk were half afraid of the quiet, stooping 
 man with the deep, penetrating eyes ; and that the 
 women, spinning on their thresholds, would nudge each 
 other and whisper, " Yonder goes he who has been to 
 the other world and brought news of those long dead ! " 
 Here his two sons, Pietro and Jacopo, came to him, and 
 he passed some peaceful years, finishing his great poem, 
 and always longing, deep down in his heart, to see once 
 more the towers of San Giovanni and his beloved 
 Florence. 
 
 But it w^as not to be, and in September 1321 he died 
 in the ancient city of Ravenna. " There," says a 
 biographer, " ; rendered his weary spirit to God, not 
 without great sorrow of all the citizens." Even in 
 death his fellow-townsmen of Florence could not forgive 
 him, and they paid no funeral honours to his memory 
 while he was being laid to rest in Ravenna. Centuries 
 later his native city awoke to the greatness of her son, 
 and begged his ashes from the town of his exile, only to 
 be refused. 
 
Introduction II 
 
 DANTE AND BEATRICE 
 
 " For certain he hath seen all perfectness 
 Who among other ladies hath seen mine : 
 They that go with her, humbly should combine 
 To thank their God for such peculiar grace. 
 So perfect is the beauty of her face 
 That it begets in no wise any sign 
 Of envy, but draws round her a clear line 
 Of love, and blessed faith, and gentleness." 
 
 The New Life. 
 
 THE beautiful child, Beatrice, or Bice, Portinari 
 whom Dante first met when he was eight years 
 
 destined to mspire him to the composition of one of the 
 greatest and most wonderful poems in the world. The 
 occasion of the meeting was a May feast, in the year 1274 
 
 fnTf K ^ t?. ^^'^^^^^ *° ^'^ fr^^^d^ ^^d neighbours 
 and their children. Dante records that on that day, 
 her dress was of a most noble colour, a subdued and 
 goodly crimson, girdled and adorned in such sort as best 
 suited with her very tender age." Strangely enough, it 
 
 Dante emphatically notes, before he again met his ideal 
 laay He described the occasion thus: "The same 
 wonderful lady appeared to me dressed all in pure white, 
 Detween two orpntlp lo/iioo ^}A^-r t^^^ -•» • ' 
 fu« 1- " ° — •v.v^v.o ciGci tuau sne. Ana passing 
 
 through a street, she turned her eyes thither where I 
 
 23 
 
 r- 
 
24 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 stood, sorely abashed, and by her unspeakable courtesy 
 she saluted me with so virtuous a bearing that I seemed 
 then and there to behold the very limits of blessedness." 
 He tells us, too, that it was exactly the ninth hour of the 
 day when the meeting took place, for throughout his 
 life Dante showed himself in sympathy with the common 
 beliefs in ancient and mediaeval times that the number 
 nine was one of mystic import. 
 
 The outcome of this event was a Vision, in which Dante 
 beheld strange things which told of what should happen 
 in the future. There appeared to him a lofty figure 
 bearing a heart in flames, and murmuring, " Behold I 
 thy heart ! " This Vision occurred at the first of the 
 nine last hours of the night ; and full of delight, yet per- 
 plexed at what it should mean, Dante determined to 
 reveal it to certain other poets by means of a Sonnet, and 
 to invite their responses and interpretations. One of the 
 men so honoured was Guido Cavalcanti, who thus be- 
 came a friend of Dante, and is worthily commemorated 
 by him. 
 
 It was part of the poetic fashion of the day for a young 
 writer to clothe his imaginative work in the guise of 
 chivalrous devotion to some beautiful woman, and to 
 avow himself her spiritual knight and servant, as in 
 earlier days adventurous spirits had constituted them- 
 selves warrior-champions of fair ladies. So we find 
 Dante, in accordance with this dainty fancy, undertaking 
 various experiments in order to do honour to his lady ; 
 amongst them being the curious one of enrolling in verse 
 the names of sixty of the most beautiful women in 
 Florence. It gave him great pleasure that the only 
 place where " Beatrice " would fit musically was ninth 
 
 troc nnt pontcnt mcTelv to exer- 
 
 .-v-r* 4-r»<^ lit.. 
 
 " .1 . <f .B_^ <,».?*• 
 
 cise his gift for verse in pretty compliments. His adoring 
 
courtesy 
 [ seemed 
 ledness." 
 ur of the 
 hout his 
 common 
 number 
 
 ch Dante 
 i happen 
 by figure 
 Behold I 
 5t of the 
 , yet per- 
 nined to 
 met, and 
 •ne of the 
 thus be- 
 ^morated 
 
 r a young 
 guise of 
 I, and to 
 nt, as in 
 ed them- 
 we find 
 iertaking 
 his lady ; 
 y in verse 
 romen in 
 the only 
 «ras ninth 
 f to exer- 
 is adoring 
 
 The Salutation of Beatrice 
 
 24 
 
hi5 
 inl 
 foi 
 Lii 
 
 agi 
 th< 
 
 th< 
 
 dis 
 
 att 
 
 tor 
 
 vol 
 
 fro 
 
 dis 
 
 Dn 
 
 ma 
 
 Be. 
 
 or j 
 
 fro; 
 
 she 
 
 out 
 
 inn 
 
 He 
 
 sur 
 
 she 
 
 her 
 
 ene 
 
 upc 
 
 hav 
 
 mal 
 
 con 
 
 moi 
 
Dante and Beatrice 
 
 25 
 
 reverence for Beatrice so uplifted his soul and enlightened 
 his mind that, years later, when he wove the whole story 
 into a series of Sonnets, with a commentary, or " rubric," 
 forming his autobiography, he entitled it "The New 
 Life." This began with the meeting in the street at the 
 age of eighteen, but had been dimly foreshadowed by 
 the earlier one in his childhood, and lasted for nine yeurs. 
 In this poetic story we read how jealously he guarded 
 the secret of his devotion, even taking extreme pains to 
 disguise it, lest it should be treated as one of the frivolous 
 attachments of a cavalier. Yet at one time mischievous 
 tongues made busy with his name to the lady of his de- 
 votion; and, meeting him on a certain day, she "withheld 
 from him her most gracious salutation," to his infinite 
 distress and sorrow. Apparently during all this time 
 Dante pursued the ordinary life of a Florentine gentle- 
 miin, never becoming intimate with the beautiful 
 Beatrice, but meeting her on rare occasions in the street, 
 or at some festive gathering, and always worshipping her 
 from afar, till the miserable day mentioned above, when 
 she " withheld her salutation." Evidently, however, his 
 outward life was of small importance compared with that 
 inner and devout one in which his spirit was absorbed. 
 He tells us, in order that it may be understood of what 
 surpassing blessedness was her salutation, that, " When 
 she appeared in any place it seemed to me by the hope of 
 her excellent salutation that there was no man mine 
 enemy any longer, and such warmth of charity came 
 upon me that most certainly in that moment I would 
 have pardoned whosoever had done me an injury ; and 
 if one should then have questioned me concerning any 
 matter, I could only have said unto him ' Love,' with a 
 
 oniint.*>Tmnr»A r»lotl^«»'^ i" HnT«Kl'»r"»'«'' " xT_j.i.i u 
 
 — ^^^«.-L.vi iix xiiiiiiUiciicaiB. i-HULXAUig CUUlQ 
 
 more plainly show the transforming power of an ideal de- 
 
 if 
 
 4 
 l" U 
 
26 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 votion than this subduing of the haughty, tempestuous, 
 disdainful spirit of the young Dante to the breathing of 
 gentle, tender humility. In later days he was to show 
 the resolute will and the softened heart leagued together 
 to do immortal honour to Beatrice ; in the meantime, a 
 Vision which came to him " at the ninth hour of the 
 night," showed him that he had been to blame in attempt- 
 ing to keep secret the fervour of his devotion, and thus 
 i:ad misled the judgment of others. So he composed a 
 " Ditty " designed to reach the offended lady, beginning, 
 
 " Song-, 'tis my will that thou do seek out Love 
 And go with him where my dear Lady is ; 
 That so my cause, the which thy harmonies 
 Do plead, his hetter speech may clearly prove ;" 
 
 and her displeasure was banished, though never again 
 was there the same unburdened joy in Dante's mind con- 
 cerning her. 
 
 Some time later, the death of her father, Folco 
 Portinari, overwhelmed him with grief for her sake, and 
 he became ill. On the ninth day of his sickness he was 
 seized with the thought that, " certainly it must some 
 time come to pass that the gentle Beatrice will die " ; and 
 the grievous Vision possessed him so that he saw her 
 lying in death, and certain ladies covering her head with 
 a white veil. On her face was that which said, " I have 
 attained to behold the beginning of Peace," for thus early 
 did the stormy soul of Dante realize that in Peace alone is 
 bliss. Not immediately was the sad foreboding fulfilled, 
 for Dante was able to see the gracious lady of his heart 
 yet and again, as she trod the streets of Florence, " in 
 such favour with all men that when she passed anywhere 
 
 •fnllr ran fr» V»plir^lrl Vipr ivViipV* tViinrr waK a f{(^e^r\ ir»v fn 
 — - " -■ £3 " 1- J" J — 
 
 me," he writes fervently. The lofty and spiritual nature 
 
Dante and Beatrice 
 
 27 
 
 of his devotion is especially shown by the fact that durina 
 these years Beatrice married a Florc.tine gentleman, and 
 
 been Z'f^^T^'''' ^'"^""^^ ^'^"^ ^^^ ^evotio . .kd^t 
 
 been only that of an ordinary lover. But Dante never 
 mentions or refers to her marriage in his " New Life." or 
 
 Thrn ,? rfZ T^ ^^ ^^''^ '^'^ ^^' the inspira ion. 
 Throughout his whole career he seems to have enthroned 
 her spiritual presence upon a pmnacle in his inmost 
 
 vSVr. ."^ ^""^^ ^t'^ "° ^^*^^"^^ gratification be- 
 yond that of occasionally seeing her in the distance. 
 
 >.ine years after the salutation in the street which 
 
 n^arked the beginning of his " New Life " Dante had to 
 
 endure the anguish foreseen in his Vision, and to hear the 
 
 crushing word that Beatrice .as dead ; " the Lord God 
 
 nVHwllf ? f r^ ""^'^ ^^^^°"^ ^^^-y ""t« Himself." 
 He dwells tenderly upon the exact day and hour of her 
 death, seeing that " the number nine seems also to W 
 borne a part in the manner of her death. For, according 
 
 narteH r'^'" ^^ ''"'' ^^ ^*^'^' ^'' ^°«* '^^ble spirit de^ 
 parted from among us m the first hour of the ninth day 
 of the month ; and, according to the division of time in 
 Syria, m the ninth month of the year » ; in other words? 
 
 " aZ J ? *^' ^*^ °^ ''"'^^ 1290. He writes 
 After this most gracious creature had gone out from 
 among us, the whole city came to be, as it were, widowed 
 and despoiled of all dignity." wiaowed 
 
 " Beatrice is gone up into high Heaven, 
 
 The kingdom where the angels are at peace, 
 And lives with them ; and to her friends is dead. 
 Not by the frost of winter was slie driven 
 Away, like others ; nor by summer-heats ; 
 But through a perfect gentleness, instead. 
 X or froi/i tiie lamp of her meek lowiihead 
 Such an exceeding glory went up hence 
 
 t 
 
 
 
 m 
 
 •:ii 
 
aM«^iiit*:^i!!ii^^^l«y!ii;«*lii,!§^Siii?*^ 
 
 28 Stories from Dante 
 
 That it woke wonder in the Eternal Sire, 
 
 Until a sweet desire 
 Entered Him for that lovely excellence, 
 
 So that He bade her to Himself aspire ; 
 Counting this weary and most evil place 
 Unworthy of a thing so full of grace." 
 
 Indeed it seems to be no exaggeration that all Florence 
 mourned for the gentle lady whose beauty and gracious 
 ways had endeared her to all. Amongst the men and 
 women wh? knew her well there was a generous rivalry 
 as to who could best compose, or most reverently recite, 
 dirges and elegies to her memory. Dante describes how a 
 band of Pilgrims, passing through Florence on their way 
 to Rome, were amazed and bewildered by the air of gloom 
 and mourning cast over the city, and going home, he 
 composed a Sonnet that should connect them with the 
 general sadness : — 
 
 t( 
 
 Ye pilgrim- folk, advancing pensively, 
 
 Passing through the mournful town midway 
 Like unto men that understand to-day 
 Nothing at all of her great misery. . . . 
 Yet if ye will but stay, whom I accost. 
 And listen to my words a little space. 
 At going ye shall mourn with a loud voice : — 
 * It is her Beatrice that she hath lost.' " 
 
 Once again a myst rious Vision came to Dante in which 
 he was shown something of the Future Life which his 
 revered lady had entered upon ; in his own words, " A 
 very wonderful Vision, wherein I saw ♦^hings which de- 
 termined me that I would say nothing further of this most 
 blessed one, until such time as I could discourse more 
 worthily concerning her. And to this end I labour all I 
 can, as she well knoweth. Wherefore if it be His plea- 
 
Dante and Beatrice 
 
 Florence 
 gracious 
 men and 
 s rivalry 
 ;ly recite, 
 )es how a 
 heir way 
 of gloom 
 tiome, he 
 with the 
 
 ! in which 
 ;vhich his 
 ords, " A 
 vhich de- 
 this most 
 irse more 
 bour all I 
 His plea- 
 
 29 
 
 sure through Whom is the life of all things, that my life 
 contmue with me a few years, it is my hope that I 
 shall yet write concerning her what hath not before been 
 written of any woman." 
 
 For many years Dante nursed this resolve deep down 
 m his heart, in the meantime studying hard and throw- 
 ing himself completely into the political life and contests 
 of Florence. Amongst the ladies known to Beatrice, and 
 who mourned for her, was a certain Gemma Donati, a 
 member of one of the oldest and most honoured families 
 of the city. This lady seems to have combined in her 
 person and character some of the graces so idealized in 
 Beatrice, and when Dante had taken up in earnest the 
 burden of Florentine life and politics, he married her 
 This, however, he never mentions in his writings, nor 
 does It seem to have affected in any way the inner life of 
 thespirit in which he had enshrined the beautiful Beatrice 
 His severer studies resulted in certain Latin treatises in 
 one of which he discusses the nature of Civilisation and 
 Government, and describes his ideal State as one supreme 
 spiritual power symbolised by the Pope, and one supreme 
 civil power in the person of the Emperor. In another 
 he searches into the origin of language, and argues elo- 
 quently for his darling theory of the special fitness of the 
 Tuscan tongue for the expression of the highest thought. 
 Also m precious, secret hours of leisure he had planned 
 out and begun the great work by which he meant to do 
 honour to the memory of Beatrice. In accordance with 
 his sense of the mystical value of the number nine, and 
 Its sub-multiple three, he designed to treat of the Vision 
 vouchsafed to him soon after her death in Three Books 
 with thirty-three cantos in each, and an introductory 
 
 canto as ft nrp]iirl*»- Alci-> 4-V.^ «v.^4-~ i. 1 . ^ . ... 
 
 I ^ix^vr tii^ iiicnc WU5 10 ue znsLZ oi the 
 
 three-lined stanza, or terza rima. The subjects of the 
 
 . I 
 
 '^4 
 
 W 4 
 
30 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 Three Books were Hell, Purgatory and Heaven, and in 
 remembrance of the comfort and enlightenment which 
 came to him soon after the death of Beatrice, he at first 
 called it " The Vision." In this he had some great models, 
 for as in early ages of the world dreams and visions had 
 played an important part in the life of mankind, so, in 
 mediaeval times, the story told in the form of a Vision had 
 become a favourite kind of literature. 
 
 Dante, with his wide reading, must have been familipr 
 with Cicero's " Vision of Scipio," and with the work of 
 a great Christian mystic of the twelfth century, known as 
 " The Vision of Frate Alberico." Amongst lesser ex- 
 amples was that of his old schoolmaster, Ser Brunette 
 Latini, called the" Tesoretto." In all these an attempt 
 was made to give some account of the mysteries of the 
 Life after Death, and of the rewards and penalties of 
 man's good and evil conduct upon earth. Thus Dante 
 adopted a popular method of conveying his great message, 
 and, as we have seen in the preceding chapter, translated 
 the seven cantos which he had written before his banish- 
 ment into the popular Tuscan tongue, so that his work, 
 instead of being suited only to scholars, should appeal to 
 all his countrymen. He linked himself, too, to the feeling 
 of the time in making Virgil his guide through the shadows 
 of Hell and Purgatory, whose descriptions in the Sixth 
 Book of the ^neid Dante's often recall. In the joyful 
 region of Heaven, the scene of the Third Book, the 
 blessed Beatrice herself is his guide and tutor. As his 
 work progressed Dante changed his original intention of 
 calling it " The Vision of Dante Alighieri," and entitled 
 it " The Comedy of Dante Alighieri, a Florentine by 
 Nation." The original meaning of " Comedy " was that 
 of " action, moving on towards a happy ending," and not 
 at all what we now understand by the word. Though 
 
Dante and Beatrice ^ j 
 
 the poem is " one of the saddest in the world " V^e name 
 accordmg to its old meaning, is approDriaie tT^ 
 centuries later the reverence in whiehThe work ^as heTd 
 led to the addition of " Divine » to thp f,>io T ?! 
 " Divine Comedy," or " D^a cl^ ]S •■' itTa^b e„' 
 best known ever sinee. It is full of sad ank sti«^^„ pfc 
 
 t^ nt ages still and the women whom they loved • of 
 Emperors and Pontiffs and Princes of Christendom '■ o 
 Charlemagne's warriors and crusading 10118^" of 
 Samts and Martyrs of the Church ; of%he mustrious 
 men and women of Europe, with numbers of those^ho 
 were hvmg in his own day ; scholars and artistsf soia«s 
 fasrdulT:' statesmen and rulers; allare'shownto 
 us as endunng or achieving, in the other world accordino 
 to their deeds m hfe. The romantic histories of someof 
 fee^characters will be presented in these " StoriSZm 
 
 The story has been told in the preceding chanter of tl,. 
 fortunate recovery of the first seven canfo oTth ;oem 
 after the bamshment of their writer from his befoved 
 city. A somewhat similar fate befell the thirteen kst 
 cantos of the Third Book. Through his many [rrneyi„l 
 the precious manuscripts were entrusted to ditoent 
 hands, and after the breach of Dante's frie-^dshrS 
 his noble pa_; ron, Can Grande, he forbore to send hL the 
 
 CnnrhfhfdTr ""*^''- '" ■''^ '-* ">-«-* 
 
 S and aftt h""/?/K ™''^<* *° ^^^ sympathising 
 mend and after his death his two sons were distressed to 
 find nothing of the latter part of the poem. Some rnont^ 
 at r a vision came to the younger, Jacopo, in wWch he 
 «as shown a recess behind a panel in the room rwhich 
 
 father had lived. Friend 
 
 
 and found a wooden panel fitted into the wall 
 
 iiim to the spot, 
 
 
 • ,1 i 
 
 such 
 
 as 
 
I^ll 
 
 32 Stories from Dante 
 
 they had always been accustomed to see, and, removing 
 this, they found in the wall a little window which none of 
 them had ever seen nor known to be there. In this they 
 found many writings, moulded by the damp of the wall ; 
 and when they had carefully cleared them from the mould 
 they found in continuous order the thirteen missmg 
 
 cantos," 
 
 According to tradition Dante, living in Ravenna under 
 the protection of its lord, Guido Novello da Polenta, " by 
 his teachings trained many scholars in poetry," especially 
 in the Tuscan language, thus winning many to give up 
 writing in Latin. In the month of September 1821 
 Dante fell sick and died, and the "magnanimous 
 cavalier Guido placed the dead body upon a funeral bier 
 adorned with poetic insignia, and had it borne on the 
 shoulders of his most distinguished citizens to the place 
 of the Minor Friars in Ravenna. And here he had him 
 placed in a stone chest wherein he still lieth." In an 
 epitaph intended for his tomb by a poet of Bologna, it is 
 written : " In one thousand three hundred and three 
 times seven years of the Deity, he went back, on 
 September's Ides, to his own stars." This is a quiet 
 reference to his manner of ending each of the Three 
 Books of the Divine Comedy. The close of the " Inferno" 
 is, " Thence we came forth to re-behold the stars " : of 
 the " Ttirgatorio," " I returned regenerate, pure and 
 disponed to mount unto the stars": and of the 
 " Paradiso," " The Love which moves the sun and other 
 stars." 
 
removing 
 h none of 
 this they 
 the wall ; 
 ;he mould 
 
 1 missing 
 
 ma under 
 ;nta, " by 
 especially 
 
 give up 
 iber 1821 
 nanimous 
 lueral bier 
 le on the 
 
 the place 
 
 2 had him 
 ." In an 
 iogna, it is 
 and three 
 
 back, on 
 is a quiet 
 the Three 
 " Inferno" 
 stars " : of 
 
 pure and 
 id of the 
 
 1 and other 
 
 Part One 
 
 The Inferno 
 
" Here sighs, with lamentations and loud moans, 
 Resounded through the air, pierced by no star. . ." 
 
 Dantr. 
 
 " Through many a dark and dreary vale 
 They passed, and many a region dolorous. 
 O'er many a frozen, many a fieri/ Alp, 
 Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades 
 
 of death, 
 A universe of death." 
 
The Inferno 
 
 IN the early ages of European history the Earth 
 was behaved to be the centre of the Universe 
 stationary in space, with the Sun and the 
 Panets revolving about it. This is called the 
 Ptolemaic system of Astronomy, after the great 
 mathematician Ptolemy of Alexandria, whose book 
 Ihe Almagest contained all that was known of the 
 subject m the second century after Christ. In Dante's 
 day and for some centuries later, this was the conception 
 
 nil .r"''^ '"^'"^ ""^"'y ^"^ ^^^d- I" the sixteenth 
 century the astronomers Copernicus and Kepler dis- 
 covered that the Sun is the centre, the Earth and the other 
 1 lanets moving around it ; and in the early seventeenth 
 century Galileo published the discovery more widely 
 Ihe new idea was, however, very slowly accepted ; and 
 readers will remember that Milton's descriptions ^n 
 ^Ttem^h ''t.^'' i^ agreement with the Ptolemaic 
 Ra?hT:i T u- ^^'^^ ™^- ^^ ^^Presents the angel 
 
 Besides the mapping out of the Universe with the 
 
 Hraven^Hen ' T'J '^*^"''^"" '^""^^^ ^^^ ^^^^ that 
 f^H^V^f" and Purgatory, the abodes of departed 
 -P.ri.., h^^ actual geographical positions. Hell, as 
 
 35 
 
 I 11 
 
36 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 prepared for Satan on his rebellion in Heaven, lay at the 
 centre of the Earth, where was a gloomy region with a 
 bottomless lake in the midst. Milton, we remember, 
 thus describes the vast distance betweeix the realms of 
 Heaven and Hell : — 
 
 " Nine days they fell . . . hell at last 
 Yawning, received them whole and on them closed," 
 
 and reproduces mediaeval thought as to the surroundings 
 of Hell and the Universe in his account of Satan's journey 
 to Earth. Emerging from the gate of Hell, 
 
 " A dark 
 Illimitable ocean, without bound. 
 
 Without dimension, where length, breadth, and height 
 And time and place, are lost ; where Eldest Night 
 And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold 
 Eternal anarchy . . . Chaos umpire sits 
 And by decision more embroils the fray 
 By which he reigns ; next him, high arbiter 
 Chance governs all. . ." * 
 
 In this he is handing on the poetic tradition of Dante, 
 who, in his turn, had used much of the material of the 
 classical poets Virgil and Homer. Virgil's impressive 
 Book VI. of the Mneid relating the visit of iEneas to the 
 realm of Pluto, god of the underworld, was based upon 
 Homer's description of the Cimmerian land of shades and 
 darkness, beyond the extreme boundaries of the purple 
 ocean. 
 
 Dante pictures the approach to the bottomless burning 
 lake, the abode of the Evil one, as a deep funnel-shaped 
 cavity. Round its circular sides are great terraces, the 
 " circles " of the description, with perilous descents 
 from one to another. Down the terrible banks flow four 
 
 * Paradise Lost, Bk. II, 
 
;< r] 
 
 The Entrance to Hell 
 
 36 
 
 111 
 
 1! 
 
The Inferno 
 
 37 
 
 sluggish rivers, winding their way through marshes to- 
 wards the burning lake : Acheron, the river of sorrow • 
 Styx, the river of hate ; Phlegethon, whose waters were 
 torrent fire ; and Lethe, v/hich from Purgatory drained 
 the memory of sin away mto the forgetfulness of the 
 eternal deep. 
 
 Led by Virgil through the recesses of the dark wood in 
 which he found himself astray, Dante reaches the grim 
 massive portals which are the entrance to Hell. Li the 
 ^ Grange gloom he can just make out an inscription high 
 on the arch : — ^ s 
 
 " Through mo you pass into the city of woe : 
 Through me you pass into eternal pain : 
 Through me among the people lost for aye . . . 
 All hope abandon, ye who enter here." 
 
 Just within is a vast plain crowded with hurrying 
 spirits, aU confusedly following a wavering flag. These 
 are the souls of those who in life were never in earnest, 
 never decided, winning neither praise nor blame. Virgil 
 explains why they are there in the outer boundaries of 
 Hell perpetually in motion: 'Heaven chased them 
 forth to keep its beauty from impair, and the deep Hell 
 receives them not, for the wicked would hav 3 some glorv 
 over them." * ^ 
 
 Passing on they come to the bank of the river Acheron 
 where Charon waits to ferry the souls across. Dante 
 swoons with fear, and when he awakes finds that they are 
 on the other side and within the First Circle of the nether 
 world called by the ancients Limbo. This region is 
 inhabited by sighing spirits who desire God : the souls 
 of those who lived before Christ, only so far afflicted that 
 without hope we live in desire." One small hemisphere 
 01 .igxx. siiiues through the dimness, and on reaching it 
 Dante sees the spirits of great and noble men and women 
 
 f 1 
 
 |;»i 
 
 Si; S 
 
 ;i i 
 
 14- 
 
«W|H«»f.H. 
 
 38 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 of the heathen world : Homer, Aristotle, Socrates, Plato, 
 Lucretia, Cornelia, Empedocles, Democritus, Euclid, 
 Ptolemy, Galen, and others. 
 
 Descending to the next circle, the first of the inner 
 Hell, Dante beholds at the gateway Minos, the Judge 
 of the infernal regions ; and within he is baflled and con- 
 fused by rushing gales of wind blowing in all directions. 
 In this place, " void of light and a noise as of the sea in 
 tempest," are the souls of those who on earth chose to 
 live evil lives of pleasure ; amongst them Dido of 
 Carthage, Helen of Troy, Achilles and Paris. 
 
 In the next circle, where suffer the souls of those who 
 on earth were gluttonous and greedy, there pours a con- 
 tinual storm of hail, rain and snow from which shelter 
 is impossible, and the hound Cerberus barks and worries 
 his miserable charges incessantly. Here Dante recognises 
 a rich Florentine of his own day, notorious in life for his 
 greedy appetite and nicknamed therefore " Ciacco." 
 
 Next they come to the circle where dwell the souls of 
 the Avaricious and the Prodigal. Plutus, god of Riches, 
 who guards the entrance, utters inarticulate sounds of 
 rage at the appearance of one yet alive in the body. All 
 the wretched spirits in this place are rolling heavy weights 
 before them — the Prodigals in one direction, the Avari- 
 cious in another. Thus they smite one against the other, 
 and with bitter reproaches turn and drive their burdens 
 in the opposite directions, only soon to meet and mutually 
 upbraid again. Virgil explains, " Ill-giving and Ill- 
 keeping h is deprived them of the bright world. . . . 
 All the gold that is beneath the moon, or ever was, could 
 not give rest to a single one of these weary souls." 
 
 In the next circle, which is all mitishy and bog-like 
 frrvrn fho slow stfeam of the St.vx are anorv SDirits rendinc 
 and tearing each other in the mud, who, Dante learns, were 
 
The Inferno 
 
 39 
 
 the Wrathful and the Gloomy on earth. Remorseful and 
 miserable they cry, " Sullen were we in the sweet air that 
 is gladdened by the sun, carrying lazy smoke within our 
 hearts ; now lie we sullen here in the black mire." 
 
 Crossing the marsh to the Fifth Circle in the boat of 
 Phlegyas, Dante recognises a spirit tormented in the 
 miry bog as that of Filippo Argenti, a haughty Florentine, 
 whose waywardness and caprice made him generally 
 detested in his lifetime. Sounds of lamentation are heard, 
 and Virgil warns Dante that they are nearing the 
 City of Dis. Within those doleful walls were punished 
 graver sins than those of appetite and temper, and the 
 gate is guarded by the Three Furies. An angel puts the 
 evil ones to flight, and the two travellers enter the gates 
 to find themselves on a wide plain where are many burning 
 sepulchres in which are punished the Heretics, with their 
 followers. From one of the tombs peers the anguished 
 face of the great Ghibelline, Farinata degli Uberti, father- 
 in-law of Guido Cavaleanti, Dante's poet-friend; and 
 then he sees Cavalcante de Cavaleanti, Guido's father. 
 In ominous words the Ghibelline chief warns Dante of his 
 lasting exile from the city they both had loved so well. 
 
 Thus far the journey has led Dante and his guide 
 through the first of the Three great divisions of Hell. 
 They then come to the Seventh Circle, t]i<^ first of the 
 Second great division in which suffr ,,o.. who com- 
 mitted violence on earth. This term includes not only 
 murders and robberies, but also offences against the souls 
 of others by flattery, secret theft, sorcery, and -•vil 
 temptations. The descent is steep and perilous, amongst 
 loose stones where footing is insecure, and a poisonous 
 stench arises from below which nearly overcomes the 
 trembling Dan t.f>. Phlprrf:.! Vior* fi^o 1.;,^^- ^# ui^^j i: j. 
 
 ^ 1 — ^ ..,,,_ -ir'_i xji. i:i\j\j\j., lies iii, 
 
 the bottom, enclosing two other parts of this, the Seventh 
 
 IJuii 
 
I ! 
 
 40 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 Circle, and in its terrible stream wade the spirits of the 
 Violent. Nessus, the Centaur, carries Dante across the 
 river, and tells him who are the figures he sees in the 
 flood. Amongst them are Dionysius, tyrant of Syracuse 
 in the fourth century before Christ ; Ezzelino the Cruel, 
 a great Ghibelline chief who died a few years before 
 Dante was born ; the Marquis da Este, a leading Guelf 
 of his own time ; and Guy de Montfort, murderer of 
 Prince Henry of England, son of the Duke of Cornwall. 
 
 Beyond the river they come to a terrible wood, 
 whereir strange and distorted growths of bushes and 
 shrubs imprisoned the souls of those who had taken their 
 own lives. Dante, plucking a spray from a large thorn- 
 tree, hears a wailing voice from it, " Why dost thou rend 
 me ? " The spirit is that of Pietro delle Vigne, Secretary 
 and Chancellor to the Emperor Frederic II., who, in 
 despair at the injustice of the treatment he received, took 
 his life in prison. 
 
 On leaving the sorrowful wood they emerge upon a 
 plain of burning sand, under a continually falling shower. 
 Here are the hurrying spirits of the self-willed and ex- 
 travagant, driven in bands by whirling blasts at speeds 
 differing according to the degrees of their guilt. Dante's 
 robe was plucked by one who sped past, and as he bent 
 to see the parched, upturned face, he knew it for that of 
 his old master and tutor, Ser Brunetto Latini. Farther 
 on he saw crouching figures with pouches hung from their 
 necks upon which he could see designs embossed. From 
 these he knew the sufferers to be certain rich money- 
 lenders of Padua and Florence. 
 
 Then follows one of the strangest experiences of all this 
 terrifying journey. A huge monster, Geryon, resembling 
 
 ■l-V»^i Tl»«o *Ti-\r» 
 
 
 lO ^nCTlQ 
 
 rA<^ 
 
 by 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 Virgil, who dangles the girdle worn by Dante over the 
 
1 h^J 
 
 • "J 
 
 the 
 
 The Inferno 41 
 
 edge of the abyss ; and, as the huge creature rests its 
 front upon the bank, the two travellers mount upon its 
 back : As the monster felt himself quite loose, there 
 where his breast had been he turned his tail, and, stretch' 
 mg, moved it, and with his paws gathered the air to him 
 . . . I saw myself in the air on all sides, and saw ex- 
 tinguished every sight, save of the beast. He goes on 
 swimming, slowly, slowly ; wheels and descends, but 
 I perceive It not, otherwise than by a wind upon my face 
 and from below. On the right hand I heard the whirlpool 
 make a hideous roaring under us . . . then at the bottom 
 Geryon set us, close to the foot of the ragged rock." 
 
 Ihus they pass by a nrrrow shaft down to the Eighth 
 Circle This consists of a broad shelving terrace slanting 
 down towards another narrower shaft, divided into ten 
 deep fosses with narrow passage-ways from one to 
 another. They turn to the left along the outermost ridge, 
 and stand where they can see the occupants of these evi 
 lairs (MaZe bolge). Amongst the number, all mire be- 
 spattered, are the Greek Jason; Simon the Sorcerer 
 whom St Peter rebuked; Aruns, the Soothsayer, who 
 prophesied the death of Pompey ; Michael Scoi, the 
 wizard whom the Emperor Frederic II. honoured in his 
 
 trTt ' • *^ pI *^' ^"??'' °' ^* ^^^y ^*^° b-*^-y<^d their 
 trust in Bologna ; Caiaphac and Annas ; Agnello 
 Bmnelleschi, and other Florentine nobles who robbed 
 
 S;k'!i ^ fl '^ *f"'*'^ *^'"^ ' Ulysses and Diomed, 
 bathed m flame wherein " they groan for the ambush oi 
 the Wooden Horse, and for the Palladium they suffer 
 pumshment '; and lastly Guido da Montefeltro, a 
 
 nf.K m'^Iu fT^ '^''°^" ^" ^^"te's time. Arriving 
 at the Ninth of the Ten great fosses, Dante sees, amon J 
 
 Fr n ?'^'' ? ^ "'^"^^^ ^""^ ^^^^«"^'" Mahomet ; one 
 i^ra Dolcmo, burnt for heresy early in the fourteenth 
 
42 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 century ; Malatestino da Rimini, who broke his truce in 
 a parley ; Mosca dei Lamberti, who advised that young 
 Buondelmonte should be slain, with the sinister words, 
 " A thing done hath an end " ; and Bertrand de Born, 
 the Troubadour-Baron of Hautefort, who stirred up strife 
 between King Henry II. of England and his sons. 
 
 In the tenth and last of the divisions of the dreadful 
 Male bolge Dante sees the spirits of Falsifiers, in things, 
 as Alchemists and Forgers ; in deeds, as Impersonators 
 of others for fraudulent purposes ; and in words, as 
 Slanderous Accusers. Amongst these are one Grifolino 
 of Arezzo, who pretended to be able to teach Count 
 Alberto of Sienna to fly ; Adamo of Brescia, a coiner, who 
 counterfeited the Florentine golden florin ; and Simon 
 the Greek, who induced the Trojans to receive the 
 Wooden Horse. 
 
 Leaving this great and horrible circle the travellers 
 reach the Ninth, where they are in awful nearness to the 
 very realm of Satan. A thick and gloomy air oppresses 
 them, and as they approach the edge of the Pit they see 
 huge giants standing round it. There are Nimrod, who 
 sought to build the tower of Babel ; Tityus and Typhon, 
 rebels against Jupiter ; and Briareus, the many -headed. 
 One of them, Antaeus, who is unfettered, lifts them down 
 the terrible shaft, and they find themselves in the frozen 
 region, farthest from the sun, and bereft of light. There 
 are four great rings in each of which grievous sinners 
 dwell. In the outermost, called Caina after the first 
 murderer, are those who have killed their kindred ; in 
 the second, called Antenora, after the Trojan Antenor, 
 betrayer of his own land, are the traitors to their country ; 
 in the third, PfoZomcpa, which is so named after Ptolomaeus, 
 
 are the traitors to their friends ; and in the innermost, 
 
The Seventh Circit 
 
 4a 
 
 W i-|t i 
 
tr 
 
 Pl 
 A 
 
 ea 
 
 th 
 
 A] 
 
 pa 
 
 be 
 
 on 
 see 
 de; 
 we 
 ey< 
 aiK 
 hu: 
 las 
 an( 
 
 an^ 
 ini 
 imi 
 
 fun 
 and 
 opp 
 gui( 
 cha: 
 tot 
 moi 
 ting 
 whi( 
 to s 
 
The Inferno 
 
 43 
 
 the Judecca, after Judas Iscariot, are those who were 
 traitors to their benefactors. In these four doleful 
 places Dante finds the two sons of Count Alberto degli 
 Alberti, who quarrelled o- er their inheritance and killed 
 each other ; Bocca degli Abbati, whose treachery led to 
 the Florentine defeat at Montaperti ; Count Ugolino and 
 Archbishop Ruggiero, traitors both ; and in sad com- 
 panionship, Judas Iscariot and Brutus and Cassius 
 betrayers of their Masters. 
 
 The horror of this region exceeds that of any previous 
 one : the unhappy spirits are prisoned in ice which yet 
 seems to let them move with agony, only to freeze in 
 deadlier embrace the next moment. The two brothers 
 weep tears which freeze as they fall and seal the poor 
 eyes scalded the moment before; the cruel Ugolino 
 and his victim are closely locked together, Ruggiero's 
 hunger perpetually gnawing at Ugolino's head ; in the 
 last and lowest round " the souls were wholly covered 
 and shone through like straw in glass " ; and there is the 
 emperor of the dolorous realm, Satan, once the fairest 
 angel m Heaven, now hideous and distorted; and holding 
 m perpetual grasp the arch-traitor Judas and his Roman 
 imitators. 
 
 Virgil leads the trembling Dante across the enormous 
 furrows made by the outspread wings of the Evil One • 
 and at length, after a perilous passage, they reach the 
 opposite side of the Judecca, or innermost depths, and 
 guided by the sound of a rivulet which has eaten a 
 channel m the rock they enter a hidden road, " to return 
 to the bright world ; and without caring for any rest we 
 mounted up, he first and I second, so far that I dis- 
 tinguished through a round opening the beauteous fh\r.n. 
 wnich Heaven bears ; and thence we issued out agatn 
 to see the Stars." {Inferno xxxiv.) 
 
 '}ll 
 
 
 -w 
 
 
 • im 
 
 
 ^ ^^^1 
 
 ■H^^ 
 
 2 ^^^H 
 
 ^^^|p 
 
 I^^^H 
 
 ^H 
 
 'I^H 
 
 Hi 
 
 ^^1 
 
 I^Hhs 
 
 ^^^H 
 
 W^^B* 
 
 ^^^H 
 
 !'■ , 1' ' 
 
 ^^^^1 
 
n 
 
 The Poet Virgil 
 
 1^; -i 
 
 P 
 
 B.C. 70-19 
 
 " At Rome my life was past 
 Beneath the mild Augustus, in the time 
 Of fabled deities and false. A bard 
 Was I, and made Anchises' uprig^ht son 
 The subject of my song, who came from Troy 
 When the flames prey'd on Ilium's haughty towers." 
 
 Iiiftnio i. 
 
 UBLIUS VERGILIUS MARO was born in the 
 year B.C. 70 in the little hamlet of Andes, after- 
 wards called Pietola, near Mantua. His father 
 was a small farmer cultivating his own land, and thus 
 Virgil had early opportunities for making acquaintance 
 at first hand with country life and work. When he was 
 twelve years old he was sent to school at Cremona, where 
 he learned to read and write and was taught the rudiments 
 of Latin Grammar. He evidently showed some quickness 
 and industry in his work, for when he was six^ n, and 
 able to assume the toga in place of the short aic, his 
 father sent him on to Milan, the capital of the province, 
 for more advanced teaching. 
 
 The district of " Cisalpine Gaul " was not one of the 
 principal Roman provinces, hence its inhabitants were 
 
 ■nr\¥ f»opcirl*»rerl fn nnecpeB all tV>P lihprtif^S of fill} Roman 
 
 citizens when Virgil was a boy ; but a few years later its 
 
 44 
 
The Poet Virgil 
 
 dignity was increased, and it shared full " Latin rights " 
 Readers will remember the importance of this condition 
 when, a century later, a certain enthusiast and reformer 
 one Paul of Tarsus, " a citizen of no mean city," chal- 
 lenged the right of the Roman officer to order him " a 
 Roman "to be scourged. The perplexed Captain 'pro- 
 tested. With a great sum obtained I this freedom," and 
 heard his captive proudly retort, " But I was free-born." 
 A lad of sixteen entering upon his studies at Milan 
 would in those days take the course of the Liberal Arts 
 These subjects. Grammar, Logic, Rhetoric, Geometry, 
 Arithmetic, Astronomy,Music, Medicine and Architecture 
 were afterwards most of them included in the famous 
 Tnvium and Quadrivium. The Romans, at this time 
 Masters of the World, cherished the old Greek learning 
 and literature ; and. indeed, like England in the days of 
 Henry VIIL, they had as yet but few great writers of 
 their own. Greek Plays, Greek Philosophy and Greek 
 History, were both subjects of study and models for 
 Latin writers. A high value was attached to knowledge 
 and as all race differences were sunk in the one great 
 division of " Roman " citizen or not Roman citizen, so 
 the distinction between Greek and Latin birth was 
 bridged by the knowledge of Creek thought. The great 
 division of humanity under this world-power was into 
 bond " and " free " ; and while the bondman might be 
 and often was, highly taught and trained in some par- 
 ticular form of excellence that he might be a useful tool 
 the free man was felt to have the right to an education 
 which would enable him to live well and independently 
 and be a worthy man. This is the original sense of the 
 term a " liberal education." 
 
 Although some of the Greek wrifprc V.o/! k««^ *. ci-,^. j 
 
 into Latin in the first century b.c, yet a knowledge of 
 
46 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 Greek was most necessary for any real appreciation of 
 Greek thought. Hence we find that after two years at 
 Milan young Virgil went on to Naples, which was famous 
 for its Greek professors. For a lad of his age and standing 
 only two professions were open if he desired a life other 
 than that of an independent land-holder ; he could be- 
 come a lawyer or a soldier. Virgil appears to have been of 
 slight frame and delicate in health, so that he could not 
 enter the Army, and presently he left Naples for Rome in 
 order to study law and especially the arts of oratory and 
 rhetoric. This journey would be the ambition of every 
 high-hearted young man, especially of one who knew 
 something of his country's history and greatness. We 
 remember that the great Missionary Apostle nursed the 
 hope in the midst of his absorbing work and manifold 
 journeys : " After that I must see Rome also." Eve^y 
 Roman was proud of it, of its situation, of its buildings 
 and busy life, of its power and wealth. The historian 
 Livy, who was only a year younger than Virgil, thus 
 describes it : " Not without good cause both God and 
 man chose this place for the building of the city : most 
 healthy and wholesome hills ; a very convenient and 
 commodious river to bring in corn and other fruits out 
 of the inland parts ; the sea itself near enough for com- 
 modities, and not exposed and open by too much near- 
 ness to the dangers of foreign navies ; the very heart and 
 centre of Italy ; a place, as a man would say, naturally 
 made for that city to grow and increase in." It has been 
 pointed out, too, that a century later, when the Empire 
 of Trajan was at its greatest, the city of Rome stood 
 midway between its farthest parts. From Northumber- 
 land in Britain to Rome was about the same distance 
 as from Jerusalem to Rome ; from Gibraltar to Rome 
 
 uixi xvuiiic I/O jjuxgaiia I 
 
 I 
 
 \ 
 
 Daia<«Cvvt vne opposite clistance iro 
 
The Poet Virgil 
 
 so that the city was geographically, a° well as politicallv 
 the centre of the civilised world politically, 
 
 rhriT^' "' ■T'"'^" '""' "• ^^y y««" before the Birth of 
 
 w^h tr'' ^°^'^"' " ^''y '^^"'"^ Ro-ne from that 
 wrth whose descriptions we are familiar. As yerthere 
 were of course none of the memorials of Imperial and 
 Chnstian Rome ; none of the palaces, and only a f w o1 
 the arches, so frequent in later times. But there wer, 
 
 the Arch of Fabms (Cunctator), the Citadel, the Temples 
 tjF%'' •'^""^' Castor and Pollux, the Capitol and the 
 
 'r:a"rTe°ptoffi:\trr' *V,^^^^^^^^^^^ 
 
 iaw-courts, and thV C K^^^lSuf ^ ^ bein^ tlf 
 Columns and statues of great warriors and "atesmen 
 
 together m the narrow street*! «J^ r, -rowded 
 
 that during the " perpeTuStofslp^^HXrcLtr 
 
 olace LthereH ',Ii;^ ?""' "' ^"^^^ <"^"tral market- 
 
 anrsetttrf aid IT tsta^ "or tt > ' ^^ '^^^^'^ 
 
 Rfhiieino^': hfe iz 25 litdrt ur " 
 
 r^LTtheTer '"h ^^" '^'^ "" ^•'- ^-St"t^ 
 
 Rome ; bu'ed reLariat?"."'^"?"'.^"'' «^P"''"=- 
 citv ■ h.„ITK T . . ^"^ **ages m the history of the 
 city . beneath Imperial, Christian and Medieval r1^. 
 as our Roman London lies beneath Saxt ."^ZTA' 
 a..u xuaor i.„„don. But a few memorials of "that'time 
 
48 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 rii 
 
 remain, and travellers of to-day who look upon them 
 realise that Virgil and Julius Caesar and the Emperor 
 Augustus and S. Paul may each have seen those mighty 
 stones. One such is a monument to a Roman citizen of 
 the time of Virgil : one Caius Cestius, whose marble 
 pyramid is known to every British traveller in Rome 
 to-day, because near it lie buried the remains of the 
 poets Keats and Shelley. 
 
 After some years' study in Rome and the hearing of 
 many pleadings and arguments by the great lawyers of 
 the day, Virgil had to decide that the profession of the 
 law was not for him He could not acquire the readiness 
 in argument so necessary in spoken disputes, and his 
 voice was not suited to open-air speaking. Hence, in 
 the year B.C. 42, when Brutus and Cassius were defeated 
 at Philippi, he returned to his father's home near Mantua. 
 The conquering general, Octavianus, soon to be the 
 Emperor Augustus, had rewarded his military leaders 
 with lands in various parts of Cisalpine Gaul, and the 
 little estate of Vergilius Maro had been one of those so 
 distributed. It thus happened that the first occasion on 
 which Virgil had speech with his royal master was when 
 he appeared before him to plead for the restitution of his 
 father's property. The estate was returned to him, and 
 he settled down to live quietly away from the noise of 
 cities and to practise the art of verse. Some snort poems 
 were believed to have been written by him at this time, 
 though modern scholars doubt his authorship of them. 
 One of them, Culex, was translated by Spenser as 
 " Virgil's Gnat." The greater part of his time, however, 
 appears to have been given to studying the great poem 
 of Lucretius, *' On the Nature of Things," and the beauti- 
 ful idyls of the Greek poet Theocritus. 
 
 Wp flTft tnlfi that, hp hftH *>flrl\r irwmnA o r*»cr»liifi/%r« *-n. 
 
frt 
 
 Virgil in Rome 
 
 48 
 
 I! ill 
 
The Poet Virgil ^g 
 
 write a great poem to commemorate the glory of Rome 
 as Homer had sung of the glory of Troy. Like our own 
 poets, Milton, Wordsworth and Teimyson, he found that 
 much study and thought were necessary before he could 
 be able to undertake such a task. We may think of him 
 m the quiet country round Mantua, as we think of 
 Tennyson eighteen centuries later in Lincolnshire, ob- 
 serving and learning Nature's ways and the pleasant 
 familiar things of a simple life ; so that in the descriptions 
 in their poetry there are found the most delicate little 
 touches which bring before us the appearance or the 
 behaviour of things hardly noticed before. 
 
 Virgil's first verse to be made known to the world was 
 some selections from pastoral descriptions written in 
 imitation of Theocritus ; and a great statesman who per- 
 haps had at some time been a fellow-student with Virgil 
 admired them so much that he brought them t( the 
 notice of the Emperor Augustus. This Roma:i , -nllev lan 
 who cared greatly for all forms of learning, froi iLis time 
 became the friend and patron of Virgil, protecting him 
 m the possession of his lands, and ensuring for h}m 
 sufficient means upon which to live that he might devote 
 himself to his writing. 
 
 At this time, although the Roman power was not 
 secure in Africa and in Asia, yet at home, in Italy, there 
 was peace. This gave opportunity for making progress 
 m quiet good government and the cultivation of the land. 
 So while statesmen planned and governors enforced the 
 practice of settled life and attention to agriculture 
 writers and poets took splendid occasion to spread the 
 ideas of peace. For while at times they may be needed 
 to stir the minds of men to resistance or martial achieve- 
 ment, it is eauallv theirs fo ch^rxr +v^« u — 4.,. _/ ^i 
 
 , . J ■ r - ' '^"'- "-""-J ^i uiiucner 
 
 Kind of patriotism, that of doing honest work as good 
 
 i> 
 
l-l 
 
 m 
 
 50 Stories from Dante 
 
 citizens. Virgil used this opportunity, and following 
 in the steps of the great Greek poet, Hesiod, whose 
 " Works and Days," written seven centuries before, had 
 told of " tilling the soil and times for ploughing and 
 seasons of harvest," he wrote a series of poems in praise 
 of the arts of peace. These he dedicated to his patron, 
 Maecenas, " I begin, Maecenas, to sing of crops, trees, 
 cattle and bees," 
 
 *' What makes glad crops of corn, beneath what star 
 To turn the ground, the vines and elms to pair, 
 What care befits the kine, what course the flock. 
 What skill the keep of bees." 
 
 He emphasises the dignity of his subject by introducing 
 the legend of how, after the Golden Age in which the 
 earth had produced without the labour of men, when 
 Jupiter made serpents and wolves to become hurtful and 
 storms to rage and the earth barren, then Ceres taught 
 the art of ploughing. But he also goes into the smallest 
 details of farm-work and agricultural tools, finding, as 
 Wordsworth found, deep meaning and value in the 
 simplest and most homely parts of life. 
 
 As the years passed and the victories of Augustus 
 made the Roman Empire supreme everywhere, it seemed 
 that the great Epic poem which he had always meant to 
 write should be begun. He had thought of taking for 
 his subject the brilliant achievements of Alexander, but 
 later determined to celebrate the greatness of Rome, 
 and to prophesy her high destiny to conquer the world 
 and found an Empire. 
 
 He planned the work in Twelve Books ; the first one 
 relating the shipwreck of iEneas as he sails to Italy, after 
 the fall of Troy, bearing with him his aged father, 
 Anehises. In this way Virgil coiinecls Ron an hisLoiy 
 
The Poet Virgil 5 1 
 
 with Greece and its famous story, and in the eighth book 
 he describes the founding of Rome. The second and 
 third books give the story of the wanderings of ^neas 
 
 !nHfi^h ^ ;"" '^ ™°' Q"^^" «f Carthage ; the fourth 
 and fifth, his leaving Carthage and the funeral celebrations 
 of Anchises ; and the sixth book, the most wonderful of 
 a 1, records the visit of ^neas to the realm of Dis, the 
 Underworld. Here he sees the spirits of the dead, and 
 Rom great men who are to win fame and glory for 
 
 It was on account of the mystery and sacredness of 
 this part that Dante chose in his " Vision " to represent 
 
 P^^'ator ^"'"^^ '"^ ^'' ^'"""''^^ *^'°"^^ ^""^^^ ^^^ 
 For ten happy years Virgil worked at the ^neid 
 residing sometimes at Rome, sometimes on his farm at 
 Mantua, and sometimes in attendance on the Emperor 
 Augustus His patron Maecenas and the Emperor heard 
 parts of the great work as they were finished, and re- 
 joiced that so splendid a momiment should be raised to 
 the honour of the Empire. The news spread amongst all 
 who cared for Literature that a poem greater even than 
 the Ihad was about to appear. It is not surprising that 
 m the midst of such anticipation the poet's heart at 
 tmies should have failed him, and he feared that he might 
 not, after all, achieve any worthy thing. 
 
 When he had been working at his great Epic for about 
 four years the Emperor requested him to read some of it 
 to him. and Virgil wrote in reply, " As to my ^neas, if 
 
 f K .""fu^ ^"^7*"'*^ y^'"'' ^^-^"^g' I ^o"Jd gladly send 
 It, but the work IS so vast that I think I was crazy to 
 undertake it, and larger studies must constantly be 
 
 DUrsued with o xri«.„ 4-^ :*.- .. , .. -^ 
 
 . „ „ ,i^„ tv 11,5 accompiismiient." And 
 
 marvellously he enriched his poem with those " larger 
 
 m 
 
 'i 
 
 h. 
 
 1.1 . i M 
 
 W.- H 
 
 ^^i* 
 
 ill 
 
WW 
 
 52 Stories from Dante 
 
 studies." Religion, history, tradition, customs, patriotic 
 associations and national games, adventures by fire and 
 water and thrilling deeds of love and war, are woven 
 together in polished and musical verse. 
 
 In the year B.C. 19, Virgil travelled in the Emperor's 
 suite from Athens back to Italy, and suffered much from 
 the extreme heat and vapours of the marshy lands about 
 Megara. Sailing round the coast to Brindisium he was 
 put ashore there and borne to the palace of Maecenas. 
 In a few days he died, and his body was carried to Naples 
 with great honour, and buried in the obelisk of a mile- 
 stone a little way outside the town. 
 
 Something of the old timidity which had prevented 
 Virgil becoming an orator led him to ask his friends, as 
 he lay dying, to destroy the manuscript of the Mneid, 
 as he felt it to be quite worthless. The Emperor forbade 
 this, and ordered it to be transcribed and published. It 
 at once became famous and was studied with Homer's 
 Iliad and the works ot Catullus, and as the years passed 
 it was more and more highly esteeme'L In the Middle 
 Ages, when Christian scholars discouraged the study of 
 most pre-Christian writers, an exception was made in 
 favour of Virgil. It was believed that he was specially 
 blessed, and, had he lived until the time of Christ, would 
 have acknowledged and followed Him. 
 
 More than this, traditions of marvellous things in con- 
 nection with him were firmly held. It was thought 
 (probably through rumours of the contents of Book VI.) 
 that he had been a magician, and that his writings had 
 a mysterious power and meaning beyond their intended 
 purpose. Hence they were used as a means of discover- 
 ing the future, by opening a volume at random and ob- 
 serving the lines revealed. The Emperor Severus is said 
 to have consulted this Sortes Virgiliance, opening at the 
 
patriotic 
 
 fire and 
 
 e woven 
 
 mperor s 
 ich from 
 ds about 
 
 1 he was 
 laecenas. 
 o Naples 
 f a mile- 
 
 revented 
 Lends, as 
 ; Mneid, 
 ' forbade 
 bed. It 
 Homer's 
 s passed 
 
 2 Middle 
 study of 
 made in 
 specially 
 ;t, would 
 
 s in con- 
 thought 
 ook VI.) 
 ings had 
 intended 
 liscover- 
 and ob- 
 is is said 
 ig at the 
 
 The Poet Virgil 
 
 53 
 
 words, " Forget not thou, O Roman, to rule the people 
 with royal sway^» The practice lasted long^after 
 medieval times ; Kmg Charles I. and Lord Falkland once 
 makmg trial of it with unhappy omen. 
 
 In Dante;s day the people of the gre'at cities of Italy- 
 Florence, Pisa, Genoa, Venice, Milan, which were almost 
 free republics, whether owning allegiance to Pope or to 
 
 w?r'°^~:. '"'^'^ "^^'^ devotedly their connection 
 with, and descent from, Imperial Rome. Soldiers copied 
 
 SZ '^7 J ' ^^^^^«"^^" i*« spirit of justice, scholars 
 admu-ed its learmng,poets and thinkers its philosophy and 
 poetry In the person of Virgil many of these seemed to 
 be combined. He had lived during Rome's most brilliant 
 period, close to the person of the first Emperor, whose 
 haughty title is still given to the most distinguished age 
 in any history The " Augustan Age " in the literatufe 
 of a nation is its proudest era, and thus is commemorated 
 the Rome of Virgil, as well as the thing to which the term 
 s applied. He had studied and contributed to Roman 
 otT^J h^d celebrated the early history and greatness 
 of Rome ; had done honour to her religion, her customs, 
 her sacred places, and hence seemed very specially to 
 represent the Italy of the past. ^ 
 
 Popular tradition and superstition had felt the in- 
 fluence of this high reverence for Virgil, and had 
 translated it into something more readily understood 
 
 l^'fhV^rT^ ^"?^^ *^' ^^'"^ ^* ^^^g" ^^« honoured 
 as that of a benevolent wizard, who though frail of person 
 
 and having power neither in arms nor in speech, could 
 bring about what he desired to come to pass All kinds 
 of p^iraculous happenings became connected with his 
 h^r L^;i"!!l""'.^'^*'^^^ *?- «P-^h of animals and 
 Z'^Z' ""t "°"'' ,'^ .^"averse wim them in the Mantuan 
 woods ; he could instantaneously cause himself to be 
 
 
54 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 wafted from Rome to Pietola ; he could control the genii 
 of Vesuvius, and the spirits of the sea and the mountains, 
 and so on. 
 
 Dante felt especial reverence for Virgil on account of 
 his poetry, and claimed to have based his own study 
 of the art upon the works of the great Master of Song. 
 He sympathised too with Virgil's way of thought ; in this, 
 differing from his friend and fellow poet Guido Cavalcanti; 
 and, above all, he held firmly to the conviction that Virgil 
 was a Christian in everything but time, he had handled 
 with reverence certain manuscripts said to have been 
 possessed, and partly written, by Virgil himself, and 
 believed him to have been especially guided by Divine 
 wisdom. Hence he selects him to be his guide in his 
 journey through the spirit world as far as human science 
 and philosophy can suffice ; and tells us, in the opening 
 of his great poem, how while wandering in a dark wood, 
 beset by terrible animals, he saw before him a tall figure, 
 and cried to him, 
 
 " Have mercy on me 1 
 Spirit or living man ! whate'er thou be." 
 
 The reply came, 
 
 " Now not man, man once I was 
 And born of Lombard parents, Mantuans both 
 By country, when the power of Julius yet 
 Was scarcely firm." 
 
 Dante exclaimed, 
 
 " And art thou then that Virgil, that well-spring 
 From which such copious floods of eloquence 
 Have issued .-* 
 
 Glory and light of all that tuneful train ! 
 May it avail me, that I long with zeal 
 Have sought thy volume, and with love 'minenge 
 Have conn'd it o'er. My master, thou, and Guido." 
 
 D 
 
 he 
 hi 
 
 TV 
 ha 
 Be 
 pe: 
 
The Poet Virgil 55 
 
 The spirit of the dead poet replied and offered to lead 
 Dante out of the perilous wood, and to show him what 
 he could of the world of departed souls. Dante answered 
 him, 
 
 " Bard I by that God whom thou didst not adore 
 I do beseech thee . . . lead me where thou saidst, 
 That I St Peter's gate may view, and those 
 Who, as thou tell'st, are in such dismal plight." 
 
 Then the wonderful journey began, in which, after Virgi 
 had led him as far as he could, the spirit of the Blessed 
 Beatrice came to him and showed him the higher glories 
 perceived only by faith, 
 
 " Onward he moved, I close his steps pursued." 
 
 ejif 
 
 :J| 
 
 ■|;i 
 
I' / 
 
 I! ;i ( 
 
 II «' 
 
 III 
 
 The Story of Bertrand de Born 
 
 1148-1210 
 
 " Behold now the sore penalty. 
 Thou who dost breathing go the dead beholding ; 
 Behold if any be as great as this. 
 And so that thou may carry news of me, 
 
 Know that Bertrand de Born am I, the same 
 Who gave to the Young King the evil couusel." 
 
 Inferno ;.:xviii. 
 
 OF all the btld and w^ilike barons who served 
 Henry, King of Englai i. Ijnjce of Atjuitaine, as 
 their feudal lord, the boldest mid iiercest was 
 the Viscount de Born, Seigneur oi '.utafort. His father 
 died while Bertrand was still a young man, leaving his 
 castle and estates to his two sons. Constantino, the 
 elder, was a quiet, easy-going man, who found it quite 
 too troublesome to dispute: with the impetuous, quarrel- 
 some Bertra >d. So the ycimger soon became master 
 of castle and lards and vassals to rule as he would. 
 
 Besides his love for fighting and his great skill and 
 prowess in war, Bertrand also had the gift of song. He 
 had always loved rhymes and music, and had often 
 stood entranced as a little lad in his father's hall 
 when some wandering minstrel sang of daring knights 
 and their stirring adventures. His early resolve to be 
 famous in all the three ways in which a gentl*»man of 
 
 66 
 
The Story of Bertrand de Born 5 7 
 
 Old Guienne might win distinction was faithfully kept • 
 and he became, as he wished, admired and feared as a 
 soldier, renowned for his gay spirit in love, and accounted 
 a wizard in moving men's hearts with his songs. 
 
 From his boyhood, instead of sitting tongue-tied when 
 he was m company, or awkwardly muttering his duty- 
 grcetmg. he had delighted in making some neat or pointed 
 remark. This readiness in speech was a rather unusual 
 gift amongst ?:he haughty barons, and it would have 
 v/oa the troil adour-viscount affectionate admiration if it 
 had not so oi ten been used in a bitter and insulting way 
 Amongst the young nobles who were the friends and 
 companions of Bertrand de Born was Prince Henry 
 the elde^^t son of the King of England. The lads saw 
 much of each other, and Bertrand encouraged the young 
 prime m all his ambitious plans. He gave him the nick- 
 name of " Seaman," on account of his journeys across 
 the sea to his father's English dominions. Half affection- 
 ately and half in contempt he called Count Geoffrey and 
 Count Richard, Prince Henry's brothers, " Rassa " and 
 Richard Ay-and-no." The fearless courage of the 
 " Coeur-de-lion " no doubt won him this rather double- 
 edged compliment. 
 
 Count Richprd alone of the three seems to have shared 
 Bertrand's love for music and song, but Prince Henry 
 was his dearest friend. Together they hunted the wolf 
 and the boar in the forests of Perigord, together they 
 made daring assaults on the castles of unfriendly barons 
 and they vied with each other in their haughty and war- 
 ike bearing. Prince Henry's position as heir to the 
 kingdom of England, as well as to the dukedoms of 
 Aquitaine, Normandy and Anjou, had before it a more 
 
 brilliant future than that of Bertrand. Rut 
 
 
 hand, the poet possessed in his daring imagination and 
 
 ■ii'i'i 
 
 1" 
 
58 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 ready speech a most unusual power of stirring the minds 
 and hearts of all whom he addressed. He himself, we 
 may be sure, would not have exchanged this for the 
 privilege of " reigning " over large territories and accept- 
 ing the unwilling homage and obedience of rebellious 
 feudal barons. He delighted in rousing any noble to 
 defiance of his superior, and in provoking them to insult 
 and to make war upon each other. 
 
 Thus he was a firebrand in every company and had 
 many enemies. " All day long I fight and am at work," 
 he sings gaily in one of his songs. I ludke a thrust at 
 my enemies and defend myself, for they lay waste my 
 land, and burn my crops ; they pull up my trees by the 
 roots and mix my corn with the straw." When his own 
 quarrels were avenged he would turn at once to provoking 
 more. " Cowards and brave men alike are my enemies," 
 he shouts defiantly. " I break up the leagues of the 
 barons and sow hatred among them, then I reunite 
 them and try to give them brave hearts and strong. But 
 I am a fool for my trouble, for they are base mettle." 
 
 He pursued this plan with the three young princes, 
 Henry, Richard and Geoffrey, making them discontented 
 with their positions, and impatient to own and govern 
 some of their father's dominions. To this they were 
 already too much inclined from their babyhood, since 
 their mother, formerly wife of the King of France, was 
 most ambitious for them, and encouraged their boyish 
 rebellions against their father's authority. Partly in 
 the hope of peace, and partly to secure the throne to his 
 heirs. King Henry had his eldest son crowned King of 
 England when the lad was only fifteen years old. He did 
 not, however, intend him to exercise any real power 
 during his own lifetime ; but the young prince was in 
 lij wa^ ...^i.nv^vt. I/O mC conucnb witii liic mere ccrcnioiiy* 
 
The Story of Bertrand de Born 59 
 
 In this Bertrand de Born encouraged him, urging him 
 to take his real place in some way, and always greetinff 
 him and speaking of him as " King." Two years later 
 the ceremony of coronation was repeated in Normandy 
 and young Henry was permitted to exercise lordship 
 over that province and Anjou. 
 
 Bertrand's taunts and gibes stirred Richard and 
 Geoffrey to persist in claiming some similar dominions 
 and reluctantly King Henry made Richard Count of 
 Aquitame and Poitou, and Geoffrey Duke of Bretagne. 
 He thought his youngest son, John, too young to need 
 thus pacifying ; but Bertrand's ready nickname, " Lack- 
 land, so rankled in the boy's mind, that soon his father 
 made him lord of Ireland. Nevertheless, the scoffing 
 title still clmgs to his name. 
 
 Either through jealousy or because of Bertrand's 
 influence over the " Young King," Richard and the poet 
 quarrelled furiously soon after Aquitaine and Poitou 
 were given to him, and he supported Constantine de 
 Born in an attempt he made to recover his rights Ber- 
 trand's words of scorn and defiance reached farther even 
 than his brilliant fighting ; and from castle to castle 
 travelled his minstrels, singing his war-songs and love- 
 ditties and spirited verses, pouring contempt on all easy- 
 going, indolent men like Constantine, his brother " He 
 knows not how to trot or gallop ; he can neither thrust 
 with lance nor shoot with arrow. He lives hke a Lombard 
 pedlar When barons and knights seek glory at the 
 wars, he stretches himself and yawns." As to Richard's 
 share m the attempt, Bertrand thunders defiance and 
 insult at his former friend : " I will come, I will come, 
 myself ! I, sitting upon my horse Bayard, will come, 
 
 will come to Pericmr/l I W*.11_«^w,«j -...n t .. 
 
 :e T n J J.1 • ,7° -T^..x ciiiiv^ vTia JL come, ana 
 
 If I find this robber of Poitou, he shall know the cut of 
 
 i 
 
Stories from Dante 
 
 60 
 
 my sword His brow shall be decked with his blood and 
 brains and the splinters from his helmet " 
 
 RichlrH r^T ?'"« "*"^ commanded Geoffrey and 
 Rch.rd to do homage to their elder brother as their 
 feudal superior they both refused, and to compel ,t 
 the Young King " invaded Aquitaine. In his army 
 TJ I f- °'/ '™°P °' the boldest and wildest soldier 
 rode his friend Bertrand, aceompanici fcv his favourhe 
 minstrel Papiol. Rapid marches .ud ^JuValtaeks 
 
 treXt 'a^fr""' ^--^ -«-■ captured* fSffnd 
 treasure-all these made a succe..«,on of exciting events 
 m which Bertrand gaily led, and which he recorded after! 
 l^^J"t ™''^'' ^"'* ^"^ them learnt and sun. ■ 
 published far and wide by his minstrels. Whenever 
 there was a lull, and the barons led their troop home- 
 
 the subiect 'Tht °' ^'"'^ ''""^^'^' "° '"^«« ^hat 
 tne subject. There u: r,eace everywhere I " he angrilv 
 
 rir °"* 1 ''*'/°°^^' "«™^y«here. I alone C 
 retam a rag of warfare. May he be blind who seeks to 
 take away my quarrel ! What if I began it ? Peace 
 gives me no joy ; war is my delight. This is my onW 
 ^w, no other have I : That on Monday I fight, » on 
 Tuesday ; any week, any month any year I March be 
 .t or May : neither shall hinder me ^om doing rmag. 
 to tho e who wrong me. Not a leathern strap shall aZ 
 one take from me without my keen revenge " ^ 
 
 K-in„Tp*° f '?t"^'' r»t disgust that presently the 
 King of England himself interposed in the quarrel J. 
 tween his sons Henry and Richard a ^ brjght I Z 
 
 d'^r *; f;7.?J!.?'.!!'"<= '-' - fen.:, d injury, d 
 = " ""^^ "F '^^"=* against Kichard. All iha 
 
The Story of Bertrand de Born 6 1 
 
 barons of France took sides, and there was promise of a 
 general and widespread war. Bertrand was dt ited 
 He sings, " As soon as we arrive the Tournamei .hall 
 begin! The Aragonese and the Catalans shall soon 
 strew the ground. The pommels of their saddles shall 
 not defend them, for our friends strike long blows. 
 Iruly the splinters shall fly up to heaven ! The silk and 
 samite shall be rent to shreds, the tents and the c )ts 
 shall be alike shattered when we arrive 1 " 
 
 During th siege of Limoges the young King was 
 seized with a fever, and, as he lay dying, sent a messenger 
 to plead for his father's forgiveness. Though King Henry 
 would not go to him in person, he sent a ring in token 
 of pardon, and the young King passed away holding 
 It to his hps. His friend Bertrand was stricken with 
 sorrow, and in an elegy which he composed to his 
 memory he sang, 
 
 •* If all the pain, the griefs, the bitter tears. 
 The sorrow, Uie remorse, the scornful slight. 
 Of which man in this life tlie burden bears. 
 Were thrown a-heap, the balance would be light 
 Against the death of our young English King. 
 Valour ai,.i youth =tood wailing at his loss. 
 The world js waste and dark and dolorous' 
 Void of all ji,v. full o'' re^rret and sorrow.' 
 
 ' • • • 
 
 The world ia has > and dark and full of tears. 
 Its love has flr , /ts pie «!ure passed away, 
 A falsehood ts trnt" Rac} day appears 
 But to regret its bettei erdny. 
 Look up, ye all, to our youn^ igllsh King, 
 The best among the brave and valorous I 
 N^ow is his entle heart afar from us. 
 And we are left to our regret and sorrow." » 
 
 
 in 
 
 * Trans, by Francis Hueffer, 
 
62 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 -i 
 
 The monarch of England vas not disposed to overlook 
 the evil counsel which Uertrand had always given to his 
 sons, so he set himself to outwit the poet-warrior, and 
 surroundmg him suddenly in his castle, take him captive 
 and kill him. After a long siege the castle fell, through 
 the treachery of a friend of Bertrand's, and he was 
 taken prisoner to King Henry's pavilion. According to 
 the old story, " Aftrr the defenders could hold out no 
 longer, and all were captured, Sir Bertrand, with his 
 people and retainers, was brought to the tent of the King 
 And Henry, frowning upon him and aaking his head, 
 said, Bertrand, Bertrand ! you who boasted often that 
 you never needed more than half your sense to meet any 
 other man, know, now, that you stand in need of all 
 your wits ! " 
 
 And Bertrand replied, " Sire, it is true. Never have 
 1 needed all my wits to match any man." 
 
 Then said the King, " Methinks that now you have 
 lost your wits altogether," and he bent upon him stern 
 brows, whose frown had oft made sons and barons and 
 bishops and knights to tremble. But Bertrand, sadly 
 shaking his head, murmured, " Sire, it is true ! it is true I 
 1 have inuced now lost my wits." 
 
 "And how is that?" asked the King, expecting 
 instant and ready submission. 
 
 "Sire," replied Bertrand, "on the day that your 
 valiant young son Hem-y died, I lost sense and 
 cunning." 
 
 Then the king, when he heard these words, wept for 
 his son, and in his great griefs he presently could not 
 contain himself and fainted. When he recovered he 
 asked for Bertrand and said to him :— 
 
 ' Sir Bertrand ! Sir Bertrand ! wise you are and right 
 
 aim cunxiiiig When my son died, 
 
 to Sav t.hnt VQU Incf coT^cA 
 
The Story of Bertrand de Born 63 
 
 for he loved you. He loved you better than any other 
 man m the world ; wherefore, for his sake and for your 
 ove oi him, I release you. I release your person, your 
 lands and your castle, and you are my knight and my 
 friend. In token whereof I give you these five hundred 
 marks of silver for the hurt and damage of my war 
 upon you." 
 
 And Bertrand knelt at the King's feet and offered him 
 service. 
 
 So Bertrand de Born returned to his castle and allied 
 himself strongly with the King of England, and with 
 Count Richard whom he had formerly opposed. Some 
 years later, in one of the frequent wars of the time 
 Richard was shut up in prison in Germany, and on his 
 release Bertrand wrote a song of rejoicing • " I joy I 
 joy that prison holds the Cocur-de-lion no longer ! Now 
 shall we see fortresses destroyed and towers overthrown 
 and our enemies in chains, as Richard goes on his glorious 
 wars I " ^ 
 
 Not that Bertrand. fighter as he was, thought of nothing 
 but war. He was, as Dante tells us, the first poet to sine 
 the sword and to praise the practice of arms in verse 
 
 I cannot choose but utter a song " , but also he did not 
 neglect the troubadour's favourite subject. Love Be- 
 yond this theme of fair ladies, he sang, too, of the beauty 
 of the world m springtime, and the fresh cool winds and 
 the high-arched sky. The strong castles of medieval 
 times were but gloomy places during the long dark 
 winter, and lovers of the open ab waited impatiently 
 for the coming of spring, when men might go forth 
 abroad on adventure and pleasure. One of his songs 
 begins, ° 
 
 *' Whan fho «£>..„_ Ul /. .. 
 
 ' •" " /^""o "iusouins or tne spring appear. 
 
 And paint the bushes pink and white and green. 
 
 It ! 
 
 
 i !i 
 
 .3- 
 
 'ii 
 B^ Ik 
 
 m ■■ ^ 
 
64 Stories from Dante 
 
 Then in the sweetness of the new-horn year 
 I clothe my song ; at all times such has been 
 The wont of birds, and as a bird am I." ' 
 
 After the fashion of the knightly troubadours of the 
 day, he had offered his services and allegiance to the 
 Countess Matilda of Montignac, who, for her beauty and 
 grace, had been sought in marriage by the noblest men 
 of the time, including the crusading Count Richard, and 
 Count Geoffrey of Bretagne, and King Alfonso of Aragon, 
 She had held herself aloof from them all, but was gracious 
 and kind to the poet, lord of Autafort, so that in his 
 boasting fashion he sang how she " refused her favours 
 to Poiton and Tolosa and Bretagne and Saragossa, but 
 has granted them to the valorous poor knight de Born." 
 
 A few years later Bertrand announced himself as the 
 devoted servant and champion of another Lady Matilda, 
 sister of the dead Young King and Count Richard. 
 Several songs of his remain which were composed in this 
 lady's honour, including one written on a Sunday in 
 camp while waiting for dinner, which had to be hunted 
 or foraged before the meal couJd be served. He married 
 neither of these ladies, however, but a sister of one of the 
 most powerful Gascon barons, who brought him lands 
 and castles. Through her influence the longstanding 
 quarrel with his brother Constantine was ended. One 
 of his sons, called Bertrand after himself, seems to have 
 inherited something of his gay, daring spirit and his bright 
 gifts of song. During the reign of King John (" Lack- 
 land ") this Bertrand the younger wrote a vigorous and 
 insulting song about him, saying that his losses were due 
 to his own cowardice, and that the poet's one hope was 
 that all vassals and subjects throughout his realm would 
 hasten to rebel against so wretched a lord. 
 
 ' Trans, by Francis HuefTer. 
 
The Story of Bertrand de Born 65 
 
 By that time our Bertrand de Born had given up his 
 actrve hfe of war, and the composing of gallant and 
 martial verse, and had gone into a monastery. There 
 this sometime daring adventurer spent the long, quiet 
 days and nights in his narrow cell, or pacing the 
 cloisters m his monk's habit to the services in the 
 chapel. Hardly any murmur of the noisy, bustling 
 world outside could reach him there ; and we think of 
 him as penitently learning the ways and words of peace 
 and seeking forgiveness for his turbulent stirring up of 
 strife in past days. s p "* 
 
 Dante shows us Bertrand de Born not penitent, but 
 remorseful m the third of the outer circles of Hell 
 amongst those of the deceitful in this world who gave 
 evil counsel to others and caused strife. In the terrible 
 words of the Divine Comedy, i-cmDie 
 
 " I truly saw, and still I seem to see it, 
 
 A trunk without a head walk in like manner 
 As walked the others of the mournful herd 
 And by the hair it held the head dissevered. 
 Hung from the hand in fashion of a lantern. 
 And that upon us gazed and said : ' Woe's me J " 
 
IV 
 
 i- 
 
 The Emperor Frederic II 
 
 " Wonder of the World '* 
 11941250 
 
 " Now hy a secret pathway we proceed. 
 Between the walls that hetn the region round 
 And the tormented souls. . . 
 
 My maater, summoning me back, 
 Iheard ; and with more eager haste besought 
 The spirit to inform me who with him 
 Partook his lot. He answer thus return'd : 
 ' More than a thousand with me here are laid, 
 Within is Frederic, second of that name.' . . [" 
 
 Inferno x. 
 
 THE Emperor Henry VI., son of the great 
 Frederic Barbarossa, had, for poHtical reasons 
 married the Princess Constance, daughter of 
 Kmg Ruggieri of Sicily. This lady, hke so many of 
 the women of great houses in those stormy times, had 
 entered a convent, and desired to live peacefully there 
 away from the magnificence and strife of courts But 
 It was not to be, and after some years' seclusion her 
 marriage was arranged. She brought to her husband 
 a splendid dowry, including the kingdom of Sicily 
 but the Emperor was not able to enjoy peacehil sove' 
 reignty over it, as the Sicilian barons refused to acknow- 
 
The Emperor Frederic II 67 
 
 taken prisoner Count T»7T .^onfance nersell was 
 to be treated with \ ^"^'^ chivalrously ordered her 
 
 iiberty::rutTn.aTdi ;:rir n --' -^^^ "* 
 
 Count Tanered died n* „ K i "T""' ^" ">* y^ar 11»4 
 grief at the deattoj hs eS™ n Ro " '^ "J"' ?™"^'> 
 was the Emperor able tf sTju^ af Sd"es°"'r!;r 
 
 r;rtsr™T;r:dtraSf\^^^^ 
 
 a fanjy for LZy th.'nl I^I^h'"'^ '^ f'"''^'''' 
 vears nU Ui. * /u ". ^^- ^^en he was on y four 
 
 aZgelth^ f?^ *h-^'h it ha/ been 
 
 Philin m! 1 u P "''^ '^'''"'^ ^"cceed him, his brother 
 
 l^hilip meanly but successfully claimed fL t ^ 
 
 throne. Little Frederic wa. L^ Imperial 
 
 SP.JI rd ;K,rnrHna^L°n' aTr -•' 
 
 paft. Ttacilhroeonl ""'""*' """ ™'"^ «* "'« 
 and readirytj rt^ TL ZZ'Ti"' *'" ^"'"«' 
 his Uncle Philip bein<r T. J k ? • . *«^ "' ■■"''"^''"• 
 Germany Thl iT ^ dead be claimed the throne of 
 
 ownTd ^L J , ^^ «'"'' '"''" ^'^ hlessing, and dis- 
 
 fJi iwS' fr^m tr"^°v'°r' '^''"^"'- •"• '^- 
 
 Aaehen ^Hew^snotir, ^'"'^'"' ""' '^°'"'«'' «* 
 of all fournart of h '^ i^^' •"'*"''' ""d'«P"ted sovereign 
 
 " P""*? °'_his Empire, which con.i»ted M t-L 
 
 ..»"., ourguuuy, Lombardy and Sicily ;"fo7 neiti^r 
 
 * 1^ 
 
 ^'H. 
 
68 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 |l I: 
 
 Ghibellines nor Guelfs in the powerful Lombard towns 
 were satisfied with an Emperor favoured by the 
 Pope. 
 
 It had been the custom for four separate coronations 
 to take place, and we are told that the different crowns 
 used signified the nature of the realm. The German 
 crown was silver ; the Lombard, iron ; the Roman, gold ; 
 and the Imperial title was not considered to be fully held 
 until the Emperor had been crowned by the Pope at 
 Rome. The Pope at this time was greatly concerned 
 in strengthening the temporal power of the Church, 
 and delayed the coronation of a monarch who coveted 
 sole power as did Frederic. He exacted a promise that 
 the Emperor would go on a crusade. Frederic gave this 
 unwillingly and afterwards broke it. Although he was 
 very energetic at times, he loved ease and luxury too ; 
 and a distant campaign which, even if successful, meant 
 sharing the glory with others, was not attractive enough 
 to win him from his Sicilian palaces. There he kept 
 greater state and magnificence than had ever been known 
 before. Splendid entertainments, jousts and courts of 
 love, processions and pageants, filled the sunny hours. 
 At the court were welcomed travellers of all nations, 
 poets and troubadours, wonder-workers and scholars, 
 men of learning and diplomacy, courtly monks and 
 polished cardinals ; and all found the young Emperor 
 courteous, condescending, able and interesting. 
 
 He encouraged the study of science which, in mediaeval 
 times, was closely allied with magic ; and welcomed at 
 his court, not only Albertus Magnus, but also the wizard 
 Michael Scot. This wonder-worker and magician 
 dedicated to the Emperor one of his books on Natural 
 History and Astrology. He is celebrated in The Lay 
 of the Last Minstrel as. 
 
ird towns 
 by the 
 
 Tonations 
 it crowns 
 J German 
 lan, gold ; 
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 5 Pope at 
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 I Church, 
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 But J 
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The Emperor Frederic II 69 
 
 " A wizard of much dreaded fame 
 That when in Salamanca's cave^ 
 Him listed magic wand to wave. 
 The bells would ring in Notre Dame." 
 
 He was said to have a familia' s] irit whom it was 
 necessary to keep employed, but who got throu^ jh tV tasks 
 given him so quickly that it was difficult to fina enough 
 for him to do. Sir Michael set him to build a dam across 
 the Tweed, and it was done in a night : he then charged 
 him to divide Eildon Hill into three parts, and this also 
 was completed by morning. Then the /nagician posed 
 him by requiring him to make ropes of sea-sand, and this 
 task kept him employed ever after. 
 
 While Michael Scot was at the Court of the Emperor 
 his royal patron desired to test his power. So he asked 
 him the favourite question in early measurements : 
 " How far am I from the sky ? " The wizard gave him 
 an answer, and then Frederic ordered him to attend him 
 for some months in a progress about his dominions, 
 commanding that during their absence the whole founda- 
 tions of the Royal palace at Palermo should be lowered 
 several feet, and everything restored as before. On their 
 return Frederic repeated his question, and the answer 
 given by Sir Michael differed b}- some i.^et from his earlier 
 one. This convinced the Emperor thtt rls astrological 
 knowledge was profound, and that his words were true. 
 
 He also encouraged the Arabian necromancers who 
 travelled from Baghdad to Cordova, and extended to 
 them hospitality in his palaces and protection throughout 
 his dominions. Thus he displeased the Church authcrN 
 ties, who hated and feared the Black Arts of the infidels. 
 But Frederic only laughed at grave admonitions from 
 bishops and abbots ; he treated them hospitably, but 
 derided their message. He kept up the magnificent and 
 
 liij 
 
il4 
 
 70 Stories from Dante 
 
 barbaric state of an Eastern Sultan, rather than that of 
 a Christian monarch, with a regiment of Moorish soldiers 
 for his Palace Guards, and revelled in ease and luxury 
 and extravagant pleasures. Like most kings who have 
 enjoyed absolute power over their subjects, he had little 
 regard for the rights, or even the lives, of people who 
 might in any way be useful to him. Terrible stories 
 remain of the experiments which he was fond of making, 
 desiring, as he said, to find out the secrets of science. 
 There was a wonderful diver in Sicily who could dive so 
 deep and so frequently that he was nicknamed " Nicholas 
 the Fish," and after he had dived to the bottom of 
 Charybdis and brought up the Emperor's golden crown, 
 Frederic insisted that he must be able to live as well in 
 the water as out of it. He then mischievously cast his 
 crown in a second time, commanding Nicholas to fetch 
 it. This time, his powers spent, the poor diver was 
 drowned, and the Emperor professed himself satisfied 
 that Nicholas had, after all, been designed to live on 
 dry land. 
 
 Because none of his wise magicians or devout church- 
 men could show him the soul of a man he said he must 
 assume that there was none, but desired to try an ex- 
 periment. He ordered that a man who was convinced 
 that he had a soul should be imprisoned in a cask, and 
 visited after five days. Of course the poor victim was 
 dead, and Frederic declared himself unable to see any- 
 thing but a body. At one time he was much interested 
 in speech and languages generally, and determined to 
 find out if children would by nature speak the tongue 
 of the land in which they were born. So he ordered that 
 a certain number of little babies should be brought up 
 without being talked to ; they were to be well-fed, cared 
 for, and protected, but not to hear human speech. In 
 
The Emperor Frederic II 71 
 
 most cases the foster-mothers who had charge of the 
 infants could not refrain from tender words and gentle 
 songs. In some few cases, where they were sufficiently 
 stern to do so, the little things languished and pined away. 
 
 Frederic desired to behave as though he were too lofty 
 and magnanimous to take offence at anything that a 
 mere subject might say, but occasionally he was be- 
 trayed into showing the really savage cruei y which lay 
 beneath his gay and careless manner. He ordered a 
 notary's right thumb to be struck off, because, in copy- 
 ing a decree, he had spelt the Emperor's name Fredericus 
 instead of Fridericus, which he preferred. 
 
 When men were condemned for treachery Frederic 
 ordered them to be wrapped in leaden cloaks and flung 
 into a heated cauldron. Yet sometimes his sense of amuse- 
 ment would get the better of his instinct to be cruel, and 
 he was especially appreciative of a quick retort or a 
 clever speech. A favourite jester at the court was a 
 hunchback, and the Emperor one day smote his hand 
 cheerily on the hump, and said jestingly, " Ah ! Dallio, 
 my lord Dallio, when will this box be opened ? " The 
 ready-witted buffoon replied, " I doubt me. Sire, if ever : 
 for I lost the key at Victoria." This daring reference to 
 the Imperial defeat at Parma, where the Emperor had 
 boastfully named his trenches Victoria in anticipation, 
 might have cost the poor hunchback his head. But 
 Frederic gave a great shout of laughter and strode away 
 humming a hunting-song. 
 
 Amongst the many wanderers received with honour 
 at the Emperor's Court, whether at Palermo among ths 
 orange-glades, or at solemn, frowning Aachen, or at 
 Milan, or at Aries, were the Troubadours, who commem- 
 orated gallant and daring deeds of the past, and 
 stimulated knights and gentlemen to high adventure in 
 
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72 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 love or in war. Amengst them were the famous Sordello 
 and the gay, truculent, Bertrand de Born. Frederic 
 seems to have admired this poet-baron immensely, and 
 often professed iiimself desirous rather to shine as a poet 
 and musician than as a ruler. 
 
 With the accessio I of a new Pope, in the year 1220, 
 the Emperor's coronation at Rome had taken place 
 amidst universal rejoicing. His journey from Palermo 
 to Rome was a continuous triumphal procession, all 
 towns on the route vieing with each other for the honour 
 of entertaining the sovereign and his stately retinue. 
 Wherever he stayed, dignities were conferred and com- 
 memorative works put in hand. Florence was one of 
 these favoured cities on the Emperor's way to Rome, but 
 to her mortification he returned by another road. The 
 Tuscan cities welcomed or dreaded his approach accord- 
 ing to whether their sentiments were predominantly 
 Ghibelline or Guelfic ; Genoa and Pisa were always 
 Imperialist, Parma and Cremona were Guelfic. 
 
 The ceremony at Rome was one of imposing magni- 
 ficence. Representatives from all the states and cities 
 of the Emperor's dominions attended. Counts and 
 Barons and Prelates and Ecclesiastics thronged the 
 narrow streets with their dazzlin / t; ! inues ; and in the 
 Basilica, as the Pope placed th ;i >\«ble crown on that 
 handsome proud head, a miglil} dhout of " Ave I " 
 went up in joyful acclamation fiom the assembled 
 magnates. 
 
 The Emperor reigned for thirty years after this, but 
 his sovereignty over some parts of his Empire was hardly 
 maintained. In Sicily he was undisputed and supreme, 
 but he met with much opposition in Germany from the 
 native princes. To control and pacify them he had to 
 grunt them privileges which their successors were awiC 
 
lous Sordello 
 n. Frederic 
 nensely, and 
 ine as a poet 
 
 e year 1220, 
 taken plat;e 
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 were always 
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 Dsing magni- 
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 Iter this, but 
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 )rs rrcsc auic 
 
 The Emperor Frederic IT 73 
 
 to turn u^ainst ilie throne ; in much the .same way as in 
 our own history K ng Edward III. in his creation of 
 Dukes paved th e wa> for th( Wars of the Roses. Unlike 
 the great Countess Matilda in her ? ethod of governance, 
 he paid little heed and showed little favour the German 
 towns, which were soon to become a powerlv.i eJ rnent in 
 tii" state. 
 
 In Italy, the Guelfic cities found it hard to reconcile 
 allegiance to an Emperor who v as perpetually at enmity 
 with the Popes, with their own loyalty to the Roman 
 See ; and it was partly to check this disaffection, and 
 partly to make real his eiaim to be King of Jerusalem 
 in right of his wife, that Frederic, eight years after his 
 coion-ition, undertook the promised Crusade. He set 
 off at the head of a great army, and it is recorded of 
 him that he was unfavourably impressed by the natural 
 features of the " land flowing with milk and honey " of 
 Sacred Writ. Vith characteristic irreverence he an- 
 nounced s( jflfiKgiy that if the ' ^mighty had cast His eye 
 over his inheritance, the Sicuies, He would certainly 
 have planted His chosen people there. 
 
 The Crusade was so far successful that the Emperor 
 was crowned King of Jerusalem, though it was by treaty 
 with the Egyptian Sultan and not by conquest of the 
 infidel. But the arrangement moved only the dis- 
 pleasure of the Pope, and Frederic was excommunicated 
 for being at Jerusalem. Besides this, a Count was named 
 by the Papal See as suzerain of the Emperor's Sicilian 
 dominions, and established with a royal Court at Naples. 
 To this disturbed state of things Frederic returned, 
 prepared to defy the lope and any other hostile power, 
 and confident in his determination to assert his authority. 
 As the years passed the strife became more jitter 
 between Pope and Emperor ; but Frederic, unlike our 
 
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 1653 East Main Street 
 
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74 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 Angevin King John, so far from trembling at the Papal 
 displeasure, openly jested with his courtiers at the 
 attempt of the Pope to absolve his subjects from their 
 allegiance. It must be acknowledged that, except in 
 the case of the strongly Guelfic cities, his confidence was 
 justified ; and he undertook to compel peace in Italy by 
 exacting hostages from both Ghibellines and Guelfs, 
 whose lives were to be forfeit if bloodshed occurred in 
 the towns. He spoilt this apparently impartial measure 
 by releasing the Ghibellines after a brief period and 
 imprisoning the Guelfs in gloomy dungeons of great 
 fortresses. Many Florentines were thus kept for years 
 in the terrible tower of San Miniato. His encourage- 
 ment of the great Ghibelline nobles, such as the Uberti, 
 led to civil war in every town where sympathies were 
 divided. When Dante's father was a young man there 
 was nothing less than a Reign of Terror in Florence. 
 All ordinary life and pursuits were at a standstill ; houses 
 were barricaded ; towers bristled with weapons ; armed 
 bands roamed the streets ; sad funeral processions were 
 scattered by rough men-at-arms ; and quiet, home- 
 loving burgesses were driven mad with grief and despair. 
 Young Frederic, King of Antioch, a favourite son of 
 the Emperor, invaded Florence with an army of German 
 horsemen to ensure an Imperial triumph. The Emperor 
 himself, at Pisa, was collecting troops and at Genoa a 
 fleet, with which to subdue all Guelfic territory. From 
 Pisa he moved on to besiege Parma, which held true 
 to the Papacy, and he used every device to overcome 
 the resistance offered to him. An old writer ^ says, 
 " The Emperor caused castles of wood to be made when 
 he sat down outside Brescia, and in those castles he placed 
 the captives he had taken. But the besieged fired their 
 
 ^ Salimbene. 
 
The Emperor Frederic II 7^ 
 
 mangonels at the said castles with no hurt to the prisoners 
 within ; also they hung up any of the Emperor's men 
 they could catch by the arms outside the town walls." 
 The two most violent and powerful Ghibelline barons of 
 N. Italy were the Counts Ezzelino and Alberigo, and they 
 dealt death and destruction wherever they went. " On 
 one day Ezzelino caused 11,000 men of Padua to be burnt 
 in the field of S. George in Verona whither they had been 
 driven as captives." With Parma and Modena, the town 
 of Keggio 1 was heavily visited by the enraged Emperor. 
 The same chronicler says, " Every morning came the 
 Emperor with his men and beheaded three or four, or as 
 many more as seemed good to him, of the men of Parma 
 and Modena and Reggio who were of the Church party, 
 whom he kept in bonds. This did he on the shingles by 
 the riverside within sight of the men of Parma that he 
 might vex their souls." After some terrible details he 
 goes on, '^ He sent the Lord Gerardo di Canale into 
 Apulia, and caused him to be drowned in the depths of 
 the sea with a mill-stone about his neck ; and yet he 
 had been at first one of his nearest friends and had held 
 many offices from him. And the Emperor's one ground 
 of suspicion of him was that the tower of his palace in 
 Parma had not been demolished as had others, and the 
 materials used to build Ghibelline fortresses. Frederic 
 would say to him jestingly, " The men of Parma love you 
 and me much, my Lord Gerard ; for they have not des- 
 troyed your tower nor my palace on the Arena." 
 
 The Emperor's evil mood grew upon him as the stress 
 and strife continued, and the deep-seated cruelty of his 
 heart manifested itself continually. Lord Bernard Rossi 
 of Parma, riding with him one day, was nearly thrown 
 by his horse stum-bling. The Emperor frowned darkly, 
 1 Destroyed by earthquake, January 1909. 
 
 ■I I 
 
 
76 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 and said in a grim voice, " My Lord Bernard, you have 
 an evil horse. But I hope within a few days to give you 
 a better, one which shall be safe and not stumble." 
 And Lord Bernard understood him to speak of the 
 gallows, which he did, and a little later he carried 
 out his threat. The old writer says sadly, " Yet Lord 
 Bernard was the Emperor's gossip and most intimate 
 friend." But the Emperor could keep no man's friend- 
 ship. His own cynical description of his treatment of 
 those who served him describes his feeling : " I never 
 nourished a pig but at last I had its grease." 
 
 This spirit of selfishness and suspicion led him at length 
 to doubt his trusted friend and secretary, Ser Pietro 
 delle Vigne. This scholar, himself a poet and man of 
 letters, had been the Emperor's companion in many a 
 progress and peaceful contest in arms or verse ; had aided 
 him in his great schemes for his Empire; travelling, 
 arranging, writing, recording, and everywhere giving 
 loyal auvl competent help. Jealous whisperers accused 
 delle Vigne of private communications with the Pope, 
 or with powerful Cardinals, and Frederic listened with 
 ready suspicion. After the final defeat at Parma, when 
 the desperate inhabitants marched out of the city, nobles 
 and knights and burghers side by side, and even their 
 very women and girls, and drove the Emperor's force, 
 horse and foot, from his arrogantly named " Victoria " 
 trenches, the angry spirit of the defe ' monarch 
 sought to find vent somewhere. His wratx^ .^11 upon his 
 secretary : suddenly the records of the Empe or's camp, 
 in that fair, neat penmanship, cea^e, and none know 
 what has become of the once trusted Pietro. 
 
 Popular rumour had its solution, and the story went 
 fKof Qo Via cfnn(1 in nt+pnrlnnf'e on his roval master while 
 the physician presented the Emperor with his morning 
 
The Emperor Frederic II 77 
 
 draught, the monarch bent a searching glance upon his 
 Eecretary, saying, " My friend, art thou sure that this is 
 medicine, not poison ? " The physician offered to take 
 back the cup, and the Emperor commanded him to drink 
 it off. He flung himself at his master's feet, and, in so 
 doing, upset the medicine. Later in the day the remains 
 were given to some prisoners condemned to death, and 
 they died in agony after a few hours. The Emperor was 
 convinced that the physician was a tool in the hands of 
 Pietro delle Vigne, and that his once trusted secretary 
 and poet-companion was compassing his death. Where- 
 fore he ordered that Pietro should be ignominiously 
 hurried to the dungeon of a fortress and there imprisoned 
 in fetters. Tradition said that he killed himself in his 
 cell to avoid further indignities ; thus Dante shows us 
 Pietro delle Vigne in the Seventh Circle of Hell amongsf 
 those who had done violence on themselves. His spirit 
 relates 
 
 " I it was who held 
 Both keys to Frederic's heart and turn'd the wards. 
 Opening and shutting, with ?. s'till so sweet 
 That besides me, into his inmost breast 
 Scarce any other could admittance find. 
 The faith 1 bore to my high charge was such. 
 It cost me the life-blood that warm'd my veins. 
 Then Envy who ne'er turned her gloating eyes 
 From Caesar's household, common vice and pest 
 Of courts, 'gainst me inflamed the minds of all ; 
 And to Augustus they so spread the flame 
 That my glad honours changed to bitter woes. 
 My soul, disdainful and disgusted, sought 
 Refi'ige in death from scorn, and I became, 
 Just as I was, unjust toward myself." 
 
 The bitter and revengeful spirit of the Emperor during 
 tlie last five years of his reign is described as that of a 
 " bear robbed of her whelps." Another king had been 
 
 
 a 
 
78 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 proposed for election in Germany ; Lombardy was almost 
 independent of the Empire ; the Guelfs were restless 
 and determined throughout Italy ; and though to them 
 the Emperor seemed indeed " a bird whose wing-feathers 
 have been plucked away," because he was under the ban 
 of the Church, yet the undaunted monarch, no longer 
 gay and confident, but resolute and dogged, persisted in 
 his war with the Papacy. It was said that in the defeat 
 before Parma, the Emperor lost all his pavilions and chests 
 of treasures, including the Imperial ornaments and even 
 the jewelled crown. 
 
 Perhaps he might have stood out against open enemies, 
 however powerful, against even the Church, whose ad- 
 herents believed him to be anti-Christ, but the dissen- 
 sions in his own family and between his many sons 
 made his last years miserable. His wife was Countess of 
 Boulogne in her own right, and her son Conradine was 
 to succeed Frederic in Germany and in the Sicilies ; but 
 it did not promise well for the future that young Con- 
 radine's half-brothers were far more vigorous and able 
 than himself. Besides this, they had already held 
 " kingdoms " and dukedoms in various parts of the 
 Empire, which they ruled with only shadowy submission 
 to their father. Chief amongst them was the Emperor's 
 darling son Manfred, brilliant, audacious, and resembling 
 his father more than did any of his brothers, including 
 even Frederic who was named after him. They had one 
 sister, Constance ; and she was given in marriage to 
 King Peter of Aragon. 
 
 History records that the great Emperor met his 
 death by the order, if not at the hands, of his favourite 
 son, Manfred ; and young Conradine, though he suc- 
 ceeded to the throne, had a troubled reign of only a few 
 years. 
 
The Emperor Frederic II 79 
 
 Dante's representation of Frederic takes into account 
 his many faults and the evil he had done, with almost 
 biblical simplicity ; and shows us nothing of the at- 
 tractive personality of his earlier years. In a wide and 
 terrible plain, covered with burning sepulchres, described 
 as the Sixth Circle of Hell, are the fiery tombs of the 
 Heretics. The lids are raised, and Dante and his guide 
 Virgil can distinguish some of the tortured forms, of 
 whom more than a thousand were there, of .x.„ny climes 
 and many ages, companions in misery of the illustrious 
 Frederic, Third and last of the Suabian Emperors. 
 
 ■u 
 
 i 
 
Ser Brunetto Latini 
 
 1220-1294 
 
 " ' If my entreaty wholly were fulfilled/ 
 
 Replied I to him, ' not yet would you be 
 In banishment from human nature placed ; 
 
 For in my mind is fixed, and touches now 
 My heart, the dear and good paternal image 
 Of you, when in the world from hour to hour, 
 
 You taught me how a man becomes eternal ; 
 And how much I am grateful, while I live 
 Behoves that in my language be discerned.' " 
 
 Inferno xv. 
 
 ONE of the greatest Florentines of the thirteenth 
 century was Ser Brunetto, of the family of the 
 Latini. He was born in 1220, the year of the 
 Coronation of the Emperor Frederic II., in which the 
 smouldering rivalry of the cities of Pisa and Florence 
 broke into open flame. A story which illustrates the 
 ill-feeling between the two towns is told by Brunetto 
 Latini in the " Chronicles of Florence," which he trans- 
 lated and edited. One of the Florentine ambassadors, 
 entertained by a Cardinal during the Coronation festi- 
 vities, admired a dog and begged it of his host as a gift. 
 It was promised with gracious readiness. The next day 
 the same Cardinal was feasting a Pisan ambassador, who 
 also admired the beautiful animal, and, with courtly desire 
 
 80 
 
Ser Brunetto Latini 
 
 8i 
 
 to please, the Cardinal promised that the dog should be 
 his. The Florentine, who had been the first to receive 
 the promise, soon sent for the animal ; and when, a little 
 later, the Pisan also sent, the disappointment was magni- 
 fied into resentment of an insult ; and not only were the 
 ambassadors and their retinues set at enmity, but also 
 all the Pisans and the Florentines in Rome at the 
 time. 
 
 The Florence in which the gifted young Brunetto grew 
 up was just beginning to show the fine buildings and im- 
 posing spaces for which the city was afterwards so famous. 
 Only a few of the houses of Old Florence were left, the 
 last great fire of 1207 having burnt down nearly all that 
 remained of the shingle-roofed and straw-thatched 
 houses built of timber. A second bridge, the Ponte 
 alia Carraia, was being built over the Arno ; and the new 
 streets were being paved with small stones instead of 
 bricks. Many of the palaces of the grandi, or aristocratic 
 families, had high towers and turrets, and stood around 
 spacious courtyards. A few were solidly built, like 
 fortresses ; for it was the policy of the democratic govern- 
 ment of Florence to require even nobles to live within 
 the city, and to become members of one of the Greater 
 Guilds. One of the most commanding and roomy of 
 the newer buildings was the Hospital of S. Maria sopr' 
 Arno, a house of charity and refuge for the aged and 
 friendless— not, as would now be understood, a place for 
 the tending of the sick. In these hospitals the r'l/rrims 
 and travellers of the Middle Ages found entertaui; .ent, 
 and one was attached to every large abbey or monastery. 
 Fifty years later another hospital was built by the bene- 
 volent and gentle Folco Portinari, the father of Dante's 
 
 In that simple age the expenses of life were few, so 
 
 F 
 
 m If 
 
82 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 
 that men who were moved to spend their wealth usually 
 devoted it to building churches. Two, which were after- 
 wards to be noted as landmarks in Florence, were being 
 erected when Brunetto was a lad ; and there began to be 
 planned the new Mansion House, or Palace of the podestd. 
 It was a gay and lively city, growing in wealth, and noted 
 for the enterprise of its citizens ; very martial, too, in 
 spirit, and strongly Guelf in sympathies. Like London, 
 in the old days before a standing army, all able-bodied 
 men were drafted into train-bands, and drilled to use 
 some weapon of defence, and to march to battle. The 
 six divisions of the city had each their military company, 
 and to each was attached a certain number of men from 
 the villages round. The tolling of the great city bell was 
 the signal for each civic corps to rally behind its own 
 banner, or " Gonfalon," and march to the central square. 
 On occasions of real war, as that of the memorable attack 
 on Sienna, there went before the moving army the 
 Carroccio, with the " Captain of the People" in command. 
 This was a great vermilion-painted car, drawn by beauti- 
 ful oxen, and bearing the Florentine standard. To the 
 staff was fixed a crucifix, and at the top was a golden 
 ball ; on platforms upon the car rode the escort and a 
 band of musicians. Twice at least may young Latini 
 have seen this car leave the city-gates and return with 
 a victorious army, but in the disastrous battle of 
 Montaperti it was seized by the conquerors, and the 
 proud Florentine banner was hung in Sienna Cathedral. 
 Although the city was growing in wealth, but little 
 money was spent on luxurious food or fine clothes. The 
 men wore leathern garments, with heavy boots and long 
 cloth caps ; the women, a long serge or camlet tunic of 
 crimson, girt about the waist with a worked leather 
 belt, with a hooded cloak lined with miniver. Women 
 
I I 
 
 The Carroccio 
 
 83 
 

Ser Brunetto Latini 
 
 83 
 
 of the poorer classes wore a similar garment of green 
 cloth. Wooden trenchers were used at table, and fe\/ 
 families possessed more than two or three cups or goblets. 
 Poor families at table wouM all eat from the same dish ; 
 &mongst the wealthier there would be a principal dish 
 for the man and his wife, and the rest would share from 
 another. Candles were unknown, so that servants held 
 lanterns or torches to light the table. The meat was 
 usually served in a stew, and could be afforded by the 
 poorer people only two or three times a week ; the bread 
 was coarse and eaten stale. Gold or silver ornaments, 
 and jewellery, were almost unknown ; and the extrava- 
 gance of men showed itself chiefly in fine horses, or rich 
 armour and weapons. The i iteriors of the houses were 
 dark and gloomy, for the windows were small, and almost 
 the only decoration was heavy carved panels. The 
 treasures of the household were mostly arms or accoutre- 
 ments for war, with occasionally metal sconces and 
 lanterns, and massive timber chests. But here and 
 there a family possessed two or three books, in beauti- 
 ful black letter writing on thick discoloured parchment, 
 bound in metal-cornered covers of embossed leather. 
 
 Little Brunetto Latini lived in a home such as this, 
 and early showed a love for books and learning. Ac- 
 cording to the method of education of the time, a lad, 
 as soon as he knew his letters, and could read simple 
 words, began his studies with the " Trivio," consisting 
 of grammar (i.e. Latin), rhetoric, and dialectics or logic. 
 Promising students went on to the " Quadrivio," arith- 
 metic, geometry, music and astronomy ,• and as Brunetto 
 was one of the finest scholars of Florence we may think 
 of him as pursuing these studies till well on into manhood. 
 Nor was he content to learn from books, merely : he, 
 like his future pupil, Dante Alighieri, was a close ob- 
 
 
 
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 84 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 server of nature and of men. Thus we find him early 
 drawn to history, and in that age the writing of history 
 had hardly been begun. Of the few scholars who at- 
 tempted it w^ know little, except the magnificence of 
 their aim ; it was usually nothing less than to give the 
 history of the world from its beginning down to their 
 
 """ontTuch, who wrote in the middle of the thirteenth 
 century, was a Dominican monk of Troppau whose 
 record, in Latin, consisted of a series of Chronicles 
 arranged under the headings of the Emperors and Popes 
 through the ages. The city of Florence became possessed 
 of some copies of this work, and Brunetto Latmi was 
 the scholar who translated it into Tuscan. He also 
 arranged, in a separate treatise, that part of it which 
 related to Florence ; and he is believed, either m his 
 official capacity as Notary, or from love of the subject, 
 to have kept the Florentine records up to date for some 
 vears. His translation and his original work were of 
 such value that they formed part of the chief historical 
 papers in the archives of Florence, and later chroniclers 
 were proud to credit his name with their labours. But 
 Latini was not only a translator and writer of records, 
 he also undertook other and more ambitious work. 
 
 In the European revival of learning of the twelfth and 
 thirteenth centuries the leading idea of the time was 
 the unity, or oneness, of knowledge. Thus every branch 
 of learning was closely related to every other branch, 
 and, instead of dwelling upon the differences in the various 
 subiects, scholars were always seeking to point out the 
 likenesses. And always they sought to connect the 
 external world with the world of thought; thus Dante 
 expressly states m his ^ouvitu »>x.». tn^ ?»„.., ..---i. 
 and Planets resemble the seven sciences which are the 
 
Ser Brunetto Latini 
 
 85 
 
 roads into all truth. So, Brunetto Latini, after his 
 commentary on Tully's Rhetoric, wrote a long philo- 
 sophical poem, which he called "Tesoretto," giving, in the 
 form of a Vision, the adventures of a supposed Florentine 
 ambassador. He, " returning from an embassy to King 
 Alphonso of Spain, meets on the plain of Roncesvalles a 
 student of Bologna, riding on a bay mule, who informs 
 him that the Guelfs have been banished from Florence." 
 Plunged into sorrowful meditation, the story-teller loses 
 the highroad and wanders in a wondrous forest. Here 
 he meets the august and wonderful figure of Nature, who 
 tells him " how the world wis created, and gives him a 
 banner to protect him on his way through the forest. 
 Farther on he meets the Virtues and the Vices, Philosophy, 
 Fortune, Ovid and Cupid, and his descriptions of these 
 fill many cantos. On leaving the forest he visits the 
 monastery of Montpellier, and is then wafted to the top 
 of Mount Olympus, where he meets the great Ptolemy, 
 and discourses to him of the Beginnings of all 
 things." 
 
 This poem is written in a brisk, lively metre, which is 
 apparent to one with but little knowledge of Italian : — 
 
 " Piu me parea selvaggio. 
 
 Quivi non ha viaggio, 
 Quivi non ha persone. 
 
 Quivi non ha magione 
 Non bestia, non uccello, 
 
 Non flume, non ruscello. 
 Non formica, ne mosca, 
 
 Ne cosa, ch' i' conosca. 
 £ io pensando forte 
 
 Dottai ben della morte.'* * 
 
 •* — _* .. — — _.^. ..Ji,»»/iiii, iiv TT\- v^-i, TTixuxiii' rrab DUc \JllC \Jl 
 
 ^ Tesoretto. Brunetto Latini. Quoted from Gary's " Dante." 
 
 ' '.if 
 
 
 1^11 
 
 A. 
 
86 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 the pursuits of his Ufe. He held an important position 
 in the government of Florence, and also instructed young 
 men in the more advanced subjects of study and in the 
 art of verse. In the year 1250, when the Emperor 
 Frederic II. died, the Guelf party in Florence seized the 
 opportunity to demand a complete reorganisation of 
 the affairs of the city. Two great meetings of the people 
 were held in the churches of San Firenze and Santa 
 Croce, and the division into Ghibelline and Guelf was 
 condemned as unpatriotic, while a new and more popular 
 method of government was demanded. Although 
 Florence had far fewer nobles within her bounds than 
 most of the Italian cities, those there were belonged almost 
 entirely to the Ghibellines ; so that the new popular 
 control greatly lessened the power of the aristocratic 
 supporters of the Emperor. In all these troublous 
 matters Ser Brunetto Latini took a prominent part, 
 being a member of an old and respected family, a noted 
 scholar, and an able and persuasive orator. He was 
 a member of the Great Council, and was more than once 
 commissioned to go as envoy to other cities in order to 
 establish commercial treaties, as for instance to Orvieto 
 and Genoa. This was the beginning of the prosperous 
 and militant independence of Florence. Besides the 
 civil governor, or podestd, there was also a military com- 
 mander, with the imposing titles of " Defender of the 
 Guilds and the People," " Captain of all the Guelfs," etc. 
 The palace of the podestd was completed with magni- 
 ficence for those days, and a third bridge built over 
 the Arno, the Santa Trinity. The private citizen, by 
 whose munificence this was chiefly done, may have been 
 Latini himself. Two satirical poems, largely political, 
 censuring, or scoffing at, Florentine shortcomings, are 
 supposed to belong to this part of his life. 
 
Ser Brunetto Latini 
 
 87 
 
 A story is told of him which shows his professional 
 pride in his calling as Notary, or lawyer. He made a 
 mistake in drawing up a contract, and through the dis- 
 content of one of the parties in the case, he was accused 
 of £r . ■ d. He preferred to be thought guilty of this rather 
 th.'* of negligence, and was convicted of the offence, 
 and heavily fined. 
 
 In 1260 when, through the Florentine defeat at Sienna, 
 the city was occupied by Count Giordano and his German 
 troops, the Ghibelline party again triumphed, and all 
 the leading Guelfs were banished. Amongst them was 
 the haughty notary, Brunetto Latini ; and after wander- 
 ing through some of the cities of Italy, he took refuge in 
 Paris. There he consoled himself in his exile by writing 
 a book, called the " Tesoro," which exactly illustrates 
 the ideas of the time as to learning generally. It con- 
 sists of the stories of the ancient world as recorded in the 
 Bible and classical mjrthology ; astronomy, or the study 
 of the celestial spheres ; geography and natural philo- 
 sophy ; history and metaphysics; a compendium of 
 Aristotle ; and discussions on morality, rhetoric, and civil 
 government. This was written in French, and, in the 
 easy manner of old-time authors with their little circle 
 of readers, Brunetto in his preface observes : " If any one 
 ask why this book is written in the French language 
 since we are of Italy, I will answer that it is for two 
 things : one because we are in France, and the other 
 because the French tongue is more agreeable and more 
 common than all the other languages." A few quotations 
 from this curious old book will show how highly its author 
 esteemed learning : " The smallest part of this Treasure 
 is like unto ready money, to be expended daily in things 
 
 antiquity of old histories, of the creation of the world. 
 
 f.- 
 
 m 
 
 1: 
 
 
 vi. 
 
? : 1 
 
 Ml 
 
 88 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 and, in fine, of the nature of all things. . . . The 
 second part, which treats of the vices and virtues, is of 
 precious stones, which give unto man delight and virtue : 
 that is to say, what things a man should do and what 
 he should not, and shows the reason why. . . . The 
 third part is of fine gold ; that is to say, it teaches a man 
 to speak according to the rules of rhetoric, and how a 
 ruler ought to govern those beneath him. . . . And I 
 say not that this book is extracted from my own poor 
 sense and my own naked knowledge, but, on the contrary, 
 it is like an honeycomb gathered from divers flowers." 
 In the historical part of the book he writes, " The Romans 
 besieged Fiesole till at last they conquered it. Then they 
 built upon the plain which is at the foot of the high rocks 
 on which that city stood another city that is now called 
 Florence. The spot of ground where Florence stands was 
 formerly called The House of Mars, for Mars, who is one 
 of the seven planets, is called the god of War. Therefore 
 it is no wonder that the Florentines are always in war 
 and in discord, for that planet reigns over them. Of 
 this, Ser Brunetto Latini ought to know the truth, for 
 he was born there, and was in exile when he composed 
 this book." 
 
 For thirty years Latini lived in exile, and then the 
 decay of the Ghibelline power in Florence made it 
 possible for him to return. But a new order of things 
 was established there, and the ingratitude of forgetful- 
 ness was all that awaited him. Four years later he died, 
 and was buried in the Church of S. Maria Maggiore. 
 Dante describes his meeting with his tutor, revered and 
 loved in life, in the Second Circle of the Inferno, where 
 those souls who were actuated by low motives and base 
 desires in this life endu 
 explains who are his companions, 
 
 LUC pUIXUUi 
 
 
 
Ser Brunetto Latini 
 
 " All of them were clerks, 
 And men of letters great and of great fame 
 In the world tainted with the self-same sin," 
 
 89 
 
 apparently the sin of Knowledge without Reverence. 
 Dante describes it as Brutishness, a form of Malice or 
 Vice, which leads its followers to know what is good 
 and to choose what is evil ; to be self-pleasers and lovers 
 of ease and softness, rejecting all discipline and restraint. 
 History records many instances of men of high powers 
 and great public influence who lived evil private lives, 
 and thus brought scandal upon the community to which 
 they belonged ; and Dante shows the gifted Florentine 
 gentleman such an one as those. 
 
 Ser Brunetto listens to Dante's pained protest at seeing 
 him in so sad and evil a place ; 
 
 " Now strikes full upon my heart, 
 The dear, benign, paternal image, such 
 As thine was, when so lately thou didst teach me 
 The way for man to win Eternity : 
 And how I prized the lesson, it behoves 
 That, long as life endures, my tongue should speak," 
 
 and his last words to Dante are — 
 
 " Commended unto thee be my Tesoro 
 
 In which I still live ; and no more I ask. 
 
 Inferno xr. 
 
 a 
 
VI 
 
 Count Ugolino of Pisa 
 
 1230-1288 
 
 " Amid the desolation of a city. 
 
 Which was the cradle and is now the grave 
 Of an extinguished people ; so that pity 
 Weeps o'er the shipwrecks of oblivion's wave. 
 There stands the Tower of Famine. It is built 
 Upon some prison-homes, whose dwellers rave 
 For bread, and gold, and blood." 
 
 Shellb\. 
 
 TRAVELLERS in Pisa are still shown the remains 
 of an ancient Tower once called the " Tower 
 of the Seven Ways," but, since the grim ven- 
 geance of Archbishop Ruggiero in 1288, known as the 
 " Tower of Famine." The victims were Count Ugohno 
 della Gherardesca, his two sons, and his two young 
 grandsons. Like most of the chief ItaUan towns m the 
 thirteenth century Pisa had its two great political 
 parties of Guelf and Ghibelline, and in 1275, when the 
 Guelfic League was formed, many banished Guelfs of 
 Pisa, including Count Ugolino, made alliance with 
 Florence against their native city, and even fought in 
 the army of the League against it. The Pisans were 
 defeated, and one of the conditions exacted by !the 
 Florentines was the recall of the banished Guelfs and their 
 due shall in positions of authority restored to them. 
 
 90 
 
Count Ugolino of Pisa 9 1 
 
 This was granted, and for a few years Pisa was free from 
 war and in alliance with Florence developed great pros- 
 perity. It was always to the commercial interest of 
 these cities to be friendly, since Pisa commanded the 
 Sea and thus could help or hinder foreign trade, whilst 
 Florence was most energetic and skilful in devising new 
 and good methods of preparing merchandise. 
 
 With the growing wealth of Pisa her people adopted 
 habits of luxury and extravagance hitherto unknown. 
 The various nobles of the city kept their litlle courts of 
 men-at-arms and retainers, and encouraged display in 
 dress and show and state in amusements. Horseman- 
 ship and sword exercises were in great favour ; and a 
 kind of tournament, copied from the Saracens, kept the 
 young cavaliers and their followers very well amused 
 when there was no more interesting matter — as personal 
 quarrels and fighting — on hand. In the " Armeggiatori," 
 as these contests were called, the opposing sides were 
 mounted on prancing steeds elaborately saddled, wearing 
 gay uniforms and light-coloured mantles ; and, riding 
 with very short stirrups, they stood erect as they met in 
 the charge, and broke lances at terrific speed. But very 
 often real quarrels broke out, as, indeed, was always the 
 case where nobles with great bodies of retainers living 
 at ease were concerned ; and much of the time of the 
 Pisan magistrates and senate was occupied in adjusting 
 them, or in exacting penalties for riot and murder. 
 
 Then there broke out the always smouldering rivalry 
 of Genoa, and the Pisans had to send a fleet to protect 
 the approaches to their harbours. Also a vassal governor 
 of theirs, who was Prince of Corsica, suddenly trans- 
 ferred his allegiance to the Genoese, and ships and men 
 had to be sent there to subdue the revolt. Then pre- 
 parations were made for a great naval battle, each city 
 
 
 (I -1, 
 
 ■■ i 
 
 
I jr. 
 
 m 
 
 
 92 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 determining to reduce the other completely. The Pisans 
 equipped three squadrons of ships, the second being 
 under the command of Count Ugolino della Gherardesca ; 
 and the Archbishop, attended by all the clergy and trains 
 of monks and choristers, followed the Banner of the City 
 down to the Ponte Vecchio near the harbour and blessed 
 the fleet. Whilst the ceremony was going on the 
 Crucifix attached to the staff fell to the ground, and 
 the onlookers could but fear that such an omen foreboded 
 ill. Surely enough, through a clever stratagem of the 
 Genoese, the Pisan fleet was soon worsted, and the 
 standard on the flag-ship fell with a crash, wounding the 
 Admiral, Count Morosini, grievously. At that moment 
 Count Ugolino, instead of supporting the first squadron, 
 gave the signal for flight ; and sinking a few galleys and 
 capturing many, the Genoese completely defeated their 
 foe. The immense destruction and the number of 
 prisoners taken gave rise to a bitter proverb : " If 
 you would see Pisa you must go to Genoa." 
 
 T'^e next we hear of Count Ugolino is at the time of 
 the treaty between Florence, Lucca and Genoa, at which 
 Ser Brunetto Latini was present, when it was proposed 
 that the leading men of Pisa should be admitted to the 
 citizenship of Genoa on condition that they disowned 
 their old allegiance. But the people of Pisa had made 
 the Count podestd, of their city, and trusted to him to 
 restore their fallen fortunes, since he was known to be 
 more Guelf than Ghibelline, and hence perhaps able to 
 influence Florence on their side against Genoa. In this 
 supreme position Ugolino allowed his ambition to over- 
 ride his sense of justice ; and, lest the presence of his 
 fellow-nobles should hinder him, he made no attempt 
 to induce the Genoese to set free theii" Pisan prisoners. 
 Also his haughty manners and jealous exercise of power 
 
 
 m 
 
 bcE 
 

 Count Ugolino of Pisa 93 
 
 set his nephew, Nino Visconti, against him ; and for a 
 short time he was driven from the palace of the Signory. 
 The Archbishop, who was Ghibelline in sympathies, 
 took sides with Nino, and there was civil war in the city, 
 during which Ugolino and his opponents in turn seized 
 the public palace, and endeavoured to rule from there. 
 The people were in a miserable state ; food was so dear 
 that many were starving in the city ; yet the Count, in 
 his armed security in tower or palace, knew and thought 
 nothing of it. The one thing upon which he was deter- 
 mined was to be supreme in Pisa. When a magistrate 
 one day demanded an audience of him, and urged him 
 because of the great dearth to suspend the customs 
 duties on food, he was so angered that he stabbed him 
 in the arm with his poniard. A noble in attendance 
 sprang forward to shield the wounded man, and Count 
 Ugolino seized an axe which lay near and smote the 
 intruder one furious blow which laid him dead at his 
 feet. 
 
 The Count's self-seeking and tyranny, no less than 
 the determination of Archbishop Ruggiero to bring 
 about his overthrow, hastened the end. When, in the 
 summer of 1288 the Council of the Republic met in the 
 church of San Sebastian to consider terms of peace with 
 Genoa, Ugolino thwarted every proposal and endeavoured 
 to bring fresh bitterness into the discussion. Then, 
 suddenly, the Archbishop's supporters of the famous 
 houses of Sismondi and Lanfranchi attacked the Count 
 and his party ; and, after a desperate encounter in the 
 niarket-place, in which one of his sons was killed before 
 his eyes, he took refuge with his two younger sons and 
 his grandsons in the public palace. His opponents 
 ^^^.oiegv-a lu i,iii nigiiLiuii, and then threatened to set it 
 on fire, thus compelling the defenders to submit. They 
 
 
 I 
 
g4 Stories from Dante 
 
 were imprisoned in the " Tower of the Seven Ways," 
 belonging to the GhibelHne house of the Gualandi, and, 
 after some months, by the orders of Archbishop Ruggiero, 
 the key of the Tower was thrown into the Arno, and the 
 prisoners left to die of starvation. Chaucer m his 
 '' Monk's Tale " gives the painful story of how the Count 
 had to watch the death of the little lads, and then of his 
 sons, whilst he himself was enduring the agonies ol 
 starvation. 
 
 " His yonge aone, that three yeare was of ago 
 Unto him said, ' Fader, why do ye wepe? 
 When will the gaoler bringen our potage ? 
 Is there no morsel bred that ye do kepe? 
 I am so hungry that I may not slepe. 
 Now would God that I might slepen ever 
 Then should not hunger in my middle crepe : ^^ 
 
 There n'is no thing, save bred, that me v*ere liever. 
 
 In Dante's terrible picture he shows us Ugolino in- 
 terrupting himself in the dreadful vengeance of gnawing 
 the head of his cruel captor to tell of his anguish during 
 those last days in prison, when he had grasped the in- 
 tention of the Archbishop, and knew the awful fate before 
 them. 
 
 " When I before the morrow was awake, 
 
 Moaning amid their sleep I heard my sons 
 Who with me were, and asking after bread. 
 
 They were awake now and the hour drew nigh 
 At which our food used to be brought to us, 
 And through his dream was each one appprehensive : 
 
 And 1 heard locking up the under door 
 
 Of the horrible Tower ; whereat without a word 
 ' I gazed into the faces of my sons. 
 
 I wept not ; I within so turned to stone ; 
 They wept ; and darling little Anse'm ininft 
 Said, ' Thou dost gaze so, Father, what doth ail thee? 
 
»♦ 
 
 Count Ugolino of Pisa 95 
 
 Still not a tear I shed, nor answer made 
 All of that day, nor yet the nijfht thereafter, 
 Until another sun rose on the world. 
 As now a little glimmer made its way 
 Into the dolorous prison, and I saw 
 Upon four faces my own very aspect. 
 Both of my hands in ag(my I bit ; 
 And thinking that I did it from desire 
 Of eating, on a sudden they uprose. 
 And said they, * Father, much less pain 'twill give us 
 If thou do eat of us ; thyself didst clothe us 
 With this poor flesh, and do thou strip it off.' 
 I calmed me then, not to make them more sad. 
 That day we all were silent and the next. 
 Ah ! obdurate earth, wherefore didst thou not open ? 
 When we had come unto the fourth day, Gaddo 
 Threw himself down, outstretched before my feet. 
 Saying, ' My father, why dost thou not help me ? ' 
 And then he died ; and as thou seest me, 
 I saw the three fall, one by one, between 
 The fifth day and the sixth ; whence I betook me. 
 Already blind, to groping over each. 
 And three days called them after they were dead ; 
 Then hunger did what sorrow could not do.'* 
 
 The old historian writes, " After eight days they were 
 removed from prison and carried wrapped in matting 
 to the Church of the Minor Friars at San Francesco, 
 and buried in the monument which is on the side of the 
 steps leading into the Church near the gate of the cloister, 
 with irons on their legs, which irons I myself saw 
 taken out of the monument." 
 
 " For this cruelty the Pisans were much blamed through 
 all the world where it was known ; " and the miserable 
 fate of Count Ugolino has been made known to many 
 generations since the writing of this verdict, through 
 Dante's description in the Divine Comedy. 
 
 .1 
 
 
 'S 
 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
Hi 
 
 VII 
 
 Guido Cavalcanti 
 
 1248-1800 
 
 " For tme, — could envy enter in my sphere 
 Whiti 'f all human taint is clean and quit, — 
 1 well might harbour it 
 When I behold the peasant at his toil ; 
 Guiding his team, untroubled, free from fear. 
 He leaves his perfect furrow as he goes. ..." 
 
 Song of Fortune. 
 
 AMONGST the famous men who helped to T^»ake 
 Florence illustrious in the thirteenth century 
 was Guido Cavalcanti, son of the great Guelf, 
 Cavalcante de' Cavalcanti, of the house of the Cerchi. 
 When he was a young man the citizens of Florence were 
 divided into three great classes : the Grandi or Nobles, 
 the Popolani or People, and the Plebei or Plebeians; 
 and Cavalcanti belonged to the first. There was much 
 jealousy between the aristocratic descendants of the old 
 families of Florence and the rich merchants and pro- 
 fessional men who were beginning to share their pxivi- 
 leges ; and the latter were strong enough in the govern- 
 ment to get very strict laws passed in order to restrain 
 the bloodshed and violence with which the families of the 
 Nobles carried on their private quarrels. Soon all 
 members of the aristocracy were excluded from the great 
 offices of state, and only if they were members of one^ of 
 the Greater Guilds could they rf main in ij'lorence. The 
 
 86 
 
Guido Cavalcanti 
 
 97 
 
 restrictions were much resented by these once-powerful 
 nobJes, and they angrily protested that. " If a noble- 
 man's horse happened to whisk its tail in the face of a 
 citizen, or if one pushed another l,y accident in a crowd, 
 or even if childs n of different • ^i.s quarrelled at their 
 amusements, accusations were instantly made to the 
 Court of Justice." Young Guido Cavalcanti shared 
 to the full in this unfriendliness, for there was bitte;- 
 rivalry between iiis house and the Donati ; and a member 
 of the one could not pass a member of the other in the 
 street without insulting words. 
 
 Nevertheless Guido himself was not by nature quarrel- 
 some, but rather given to thought, an 1 somewhat 
 melancholy. He was one of the most distinguished of 
 the band of young poets, of whom Dante was one, who 
 sought to compose verses in the Tuscan tongue ; and 
 was the one whom Dante loved and admired most. 
 His reply to the "Sonnet" which described Dante's 
 wonderful vision was the one which its writer appreciated 
 most. He says, "To this sonnet I -eceived many 
 answers, conveying many different opinions, of the which 
 one was sent by him whom I now call the first amongst 
 my friends, and it began thus, ' Unto my hinking thou 
 beheld'st all worth.' And indeed it was wh( n he learned 
 that I was he who sent those rhymes to him, that our 
 friendship commenced." Guido, like Dan e himself, 
 had also an ideal lady : Joan, the beautiful cUiughter of 
 the Farinata who stood alone for Florence when the Pisan 
 conspiracy would have destroyed it. This la iy, Dante 
 tells us, " was very famous for her beauty ; her right 
 name was Joan, but because of her comelines she was 
 often called Primavera, Spring. ' ' On one occasi »n Dante 
 saw her in the street, with his revered Beatrice i allowing 
 not far behind ; and going home he wrote a dainty, 
 
 \ui 
 
98 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 punning verse upon her walking first, like the narbinger 
 of Love (Beatrice). 
 
 The two friends, Guido Cavalcanti and Dante Alighieri, 
 were very unlike in character ; perhaps this was the 
 secret of their attraction for one another. Guido, some- 
 times serious and passionate in his political or romantic 
 attachments, was more often diverting himself in a 
 whimsical and frivolous manner, with Florentine amuse- 
 ments and disturbances. Many stories are told of his ex- 
 travagant behaviour as a young man, when, fantastically 
 dressed or disguised as a bandit, he rode in a company of 
 young men through the narrow streets of Florence, 
 challenging and defying their opponents of the Neri. 
 Not always, however, was he in a gay or defiant mood. 
 Often he was cast down and depressed, and, as in his 
 Song of Fortune, quoted at the head of this chapter, 
 disposed to envy the humble lot of those who had to 
 perplex themselves only with the question of how to get 
 their daily bread. He seems to have been of the same 
 temperament as the poet Gray, with now and then a dash 
 of fiery enthusiasm, for Love or for Politics, like Shelley. 
 
 A favourite subject of difference, if not of dispute, 
 with his friend Dante, was the greatness of Virgil. Dante 
 revered him as the supreme master of Poetry. Guido 
 Cavalcanti, like Shelley in his youth, thought that to 
 be a philosopher was greater than to be a poet, and would 
 not praise Virgil highly. The new devotion to learning 
 led to the revival of a pretty fiction amongst scholars ; 
 that as knights and cavaliers sought out gallant deeds 
 by which to show honour to some lady of their adoration, 
 so scholars and poets should do homage to the beautiful 
 personality of Philosophy, or Learning, or Wisdom. 
 Hence the young poets tried to combine the two ideas, 
 and to have the inner meaning of their poems refer to 
 " divine Philosophy," while the obvious one expressed 
 
Guido Cavalcaiid gg 
 
 devotion to some idealised lady. Dante did this most 
 successfully. Indeed, many people thought for some 
 time that " Beatrice " was not a real woman but the 
 personification of Philosophy. 
 
 Guido and Dante admitted another young Florentine 
 to their friendship; this was Lapo degli Farinata, 
 brother of the fair Joan whom Guido loved. One of 
 Dante's sonnets prettily commemorates their companion- 
 ship : — ^ 
 
 "Guido, I would that Lapo, thou and I, 
 Could be by spells conveyed, as it were nowj 
 Upon a barque, with all the winds that blow^ 
 Across all seas at our good will to hie. '^ 
 
 All the three friends were much interested in the stormy 
 politics of the city, and Dante and Guido were keen 
 students as well. Dante's knowledge of history, a sub- 
 ject he had always loved, was great, and he reld, too, 
 the Greek and Latin philosophers, while Guido cared 
 more for Logic and Natural Science. He was a great 
 chess-player, and used to think so profoundly during the 
 game that he was quite unconscious of his surroundings 
 
 One day while playing with a friend in the shady 
 palace square near the market-place, a mischievous 
 boy fastened his cloak securely to the wooden bench upon 
 which he sat, much perplexing him when he rose at 
 the end of the game. 
 
 At one time Dante seems to have been so worried and 
 troubled that he neglected his friend and his studies 
 and tried to forget himself in public amusements and 
 diversions. The studious Guido wrote to him a sonnet 
 complaining of the change in him : — ' 
 
 " I come to thee by daytime constantly. 
 
 But in thy thoughts too much of baseness find : 
 Greatly it grieves me, for thy gentle mind. 
 And for thy many virtues gone from thee. 
 
 
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loo Stories from Dante 
 
 It was thy wont to shun much company. 
 Unto ail sorry concourse ill inclined 
 And still thy speech of me, heartfelt and kind, 
 
 Had made me treasure up thy poetry. . . ." 
 
 Presently the breach was healed, and the two friends, 
 united in political work, in study, and in the practice 
 of poetry, became famous as two of the leading men in 
 
 Florence. 
 
 Cavalcanti, after the custom of the time, went on a 
 pilgrimage to the shrine of S. James of Compostella ; 
 and his great enemies, the Donati, laid a plot to waylay 
 him on the road and kill him. In some way the plot 
 miscarried . and Cavalcanti was warned in time, so that 
 he returned to Florence in safety, wearing the cockle- 
 shell, the emblem of the saint. He did not attempt 
 to take steps to avenge himself upon the Donati, and 
 they became more and more insolent. But one day, 
 meeting the head of the house riding with a train of 
 followers in the streets of Florence, Guido set spurs in his 
 horse and charged violently at him, javelin in hand The 
 horse tripped, so that Guido missed his aim, and he was 
 wounded in the scuffle with the attendants which lol lowed. 
 
 Every one, even his enemies, admired the fearless, 
 quiet man, who seemed so entirely a student, until need 
 proved him a warrior. But the gay young idlers of 
 Florence had no sympathy with his love of learning and 
 reflection, and delighted to play tricks upon him, and to 
 make fun of his absent-mindedness. We are told that 
 one day, when he went to walk in the churchyard and 
 cloisters of the famous church of S. John Baptist for his 
 usual quiet meditation, Signior Betto Brunelleschi, a gay 
 citizen of Florence, and a band of idle young men, 
 ,.;j:»,« ^r.o4- i->KcorTr<^rl Viim fViprp Said Retto. " Yonder 
 
 is Guido amongst the graves and tombs ; let us go and 
 make some jests to anger him." 
 

 Attack on the Donati by Guido Cavalcanti 
 
 lOO 
 
 
 
 • 
 
 < ; ' 1 
 
 i i ' 
 
 
 '5 
 
 I 
 
Guido Cavalcanti loi 
 
 Then they rode up and surrounded him, laughingly 
 shouting, " Ah ! Guido with the best head ! What are 
 you looking for ? You will never find it I And if you do, 
 what will you do with it ? " 
 
 Guido, startled but not offended, rebuked them with 
 a quiet, " Gentlemen, you may use me in your own 
 house as you please " ; then, to their great amazement, 
 placing his hand on a high tomb he vaulted lightly over 
 it, and walked away. Half ashamed and half admiring, 
 some of the jesters began to say : " Guido is foolish. 
 This is not our House ; he thinks too much, and then 
 talks nonsense." But Signior Betto, who felt himself 
 to blame, replied, " Alas, Gentlemen : Guido is right. 
 Here we are amongst the Houses of the dead, to which 
 we must all come ; and our behaviour has been so foolish 
 as to show that when we are dead there will be nothing 
 worthy by which to remember us. Truly, these Houses 
 are ours." So the roysterers went off, muttering and 
 disappointed that their joke had fared so ill. 
 
 In the year 1300 the struggle between the Neri and 
 the Bianchi became more violent than ever. On the 
 first of May in that year during the festivities with 
 which the Florentines greeted the summer, the parties 
 came to open warfare. In the gaily decorated streets, 
 where bands of maidens danced in procession, waving 
 garlands and singing songs, armed and mounted men 
 fought in savage earnest. The sympathies of the 
 populace were divided; some stood by the Bianchi, 
 but more admired and supported the Neri. Corso 
 Donati, the most powerful of these, won the popular 
 favour by his daring and insolent behaviour. So that 
 when fighting began, many of the townspeople joined in, 
 
 and the 0aV fpstivnl nf Cinrinrr •arac ma-ri^aA l>-.r ».;«4- -->J 
 
 o""«' ■ — "~ "^--.-.g -• «:j Aiitiiivu. luV x.i\ji, aim 
 
 bloodshed. In June took place the elections of Priors, 
 or Magistrates, who held office for only three months. 
 
102 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 and Dante was elected for his guild. To ensure peace 
 the city council banished several of the important men 
 on either side, and amongst these were the bitter foes, 
 Corso Donati and Guido Cavalcanti. 
 
 Guido, unhappy and uncared-for, soon became ill, and 
 lay in a strange city pining for Florence. He wrote a sad 
 little poem, beginning in the usual graceful fashion ; — 
 
 " Because I think not ever to return. 
 Ballad, to Tuscany, — 
 Go therefore thou for me 
 Straight to my lady's face, 
 Who, of her noble grace. 
 Shall give thee courtesy." 
 
 When, with the election of new priors, the banished 
 oiTenders were allowed to go back to their homes, 
 Cavalcanti returned ; but he never recovered, and died 
 in December of that year. 
 
 Dante shows us Guide's father, with the great 
 Farinata degli Uberti, waiting in their fiery tombs until 
 the last judgment. As Virgil and Dante pause, the 
 haughty Farinata speaks, reminding Dante that his 
 family had always been opposed to the Uberti, and had 
 suffered banishment on that account. Then beside him 
 rises a pale shadow and asks : — 
 
 *' If thou through this blind prison goest, 
 Led by thy lofty genius and profound. 
 Where is my son? and wherefore not with thee ?" 
 
 Dante replies that his companion is one whom Guido 
 " had in contempt " ; and the shadowy one exclaims, 
 
 " How ! saidst thou he had ? 
 No longer lives he ? Strikes not on his eye 
 The blessed daylight ? " 
 
 Before Dante could frame a reolv Cavalcanti sank 
 back into his tomb. 
 
Part Two 
 
 The Purgatorio 
 
 
 »' ! 
 
 m\ 
 
 li- 
 lt 
 
 m 
 
** Such it thia tteep ascent^ 
 That it is ever difficult at first, 
 But more a man proceeds, less evil grows. 
 When pleasant it shall seem to thee, so much 
 That upward going shall be easy to thee 
 As in a vessel to go down the tide. 
 Then of this path thou wilt have reach' d the end. 
 
 Dantk. 
 
 " In this pleasant soil 
 His far more pleasant garden God ordained; 
 Out of the fertile ground He caused to grow 
 All trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste ; 
 And all amid them stood the Tree of Life . . . 
 Our death, the Tree of Knowledge, grew fast by . , 
 Southward through Eden went a river large, 
 Nor changed his course, but through the shaggy hill 
 Passed underneath engulfed ; for GOD had thrown 
 That mountain as his ga7 ^en mould. ..." 
 
 Milton. 
 
VIII 
 
 The Purgatorio 
 
 the Idea of a geographical place for Hell also 
 demanded an actual region where thfsouls of 
 
 penittr t'. ""' '°' judgment/and expiate; nfotn, 
 penitence, the sins of their mortal life Dante ollcef 
 
 r^prS if *' *""* «"«P'«*^^ "* JemLlemrtd 
 represents it as a mountain thrown up by the eirth', 
 
 convulsion >vhen Satan and his angels plunged do^l' 
 
 t^TrrpI^adife^/rd'-tf''*''^^"^^^^^ 
 
 fr„fu u- , /^^^^^^se , and this journey sffnifies the 
 
 thfeirth'!- ,h' '^P'r°'l Virgil and himself reaching 
 tne earth s surface, through the winding cavern, on I 
 
 Ve^uf^f thfLT *" *''-""-'-■'. seei^ngwith dehght 
 Conr/.r. **™ '""™°' «"<>' ^bove, the Southern 
 
 Constellations unseen by man since the Pall 
 
 windsT^ northward they begin the slow ascent which 
 winds by many spirals up th. nount. A guardian of 
 the region of Purgatory challenges their appS and 
 Virgil, recognising the shade as the Spirit of Cato Ws 
 chief opponent, explains to him thft they have S 
 commands to proceed. r»to ^.vi, v.:~ ./f'Vf ."'""* 
 panion with the rush of h;.mmt;;nr;;> ;iere h^ 17. 
 
 
 106 
 
o6 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 murky with the stains of Hell, with dew, and to lead him 
 on. They cross a lonely shore where reeds and rushes 
 wave tremblingly, and, after Dante's face is bathed, a 
 green stem is bound around him, and they are ready 
 to begin the ascent. While they wait, perplexed, they 
 see a glowing light approaching swiftly, and, under the 
 guidance of a blessed Pilot, a boat glides smoothly along 
 bearing happy souls to the Mountain of Purification. 
 Now they alight, and a melody of great beauty is heard, 
 the singing in sweet unison of the ancient Song of the 
 Exodus : " When Israel came out of Egypt, and the 
 house of Judah from amongst the strange people ; 
 Judah was his sanctuary and Israel his dominion." 
 
 Dante recognises a dear familiar face amongst the 
 spirits, Casella of Florence, a musician who had written 
 music for some of Dante's poems. Dante advances to 
 greet and embrace him, but clasps to himself only in- 
 tangible air. The band of souls are as startled with the 
 sight of Dante, a breathing man, as he is at beholding 
 them ; but while they linger, wondering, Cato chides them 
 for delay and bids them hasten on. *' Then saw I that 
 company leave the singing and go towards the hill- 
 side, like one who goes but knoweth not when he may 
 come forth." 
 
 Purgatory, like Hell, has three ?rain divisions, in each 
 of which are found the souls of those who have erred 
 against Love — by perverse loving, by defective loving, 
 and by excessive loving. In the ante-Purgatory or 
 vestibule are the souls of the late-repentant or the 
 excommunicate, and here Dante discerns one with a 
 deep cleft over one of his eyebrows ; " and he showed a 
 wound above his breast, saying, ' I am Manfred, grand- 
 son of Empress Constance.' " The band of Spirits, of 
 whom Manfred is one, are amazed to see, wandering in 
 
The Purgatorio 
 
 1^7 
 
 the 
 
 theip domain, a man who casts a sh.- d, , as do, 
 living Dante. Virgil is apparent now , \T^Z > 
 
 After weary elimbing of the ascent to the t^ra^d 
 level above. Dante pleads for a moment's rest ^nTtK 
 pause near a shady rock. Here he sees th; "tls % 
 those who deferred repentance till their death h.l . 
 even now. in their postures, showing ndJe^eln^' i^"]^ 
 
 asayouiVman P""'""' '" ""'"'' °^"'« ^^ ^ht 
 
 springs forward, exclaiming, " O MantiLn T c ^ n 
 of thv citv " • nnri fKo 4. ^>i<*ntuan, I am Sordello 
 
 Imion Lh r /n "''' ^""^^^ ^'^^'^^^' Then travel- 
 img on, with Sordello as guide thpv r^a^k T , 
 
 delJ in the foMc r.f 4.U ^ .y ^^^^'^ ^ peaceful 
 
 ot Anjou : and Henry the Third of 
 
 England, the " Kina nf fK 
 
 
 With twilight they descend into 
 
 !&l 
 
 ^h < 
 
 fc%" 
 
 a quiet vale, and as 
 
io8 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 It 
 
 they approach they hear the devout evening hymn of 
 the souls gathered there, Te lucis ante terminum : and as it 
 dies away Dante recognises the famous judge, Nino de 
 Visconti of Pisa, and Conrad de Malaspini, who married 
 Costanza, a daughter of the Emperor Frederic II. Creep- 
 ing on the far side of the dell Dante sees a snake, but 
 two guarding angels with green robes and wings swoop 
 down upon it and drive it away. Dante now sinks 
 to slumber, worn out with fatigue, and when he awakes 
 learns that he has been wafted to a higher place, near 
 the gate of Purgatory proper. 
 
 A narrow portal, guarded by an austere angel, is 
 approached by three steps, Sincerity, Contrition, and 
 Love : " The first step was white marble so polished 
 and smooth that I mirrored me therein : the second, 
 darker was than perse, of a rugged and calcined stone, 
 cracked in its length and in its breadth ; the third 
 seemed to me of porphyry so flaming red as blood ; and 
 a threshold of adamantine stone." Dante climbs these 
 stairs, and as he kneels and begs admission, the angel 
 marks with his sword seven P's upon bis forehead, 
 signifying Peccata, for the Seven Deadly Sins ; and then 
 turning his gold and silver keys, the gate swings 
 back. As Dante enters he hears a distant sound of 
 singing, and listening, distinguishes the old Ambrosian 
 Hymn, Te Deum Laudamus. 
 
 The pathway upon which the pilgrims stand is rugged 
 and uneven like the waves in a tumultuous sea, and a 
 hard climb of three hours is needed to bring them to 
 the rim of the first great terrace. On the inner side the 
 wall is of fairest marble carved with scenes from history, 
 all bearing upon Humility. In the sculptures Dante 
 sees characters from sacred and from later history : 
 the Emperor Trajan amongst them. Then he sees. 
 
'I' ■ 
 
 The Purgatorio roo 
 
 approaching from afar, figures bent and bowed to the 
 earth beneath heavy burdens of stones, and learns that 
 these are the Proud of the Earth. They move slowly, 
 murmunng words from the Lord's Prayer, and amongst 
 them Dante recv raises a certain Count Omberto of 
 
 tZo^ OH •" f ^'' *^'' unreasoning arrogance and 
 pride Uderisi, a famous nnniature painter of Umbria • 
 and Irovenzana Salvini. a Ghibelline leader of Sienna! 
 oner of high fame but now nearly forgotten 
 
 After speech with Oderisi. Dante paces sadly on, and 
 sees on the pavement beneath his feet tracings that 
 presently reveal human figures. These are the de- 
 leated Proud : amongst the portraits are those of Lupifer 
 and Cyrus, and Nimrod, and Niobe of Thebes, and Saui 
 
 and To ^lt ^^^°^°^"^- Then an angel meets them 
 and shows them an easy stair of ascent, and as they 
 mount thereon their ears are blessed with the sound of 
 sweet singing : " Blessed are the poor in Spirit," the 
 
 W? '. *:. J^; T''^ ^''^ ^"^ ^^"^ b^"«hes Dante's 
 forehead, and he feels that there are left only six of the 
 
 mysterious characters he had borne before. The terrace 
 
 where they now stand is quite blank and empty, " an 
 
 even way of hvid stone." In this circle dwell the once 
 
 fhJ.rT\T P""^/^^t" ' "^'"^ ^^ ^'^y ^^«^ks and with 
 their eyelids caught down with a strong stitch " as is 
 done to a wild hawk because it abideth not still."' Dante 
 IS shamed to watch those who cannot see him, and he 
 presently addresses the silent figures. One replies and 
 says that she was Sapia, a lady of Sienna, the wife oi 
 the powerful lord, dei Saracini ; and had lived full of 
 envy towards her fellow-citizens. All that Dante had 
 known of her before was that in the year of his birth she 
 had founded a hospice for wayfarers : now he «..« h.. 
 expiatmg the sin of Envy ; and moreover, she'warns 
 
i'BUtJt»*A><MHiH 
 
 I lO 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 him that he, too, will have to do so for being " envious 
 at the foolish," and disdainful in his learning. 
 
 After walking round the terrace till about three 
 o'clock in the afternoon, they ascend by a stairway to 
 the next level, hearing above them the sound of sweet 
 voices chanting, " Blessed are the merciful," and they 
 reach the waiting-place of those who on earth were 
 wrathful. In a momentary Vision Dante sees before 
 him examples of patience and meekness : the Blessed 
 Virgin, S. Stephen, and Pisistratus of Athens, and 
 it is with reluctance that he comes out of his trance at 
 Virgil's behest. They walk on towards the setting sun, 
 and a dark cloud of smoke comes rolling towards them, 
 so that Dante can see nothing, and Virgil leads him like 
 a blind man. Then there is borne towards them the 
 sound of the tender chant, " O Lamb of God," and 
 Dante asks his guide who are the blessed spirits who 
 thus sing. Virgil replies that " they are untying the 
 knot of anger " ; and one, hearing their voices, speaks 
 to them : "A Lombard was I and called Mark " ; and 
 Dante remembers him as a nobleman of Venice in his 
 own youth. 
 
 Presently they go up another stair, and Dante feels 
 the stroke of an angel's wing on his forehead, and hears 
 above the singing of sweet voices that utter the Third 
 Beatitude : " Blessed are the Peacemakers." He asks 
 Virgil what sin is purged there, and is told that it is the 
 sin of Sloth. As they pace along the way many spirits, 
 running, overtake them from behind, crying, " Haste ! 
 Haste ! let no time be lost through little love." One 
 speaks to hira as he hurries past, saying that he was an 
 Abbot of San Zeno in Verona, " under the rule of the good 
 Barbarossa." Then in the quiet gloom Dante falls 
 asleep. With morning Virgil wakes him, and again they 
 
 , 
 
The Purgatorio 1 1 1 
 
 ascend a stair ; again the angel's wing brushes his fore- 
 head, and, as they walk, he hears sung, " Blessed are 
 they that mourn." 
 
 In this, the Fifth terrace, the souls of the Prodigal 
 and Avaricious cleave to the pavement, sighing ; Dante 
 addresses one, and learns that it is the spirit of Pope 
 Adrian V. who perpetually laments his covetousness on 
 earth : " What avarice works, here is declared in the 
 purgation of the down-turned souls ; even as our eyes 
 fixed on earthly things, did not lift themselves on high' 
 so here justice hath cast them to earth." Dante kneels 
 down beside him, and the spirit asks, " What reason 
 thus bent thee down ? " to which Dante replies, " Be- 
 cause of your dignity my conscience smote me for'stand- 
 mg." But he is bidden to stand, by the weeping soul 
 who explains, " A fellow-servant am I with thee and 
 with the others unto one Power." Passing on, Dante 
 hears one of the prostrate souls reciting great examples 
 of those who were generous and content to be poor on 
 earth, a roll of honour which is gone through day by 
 day, while at night warning is given by the rehearsal 
 of the names and deeds of those who erred through 
 covetousness. Dante hears the voice proclaim the 
 Blessed Virgin, who laid her new born Son in the manger 
 of a stable, " because there was no room for them in the 
 Inn " : Caius Fabricius, the Roman Consul, who refused 
 both gifts and bribes : and Nicholas, Bishop of Myra 
 in the fourth century, who gave away his substance 
 to the poor of his city. Hugh Capet, the founder of 
 the royal house of France, is the speaker, and he ex- 
 plains, " When the night cometh, a contrary sound we 
 take up : then we rehearse Pygmalion, whom insatiate 
 lust of gold made traitor, thief and parricide • Midoc 
 whose misery following his greedy request, maketh us 
 
 m 
 u 
 
 Ml 
 
t / 
 
 I 12 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 forever laugh ; Achan, who stole the spoils under the 
 great leader Joshua ; Sapphira and her husband ; 
 and Crassus, nicknamed the Wealthy, who was triumvir 
 with Caesar and Pompey." Then suddenly Dante hears 
 a great and joyful shout, and the earth upon which they 
 stand tumbles as in an earthquake. From all the 
 terraces goes up the mighty cry, " Glory to God in the 
 highest," and Dante feels within him an intense and 
 burning desire for further knowledge. 
 
 During the journeying Virgil has discoursed to him 
 on Love, explaining its nature and perfection, and how 
 the offences he sees there being purged were first, 
 and most of all, sins against love ; but there is much 
 that he still longs to understand and know. So he 
 walks, pensive and wrapped in thought, soon to be 
 overtaken by a spirit who greets them with, " My 
 brothers, God give you peace ! " Virgil returns the 
 salutation, and the spirit asks why they are there, to 
 which Virgil replies that they both are fellow-spirits 
 with him who asks ; poets, that is ; and that though 
 Dante is still alive in the body he has had special sanction 
 given him to travel through that region. He then asks 
 a question in order that Dante's perplexity may be re- 
 moved by the spirit's answer : " Why the mount gave 
 such shakings, and wherefore all seemed to shout with 
 one voice ? " They are told that when a humble soul 
 rises from its purgation and proceeds to climb the mount, 
 then the earth shakes and the heavenly anthem is ojng 
 in joy. For while no soul is eager to end its sufferings, 
 being drawn by a great love to desire to show its peni- 
 tance, yet, when with devout will to endure, there 
 comes, too, the will to arise, that is the sign that it is 
 purged and clean. They ask who it is that speaks, 
 and the snirit renlies that hfi is Stntins. a TJnman 
 
The Purgatorio , j , 
 
 lZ:i "' '''' ""'"^ "^^^ ^'>-*. -ho wrote the 
 
 *„j ^ ^ " Of Thebes I Banff, 
 
 And next of great Achilles, but i' the way 
 Fell with my second burthen.^ Of my flame 
 
 JroTrK '1 "f ' '^' '"'^'' "^-h I derived 
 
 From the bright fountain of celestial fire 
 
 Ihat feeds unnumber'd lamps ; the song I mean 
 
 I hung Tta^r' "'^'r'''' •• '^- theTe"ast 
 Drrif • ' • * °""*' ^'■°°' '^h"'" ^7 veins 
 
 Drank inspiration : whose authority 
 
 Was ever sacred with me. To have lived 
 C6eval with the Mantuan, I would bide 
 1 he revolution of another sun 
 Beyond my stated years in banishment." 
 
 rey^2ce7Z^. and delighted with this expression of 
 
 • u l^ ^* ^^ himself has already scent wpII 
 
 Remain d a Christian and conform^ long time 
 io Pagan rites." ^ 
 
 Sing 4wd aX tt-a'Tnler^nl rSa^ 
 
 whose spreading branches stretch f„rL,™ 't/.^"^"* 
 «.^t.„, d,ed when „.Iy . .„a„ p.^ „, .^, ^^„,,^,^ „,,^ ^^^.^^^__ 
 
 ■'.:< 
 
 
 
114 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 the steep rock beside it runs a crystal stream. As 
 Dante's eyes longingly scan the drooping boughs, a 
 voice within the foliage is heard saying, " Ye shall be 
 chary of me," and wonderingly he lingers till Virgil 
 chides him. Then he hears soft voices round him, 
 murmuring in song, "O Lord, open Thou my lips," and 
 as they walk on together a crowd of spirits overtake 
 them, and look with surprise upon them. Dante is 
 much moved to see the extreme emaciation of all their 
 faces ; so thin are they that the eyes seem sunken be- 
 tween brow and cheek-bones. Amongst them is Forese, 
 a member of the noble Florentine house of Donati ; in 
 life a friend of Dante, and, in youth, one of his most 
 constant companions. Forese explains to him that it is 
 through the prayers and devotion of his wife, Nella, 
 that he is in Purgatory instead of enduring the hopeless 
 pains of Hell. Next they meet the spirit of a poet of 
 Arezzo, da Lucca, whom Dante had known, and they 
 speak of Poetry together. Then they come to another 
 Tree, and learn that it is from a slip of that one in the 
 Garden of Eden of which Eve tasted the fruit. Voices 
 amongst its branches are heard reciting warnings from 
 examples of gluttony and much caring for food. They 
 speak of those Hebrews under Gideon who " showed 
 themselves soft at the drinking : " i and Dante walks 
 on, deep in thought, till aroused by an angel who directs 
 them there to turn for the ascent to the Seventh and 
 last circle. 
 
 Here the passage is perilous, for flames of fire dazzle 
 the sight, and the angel warns them, " Strict rein must 
 in this place direct the eyes," and, perplexed and sad, 
 Dante sees spirits in the flames, who are thus being 
 purged from sins of uncleanness, "fleshly lusts that 
 
 * Judges vii. 
 
The Purgatorio nr 
 
 Gmmcelli. the poet whom his friend Guido Cavalcanti 
 rivalled and excelled; and this spirit points out that 
 of another poet, even more famous, Arnaut Daniel, 
 companion and favourite of Richard Coeur-de-Lion 
 He greets Dante, saying, 
 
 " I am Arnaut ; and with songs, 
 Sorely waymenting for my folly past 
 Thorough this ford of fire I wade, and see 
 The day I hope for smiling in my view." 
 
 Dante is much impressed when he sees that none of 
 the souls seem to desire to escape, or to avoid, suffer- 
 ing, or to shorten the time of expiation. Each seems 
 
 everything that may serve to remove the stain of sin 
 and to desire above everything to show the sincerity 
 of his pemtence and the ardour of his love. The song 
 the pilgrims hear as they reach the last stair is " Blessed 
 
 asTeen bet" " I'^'l " ' ^"^ "^*^ ^^^^«^" ^^^^ f^"^ 
 sSs ^^^" spirit-companions, Virgil and 
 
 In the morning, when Dante awakes, they climb to 
 Earthly Paradise is attained. As Dante explores the 
 
 " A sight so sudden in bewilderment 
 That every other thought the shock doth daze- 
 A lady, all alone, who, as she went. 
 Sang evermore and gathered flower on flower." 
 
 WentiJv "'%!f<Jy Matilda, whom most commentators 
 laentity as the Granrnnf/xfon «# a',,^ .1 , . 
 
 disciple and benefactor" oflL-^huVchXrinfthnitf 
 
--- "—^t^-Tf iTifiitfiiiaaaa^wiaaM^ai 
 
 1 1 6 Stories from Dante 
 
 eleventh and early twelfth centuries. Dante hastens 
 to greet her in true scholarly fashion : "• Thou makest 
 me to remember where and what Proserpine was in the 
 time her mother lost her and she lost the spring." 
 The lady Matilda smiles graciously upon him, and draws 
 near to the brink of the stream, telling him many things. 
 " At the end of her words, singing like an enamoured 
 lady, she continued, ' Blessed are they whose unright- 
 eousness is forgiven ' ; and she then advanced against 
 the stream, walking on the bank and I abreast of her, 
 little step answering with little step." i 
 
 Then he sees, on the farther side of the stream, a 
 divme Pageant representing God's revelation of Him- 
 self to man in the Old and the New Testaments and the 
 Christian Church. Lost in amazement he turns towards 
 Virgil for enlightenment, but finds him gone ; and hears 
 a voice of ringing sweetness say, " Dante, for that Virgil 
 goeth away, weep not yet, weep not yet, for thou must 
 weep for other sword- wounds." He recognises the 
 speaker as his ideal Beatrice ; but she gazes upon him 
 sternly, and rebukes him for having so fallen away from 
 his high aspirations of youth as to become the friend 
 and companion of men like Forese Donati. 
 
 Contrite and ashamed he acknowledges that he too 
 soon forgot his ideal when once she was removed from 
 his sight, and falls senseless to the ground. When he 
 awakes he is neck-deep in the stream and hears sweet 
 voices singing, " Cleanse thou me and I shall be whiter 
 than snow." Beside him stands Matilda, and she draws 
 him across the stream of Lethe, plunging his head into 
 the water as she moves. When he reaches the other 
 side he sees heavenly nymphs who graciously receive 
 him and present him to Beatrice : " Turn, Beatrice, 
 » Dent's " Temple Classics " Dante : Mr Okey's Translation. 
 
5 hastens 
 11 makest 
 as in the 
 
 spring." 
 nd draws 
 ly things, 
 lamoured 
 
 unright- 
 l against 
 it of her, 
 
 tream, a 
 of Him- 
 
 1 and the 
 towards 
 
 nd hears 
 at Virgil 
 ou must 
 ises the 
 pon him 
 ay from 
 e friend 
 
 ; he too 
 ed from 
 Vhen he 
 rs sweet 
 
 2 w^hiter 
 e draws 
 iad into 
 le other 
 
 receive 
 leatrice, 
 
 tiOQ, 
 
 The Meeting in Parad 
 
 ise 
 
 ii6 
 
 >', ' il 
 

The Purgatorio u^ 
 
 Dante and his siien? ^^ion" StaZfTr tS 
 P aces m the pageant he had seen ap™Lh.4 and 
 
 the story of the Purgatorio ends with his ha^y d;el^a 
 
 S'n Tnd ""^^ ^^ '''' ""O^* holy waves 1Z 
 again, ... and ready to mount to the stiis." 
 
IX 
 
 The Countess Matilda 
 
 1046-1115 
 
 "Sinpng, like unto an enamoured lidy, 
 * Jleati quorum tecta sunt pecc- ,i.' " 
 
 Purgatorio xxix. 
 
 TWO centuries before Dante was born the city of 
 Florence was under the special government and 
 protection of the Countess Matilda, Marchioness 
 of Tuscany. This great lady was the daughter of the 
 powerful Marquis Boniface, and, on his death, had be- 
 come with her mother, Beatrice of Lorraine, joint ruler 
 of the wide dominions of her father. Under her may 
 be said to have begun the great strife which was after- 
 wards to be known as the division between Guelfs and 
 Ghibellines ; for in the eleventh century the Papacy at 
 Rome, not content with spiritual supremacy, was con- 
 tending with kings and emperors for temporal power 
 At this time the noble uildebrand, who had become 
 Pope Gregory VII., was opposing the attempt of the 
 Jl^mperor Henry IV. of Germany to conquer Italy. 
 
 The father of this sovereign, desiring to control the 
 wealth of the growing Italian towns, Lucca, Pisa, and 
 i?lorence, had persecuted Count Boniface until his death 
 imprisoned the Countess Beatrice, banished the Count's 
 brother, and. by his cruelties hmn^Vit «ii^on<- ♦^^-^ j--x.i- 
 
 118 
 
The Countess Matilda 
 
 1 1 
 
 torio xxix. 
 
 he city of 
 ment and 
 irchioness 
 er of the 
 , had be- 
 oint ruler 
 her may 
 v&s after- 
 uelfs and 
 'apacy at 
 was con- 
 il power. 
 I become 
 >t of the 
 ily. 
 
 itrol the 
 ?isa, and 
 lis death, 
 : Count's 
 
 16 ucutu 
 
 of Matilda 5 young brother and sister. When Henrv 
 came to the throne he looked for an easy "onouest 
 over the widowed Countess Beatriee. Her marrial 
 with Godefroi of Lorraine, brother of the Pone haf 
 however, so strengthened her position that she a^d her 
 g fted daughter Matilda were ibie not only o hdd ,a [ 
 the marquisate of Tuscany and the duchy of Snoleto 
 but^also to assist IVe Gregory in his war^ JaS'sfthe 
 
 The death of the Countess Beatrice left Matilda in 
 sole possession ; but as, according to the laws of the 
 Sahc dynasties, a woman could netther inherit norVas^ 
 
 strongly than eveTtr^ide^f^eXlragatstTh: 
 Emperor; for the power of Rome wasoften T tV. 
 scormy, turbulent days, exerted on thl'd: tk "wea\ 
 
 ^^et;KieraS'f:^mr-rts- 
 S:tt^^--^r^re^hi:H 
 
 feudal rulers of the time, had plundered and injured 
 towns and populations, who now were able to reXte 
 by disowning his successor. retaliate 
 
 r.?r "' *uf f ^"^ '■^*°™" '^'^ Florence, which were 
 
 r. tJ'T^ ' ^^- *''" ^"^^Sy «°d """^^ge of MatZ 
 was the destruction of the many feudal castIe7ofth; 
 German nobles on the heights around th^L^ 
 he owners of the Norman Castles in England at » 
 little later period, these powerful baron! e^rcised 
 stern control of the ner,nl» ,q™„„j:_„7 e^roised 
 
 in the way of labour and m;int;;aXLd3pr; 
 
I 
 
 120 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 the use of their own mills and ovens. The city o! 
 Florence stood on a wide plain surrounded with hills, on 
 the most northerly of which, Fiesole, had been the ancient 
 Roman settlement from which her citizens proudly 
 claimed descent. In the time of the Countess Matilda 
 a great convent v.tood beside the old citadel on the heights 
 of Fiesole, known as the Vallombrosa, of the order of 
 S. Benedict ; and it was the desire and delight of this 
 lady to aid in the building and enrichment of other 
 great abbeys and monasteries in Florence itself. 
 
 A strange story is told of a sight witnessed by her 
 while she was still young, and when her mother and her 
 step father were yet alive. A charge of covetousness 
 and irreverence had been brought against the authorities 
 of the Vallombrosan monastery ; and popular feeling 
 ran so high, for and against the accused, that the monks 
 demanded to have their innocence attested by the 
 Ordeal of Fire. In vain the Pope forbade the trial ; and 
 a certain monk, Peter, proclaimed himself ready to 
 walk through the fire, and, if need be, alone. So, on 
 a great space outside the city, two piles of wood were 
 lighted, and a great procession of people, men, women 
 and children, set out from the town chanting prayers 
 and psalms. There the monk passed through the roar- 
 ing fiames, amidst the horrified hush of the assembly, 
 and came out unscathed by the fire. People rushed to 
 him to kiss the hem of his robe and to beg his blessing, 
 and loud shouts of " Pietro Igneo" rent the air. He 
 was afterwards made Cardinal and Bishop, and vener- 
 ated for especial sanctity as well as for his vindication 
 of the brotherhood. 
 
 The Countess Matilda seems to have made her chief 
 
 TPsiHf^npp at. TrinrpnpA anr? fn H<1.^'''» ir»iTrr»zi-iT^'^ fV>o»-«r.^ 
 
 about her province, administering justice in the chief 
 
ft 
 
 I 
 
 The Countess Matilda 
 
 1 21 
 
 towns that owned her allegiance. She restored many 
 of the estates that had been aHenated by her imperious 
 father, and of others she made offerings to the Church 
 and built abbeys and convents. There was then but 
 one bridge over the Anjc, the Ponte Vecchio, and the 
 city was not completely walled ; or, at least, it had 
 extended its boundaries beyond the narrow walls. De- 
 termined to resist the Emperor and to preserve their 
 independence, the Florentines now began to enclose the 
 whole of their town in a strong fortification, making 
 gates and posterns for the highways leading out of the 
 city. Like our own old English towns, the drainage 
 was by means of fosses, or ditches, and one or two of 
 the ancient landmarks still remain in names like " San 
 Jacopo tra Fossi." Some old prisons which have been 
 pulled down during the last forty years were recognised 
 as part of this boundary ; and, wedged in a corner in 
 the Piazza Santa Croci, there is still a butcher's shop 
 which was mentioned as forming an angle of the old 
 wall in a survey of the city taken in the middle of the 
 sixteenth century. 
 
 In the year when Matilda assumed control of Tuscany 
 it was her lot to take ^rt in a bitter contest between 
 the Papacy and the L.-.peror Henry IV. The election 
 of Hilaebrand as Pope Gregory VII. had been accom- 
 plished without any reference to iiie Emperor, whose 
 [ V decessors had always claimed a voice in the creation 
 of the Pontiffs. This so incensed the haughty monarch 
 that he issued r decree declaring Gregory beyond the 
 pale of Christendom, and sent it by an enthusiastic 
 priest to the Great Council assembled in the Lateran. 
 
 When the astounding message was read the new Pope 
 
 in his seat pronounced the full sentence of excommuni- 
 
 ii .'= 
 
 
 ii 
 
 ■ r 
 
 r 
 
 : 
 
 
 MP* ■ 
 
1 
 
 1 
 i 
 
 
 122 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 cation upon the daring monarch. This caused the 
 Emperor's supporters to fall away from him, and he 
 realised that he could not stand alone against the power 
 of the Church. So in the severe winter of 1077 he crossed 
 the Alps, with the Empress and his little son, in obedience 
 to Gregory's summons, and humbly approached the 
 great castle of Canossa. Attending him came a train 
 of abbots and bishops belonging to his realm, who had 
 supported him in his profanity ; and, after humbly 
 abasing themselves, they were pardoned. But the 
 Emperor himself was kept in a humiliating position as an 
 outlaw beyond the castle walls, and in vain the Countess 
 Matilda pleaded with the offended Gregory for his for- 
 giveness. Only after long de'ay was the message of 
 pardon conveyed to him, and then only on condition 
 of performing the severest penance. To the horror of 
 the princes and of the noble-hearted Matilda, the 
 Emperor was required to remove his royal robes, and, 
 clad only in a woollen garment, kneel for three days in 
 the outer court of the castle in token of his complete 
 and penitent submission. 
 
 It was the year after this that the people of Florence 
 began the fortifications just described, and they were 
 accomplished none too soon ; for the Emperor, burning 
 with the indignity put upon him by the Pope, took up 
 arms against him and openly declared war. Matilda 
 led an army into Mantua to oppose Henry's triumphal 
 progress, but was defeated, and all Lombardy went 
 over to the Emperor's side. Nothing daunted, how- 
 ever, the Countess returned to Tuscany, and led the 
 Florentines in their struggle for liberty. After taking 
 Ravenna, Henry marched to Florence and besieged it ; 
 but so resolute were the people, and so ably controlled 
 were their defences by the Countess and her soldiers, that 
 
 1 
 
The Countess Matilda 123 
 
 the Emperor gave up the siege and retreated with con- 
 siderable loss. Thus Florence was almost the only town 
 of importance which held out against the sovereignty of 
 the Emperor, and with the Countess Matilda as suzerain, 
 it laid the foundations of its democratic freedom. 
 
 The rule maintained by the Emperors and their pre- 
 decessors over the Italian towns, which in earlier days 
 had formed various Leagues or Confederacies with each 
 other, has been described as resembling that of Great 
 Britain and her Colonies. Certain great nobles were 
 appointed representatives of the king's authority with 
 power to exact money payments in his name upon their 
 trade or merchandise. They were Dukes, Marquises 
 (if the district were on the borders, or marches, of the 
 King's dominions). Counts, Captains and Vavasours, of 
 varying feudal rank and dignity. The government 
 of the cities which clung to the Papacy seems to have 
 been more independent, since allegiance was held, as in 
 the case of Florence, to the suzerain of the Pope, who 
 left the control of municipal affairs very much in the 
 hands of the townspeople. 
 
 Amongst the archives of Florence are two documents 
 which show the Countess Matilda receiving from a certain 
 Count Guido, th6 court and lands of Campiano, as a gift 
 to the monastery of San Reparata, and the granting 
 of some papal favour to the monks of Vallombrosa. 
 Whilst allowing much freedom to the city in its manage- 
 ment of trade and business, the Countess seems to have 
 claimed its assistance in money and troops when other 
 more rebellious cities had to be punished. Thus we 
 find Florentine levies fighting under her command at 
 Prato and nt Ferrara in the early years of the twelfth 
 century. For this great-hearted woman was not only 
 a wise and determined ruler, but also a brilliant military 
 
 li 
 
 1 i 
 
 y 
 
 r 
 

 t 
 
 i; 
 
 , s 
 
 
 '1 1 
 
 i.: 
 
 ■ i 
 
 I I 
 
 i 
 
 1 24 Stories from Dante 
 
 leader. As a girl of fifteen she had ridden at the head 
 of a troop despatched by her father to subdue a rebellion 
 in a remote part of his domain, and ever since had not 
 hesitated to assume active command of her army when 
 need arose. Thus during the last ten years of her life 
 the Countess Matilda was almost Queen of Italy ; for 
 much of Lombardy, with Mantua and Milan, submitted 
 to her rule ; and large territories across the Alps, which 
 had been part of her mother's dowry, were also hers. 
 
 We may think of her, the old historians tell us, as con- 
 tinually in movement about her states ; administering 
 justice, devising and sanctioning public works, granting 
 privileges and bestowing favours, and encouraging 
 the founding and endowment of cathedrals, churches 
 and abbeys, as signs of her homage to the Christian 
 faith. While she was thuc honoured and supreme, 
 her sometime foe and fallen tyrant, the Emperor Henry 
 IV., had been warred against and imprisoned by his 
 own son, and left to die of starvation. One of the 
 most startling and impressive scenes in the history of 
 the times must have been the meeting of this new 
 Emperor and the Countess Matilda, at Florence, as he 
 travelled with a gorgeous retinue to Rome, to have his 
 coronation confirmed. With no slavish terror did the 
 powerful lady and her freedom-loving city greet the 
 new tyrant ; and when, securely on his throne, he sought 
 the submission of all independent states, Tuscany, under 
 her inspiration, held out against him ; Florence especially 
 showing defiance by harassing his feudal barons and 
 shaking off every semblance of their power. 
 
 When the Emperor himself led an army against 
 Florence, hoping thus to subdue the city, the Countess 
 
 •mr > •^ t - — 1 1 J 1 J^'M^^4-i'>>.r« -l-VtA ^<-vne4-»>ii/Tl-i/-vr> r\t fViA 
 
 iViaillUU, VVIIU IIUU UCCil Uiic:v;i-lllg vixc v-vjxijti. a^tivri -j-r '.•«»^- 
 
 famous baths of Pisa, and the beautifying of that town, 
 
The Countess Matilda 125 
 
 encouraged the undaunted citizens of Florence success- 
 fully to oppose and defy him. 
 
 Two years later, at the age of sixty-nine, this warrior- 
 countess died at her winter-palace at Monte Baroncione. 
 She had, during the autumn, put down a revolt of the 
 Mantuans, and exacted heavy tribute as a penalty for 
 their disloyalty. Then, in just such an inclement 
 winter as that of years before at Canossa, she celebrated 
 the Christmas feast with much devotion and lavish acts 
 of charity, and passed away to her rest. She bequeathed 
 her great territories to the Church, with the condition 
 that the free cities she had protected and fostered :,hould 
 retain their independence. Thus, in her death as in her 
 life, she sought to strengthen the supreme spiritual 
 power against the supreme temporal power, resisting 
 the tyranny of feudal nobles over communities and that 
 of the feudal Emperor over the Church. 
 
 For this, as well as for the force and beauty of her 
 personal character, Dante, the lover of his country and 
 his native city, revered her memory, and paid her con- 
 spicuous honour in his " Comedy." In his homage to 
 Matilda he represents her as the guardian spirit of the 
 Earthly Paradise : — 
 
 ** A lady all alone, who went along 
 
 Singing and culling floweret after floweret. 
 With which her pathway was all painted over.'* 
 
 Purgatorio xxviii. 
 
 In reply to his wondering questions she begins the 
 divine instruction of his mind which Beatrice herself 
 afterwards carries on in the mysterious ascent; leads 
 him to bathe in the river of Lethe, that he may forget 
 all unworthy things; and afterwards, at the bidding 
 of the Blessed Beatrice herself, to drink of the v^aters of 
 Eunoe that he may have the memory of all things good. 
 
 '*.! 
 
i- ■ , ' y -^ 
 
 m 
 
 King Manfred of Sicily 
 
 1200-1265 
 
 " Horrible my iniquities had been ; 
 
 But Infinite Goodness hath such ample arms, 
 That it receives whatever turns to it." 
 
 Purgatorio iii, 
 
 MANFRED, Prince of Tarento, was the most 
 brilliant and gifted son of the great Frederic 
 II., surnamed the Severe, Emperor of Germany 
 and King of Naples and Sicily from 1220 to 1250. Like 
 his illustrious father, he was of handsome appearance 
 and commanding presence ; a poet and musician ; 
 witty in discourse and apt in jesting speech. When at 
 home, in the shelter and luxury of the court, he was 
 accustomed to wear an entirely green suit, fantastically 
 made and richly ornamented, and to show himself full 
 of mirth and high device for the entertainment of all. 
 But he was no idle knight, tor with the chance of war 
 Manfred was first in the field and ever returned goodly 
 blow for blow. 
 
 On the death of Frederic his eldest son Conrad be- 
 came Emperor, and Manfred, Regent of Naples and 
 Sicily. His military skill and strong government 
 aroused the jealousy of Com'ad, who had but little of 
 his father's force of character. This sovereign dying 
 
King Manfred of Sicily 1 2 7 
 
 after but a short reign his Httle son, Conradine, the future 
 Emperor, became the ward of Manfred, and Manfred, 
 no longer Regent but King of the Sicilies. His brother 
 Frederic, King of Antioch, shared in his military and 
 personal ambition, and together they planned and 
 fought for the extension of the Empire. 
 
 By this time the distinction of Guelf and Ghibelline, 
 or Papacy and Emperor, had become fully established 
 throughout Italy; and the genius of Frederic II. had 
 won to his side most of the great trading towns in that 
 country, although he ignored similar bodies in Germany. 
 But usually there were to be found the two political 
 parties in every city, and the Emperor's representatives 
 pretended to hold impartial sway by taking hostages 
 for peace from each. As a matter of fact the Guelfic 
 hostages were often left to pine away in imprisonment 
 whilst the Ghibellines were speedily released. One of 
 the cities in which the two parties were to be found in 
 bitter rivalry was Florence; and though previously 
 the Ghibellines had been the stronger, in the year 1251 
 the town was so strongly Guelfic that the Popular 
 Government, or City Commune, made a treaty with 
 the feudal barons, or maritime lords, whose castles and 
 estates lay between Florence and the sea-board, to 
 permit Florentine traders to have free access to the 
 ports and harbours. This offended the rival city of 
 Pisa which had long been Ghibelline, and her Council 
 and people felt that their commercial rights were being 
 invaded. Hence this city hastened to make alliance 
 with Sienna, and together they made a secret league 
 with some of the Florentines in support of King Manfred. 
 
 Thus arose civil war in Florence, and in the contest 
 the Guelfs showed themselves both stronger and more 
 resolute, so that many of the Ghibelline leaders were 
 
 til 
 
 "r, 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 
 \ 
 
 m 
 
 i 
 
il 
 
 128 Stories from Dante 
 
 banished. Amongst these were the heads of the noble 
 families of the Uberti and the Lamperti. They took 
 refuge in Sienna ; and when the Guelfs of Florence de- 
 manded their expulsion and were refused, war was 
 declared between the two cities. 
 
 The city of Sienna was especially fervent in support 
 of King Manfred as the representative of the future 
 Emperor, Conradine, but Pisa was less enthusiastic, 
 especially since the Florentine refugees had fled to 
 Sienna. There was, too, a party of Pisan Guelfs of 
 sufficient importance to join in a league with Florence 
 and to offer the suzerainty of the Guelfic cities to 
 Alphonso the Wise, King of Castile. The ambassador 
 appointed tf. arrange this with the Papal advisers of 
 Alphonso was the scholar-diplomatist, Ser Brunetto 
 Latini, afterwards tutor to Dante Alighieri, and the 
 sons of other leading Florentine families. 
 
 Very thrilling and dramatic were the events which 
 led up to the disastrous war between Sienna and Florence. 
 The Siennese, being fully aware of the danger in which 
 they stood, accepted with acclamation the envoys of 
 King Manfred, who came to promise them support and 
 future protection without tyranny. They sent to 
 Manfred some of theu- most distinguished statesmen 
 and orators to plead for a closer alliance, which he 
 granted - condition that the podestd,, or mayor, and 
 the milit, y governor, should take an oath of fealty to 
 him in the name of the townspeople. This was done, 
 and very soon there clattered into the narrow, roughly- 
 paved streets of Sienna, the Count Giordano d' Anglona, 
 Vicar-general of Manfred, with a cortege of eight hundred 
 men-at-arms, mounted on Flemish chargers and glitter- 
 ing with armour. Behind them came a large body of 
 trained infantry, leather-clad and bearing long pikes 
 
King Manfred of Sicily 1 29 
 
 and clubs ; and the people of Sienna, while making 
 hospitable preparations, saw, with mingled feelings 
 of pride and fear, their powerful guests consorting with 
 their own small city-guard. 
 
 Soon war began in earnest, and the Florentine army- 
 showed such energy and skill in striking the Siennese and 
 their Imperial allies wherever they were least prepared, 
 that the prospects seemed all in favour of Florence. 
 Then, becoming careless, the Florentines were worsted 
 in some small engagements, and the Siennese began 
 making incursions into Florentine territory, and burning 
 and destroying crops and villages. Presently they 
 thought of a device whereby to betray their enemies. 
 They sent secret messengers to Florence, who pretended 
 that they had been sent by the Florentine refugees in 
 Sienn i. These had become tired, they said, of the 
 overbearing ways of the military governor, and sought 
 to return to their own city. They promised assistance 
 if the Florentine army would at once attack Sienna and 
 force a battle ; but this mission merely cloaked their 
 real design, for they were in secret communication with 
 the Ghibellines within Florence, and were plotting to 
 bring half the army over to their side as soon as the 
 engagement should begin. TL- treacherous plan was 
 successful, and in the battle of Montaperto, a height out- 
 side Sienna, the Florentines were completely defeated 
 with sore loss of life. The survivors of the Guelfic 
 families of any importance fled from the city, and the 
 allied armies of Sienna and their Ghibelline supporters 
 marched into Florence. 
 
 Ambassadors were despatched to King Manfred to 
 
 thank him for his aid; a Ghibelline and imperialist 
 
 general was made podesla, and a large body of the 
 
 German troops were quartered in Florence. By this 
 
 I 
 
 V 
 
 ! 
 
 m 
 
 t^A^i 
 
 i 
 
 
 
'3° 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 r 
 
 victory the growing power of Manfred in Tuscany was 
 greatly increased, and he and his supporters deter- 
 mined to make it impossible for the Guelfs again to 
 become supreme. A great congress was summoned, 
 at which plans were to be devised by which King Manfred 
 should be able to hand over a completely united Tuscany 
 to his young nephew, Conradine. A daring proposal 
 was made by representatives of Sienna and Pisa that to 
 ensure this happy result the city of Florence should be 
 utterly destroyed, since in it the Guelfs had always pre- 
 dominated, and only now temporarily were the Ghibel- 
 lines in power. Then Farinata degli Uberti, Ghibelline 
 as he was, uprose and protested fervently against so 
 wicked and ruthless a crime. Dante shows us him in 
 the shades of the Inferno amongst the Heretics, and gives 
 a noble protest from his mouth : — 
 
 *' ' I was not there alone,' he said, ' nor certes 
 
 Without cause would I have moved with others ; 
 But when all wished to ruin Florence, then 
 I was alone, and stood in her defence, 
 With open undisguised countenance.' " 
 
 Inferno, x. 
 
 For a few months Florence, under the energetic 
 vicar-general of Manfred, was the great centre of Ghibel- 
 line activity. Troops from there harassed continually 
 all the towns of Guelfic sympathies, till only Lucca was 
 left. Then the scattered party sent embassies to the 
 young Conradine, as the real sovereign of Sicily, im- 
 ploring him to protect them from the " usurper " Manfred 
 and his supporters. But the little lad was no soldier, 
 and his mother the Empress refused to send him as a 
 leader ; though, in token of sympathy with distressed 
 subjects, she despatched to them, as a symbol, his fur- 
 lined mantle. This the citizens of Lucca exhibited in 
 
King Manfred of Sicily 1 3 j 
 
 a casket, and organised processions to stir the patriotic 
 fervour of all true Guelfs. 
 
 In the meantime the death of the peace-lovina Pope 
 Alexander IV led to the creation of the new pontiff. 
 Urban IV., who resented the arrogance and daring of 
 Kmg Manfred. Like his father, the Emperor Frederic 
 II., Manfred scorned the Church ; and besides showing 
 Ills m his high spirited insolence and levity, he deliber- 
 ately offended the Christian thought of Europe by having 
 an army of Saracens in his employ. In his contempt for 
 the Papal dignity he had gone so far as to permit his 
 envoy to Rome, at the enthronement of the new Pope 
 to be accompanied by a bodyguard of these Moorish 
 soldiers. For this affront Urban denounced him, and 
 published a crusade against him throughout his dom- 
 inions, ordering him to appear at Rome to answer for 
 his many sins against the Christian faith. This action 
 at Rome intensified the bitterness of the strife between 
 Guelf and Ghibelline throughout almost the whole of 
 Italy though the latter were much the stronger, and 
 Manfred far more powerful than the Papacy in outward 
 things. But the Pope was determined to subdue the 
 haughty persecutor of the Church, and, pronouncing 
 hrni outlaw, offered his realm to the young son of Louis 
 IX. (Saint Louis) of France. This monarch declined 
 the gift as It was the heritage of Conradine, but Count 
 Charles of Anjou, to whom the Pope next offered it, was 
 less scrupulous ; and, after gathering a large army, he 
 marched to Rome to have his title publicly proclaimed. 
 There he was acknowledged King of Sicily and Naples, 
 and presented also with the dignity of Senator of 
 Rome. 
 
 The exiled Florentine Guelfs hastened to acknowledge 
 the Pope s representative, and placed a troop of four 
 
 i 
 I 
 
 ■k 
 
I ?2 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 
 It 
 
 hundred armed gentlemen and a body of infantry at his 
 service. They implored the Pope to grant them some 
 insignia, and he presented them with his own arms : a 
 red eagle in a white field holding a green dragon in its 
 talons. Above this the exiles placed the " lily " of 
 Florence ; red upon a white ground ; and this " vermeil 
 dyed " badge became henceforth the standard of the 
 Guelf party. Charles of Anjou, " King of the Sicilies," 
 acknowledging himself a vassal of the Church, had now 
 to make good his claim by arms. With a large army 
 of French soldiers and Italian levies, he marched through 
 the pass of Ceperano, and crossed the frontier to meet 
 the excommunicated Manfred, whose supporters and 
 allies were rapidly falling away from him. Manfred sent 
 an embassy of truce to meet Count Charles, who scorn- 
 fully refused to treat with him, bidding the messengers, 
 " Tell the Sultan of Nocera I will have nor peace nor 
 truce with him : but that ere long I will either send him 
 to hell, or he shall send me to Paradise." 
 
 At the river Benevento the two armies came in sight ; 
 a large body of archers under the command of Manfred's 
 brother-in-law at once deserted, leaving only a few 
 troops of Saracen soldiers. Then, according to the old 
 historian, Manfred " behaved like a valiant gentleman, 
 who preferred to die in battle rather than to escape with 
 shame. And putting on his helmet, which had on it a 
 silver eagle for a crest, this eagle fell on the saddle-bow 
 before him. Seeing this, he was greatly disturbed, and 
 said to the barons who were near him, ' Hoc est signum 
 Deo.' But he took heart and went into battle like any 
 other baron without the royal insignia, and his fori^es 
 were routed, and Manfred slain in the middle of the 
 enemy." It is no astonishing or woefai thing for a 
 warrior-king to die in battle, but this miserable ending 
 
•y at his 
 m some 
 irms : a 
 )n in its 
 ily" of 
 vermeil 
 I of the 
 Mcilies," 
 lad now 
 ^e army 
 through 
 to meet 
 :ers and 
 Ted sent 
 o scorn- 
 isengers, 
 iace nor 
 end him 
 
 n sight ; 
 Manfred's 
 T a few 
 
 the old 
 itleman, 
 ipe with 
 . on it a 
 Idle-bow 
 )ed, and 
 
 signum 
 like any 
 is fonies 
 ; of the 
 ig for a 
 ; ending 
 
 King Manfred of Sicily 133 
 
 to a brilliant career is surrounded with shame and 
 sorrow. Manfred's beautiful wife and her children 
 were taken prisoners at Nocera in Sardinia, and died in 
 prison. His body as it fell on the battle-field lay un- 
 recognised for days, and when at length discovered by 
 a camp-follower the unfeeling fellow threw it across his 
 ass and came shouting, " Who'll buy Manfred ? " 
 
 Then it was taken to the Pavilion of King Charles, 
 who asked the captive knights in turn if that was 
 Manfred. Most answered timidly, as if ashamed to 
 own him, but a certain Count Giordani smote his hand 
 upon his brow and cried, " O my lord, my lord ! " This 
 the Breton gentlemen highly commended, and they 
 asked that Christian burial might be granted. The 
 king replied, " Willingly I would do it if he were not 
 excommunicated " : so he ordered the body of Manfred 
 to be buried by the bridge of Benevento, and each one 
 of the army cast a stone upon his grave. Thus a great 
 cairn was raised above him ; no unworthy memorial to 
 a military chief. 
 
 But afterwards the Bishop of Cosenza had the body 
 removed and sent out of the kingdom" because it was 
 Church land," and he an arch-heretic in life and ex- 
 communicate. Says the old historian, " If it had not 
 been for his am ition he might be compared with the 
 most famous captains of past ages; magnanimous, 
 energetic, liberal, and a lover of jusf ice : he violated 
 the laws only to ascend the throne, but in everything 
 else he was just and compassionate. Learned in 
 philosophy, a consummate mathematician ; not only an 
 encourager of literature but himself most accomplished. 
 He was fair and handsome, of gentle aspect, always 
 smiling and cheerful, of admirRhlA nnri /ir»ii«i,ff,ii ^u 
 so that he has by several been compared to Titus, son of 
 
 5 
 I 
 
t ; 
 
 134 Stories from Dante 
 
 Vespasian, for his liberality, his beauty, and his courtesy.** 
 And Dante says, 
 
 *' Blonde was he, beautiful, ami of noble aspect, 
 But one of bis eyebrows bad a blow divided. 
 
 * Now bebold,' be said, 
 And showed me high upon bis breast a wound. 
 
 '* * After I bad my body lacerated 
 
 By theso two mortal stabs, I ffave myself 
 Weeping to Him, Who willingly doth pardon. 
 
 ** * Had but Cosenza's pastor, who in chase 
 Of me was sent by Clement * at that timo 
 In God read understandingly this page. 
 The bones of my dead body still would be 
 At the bridge head ; near unto Benevento, 
 Under the safe-guard of the heavy cairn. 
 Now the rain bathes and moveth them the wind. 
 Beyond the realm, almost beside the Verde, 
 Where he transported th* ai with tapers quenched.' " 
 
 Purgatorio iii. 
 
 Pope Urban IV. had been succeeded by Clement IV. 
 
XI 
 
 The Story of Sordello 
 
 1200-1269 
 
 " The chroniclers of Mantua tired their pen 
 Telling how bordello, Prince Visconti, saved 
 Mantua ; and elsewhere notably behaved ; 
 As Knight, Bard, Gallant, men were never dumb, 
 In praise of him. . . ." 
 
 Browning. 
 
 IN tb early /ears of the thirteenth century near 
 Mar tu , t he native place of Virgil, stood a great 
 Castle '.vith the little village of Goito clustering 
 about it. iv was the home of the Count Eccelino da 
 Romano, Lord of the Marches, warden and suzerain of 
 .•^he Emperor's dominions in Italy, and mighty Ghibelline. 
 He was often far from home on his business of peaceful 
 government or war, and the Countess Adelaide and her 
 step-daughter, the Lady Palma, lived a peaceful, un- 
 eventful life in the frowning castle. 0\ any bright 
 Spring morning, and through the long Summer days, 
 might be seen, looking from the battlements, or wander- 
 ing about the hill-sides, a lad in a green page's dress, with 
 dark flowing hair and thin, delicate face. 
 
 He had never known any other home than this, for he 
 was an orphan, the son of a Captain of the Archers in 
 the guard of Count Eccelino, who had lost his life in 
 saving the Countess and her infant son from death. In 
 
 186 
 
 i '> 
 
136 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 I •■ 
 
 one of the many quarrels between Guelfs and Ghibellines, 
 the Eccelini palace at Vicenza had been set on fire ; and 
 but for the courage of Ser El Cort, chief archer, they 
 would have lost their lives. The Countess, in gratitude 
 for his devotion, took charge of his little son, and had 
 him brought up as a page in her castle at Goito. 
 
 The young Sordello had few companions, and found 
 his greatest pleasure in the flowers and trees, the birds 
 and insects, and the stories he made up for himself 
 about them. Sometimes on winter evenings travelling 
 minstrels would seek hospitality in the Castle, and sing 
 their songs and tell exciting stories of adventures and 
 gallant deeds. Most eager of listeners was Sordello, and, 
 like Bertrand de Born, of whom we have heard already, 
 he early resolved that he, too, would be both knight and 
 troubadour ; would do fine and noble deeds, and sing 
 tender and moving songs. In those long-ago days no 
 one was burdened with too many books ; and stories 
 were, perhaps, cherished the more, because they were 
 not written down but carried in the memory. Th'iy were 
 not all of them stories of earlier times and imaginary 
 heroes, but narratives of what was going on in the great, 
 busy world, where Emperor and Pope and soldiers and 
 crusaders strove and marched and fought. The thought 
 of all this fired Sordello to the resolve that he would be 
 one of the great and fearless ones of the earth, able to 
 accomplish whatever he wished, and to command the 
 admiration and respect of other men. 
 
 At that time the Christian imagination was much 
 stirred with the great ideals and daring deeds of the 
 Crusaders. We may picture the lonely boy climbing 
 the steep rocky paths of the mountains and practising 
 his archery with the pleasant make-believe that he was 
 a " Soldier oi the Cross."' His love for music and verse 
 
 I 
 
bellines, 
 'e ; and 
 jr, they 
 ratitude 
 md had 
 
 i found 
 le birds 
 
 himself 
 avelling 
 md sing 
 res and 
 llo, and, 
 already, 
 ght and 
 nd sing 
 lays no 
 . stories 
 sy were 
 fty were 
 aginary 
 e great, 
 iers and 
 thought 
 ould be 
 
 able to 
 md the 
 
 s much 
 I of the 
 ;limbing 
 actising 
 he was 
 id verse 
 
 The Story of Sordello 137 
 
 gave him mastery of tunes and songs ; and his thoughtful 
 fancy set him trying to compose melodious lines such as 
 rang in his memory when minstrels sang some of the 
 famous lyrics of the Proven9al troubadours. For at 
 this time, in Lombardy as in Tuscany, there were no 
 fine poems in the native dialect ; whilst the language 
 of Provence, a district which was afterwards to become 
 part of France, was enriched by much stirring and 
 romantic verse. Occasionally there would come into 
 young Sordello's hands a little folded book or parchment 
 with a written version of some poem, and he practised 
 constantly the art of saying things in the same dainty 
 and expressive way. Unlike Dante, he did not attempt 
 to Tirrite in his native dialect, and thus to do for Mantuan 
 what Dante did for Tuscaxi ; instead he used the 
 pleasant, musical, Proven9al language. 
 
 The years passed and Sordello became a young man 
 of eighteen or nineteen, and still he lived on in the quiet 
 Castle, and had as yet achieved no beginning of the dis- 
 tinguished career he had determined upon. Like many 
 young men who live in beautiful countries he was thought- 
 ful, and not so fond of mirth and gaiety as of quiet re- 
 flection ; and in accordance with the poetic fashion of the 
 time he secretly devoted himself to the Lady Palma, the 
 step-daughter of the Chatelaine, composing songs and 
 lays in her honour, and hoping for some distant day when 
 he might make known his knightly service. 
 
 At length an opportunity came. The ladies left the 
 Castle one bright day in Spring and journeyed to Mantua, 
 where the Countess was to preside with Palma at a 
 festivity known as a Court of Love. It was to celebrate 
 the betrothal of the Lady Palma to Count Richard of 
 S. Boniface, and many poets and trQubadours were 
 expected to attend. Sordello's gift and his ambition 
 
 ( -11 
 
P I a 
 
 138 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 were as yet not widely known, and he had not thought 
 of entering the contest on so great an occasion. But 
 after the ladies had departed, as he wandered restlessly 
 about the Castle demesne, he found himself nearing the 
 Mantua road ; and presently strode along towards the 
 gay city, picturing himself as the hero of the occasion. 
 Soon he came within sight of the pavilions and the gaily 
 dressed nobles and ladies, and saw the famous troubadour 
 Eglamor enter the lists with his lute. Drawing near, 
 Sordello listened to the poet's treatment of his story, 
 thinking how he would have woven it differently. The 
 subject was " Beauty," and Eglamor had sung nobly, 
 inspiring the listening men and women to care for the 
 inner beauty of spirit as well as the outer beauty of 
 person ; of sacrifice and patience as well as of courage 
 and achievement. The applause rang loud when he 
 ceased, and then Sordello advanced, and, taking the 
 same subject, sang with spirit and vigour what he con- 
 ceived to be the real service of Beauty. The listening 
 judges and people were won, and amidst universal 
 plaudits Sordello was acclaimed victor and led forward 
 to the dais. There the beautiful Palma placed her silk 
 scarf upon his neck with her own hands, and he became 
 the hero of the festivity. 
 
 Thus the first step was taken in the path of his poetic 
 ambition, and very pleasant were the greetings and 
 adulation showered upon him. But the success which 
 had brought triumph to him had meant defeat to 
 Eglamor, who, while ungrudgingly acknowledging 
 Sordello's mastery, was heart-broken at his own failure, 
 and died the next day. The funeral procession, as it 
 wound through the forest paths, wnr met by Sordello 
 roaming in pleasant meditation. Generously distressed 
 at the suuering inflicted on Eglamor by his own success, 
 
Sordello's Tribute to the Dead Eglam 
 
 ore 
 
 138 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 ( 
 
 
 h '* 1 
 
 
 * !■' £ 
 
 
 n| 
 
 
\l 
 
 
 ! '; 
 
 
 ', 1 
 
 (I 
 
 ■- » 
 
 
 
 
 
 C] 
 
 b 
 
 
 ai 
 w 
 c« 
 tl 
 G 
 of 
 th 
 th 
 th 
 an 
 
 CO 
 
 pr 
 he 
 wr 
 
 tO( 
 
 me 
 he 
 qu 
 urii 
 thi 
 ] 
 ths 
 of, 
 sto 
 
 Coi 
 toil 
 gre; 
 R 
 
 ic 
 
The Story of Sordello 139 
 
 he followed the bier to the grave, and laid the victor's 
 crown of laurel which he had received upon the quiet 
 breast of the dead poet. 
 
 Soon afterwards he received an invitation from the 
 grandees of Mantua, asking him to come and live 
 amongst them, and give the Mantuans some more of his 
 wonderful poetry. He resolved to go, and soon be- 
 came the admired ornament of the aristocratic life of 
 the city. But the change from the long quiet days at 
 Goito, and the loss of the high woods and the still beauty 
 of nature, made poetry seem difficult and remote. So 
 that Sordello sometimes found himself merely copying 
 the sayings and the refrains of other singers, including 
 the dead Eglamor. But the people praised him greatly! 
 and accepted his work as wonderful and true, so that he 
 consoled himself for the lack of worth in it with the 
 praise and compliments which he received. Sometimes 
 he determined to shake off this idle satisfaction, and to 
 write something of splendid worth ; but the effort was 
 too groat, and again he would accept honour and com- 
 mendation for some borrowed stvie or story. By degrees 
 he became critical of the appreciation shown; and 
 questioned whether those who listened to his characters 
 understood that he, since he created them, was greater 
 than they. * 
 
 It cost him, indeed, much angry pain when he found 
 that his hearers looked past him, the singer, and thought 
 of, and praised, only the subject or the characters of his 
 story. 
 
 Then there came a day when his benefactress, the 
 Countess Adelaide, died ; and the Count, worn out with 
 toil and fighting, determined to marry his two sons to 
 great hen-esses and his daughter Palma, either to Count 
 i^xeiicuu, to wnom she had been betrothed,or to his rival. 
 
 P I 
 
 
 h A\ 
 
140 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 and then himself retire to a monastery to spend his last 
 days in peace. Sordello was to compose songs and odes 
 for the weei: of the celebrations, and he wandered into 
 the forest towards Goito, nestling under the high castle, 
 presently finding himself in his old haunts where he had 
 dreamed his day-dreams. When, after the banquet 
 at the Eccelini palace in Mantua, tiic poet ^vas called 
 for, he co\;(d nowhere be found ; and indeed he was 
 pensively recalling the past in the ^^.•ea^ily empty ca.jtle, 
 and was never again to return to Mantua. 
 
 After some days a wandering minstrel came to Ooito, 
 bearing a message for Sordello. The Count's two sons 
 had duly wedded the ladies of their father's choice, but 
 Count Richard was being held captive in Verona by the 
 Guelfs, and the Lndy Palina liad need of help. Sordello 
 set off at once, and found that seine of his b<J3rish dreams 
 were likely to come true. ]f'or the L:uly Palma cared 
 not iiir any Laughty Count, but for him, the poet, and 
 liv>d been thinking how to help and advance him ever 
 siv.(:f; his victory at the Court of Love. Since her 
 brothers had married into great Guelf houses, she 
 purposed that she and Sordello si ould lead the Ghibel- 
 lines, and restore the cause for >.vhich her father had 
 toiled so long. It seemed to Sordello that perhaps in 
 this way, and not in writing poems, he was to achieve 
 the greatness that should be his. But he was resolute 
 to achieve it nobly, and tried to decide whether Guelf 
 or Ghibelline were the more worthy, and which would 
 better serve to give the people freedom. While he 
 pondered some one asked him to make a Ballad of the 
 old Roman story of Crescentius Nomentanus, who in 
 the tenth century devoted his life to freeing Rome from 
 the Saxons. 
 
 XilS heart was IIIOVCU. auu. uia iiiia^iiiai/iOxi xucu ^yl\,n. 
 
 m:^ 
 
r 
 
 \\ 
 
 The Story of Sordello 141 
 
 a hero, but of actually becoming one himself, by helping 
 
 the Wr^nff T '" ^''" "•"' """'y- But which waf 
 the tyrant ? Emperor or Pope ? And which cause 
 
 He thought of Charlemagne, the great Emperor and of 
 Hildebrand, the great Pope; and how boKse h,^ 
 aecomphshed something; yet of the two Hi7debra^ 
 had done more. This seemed to show that the Guell 
 
 taken, he sought an audience of Count Salinguerra in 
 the hope of wmnmg him, too, to support the Papacy 
 The bur y Count however, was in no mind to cCJe 
 h,s aleg.ance ; but professing himself weary, lit his 
 great leader. Count Eccelino, offered him the position 
 of V,car to the Emperor, and flung the embrddereS 
 badge around his neck. Sordello felt himself temnt^H 
 to accept it ; to lead the Ghibellines, and w h pXa 
 wm fame and glory as one of the deli^ere^' oTthe^Z 
 Yet, m his heart, be had felt that the Guelf cause it 
 
 rrelr V " w '™ = =""* "***' - *°™-«ng Zgg k 
 he resolved to be true to this idea, although all outS 
 
 as a Ghibellme leader. When Count Salinguerra rs 
 turned for h,s decision Sordello had flung theXperiS 
 badge at his feet, and was meditating how furZr tn 
 show that he had made his final choice.^ No oppfr^unitv 
 seemed to offer itself for active work • P»h^?? k '^ 
 were destroyed ; her brothers, /er^^k and ^r Ami?: 
 could not yet entrust this new supporter with anv 
 mission They induced their siste^to we^ Coui 
 Richard,^nd she became Countess of Provence. aX 
 s.... «uy ana powerful. Sordello wandered aboi.t 
 Italy, now and then resting in some large town? »d 
 
 If 
 
 i %\ 
 
142 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 >■;[ 
 
 watching the turmoil and quarrelHng in which people 
 seemed to spend their lives, but more often jour- 
 neying from castle to castle. In these the noble 
 and courtly hosts and their retainers welcomed 
 troubadours of every degree, and listened to their 
 songs and declamations without question of the poet's 
 politics. 
 
 Later, Sordello reached Count Richard's castle in 
 Provence and there renewed the painful pleasure of 
 his early dreams and later renunciation. The Countess 
 Palma and her husband were very gracious to him, and 
 gave him a castle and estate wherein to dwell. Always 
 grave and silent, he became more silent still save for the 
 expression of his thoughts and visions in rather sombre 
 verse. For his poetry he was much esteemed, younger 
 singers studying his verses to find wherein their charm 
 lay ; and men of all degrees paid him respect and honour. 
 He wrote an Elegy on the great Proven9al baron-poet, 
 Blacatzio ; and in it, whilst praising the courage of the 
 dead man, he rebuked the sovereigns and princes of 
 Christendom for their lack of virtue, charging them 
 to " eat of the heart " of the hero of his song, in order 
 that they might emulate his valour. Also in a book, 
 " The Treasure of Treasures," he greatly commended 
 those who had set behind them personal pride and self- 
 advancement, and had devoted themselves entirely to 
 some great endeavour. When he died many wrote 
 funeral songs upon him, so that althr-ogh he had failed 
 to do the great things of which he had dreamt in his 
 youth, he had yet won fame. 
 
 Dante shows us him in the shades of Purgatory near, 
 and yet withdrawn from, faulty rulers who were not 
 heart-whole in their intentions^ Virgil points him out 
 to his companion as — 
 
The Story of Sordello 143 
 
 All 11 , "A soul that. Stationed 
 
 All, all alone, is looking hitherward " ; 
 
 and Dante describing his appearance, exclaims, 
 
 "O Lombard soul. 
 How lofty and disdainful thon did.t bear tbm. 
 And grand and slow in moving of thine eyes ! '' 
 When Virgil asked him to direct them he cried. 
 
 Of thin, own land' ■ ° ''"'"'■"'""" '"'■''"» 
 
 and the two poets, in life separated by twelve cent„ri„c 
 embrace each other in the realm rf 5^7 S 
 leadmg them along a terrace, Sordello shows them 
 
 ottSi'tirrBr^''''^^^^^^^ 
 phip?kWFr!trAer, '^^:-^ 
 
 of Aragon; Charles of Anjou • and wln^f Vtt * 
 
 HttrhadTne^s.^-"-Pf3 ^^ "- 
 real greatness of the mZ wh; was '^L'^T"^ '^^ 
 beautiful of person, and vahant of spirTt " ' "' """"""' 
 
 mJtLil 
 
XII 
 
 ii 
 
 Charles I. of Anjou 
 
 1216-1283 
 
 " ^Hien the race 
 Of ancient kings had vanished, all save one . . , 
 To Italy cino : ...-:. s ; and for amends. 
 Young Conradine, an innocent victim, slew." 
 
 Purgatorio vx. 
 
 IT has been pointed out that for two centuries and 
 a half, from 1060-1316, there was either a Louis or 
 a Phihp on the throne of France. In the year of 
 Dante's birth, 1265, King Louis IX., known after his 
 death as S. Louis, was reigning. He was the son of 
 King Louis " the Lion," for in mediaeval times an apt 
 nickname was attached to all striknig characters. 
 These royal descendants of the great Hugh Capet were 
 mostly strong and able men, and determincu rulers.: 
 but S. Louis was of gentler disposition thai. ost, and 
 his younger brother. Prince Charles of Anjou, possessed 
 more of the militant qualitie. -f his ancestors. 
 
 In the tenth and eleventh centuries Anjou was one 
 of the most powc 'ul of the provinces of France. It 
 had sucvission ^ resoli e and determined rulers in 
 the descendants of a certain Tostulf the Foi. ater, who, 
 in the nmth century, fourbt for King Charles the 
 Bold against the Lv nes, and was ennobled and given 
 V a-xi^ -^-i. vciiitu:. V lor ij-.o BUi vices liis son f uik 
 
 
> Suit i<UiK 
 
 Charles I. of Anjou 145 
 
 the Red, and again his son Fulk, were mighty wam^„ 
 too ; known to.. Fulk the Good and Fulk the Black 
 
 A further mcei, e to the ambition of this prinee Ise 
 CoL / r""''' '" '^'^ "«= "°'''« Raymond Bere^er 
 Soutt lT:rr ™' ^^' """"''^ district ToTe 
 with » l^ ? ?™ P'°P" ^^^ » <="ilised country 
 with a hterature of its own earlier than any othlr in 
 
 ^ZVZ^ 7 ""r'V^ ''^«""""S °' the^tWrtee'^th 
 ^fnl ^» T """* '"dependent of his su rain the 
 
 the'ltr?owe.i^! ^X;T tr^e"-r s'^T^ 
 M^fred .f Sicily was trying to co^T the'J tTlt^; ". 
 and the Pope, declarmg that he had forfeited the crown 
 of acly commissioned the Count of Anjou o oppTse 
 hira. This occurred in the year of Dante's birth T^! 
 
 m n "to ""yet'"^- T"^/'^'" howeyerw'^fnot ^ 
 X?i, n?T. n"P ■"' """gdom without a struggle and 
 
 tt Kalfan r T °' '""^ ""^'^ °" l"^ side f milarfj 
 the Italian Guelfs supported "harles, and hundreds o^ 
 Tuscan gentlemen joined his army 
 
 ,f, "* °°'y Po'itieal prejudice but also religious feeling 
 streng^^hened the Guelfic opposition to King MaS 
 Like his father, the debonair Emperor F.dfricli l" 
 adopted a luxurious and Eastern .„„ of Kfe^^hi„K 
 jus% offenaed Christian morals. W .°d l^'toM. 
 ..J. ^,,^ ^y^j.^ ^j,^ count u. les ava'^ed 
 
146 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 himself of the strong feeling against M infred when he 
 refused to consider a truce and sent the insulting message, 
 " Tell the Sultan of Nocera that with him 1 will have 
 nor peace nor truce, but that ere long I will either send 
 him to hell or he shall send me to Paradise." 
 
 In the battle which ensued, Count Guido de Montfort, 
 a young son of the famous Simon de Montfort, Earl of 
 Leicester, led a regiment of Provencal cavalry in Anjou's 
 army, and close behind marched a band of Florentine 
 exiles, n^ unted and armed, bearing their new standard. 
 Beautifully emblazoned on a white ground there shone 
 a red eagle holding a green dragon in its talons, 
 
 A striking feature of Manfred's army was his troop 
 of Saracen soldiers, armed with bows and arrows, and 
 massed behind them was the heavy German cavalry. 
 Each side shouted its battle-cry defiantly as they 
 advanced : " Montjoie Chevaliers ! " came from the 
 Angevins, and " Suabia Chevaliers ! " from the Germans. 
 
 The defeat and death of King Manfred left Count 
 Charles in n fair way towards supremacy in Italy if he 
 could V in the complete support of all the Guelfs. So we 
 find him visiting Florence in company with his Florentine 
 troop, and being received with great honour, and a 
 proposal that he should become Lord of Florence for 
 ten years. At the same time the Pope proclaimed 
 him Vicar-General of Tuscany, and the Guelfs became 
 supreme in nearly all the towns. The principal Ghibel- 
 line cities were Pisa, Sienna and Pistoia, and they stood 
 outside the new Guelfic League ; and when, two years 
 later, Conradine, the young Emperor of Germany, 
 marched into Italy, they raised a large army and much 
 money in his behalf. 
 
 A disastrous battle took place amongst the Abnizzi 
 mountains, in which Conradine and his generals were 
 
when he 
 : message, 
 will have 
 ther send 
 
 Montfort, 
 t, Earl of 
 n An j oil's 
 'lorentine 
 standard, 
 ire shone 
 
 his troop 
 ows, and 
 
 cavalry. 
 
 as they 
 Tom the 
 Germans, 
 ft Count 
 aly if he 
 J. So we 
 lorentine 
 p, and a 
 rence for 
 oclaimed 
 1 became 
 1 Ghibel- 
 ey stood 
 wo years 
 rermany, 
 nd much 
 
 Abruzzi 
 als were 
 
 Charles I. of Anjou 147 
 
 defeated and taken prisoners. Rarely in those ^Id 
 time d,d a conqueror treat a fallen foe with generosTty 
 and Count Charles was of too severe and fi^foTI^ '^' 
 
 pe^ment to grant any advantage i :rco„fe.fl„%1e^" 
 I but a^iaST'"'"/'"" ^ y"""* Emperor whi 
 
 .^x^rr^rof^sr---'-^^^^^^^^ 
 
 Conradine had expected far different treatment since 
 onlvtr'v'":;;^ °'^'' '"°""^'^^ <" the tin,e, had fought 
 tlted f^I ""' ""'' '"' ""^ P'''>'"R ^hiss with his 
 
 X^t '*"°"'-l'"^<">«'-. Duke Frederick of Austria 
 when the message came. He indignantly upbraided the 
 
 a eriminal the in a d heir of^TngsT DoeTn 7" " 
 master know that I am his eaua ? L° . ^T 
 
 mine I " Of course thl .L^ / * " "° '"^^^ °' 
 
 was the nlen of r ^- ^^T"'^''""'^ ^"^ "■•'•sted, as 
 was tne plea of f onradme that his generals shnnlH n^t 
 
 will be thy sorrow this day ! " Bravelv h^ AiZ ? 
 
 hLr^S ^'^'" '"'«'<'' «'att:;t^tt tl:"o 
 
 tnese heretics and traitors " should bf» h„ri*>^ • 
 trtfofrt ,^''-;-'>~dmiser7:L'd" 
 
 SuIbia'alDttetnsXm^'-P^^''' "'^ " "-*» "' 
 
 ty^''^ yndiotive sentence was followed bv manv 
 
 bou. oi uobies who were, or were suspected" of "beui;, 
 
148 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 Ghibelline sympathisers ; nor did Count Charles restrain 
 in any way the cruelty of his supporters. One instance 
 of the violence of the age is shown in the murder of a 
 young English prince. The two sons of Richard, Duke 
 of Cornwall, brother of King Henry III., were at a service 
 in the church of San Silvestro in Viterbo, when young 
 Guy de Montfort stabbed Prince Henry to the heart in 
 revenge for the death of his uncle, Earl Simon of Leicester. 
 Remembering as he left the church that the Earl's body 
 had been treated irreverently at his death, he strode 
 back and dragged his dying victim by the hair of the 
 head, down the aisle, and to the steps of the building. 
 Prince Edward carried home the heart of his murdered 
 brother in a casket, and it was placed on a column on 
 London Bridge, then the only bridge over the Thames ; 
 and afterwards, when the rebuilding of the Abbey was 
 completed, it was placed in the hand of the statue of 
 King Edward the Confessor, where it remained for many 
 years. 
 
 Dante refers to this, and shows us Guy de Montfort in 
 the Seventh Circle of Hell, where »,he Violent are 
 punished, 
 
 " He in God's bosom smote the heart 
 Which yet is honour'd on the banks of Thames." 
 
 Count Charles made no attempt to check de Montfort, 
 and showed plainly that he cared only for the increase 
 of his own power. By the year 1271 he was acknow- 
 ledged King of the Sicilies, Senator of Rome, Vicar- 
 General of Tuscany, and chief Leader for the Church 
 throughout Italy. He seems to have been something 
 like Oliver Cromwell in character : stern and unbending, 
 but most wise and prudent in counsel ; untiring and 
 resolute in war; purposely rough and overbearing in 
 
Charles I. of Anjou i.q 
 
 rarely smilJM^Sdl^^tT'' """ """'"'y- h! 
 
 n frame, fierce and frowning otLZl ^ """"S 
 
 j^r^. pro„.„e„t nose. andTrtS-r.^^ I 
 
 yearly the PoZuZ'Cyo^ Z^S^T'' *° ^^'«»* 
 man, to hold the balinoeY^T' ^^"^^"l « '»«ign noble- 
 line parties Ahhonl 1 ^" *''* ^"«" «■"• Ghibel- 
 
 as he interfered mWe InZ^" "°"''°' °' ^^'^^''' ^"^ 
 
 aimost RepubLrF.rn tasTn^ t'/^h? "^TT 
 made great proOTe^<! • h«. f T , ^ *"^^^ ^hich 
 
 enorn.o*„sly .-''ir th; Fl" e™ 0/0!??' V""''-"* 
 memory, with its palaces ^^^VlfsZ'J^T"'"'''. 
 buildmgs s the citv «« it ,„». • . .™*'f.,»nd many sacred 
 
 There siill stands an old ^T„ J' f "^''°<«' ""<' y""""- 
 which, when Dante «^l^f'' ''""i.' '™™'"8' gloomy. 
 
 Council. In "tTtallT ter? dTalt't 'i'th^h"' """^'^^ 
 matters of confiscation nf ^^K i> ■"' ** ?""'"' 
 and the political mraLswhth'Z''"* """ '•°"^*'- 
 chasten that fallen party At 7Z P"'"' '"** 
 
 citizens of Florence were cLfuI not f T^- '"""■ *•>* 
 become too powerfnl L ! /° '*' ^'"S Charles 
 
 rope againsfhT: "'then ^ten'the ^^ "'"''''''' '" ""^ 
 be exercising too much t;mporal powlr "th'^'Pr;"'' *° 
 themselves under Charles. X theT, ll '^ t'"""*' 
 were never really subdued but HdeH fK /' '" ^'°"'«'« 
 the opportunity of assertLX. ^^" """' «"'J took 
 
 .The'Ghibel.in'etrn:t"Cr„!:r;i''-'''«y<'ould. 
 
 " -i^-wiedge the -thority-^f '^h:)!:;;::;;;™^ 
 
.i t 
 
 '1 ' 
 
 s 
 
 150 Stories from Dante 
 
 Podeste, and he had to compel ti>em by force of arms, or 
 else pay no attention to their insubordination. Few, 
 however, were so well-governed or made such progress 
 as Florence. An old writer says that in the early years 
 of King Charles' power, " Such was the tranquillity of 
 Florence that the city gates stood unlocked by night." 
 
 In Sicily things were very different. There the people 
 longed for the days of King Manfred, beloved and ad- 
 mired by all. The stern and merciless Charles was 
 determined to revenge himself upon them for their 
 sympathy with Conradine. So he inflicted heavy taxes 
 and harsh restraints, and put the island under military 
 rule, garrisoning it with his Angevin troops. The 
 Sicilians chafed under the continual oppression, and at 
 length a terrible event put an end to it. During the 
 Easter Celebrations in the year 1282 the citizens of 
 Palermo attended Vespers at a famous church a little 
 way outside the town. A French officer insulted a 
 Sicilian girl who was going to the service in her bridal 
 robe?, and the neighbours drew their weapons and struck 
 down the offe ider and his companions. A furious 
 shout arose: "Death to the Frenchmen!" and the 
 whole population rose against their tyrants. Not only 
 in Palermo was this the case, but all through the island 
 the Sicilians attacked and slew the French. The up- 
 rising was grimly called, " The Sicilian Vespers," and it 
 marked the overthrow of the Angevin ruler. 
 
 The revolt might not have had such conclusive results, 
 but that King Charles had a quarrel with Peter, King of 
 Arr.gon. This monarch had desired Sicily for himself, 
 and was ill-content when Charles took possession of 
 King Manfred's dominions. In character he much 
 
 1 
 
 
 resenibied our ixlcuuici i. ; nc >vas iXi- unec 
 troubadour, and as proud of his songs as of his battles. 
 
 
Charles I. of Anjou 1 5 1 
 
 We read that when King PhiHp the Bold of France : 
 vaded Aragon in 1270 her sovereign composed a son^, 
 and sent it as a plea for help to Gascony. 
 
 Dante does honour to this side of his character in 
 depicting him as improvising or reciting verse while his 
 spirit is one of those of Kings and rulers dwelling in 
 the flowery valley scooped out of the mountain of 
 Purgatory. Two sovereign souls stand apart : — 
 
 " He, so robust of limb, who measure keeps 
 In song with him of feature prominent, 
 With every virtue bore his gi'dle braced. . . ." 
 
 Thus Dante links Charles I. of /injou with Peter the 
 Great of Aragon^ whom he praises highly in order to 
 emphasise his condemnation of the degenerate descend- 
 ants who succeeded him. In Ufe Peter and Charles 
 were bitter rivals, and they are remembered as being 
 almost the last of the many kings who sought to settle 
 their quarrels by wager of battle. The contest did not, 
 however, take place, for Peter presented himself some 
 weeks too soon before King Edward I. of England, who 
 had consented to sit as adjudicator at Bordeaux, had 
 arrived, and then rode away protesting that he had 
 fulfilled Lis engagement. When, on the proper day, 
 Charles attended fully armed at the lists, he proclaimed 
 the absent Peter a coward and no knight. 
 
 Another cause of quarrel between the two kings 
 remains to be stated. There was living at the court of 
 the King of Aragon a Sicilian nobleman who had been 
 friend and physician to King Manfred, and had fought 
 in young Conradine's army at the time of his defeat. 
 This noble assured the king that a matter of common 
 
 nimrkiii' ivac friiA • fr» f}i<a etttnnt- tliof fliA lFi'.mr\/»'rr»» 
 -" """- ' ■ ^ »i".--- 
 
 Conradine had, from the scaffold, thrown down his 
 
 J ' 
 
15^ 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 glove amongst the people, to be sent as a token to his 
 sister Constance, wife of King Peter. This gage the 
 noble asserted he had himself picked up and preserved. 
 It was a point of honour, therefore, with the King 
 of Aragon to seek to take from the Angevin Count, 
 whom he considered a usurper, the crown of Sicily, so 
 dear to Conradine and Manfred. So, when the news of 
 the Sicilian Vespers reached Aragon, the king sent a 
 fleet and an army to complete the overthrow of his 
 enemy, and thus Sicily became part of his dominions. 
 ; King Charles usually li-^'-ed at Messina when he was in 
 Sicily, and it might have been expected that the city of 
 his court and his palace would remain faithful to him. 
 But there, too, the national spirit was strong, and 
 even Messina revolted. Charles, in his wrath, vowed 
 that if he " could live a thousand years he would go on 
 razing the cities, burning the lands, and torturing the 
 rebellious slaves." He swore also to " leave Sicily a 
 blasted, barren, uninhabited rock, as a warning to the 
 present age and an example to the future." This terrible 
 threat was not fulfilled, since the forces of the King of 
 Aragon were too strong for Charles, and he was com- 
 pelled to flee. 
 
 The war was conducted in a cruel way, both parties 
 satisfying their long-standing hatred of each other by 
 vindictive treatment of their captives. An old historian 
 writes, " Many French ships were sunken in the sea 
 beyond Naples by the fleet of Peter of Aragon, and many 
 of King Charles' folk who had survived the fight, common 
 folk and knights, nobles and barons, were blinded by 
 their captors." He goes on to say, " Which vengeance 
 was just and merited, for they are most proud and 
 foolish, an accursed folk who despise almost all other 
 peoples of the world ; and especially do they scorn the 
 
Charles I. of Anjou 153 
 
 English and the Lombards {i.e. the Italians). And they 
 afflicted the kingdom of Naples and Tuscany and Apulia 
 and took from the people their victuals without money 
 and without price— corn and wine and milk and fish and 
 flesh, capons and geese and hens, and whatsoever they 
 found fit for food." Later on, he tells a story of the 
 insolent and overbearing way in which French officers 
 behaved to the Sicilians, which led to such a general 
 outburst on the occasion of the Easter festival. "A 
 man of Parma had a most fair wife, and when she asked 
 of the Frenchman she was serving the price of the goose 
 he had taken, he refused her all payment, and struck her 
 a sore stroke, saying, ' Will that serve ? or wilt thou 
 that I smite thee again ? ' Her husband coming in 
 quaked with indignation, and herein was no marvel, 
 for whereas she had been most perfect in form, now all 
 the rest of her life she halted in her gait by reason of 
 that stroke." 
 
 The summing-up of this writer's account is, " Where- 
 fore I say that the rule of the French hath ever been 
 most foul and cruel, and it is just that mishap should 
 fall upon them and that they should be destroyed." 
 This feeling began to be shared by all the subjects of 
 Charles as the news spread of the Sicilian Vespers, 
 and he had to use the great army he had collected for 
 the invasion of Greece to put down rebellion in his 
 domains. Throughout Italy there was discontent- 
 Florence was at strife with the Ghibelline town, Pisa, 
 always her rival in commerce, and wherever the two 
 parties were mingled the Guelfs were no longer suffi- 
 ciently strong to suppress their opponents. Charles, 
 angry at his losses, was more resolute than ever to hold 
 
 the rest, nt llis envekfainni-tr U..«- IJ --'.ii 
 
 for the sake of winning men to his side, and so many fell 
 
 ( 
 
154 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 away. His proud, impetuous nature could not bear 
 that other sovereigns, or even other individuals, should 
 be commended for things which he felt able to do. It 
 is told of him that when he was no longer young, and 
 his position such that no single knight could hope to 
 rival him, he chose to resent the praise which all men 
 gave to a certain warrior of Campagnia. He insisted 
 that he would fight this knight in single combat to show 
 that he was the better man. In vain his son Charles 
 tried to dissuade him, and urged that it was undigni- 
 fied for a monarch to disguise himself and enter lists 
 incognito. Young Prince Charles quoted to him the 
 famous words of the Eastern philosopher, " He that is 
 high hath another higher, and there are others still 
 higher than these " ; but his father, consumed with 
 military arrogance, determined to show that he was 
 " highest of all " in battle. 
 
 In the contest King Charles was thrown, and lay 
 unconscious. When he revived he was eager to renew 
 the fight; and Prince Charles had difficulty in persuad- 
 ing him to give up the attempt . " Peace, father : the 
 leeches say that two of the ribs of your body are broken," 
 and the king had perforce to lie still till they were healed. 
 
 With Liuch disgust King Charles heard tales of the 
 prowess and daring of his successful rival, King Peter. 
 This monarch, who was a man of romantic mind, as well 
 as a gallant fighter, achieved an adventure, it is said, 
 which in those days few essayed. Accompanied by a 
 body of favoured knights he set out to climb one of the 
 peaks of the Alps in order to see if the legends of the 
 genii and spirits and other terrors of the snow-clad 
 heights might be still true. A thunderstorm broke over 
 the party before they were near the top, and most of the 
 climbers '' fell to the ground and became as dead men 
 
Charles I. of Anjou 1 5 ^ 
 
 for the fear and anguish which had come upon them." 
 The kmg couk i.ot persuade them to cHmb any farther, 
 and he pressed on alone. When he reached the summit 
 he found a lonely, gleaming tarn in a dark recess. Into 
 th.. I fi cast a stone, and forthwith there arose from the 
 
 hrllTh^l^if"^ 1 ^^'^°".f *^^^^^yi"g appearance, whose 
 breah filled the air with vapour. On descending, the 
 royal Alpmist was able, therefore, to confirm the stories 
 of the terrors of the high mountains. 
 
 One of the gravest crimes laid to the account of King 
 Charles was the poisoning of the saintly Thomas Aquinas! 
 the ' Angelic Doctor," as he was called. His words 
 and teachmg were distasteful to the Pope, whom Charles 
 desired to please, and he took this means of ending 
 his captive s imprisonment. Dante writes that this act 
 of violence 
 
 " Sent the Angelic Teacher back to heaven." 
 
 Strangely enough the rival kings, Peter of Aragon and 
 Charles, died m the same year. Peter's son Alfonso 
 succeeded him, and after some delay Alfonso released 
 ftince Charles of Apulia, who had been taken captive in 
 the naval war off Sicily. Each sought to follow in his 
 fathf .■ . footsteps, but neither achieved a name equal to 
 theirs, rrmce Charles, who bore the title "King of 
 Jerusalem;" was lame, and hence became known as the 
 Cripple of Jerusalem." Dante describes how Virgil 
 ^d him along the tc^rrace bordering the Valley of the 
 Kings and recounttd u him the greatness of each, and 
 how their sons almo.u always were less worthy and 
 renowned : — J ^ 
 
 " To Charles my words apply 
 
 No less t han *n li;a k.»«k^. : >. 
 
XIII 
 
 Cimabue and Giotto 
 
 1240-1302 1276-1336 
 
 " In painting Cimabue thought that he 
 
 Should hold the field, now Giotto has the cry 
 So that the other's fame ia growing dim." 
 
 Purgatorio xi. 94. 
 
 IN order to understand something of the work of 
 these two great contemporaries of Dante we must 
 consider for a moment the earHer conditions of 
 art. When in the first years of the thirteenth century, 
 the Crusaders took Constantinople, or Byzantium, the 
 great seat of Eastern civilisation and learning, many of 
 the Greek scholars and artists travelled into Western 
 Europe and reached Italy. There they helped to re- 
 store the gentler arts of peace, which two centuries of 
 war and bloodshed had nearly destroyed. Very precious 
 now are the remains of this early Greek art of Italy : 
 the Church of S. Vitale at Ravenna, that of Sta. Maria 
 Maggiore at Rome, and that of S. Mark at Venice, 
 with some pale frescoes and broken mosaics, and a few 
 paintings on panels, carefully stored in the great galleries 
 of Europe ; these are nearly ail that there are. 
 
 The characteristic of this art was the great use made 
 of symbolism, or the attaching of definite meanings 
 to certain forms and figures. In buildings we find that 
 
Cimabue and Giotto iry 
 
 the simpler geometrical forms prevailed, the circular 
 appearmg continually in the dome and the round arch • 
 while triangles and squares, alone or in circles, or sub* 
 divided were used in decorating surfaces. The circle 
 signified perfection ; the triangle, the Divine Trinity • 
 
 T^^r ^ ?r'^ "'^^"^''^ ""^^ ^"^"^^^ *° ^^^*ain numbers: 
 Three, the T mity ; five, the sacred wounds of Christ • 
 seven the ci.ys of Creation, and so on. Symbols were 
 also taken from natural objects, and in memory - of 
 Christian saints and martyrs, the things connected with 
 their lives or sufferings were taken as their symbols. 
 Thus the keys of S. Peter, the eagle of S. Mark, the grid- 
 iron of S. Faith, the arrows of S. Sebastian, and the lily 
 t TZ'^^'l **^t^^^«g°ised emblems of the saints. 
 Ihe Christian churches of the East were built with five 
 aisles, comniemorating the Crucifixion, though this was 
 superseded by the three-aisle building, symbolising the 
 irinity ; and the main aisle opened under a lofty arch 
 into a great transept, while high columns in immense 
 numbers supported the framework of the vaulted roof 
 The surfaces of the walls within were decorated with 
 mosaics and frescoes, the colours being pale and relieved 
 with much gilding The human figures were tall and 
 thin, with dark, sad faces, and in stiff attitudes 
 
 So that in the thirteenth century the painters of 
 Italy hastened to learn from their Greek teachers the 
 methods of making mosaics, painting, mixing colours, 
 and decorating large surfaces. The Italians themselves 
 had not lost the art of illuminating, but this was carried 
 on almost entirely in the monasteries. They now 
 learned to paint in fresco, with colours mixed with water 
 and white of egg, a tempera, as it was called ; for not 
 
 for two centuries vet was naintinir m /^Wo ^;„ j 
 
 I here was as yet no attempt to draw real representations 
 
 'I 
 
 M 
 
 » > 
 
 ll 
 
"1 
 
 •58 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 i u. 
 
 '4 I 
 
 of pc "^ons or of natural growths ; everything was ' r ated 
 in the way in which we now treat the ilowt r oi plant 
 which is to be introduced in a " design " ; that is, there 
 were strict rules, according to which each object must 
 be conveidionalised. 
 
 In the year 1240 there was born in Florence to the 
 noble family of Cimabue, or Guitltieri, ;i litMe son. He 
 was christened Giovanni, and grew up in ilie tall old 
 palace near the Porta San Piero. When he was old 
 enough he was sent to the school held m the cloisters of 
 the Convent of Sta. Maria Novella, where a kinsman of 
 his father taught Latin. He was a bright, intelligent boy, 
 but did not make great progress with the subjects of 
 the Trivium, Grammar, Rhetoric and Lugic, because 
 his thoughts would wander from constructions and 
 arguments and dilemmas to something he cared for 
 greatly. This was the depicting of objcts, animals, 
 and other fancies, on every scrap of blank writing 
 material, tablet or slate that he could obtain. Th. 
 rough surface of the cloister-walls served for charcoal 
 drawings of the things he saw around him : boy-com- 
 panions, calm lowing oxen, fine prancing horses, a 
 mark "' woman's basket, barber's porch, or hurrying 
 pric; i benring the Sacred Host to some dying person. 
 
 The few school-books in use were, of course, hand- 
 writieM ; large and heavy, and rarely entrusted to the 
 pupils' keeping, but even on the margins of some of 
 these the young Cimabue drew his representations of 
 things. We do not read that he was either punished or 
 discouraged for his devotion to this interest. When he 
 was about eighteen years of age the Podestd and the 
 Council of the City had invited some Greek painters to 
 come and reside in Florence and undertake the decora- 
 tion of the new churches. The principal work at- 
 
^W f 
 
 Cimabue and Giotto i rn 
 
 femptec? at Jir.t was the side chapels in the church of 
 Stu. Maria Novella, and we read that young Giovanni 
 timabue escaped at every pos8i = >}e opportunity from 
 his sfuhes II. the adjoining convent . ' ch the painters 
 at tht r worls '^ 
 
 To his great joy his parents and irnds decided that 
 It would be well to apprentice him to these gifted woi kers 
 m order that he might completely master the art for 
 which he showed such fondness. We may think of him 
 for some happy years copying in th great arched 
 chamber which served a . studio to these foreign artists, 
 and occasionally entrusted with a tiny detail of real work • 
 an animal in a far corner of a f^. . ,r a leaf or flower in 
 the traceried border of a Presently his work 
 
 excelled that of his teachers in the two points of 
 
 colouring and design ; and vays his gift for repre- 
 sentation had made his figures better than theirs. So 
 that he, a native Florentine, began to be asked to assist 
 in the great work of beautifying the city, and he was 
 the vadmg artist of the day when Dante was born. He 
 had his studio in a street adjoining the wonderful chn.ch 
 Of bta. Croce. and pupils came to him to studj^ his methods. 
 He was also an architect and a worker in mosaic, but 
 he won his greatest fame as a painter. We are told that 
 besides decorating -.vith frescoes the choir of the church 
 of hta Croce, making a portrait of S. Cecilia for her altar 
 there he painted a beautiful " Madonna " on a great panel 
 for the Church of Sta. Maria Novella ; and that when ft 
 was finished It was carried to its place in a procession with 
 
 in^'J'uVf ^'"'' ^""^ '^"^•"^' ^"^ ^" th« townspeople 
 joyfully following. Whence, ever after, the quiet old street 
 was called the Via Borgo Allegri, as Mrs Browning sings, 
 
 " Eyen th© place 
 Containing such a miracle grew bold. 
 
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i6o Stories from Dante 
 
 Named the ' Glad Borgo ' from that beauteous face 
 Which thrilled the artist, after work, to think 
 
 His owr ideal Mary-smile should stand 
 So very near him. . . • 
 
 To his studio came all the notables of Florence and dis- 
 tinguished strangers from other cities, includmg, we are 
 told, Prince Charles of Anjou. There also came repre- 
 sentatives from Sienna and from Pisa, beggmg him to 
 come and embellish their churches. In the very year 
 in which Dante was born Cimabue was appomted to 
 finish the frescoes in the Church of S. Francis at Assisi, 
 which had been begun by the painters with whom he 
 had studied. There he worked, as the old historian 
 relates, " Con diligenza infinUar coveririg the walls 
 with scenes from the Old Testament and the New, and 
 lovingly filling up spaces with geometrical designs and 
 representations of flowers and fruit and wistful genu. 
 
 In character this gii'ted man seems to have been in- 
 tensely proud and haughty, but quite single-hearted 
 in his devotion to his art. If fault were found with any 
 of his work while it was in progress, or if he were himself 
 dissatisfied with it, he Would paint it out or destroy it, 
 and begin entirely afresh. He loved the grand and 
 majestic, and cared little for what was merely pretty ; 
 he was a great scholar, too, and knew much of the 
 literature studied in his day. . ^ . i 
 
 In the year 1290 Cimabue, having occasion to travel 
 from Florence to Vespignano, a small village and 
 monastery some miles distant, saw a shepherd lad on 
 the hillside tending his sheep. As he drew near he 
 found that the boy was drawing with a sharp stone on 
 the face of a rock, and that he was making a picture of 
 ^ * u;. ch-pp "TbP crreat man drew near and founa 
 
 Out; Ul mo biivCp! —1 — o^ .J A 
 
 that the drawing was wonderfully correct and good, 
 
Cimabue and Giotto 
 
 i6i 
 
 id dis- 
 we are 
 repre- 
 lim to 
 y year 
 ted to 
 Assisi, 
 Lom he 
 storian 
 ; walls 
 w, and 
 fns and 
 enii. 
 een in- 
 liearted 
 ith any 
 himself 
 itroy it, 
 nd and 
 pretty ; 
 of the 
 
 travel 
 ,ge and 
 , lad on 
 near he 
 jtone on 
 icture of 
 id found 
 d good. 
 
 and that the little shepherd loved nothing so well as 
 trying to draw the objects he saw around him. This 
 reminded Cimabue of his own boyish days, and the 
 difficulty of obtaining parchment and charcoal. This 
 lad, however, had greater difficulties ; for neither paper 
 nor parchment came in his way. He had practised, as 
 now, with a pointed stone on a smooth rock, or with a 
 stick on sand, or the dust by the wayside ; and had 
 already won some mastery with no one to help or teach 
 him. 
 
 After some talk with the lad, Cimabue went with him 
 to his father's hut ; and the poor herdsman agreeing to 
 let him go, Giotto was asked, " Would he like to go to 
 Florence and learn to draw instead of tending his sheep ? " 
 The sturdy boy eagerly said " Yes," and followed 
 Cimabue forthwith. 
 
 Besides working in his master's studio at drawing 
 and painting, and accompanying him, bearing colours 
 and brushes, to high platform.s in churches and public 
 buildings, Giotto had for tutor in other branches of 
 learning the great scholar, Ser Brunetto Latini, and 
 under his teaching mastered the " Trivium " and 
 studied the Latin literature and Greek philosof ^ y 
 which formed part of a liberal education. A stor} is 
 told of him during his apprenticeship which shows how 
 unusual was his gift and how greatly it was admired. 
 In the studio was an unfinished painting at which 
 Cimabue worked at intervals ; and one day, during his 
 pbsence, young Giotto painted in a fly on the face of 
 the figure. Cimabue, on resuming work, attempted to 
 whisk away the addition, thinking it was alive. 
 
 In 1302 the master laid down his brush for the last 
 time, and died full of honour. He wps buried in the 
 church of S. Maria del Fiore, which he had himself 
 

 162 Stories from Dante 
 
 designed and helped to build and to adorn, and upon 
 his tomb was graven the epitaph :— 
 
 " Cimabue thought himself master of the field of painting ; 
 While living he was so ; now he holds his place among the stag's of 
 heaven." 
 
 Of his many pupiis, Giotto, the shepherd boy whom 
 he had discovered and befriended, was the most famous. 
 Cimabue recognised his genius, and, with true greatness 
 of mind, welcomed the advance he made. He himself had 
 been thought marvellous because he represented thmgs 
 naturally, but Giotto far excelled him. A writer of the 
 day, speaking of this painter, points out with surprise 
 and admiration that he could make personages m his 
 pictures " who are in grief, look melancholy, and those 
 who are joyous, look gay." Like his great master, 
 Giotto was commissioned to decorate many churches, 
 palaces, and council-chambers ; and the first important 
 piece of work which he undertook is said to have been 
 the frescoes in the mayoral palace at Florence. In 
 these allegorical pictures he introduced the portraits 
 of the men of the day, and amongst them was 
 that of Dante Alighieri, at that time Prior of his 
 
 ^"^He carried on the paintings begun by Cimabue in the 
 famous church of S. Croce, entirely decorating two of 
 the chapels ; and his pictures of the Holy Family were 
 greatly wondered at and admirer^ ' ^cause he showed 
 the little Jesus turning towards i .nother with arms 
 
 outstretched. . . i 
 
 Not only was Giotto renowned as a painter, but also 
 as a scholar, and a close observer of men and things. 
 
 He was, however, piaiu m leauuxt »na us.< u... — 
 
 person, and was somewhat sensitive as to these dis- 
 
i upon 
 
 ) stag's of 
 
 r whom 
 famous, 
 reatness 
 self had 
 i things 
 T of the 
 surprise 
 s in his 
 id those 
 master, 
 hurches, 
 aportant 
 ive been 
 nee. In 
 portraits 
 lem was 
 r of his 
 
 ue in the 
 g two of 
 nily were 
 s showed 
 dth arms 
 
 , but also 
 id things, 
 ractive in 
 bhese dis- 
 
 I II 
 
 I' 
 
 Giotto the Painter 
 
 162 - • 
 
 1 ? I < ' ; 
 
I 11; 
 
 in t 'i 
 
 |-; 
 
 advanta 
 
 an incid 
 
 a great 
 
 unattrai 
 
 turning 
 
 they w€ 
 
 shelter 
 
 the two 
 
 host pi 
 
 caps, a 
 
 gling V 
 
 present 
 
 Burstir 
 
 Giotto, 
 
 imagini 
 
 Giotto' 
 
 think s 
 
 you kn 
 
 • Att] 
 
 to dev 
 
 and es 
 
 their I 
 
 and P 
 
 vited ' 
 
 the dei 
 
 the se 
 
 visitin 
 
 some 
 
 a she< 
 
 charcc 
 
 mirac] 
 
 envoy 
 
 to th< 
 
 prove 
 
Cimabue and Giotto 
 
 63 
 
 advantages. Boccaccio, the Italian story teller relates 
 an incident concerning Giotto and a special friend of his, 
 a great lawyer, Ser Forese da Rabatta, who was equ^ly 
 unattractive in appearance and almost deformed. Re- 
 turning to Florence one day from their country villas 
 they were overtaken by heavy rain, and for a time took 
 shelter in a wayside cottage. The rain continuing, and 
 the two friends being in a hurry to get home, their poor 
 host provided them with two old threadbare cloaks and 
 caps, and thus equipped they went their way. Strug- 
 eling with wind, and wet and bespattered W 1 mud, 
 presently the comical side presented itself to Ser Forese. 
 Bursting into a laugh, he exclaimed, " Do you suppose 
 Giotto, if a stranger were to meet you now that he would 
 imagine you to be the best painter in the world ? 
 Giotto's answer was ready and apt: Yes, J^orese, 1 
 think so ; if when he looked at you he could guess that 
 vou knew your ABC ... 
 
 At this time many of the cities of Italy were beginning 
 to devote time and thought to other things than war 
 and especially to increasing the dignity and beauty of 
 their buildings. Thus we find Giotto travellmg to Pisa 
 and Padua and Milan and Ravenna, and presently in- 
 vited to Rome. Pope Boniface VIII. was pressing on 
 the decoration of the Basilica of S. Peter's, and procuring 
 the services of artists of all kinds. His ambassador, 
 visiting Giotto with the Papal request, asked to be shown 
 some specimen of the painter's skill. Giotto took up 
 a sheet of paper, and with a single movement of his 
 charcoal traced on it a circle so perfect that it was a 
 miracle to see." This so surprised and delighted the 
 envoy that he was prepared to believe in Giotto s skill 
 to the utmost, and the " round O of Giotto " became 
 proverbial. He stayed at Rome some time, pamtmg 
 
 Hj^ I 
 
s 
 
 I 
 
 164 Stories from Dante 
 
 many frescoes for the cathedral and for the Lateran 
 ualace, and making mosaics for the Basilica. 
 ^ AnLgst the great nobles visiting Florence who saw 
 Giotto a! work in his studio was the Duke of Calabria 
 son of King Robert of Sicily, and this monarch sent 
 tor him to Naples. He was himself an accomplished 
 r^n and a patron of learning and the arts, and he re- 
 Swed GiotL at his court with every honour finding 
 much pleasure in his conversation and ready w t. V isit 
 S^the painter one hot day at his work, the king said 
 '"if I were you, Giotto, I would leave off work tmd rest 
 
 " ,t"*-" And so would I, Sire," replied the painter, 
 "ff I were you." Amongst the famous frescoes in the 
 church of the Incoronati at Naples painted by G otto 
 
 s onfshowing a group of singing boys, and the natoa 
 
 postures and attitudes and the ^''P'^^J'X that the 
 of singing were considered so remarkable that the 
 1 vers'never ceased to wonder at them One day 
 King Robert, half in fun, half in <:0">P".% ^^"^^ 
 command of great subjects, desired him. Paint me 
 mXgdom." Giotto immediately sketched the figure 
 7an afs with a heavy pack-saddle on his back smdhng 
 at another pack-saddle on the ground laden with a 
 crown and sceptre. The king understood the emblem 
 anTappreciated the painter's fearless disregard of royal 
 
 ''Ct'etum to Florence the painter's time and 
 thought were devoted to the designing and construction 
 of the famous Campanile, or Bell-tower. Like his 
 master and like generations of the Itahan artists, he 
 was »chi?ect, sculptor and painter, and with h.s own 
 hand he mad; many of the models for the statues and 
 
 nana ac lua j d^^norntions. We 
 
 drew the designs 01 every pait 01 -'^ -^ 
 
 realthit when the Emperor Charles V. saw this beauti- 
 
Cimabue and Giotto 
 
 165 
 
 ful building, he declared that, '* It ought to be kept 
 under glass." 
 
 We have said that Giotto was scholar as well as artist, 
 and his wide knowledge of history and literature, together 
 with his vivid imagination, enabled him to paint, as it 
 were, whole Bibles cxi the walls of churches and histories 
 on the walls of palaces. 
 
 One of the most interesting of the many strange and 
 beautiful buildings of this century was the Campo 
 Santo at Pisa. This " sacred field " was an enclosed 
 space, covered with earth brought from the Holy Land, 
 with an arcade or cloister running its whole length. It 
 contained three chapels, or chantries ; and chapels 
 and cloisters were all beautifully decorated by the finest 
 art workers of the age. Many tablets and monuments 
 commemorated the Pisan nobility and citizens ; and 
 in the central cloister was the famous sarcophagus of 
 the lady Beatrice, mother of the Countess Matilda of 
 Tuscany. The contribution of Giotto to this great 
 undertaking was the painting of much of the cloister 
 walls with ;he story of Job. 
 
 Besides being an artist and a scholar, Giotto was also 
 a poet, and his verses which remain are of a joyous and 
 vigorous kind. One is " A Song against Poverty," for 
 he was of far too sincere a nature and upright a character 
 to pretend to despise his high position and the considera- 
 tion it brought him. Of his many pupils we read that 
 a certain Taddeo Gaddi was his favourite, and that 
 Tommaso di Stefano became the most famous, and was 
 known as ** Giottino," or " the little Giotto." 
 
 In the year 1336 Giotto died in his home at i lorence ; 
 says the old writer, " Yielding up his soul to God as a 
 good Christian no less than a good painter." He was 
 buT'ied, with a civic funeral and amid public lamentations, 
 
^11 
 
 i66 Stories from Dante 
 
 near where his master lay in the church of S. Maria del 
 
 The name of Giotto is one which, for many reasons, 
 is worthy to be coupled with that of Dante. Both were 
 intensely earnest workers, enthusiastic lovers of beauty 
 and goodness, and each entirely transformed the art he 
 practised-Giotto in painting, Dante m poetry. They 
 were friends and companions during the few happy years 
 of Dante's life, while he was yet powerful and wie ding 
 good influence in Florence. It is probable that Giotto 
 professed himself to have no " politics,'' and thus m the 
 strife of parties he escaped the storm which overwhelmed 
 his ardent friend. Dante does not introduce Giotto or 
 Cimabue in his portraits of the great ones in Purgatory, 
 but only refers to them in his description of the poetry 
 of his friend Guido Cavalcanti. This Guido was said 
 to have excelled the poet Guido Guicinelh, who died in 
 the year that Giotto was born ; and as an illustration 
 the comparison of Giotto eclipsing Cimabue is given m 
 the words quoted at the head of this chapter. 
 
 I^^hS 
 
m 
 
 Part Three 
 
 The Paradiso 
 
" HiJt gtori/, hy whose might all thingi are moved, 
 PiHt'ccH the. llnUferxe, and in one part 
 Sheda more resplendence, elsewhere lees. . 
 
 Danta. 
 
 " Far offtK empyreal heaven, extended wide 
 In circuit, undetermined square or round, 
 With opal towers and battlements adorned 
 0/ living sapphire . . . 
 Andjast hy, hanging in a golden chain. 
 This pendant world, in bigness as a star 
 Of smallest magnitude, close by the moon. . 
 
 Milton. 
 
 » 
 
 , •• ^ ,.| 
 
XIV 
 
 The Paradise 
 
 ACCORDING to the Ptolemaic artronomy, which 
 supposed the Earth to be the centre of the 
 Universe, Dante represents Three great con- 
 centric spheres, or " Heavens " of space : (i.) the Plane- 
 tary Heavens, (ii.) the Stellar Heaven, and (iii.) the 
 Primum Mobile. Beyond this, mediaeval Christian 
 thought placed the Empyrean, or the Heaven wherein 
 dwell God and His angels. 
 
 The Planetary Heavens are seven in number, in Three 
 great divisions : (i) those within the Heaven of the Sun ; 
 (ii) the Heaven of the Sun ; and (iii) those beyond th« 
 Heaven of the Sun. So that the journey through 
 Paradise, starting from the Earthly Paradise, on the 
 summit of the Mount of Purgatory, passes through the 
 three nearer spheres of the Moon, Mercury and Venus ; 
 then through the sphere of the Sun ; and then through 
 the three farther spheres of Mars, Jupiter and Saturn. 
 The travellers passing onward still go through the 
 Heaven of the Stars, at the constellation of Gemini ; 
 then through the invisible vault beyond the Stars, the 
 Primum Mobile ; and, lastly, arrive at the Heaven of 
 Light and Love. 
 
 Dante represents the different planetary spheres as 
 connected with various qualities or virtues, and in them 
 are manifested to him the spirits of the great departed 
 
 168 
 
i »' 
 
 1) 
 
 170 Stories from Dante 
 
 in whom those virtues or qualities were exhibited. In 
 those nearest the earth are shown the spirits of those 
 whom some stain of earth has marred; so that, though 
 they are perfectly happy, their joy is less intense than 
 that of those in the Heaxr-ns beyond the Sun. He also 
 uses the lore of astrology, that great predecessor of 
 astronomy ; and considers each of the planetary Heavens 
 as signifying some department of human learnmg. He 
 explains this in his book the Convito : " To the first 
 Seven correspond the seven sciences of the Trivium and 
 Quadrivium; that is, Grammar, Dialectics, Rhetoric, 
 Arithmetic, Music, Geometry and Astronomy. To the 
 Eighth, that is the starry sphere, corresponds Natural 
 Science, called Physics ; and the first science, which is 
 called Metaphysics. To the Ninth sphere corresponds 
 Moral Science ; and to the Heaven of Rest, the Divine 
 Science, which is called Theology." 
 
 As Dante turns towards the Sun at the mid-day stand- 
 ing at the source of the stream Eunoe, he becomes 
 conscious of a strange experience. He seems to be no 
 longer in a human body or to tread earth ; no longer to 
 fill space but to penetrate the matter of the sphere he has 
 entered, the Heaven of the Moon. Beatrice is his guide, 
 and explains to him that, while on earth the law of 
 gravitation controls matter, in the heavenly spheres the 
 love and longing for God make all spirits seek His seat. 
 Thus it is as natural to rise there as to fall on earth. 
 From her Dante learns the order of the Divine Intelli- 
 gences which rule the different spheres : the Seraphim 
 controlling the Primum Mobile; the Cherubim, the 
 sphere of the Stars ; the Thrones, that of Saturn ; the 
 Dominions, Jupiter ; the Virtues, Mars ; the Powers the 
 Sup- thp'PrineiDalities. Venus; the Archangels, Mer- 
 cury ; and the Angels, the Moon. 
 
The Heaven of Venus 
 
 170 
 
; ) 
 
 1 
 
 hui 
 
 for 
 
 ma 
 
 are 
 
 ma 
 
 sta: 
 
 the 
 
 ye 
 
 pla 
 
 anc 
 
 wil 
 
 us 
 
 Lai 
 
 cou 
 
 hei 
 
 wh 
 
 Sh< 
 
 am 
 
 Ki] 
 
 an< 
 
 r 
 
 of 
 
 air 
 
 uii 
 
 Be 
 
 of 
 
 "1 
 
 spi 
 
 CO] 
 
 in 
 
 hi! 
 
 pa 
 
ii 
 
 The Paradiso 
 
 171 
 
 Then he sees before him, as he thinks, reflections of 
 human figures, and turns to see. Beatrice smiles at him 
 for being thus in the spirit, and yet thinking in the old 
 material way. She explains to him that those he sees 
 are spirits who f ' le continually with God, but that they 
 make themseh manifest in the sphere where he now 
 stands, because the Heaven of the Moon is the place of 
 the Inconstant. He speaks to one, asking, " Tell me, 
 ye whose blessedness is here, do ye desire a more lofty 
 place, to see more, or to make yourselves more dear ? " 
 and is told, " Brother, the quality of love stilleth our 
 will, and maketh us long only for what we have, and giveth 
 us no other thirst." He learns that the speaker is the 
 Lady Piccarda Donati, sister of his friend Forese, and 
 cousin of his own wife Gemma. The head of the Family, 
 her brother Corso, had had her brought from the convent 
 where she had retired, and had compelled her to marry. 
 She shows Dante in the distance " another splendour," 
 and tells him that the spirit is Constance, daughter of 
 King Roger of Sicily, who was taken from the convent 
 and married to the Emperor Henry V., son of Barbarossa. 
 
 They then ascend to Mercury, where they see the spirits 
 of those who did great deeds for the love of fame ; 
 amongst them the Emperor Justinian, and Rom^o the 
 unknown counsellor of Raymond de Berenger. There 
 Beatrice discourses to him of the marvels of Creation, 
 of Goodness and of Free-Will ; and choirs of angels sing, 
 " Hosanna, Lord God of Sabaoth." 
 
 Next they reach the Heaven of Venus where are the 
 spirits of lovers ; and Dante recalls the ancient beliefs 
 concerning Venus, whilst he watches the spirits moving 
 in a wondrous dance. One approaches and reveals 
 himself as Carlo Martello (Charles Martel) of Hungary, 
 patron and benefactor of Dante in his early manhood. 
 
 f ■ 
 t 
 
 1 
 
 3 
 
¥ 
 
 m 
 
 1 y 2 Stories from Dante 
 
 He was the grandson of Charles I. of Anjou, and married 
 the beautiful Clemence, daughter of the EmperorRudolph. 
 This lady was a most devoted wife, and is said to have 
 falleu dead on being told of her husband's death. Near 
 by stands Cunizza, a lady admired by Sordelo the poet, 
 whom she loved ; and soon they meet Folchetto, the 
 famous Troubadour of Marseilles. He was patronised 
 and honoured by King Richard I. of England, King 
 Alfonso of Aragon, and the great Count Raymond de 
 
 Berenger of Toulouse. , ^ ^ i,^„ i-Uo 
 
 The Three first Heavens passed, Dante reaches the 
 Heaven of the Sun, presided over by Powers m the 
 mystic order of the heavenly spirits and symbolising 
 Arithmetic. In this sphere are made manifest the spirits 
 of Fathers and Theologians, shining with so license a 
 brightness that they rival the sun itself Beatrice 
 charges Dante to thank God, who is the Sun of the 
 angels ; and he fixes his thought so complete y upon 
 this intention that he forgets Beatrice. She smiles upon 
 him so benignly in her pleasure at this, and his mmd again 
 becomes distracted and his attention divided amongst 
 many things. Then Twelve shining spirits form a circle 
 round Dante rnd Beatrice, and one describes to him the 
 rest. These great representatives of heavenly wisdom 
 were King Solomon; Dionysius, the Areopagite; 
 Boethius, the Roman Senator under Theodoric ; Paul 
 Orosius, a writer of the fifth century ; Isidore of Seville, 
 of about the same time, who compiled a Cyclopaedia of 
 sacred learning ; che Venerable Bede of England ; Peter 
 Lombard, the " Master of Senten.es ; Gratian, a fnar 
 of S. Francis at Bologna ; Richard of S. Victor, who 
 " wrote a Book on the Trinity and many other beautiful 
 and sublime works"; Aloertus iuagiiu= v.x ^.-..-5— » 
 Sigebert, a learned monk, who, in the twelfth century, 
 
The Paradiso 
 
 J 73 
 
 lectured at Paris in the Rue de Fouarre, or Rue de I'^cole, 
 the very cradle of the University ; and lastly, Thomas 
 Aquinas, the Angelic Doctor, who is the speaker. 
 
 It is told of this saintly scholar that once he begged an 
 audience of the Pope in order to plead for help from the 
 Papal treasury for a mission. The Pope received him 
 graciously, promised liberal donations, and added com- 
 placently : *' The days are gone when the Church could 
 say, ' Silver and gold have ^ none.' " — ** Yes," replied 
 Aquinas, " and when she could say, ' Take up thy bed, 
 and walk.' " ^ He was a friar of the Order of S. Dominic, 
 and the feud which existed in mediaeval times between 
 Franciscans and Dominicans is rebuked here, in that 
 Aquinas declares the praise of the Franciscans. 
 
 Then a second circle of bright and shining souls group 
 themselves around the former, like the parallels of a 
 double rainbow. In it are seen Nathan the prophet, 
 friend and counsellor of King David ; St John Chry- 
 sostom (Golden-Mouth) ; Donatus, a learned Father 
 of the fourth century ; Rabanus, Bishop of Mayence 
 in the eighth century, who compiled a Cyclopaedia, 
 De Universo ; Anselm, Prior of Bee and Archbishop of 
 Canterbury ; Hugo of S. Victor, the teacher of Peter 
 Lombard ; Peter, nicknamed " The Devourer of Books," 
 whose paraphrase of the Scriptures was a treasured work 
 in the Middle Ages, and who was Chancellor of the 
 University of Paris when Anselm was Prior of Bee ; 
 another Peter, " Hispanus," afterwards Pope John XXI., 
 but known more widely from his treatise on Logic. In 
 it appeared first the clever memory lines, " Barbara, 
 Celarent, Darii," etc. Ther*;, too, is the mystic. Abbot 
 Joachim of Calabria, who resigned his post as Abbot 
 that he might devote himself entirely to study and 
 
 * Acts UL 6 ; Joha v. 8. 
 
 ■ I 
 
 1 1 
 
1 74 Stories from Dante 
 
 meditation. We read that, " he passed his days and 
 nights in writing and dictating : his secretary Lucas and 
 two other monks writing in copy-books what he com- 
 posed and dictated on scraps of paper." Two of the 
 earliest and most ardent of the early followers of S. 
 Francis are also in this group : Illuminato, who followed 
 him to Egypt when he sought to preach to the Sultan ; 
 and Augustine, who, as he lay dying, suddenly cried out, 
 " Wait for me I Wait for me 1 I am coming with thee I " 
 and when the waiting brothers asked to whom he spoke, 
 he replied, " Do ye not see our Father Francis ? " 
 
 Lastly, there is the blessed Bonaventura, who describes 
 the spirits of this outer ring. He, John of Fidenza, is 
 hardly known except by the nickname which clung to 
 him from infancy. Always a delicate child he was 
 carried by his mother, very ill and thought to be dyin^,; 
 to be blessed by Francis of Assisi, who was believed to 
 possess healing powers. The friar, gazing upon the 
 baby sufferer, exclaimed, " O buona ventura 1 " com- 
 mending the faith of the mother, and blessed the infant 
 and prayed over him. He recovered and lived to become 
 a saintly scholar and Franciscan, so illustrious in learn- 
 ing and so winning in speech that he was known as " The 
 Seraphic Doctor." He kept fully the stern rule of his 
 order as to poverty and plainness of life ; and we read 
 that when he had become General of it, and was being 
 made a Cardinal, the Papal Nuncios, bearing the Cardinal's 
 hat to him, found him washing the dishes after the mid- 
 day meal. He wrote a Life of S. Francis, and a tradition 
 tells us that it being unfinished when he died, he was 
 permitted to return to earth for three days to finish it. 
 He wrote many books besides ; and one of the golden 
 
 sentences lor wmuii nc %vu.a icnoTvu^-a ^xx^rrT.. *.» ^^.i 5 
 
 of the character of the man : " The best perfection of a 
 
The Paradiso 
 
 '75 
 
 religious man is to do common things in a perfect 
 way." 
 
 These two rings of happy spirits move around Dante 
 and Beatrice in stately rhythmic motion, singing in honour 
 of the Blessed Trinity. Then S. Thomas Aquinas 
 teaches Dante yet more of the mysteries of knowledge, 
 showing it as a faint reflection of the Divine Mind. In 
 this difficult instruction by the Angelic Doctor occurs 
 the curious reference to " Dame Bertha and Squire 
 Martin," signifying the heedless and ignorant spectators ; 
 perhaps we may see in it the mediaeval equivalent of our 
 modern " man in the street." 
 
 Without conscious effort Dante is next translated to the 
 Heaven of Mars, where are made manifest the spirits 
 of Crusaders and Martyrs for the Faith. There blazes 
 the Cross, the sacred sign ; and there throng the spirits 
 of the dauntless, like motes in a sunbeam, and sweet 
 sounds of triumphant gladness fill all the space around. 
 When the hymn ceases one of the spirits shoots like a 
 falling star from his place to speak with Dante, who 
 knows him for an ancestor of his, Cacciaguida, knighted 
 by the Emperor Conrad for valour. He is represented 
 as describing the glories of the Florence of the past, 
 when the citizens lived simple lives, and were loyal to the 
 Church ana kind to each other ; when family feuds and 
 rival clans were unknown ; and when great names, since 
 dishonoured or decayed, were borne by men living 
 devoted and upright lives. Then the spirit warns Dante 
 of the sad future before him : bitter and painful in the 
 enduring, but part of a harmonious and beautiful whole, 
 in which although he suffers he must desire to bear his 
 part. Florence shall exile him, and proclaim him out- 
 law; he will wandpr for rpfn<T<a ar\r\ shf^M-t^v onrl turill fir»/i| 
 
 them in sorrow and uneasiness in the houses of great men. 
 
 i' 
 
 
176 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 He sinks into a reverie as he ponders on this revelation, 
 and awakes to realise that he is now in the Heaven 
 of Jupiter ; and that instead of the glowing Cross he 
 beheld before, he now sees spirits form themselves into 
 letters of light, which spell out a counsel from the Book 
 of Wisdom : " Love righteousness ye that be judges of 
 the earth " ; the closing letter slowly transforming itself 
 into an Eagle, the Roman symbol of Law and Justice. 
 In this planet, which Brunetto Latini described as 
 " gentle and piteous and full of all good things," the 
 Warrior-Saints, Charlemagne and Roland and Duke 
 Godfrey and Robert Guiscard, who shone in the mystic 
 cross, are replaced by those of just Kings of all ages. 
 It seems to Dante that all unite in one voice to praise 
 God and to extol His Wisdom and justice before which 
 man's understanding fails; and they then record the 
 virtuous kings of pre-Christian times, and denounce 
 many of the contemporary sovereigns as unworthy. 
 Then he realises that the figure of the Eagle upon which 
 he gazes is, as it were, a constellation of spirits : the pupil 
 of the eye is David, the poet-king of Israel ; five make 
 the eyebrow's arch, Trajan, Hezekiah, Constantine, 
 William of Sicily and Ripheus of Troy. This Trojan hero 
 is thus described in the ^neid, " Ripheus also falls, 
 the most just among the Trojans, and most observant of 
 the right " ; but many wondered that Dante chose him 
 rather than ^neas to represent the pagan souls in 
 Paradise. 
 
 They next arrive at the Seventh Heaven, Saturn, 
 where reside the souls of those who gave up their lives 
 to meditation and silence. There stretches a golden 
 ladder to heights which Dante cannot see, and lights 
 and splendours glow upon it ; but he misses the 
 heavenly music which he has heard in each of the other 
 
The Paradiso 
 
 177 
 
 elation, 
 Heaven 
 !ross he 
 /es into 
 le Book 
 idges of 
 fig itself 
 Justice, 
 ibed as 
 ?s," the 
 i Duke 
 ! mystic 
 ill ages. 
 
 praise 
 e which 
 lord the 
 enounce 
 iworthy. 
 n which 
 he pupil 
 ve make 
 jtantine, 
 j an hero 
 so falls, 
 rvant of 
 lose him 
 souls in 
 
 Saturn, 
 leir lives 
 
 1 golden 
 id lights 
 
 he other 
 
 spheres. It is presently explained to him by a shining 
 SOV' 'hat his senses are not yet attuned to this higher 
 music ; and he learns that the speaker is one Peter 
 Damiano, a monk of Ravenna in the eleventh century, 
 also known as Peter the Sinner. Then he is spoken to by 
 S. Benedict, who, in the sixth century, founded the 
 monastery of Monte Cassino, midway between Rome and 
 Naples. This was the most famous monastery, not only 
 in Italy, but in the world. It had seen and endured from 
 its mountain terraces the inroads of Lombards and Goths 
 and Saracens ; Normans and Spaniards and French 
 have devastated the lands beneath. In its Library 
 were stored letters of the Lombard kings, of Hildebrand, 
 of the Countess Matilda ; of Gregory the Great and of 
 Charlemagne ; and in the days of its splendour, its Abbot 
 was the first Baron of the realm. In the latter years of 
 Benedict's rule there he was joined by his Sister Schol- 
 astica, who desired, like him, to devote her life to God ; 
 and presently other women joined her, and thus was 
 formed the first Benedictine community for women. 
 Once a year her brother would visit her from his neigh- 
 bouring monastery, and one day as he was praying in 
 his cell he saw a white dove pass the grated opening, 
 and learned soon afterwards that his sister was dead. 
 Hence a dove is generally shown in pictiu-es of 
 S. Scholastica. 
 
 When S. Benedict rejoins his companion-spirits they 
 all whirl back to Heaven ; Beatrice bids Dante to prepare 
 for the coming glory of the Eighth sphere. She charges 
 him to gaze downward, and see how far he has left the 
 earth behind. He obeys her, and can distinguish through 
 all the seven spheres, and beyond, " the little earth for 
 which we light so fiercely stretched out before him so 
 that he can trace the rivers from their watersheds to the 
 
 1? ■ ! 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
178 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 ' 1. 
 
 ' r 
 
 1 
 ■ 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 " 1 
 
 sea." * Then, standing beneath the constellation 
 Gemini, under whose sign Dante was born, he sees in 
 that region of the stars a wonderful Vision of Christ in a 
 garden of splendour of which the flowers are the Blessed 
 Virgin and the Apostles. The angel Gabriel brings a 
 crown of sapphire, and from all the shining lights come 
 sounds of sweet melody. The Virgin Mother is to be 
 taken to the highest heaven to share the final triumph 
 of her Son ; and one of the brightest spirits approaches 
 from the height to prepare Dante for the last and most 
 blissful stage. The soul is S. Peter, who holds the keys 
 of Heaven, and he questions Dante on matters of Faith ; 
 and his fervent and humble profession so pleased the 
 saint that he circled thrice, singing in blessing, above 
 him ; then S. James examines him on Hope and S. John 
 on Charity. So dazzling is the spirit of S. John that 
 Dante becomes blinded in gazing upon him, but his 
 sight is restored to him by Beatrice. Then, while the 
 brightness increases as the happy souls sing their Hymn 
 of Praise, Dante and Beatrice ascend to the Primum 
 Mobile, that great enwrapping sphere within which the 
 measurements of time and space are possible. It is 
 beyond these, girt only by the Divine Light and Love, 
 thus Beatrice explains. Then is apparent to Dante's 
 bewildered sight a ninefold circle of fire, which, he 
 learns, are the nine Orders of the Angels, revolving with 
 great rapidity about an intensely luminous point at the 
 centre. When Beatrice has enlightened his perplexity 
 as to the angelic movements and the nature of the Love 
 which they express, they emerge from this Crystalline 
 Heaven into the Empyrean, the Heaven of Light and 
 Love and Joy, the presence of God. " O splendour of 
 God," sings Dante, " whereby I saw the lofty triumph of 
 » Dent's " Temple Classics " Dante : Mr Wicksteed's translation. 
 
The Paradiso 
 
 tellation 
 : sees in 
 irist in a 
 
 Blessed 
 brings a 
 its come 
 is to be 
 triumph 
 proaches 
 nd most 
 the keys 
 if Faith ; 
 ased the 
 », above 
 [ S. John 
 )hn that 
 
 but his 
 ^rhile the 
 ir Hymn 
 Primum 
 hich the 
 e. It is 
 id Love, 
 
 Dante's 
 hich, he 
 '^ing with 
 nt at the 
 erplexity 
 the Love 
 rystaHine 
 ight and 
 sndour of 
 iumph of 
 cslation. 
 
 179 
 
 the truthful realm, give me power to tell how I beheld it I 
 A light there is up yonder which maketh the Creator 
 visible unto the creature, who only in beholding Him 
 hath its >wn peace." 
 
 Like the petals of a rose the ranks of the redeemed are 
 seen with the argelic hosts iiovering around. Milton's 
 description in Paradise Lost, Bk. iii. reproduces the 
 description of this climax of Dante's Vision :— - 
 
 "About Him all the sanctities of Heaven 
 Stood thick ag stars, and from His sight received 
 Beatitude past utterance . . ." 
 
 Dante turns to question Beatrice, but she is no longer 
 beside him ; and one of the shining spirits comes forward 
 to point his gaze to where she now abides. It is S. 
 Bernard of Clairvaux, the great founder of the contem- 
 plative order, and the writer of many beautiful hymns to 
 the Name of Jesus. He prays to God that Dante may 
 see fully and completely the wondrous power of Love ; 
 and a wonderful insight is given to him in response to 
 the prayer : so that he exclaims, 
 
 " Oh ! grace abounding, wherein I presumed to fix 
 my look on the Eternal Light, so that within its depths 
 I saw ingathered, bound by love in one volume, the 
 scattered leaves of all the Universe ; " 1 and he ends his 
 Book thus : " My desire and will were rolled— even as a 
 wheel that moveth equally— by the Love that moves the 
 sun and the other stars." ^ 
 
 » Dent's "Temple Classics" Dante : Mr Wicksteed's translation. 
 
 ii 
 
 i 1 
 
 I 
 
XV 
 
 Constantine the Great 
 
 274-837 
 
 " Ah ! Constantine, to h • w much ill gave birth, 
 Not thy conversion, but hat plenteous dower, 
 Which the firat wealthy Father gaia'd from thee." 
 
 Inferno xix. 
 
 WHEN, towards the end of the third century 
 A.D., the great Diocletian shared his Empire 
 with his brilliant lieutenant, Maximian, 
 with the title of Augustus, there were two great 
 generals placed next to the Emperors in power with the 
 imposir g title of Caesar. These were Galerius and Con- 
 stantius? In order to protect the Roman dominions, 
 and to keep peace within them, these sovereigns were 
 each responsible for one part. To Constantius Csesar 
 fell Gaul, Spain and Britain ; and in his progress through 
 the " Western Isles " he held his court at York. Soon 
 after he became Caesar he married the daughter of 
 Maximian Augustus ; and when both Emperors abdicated, 
 Constantius and Galerius succeeded them. For fourteen 
 years Constantius reigned over his provinces, delighting 
 especially in the soldierly qualities of his eldest boy Con- 
 stantine, the son of his first wife. At his death, in the 
 Imperial Palace at York, the army of the West at once 
 proclaimed Constantine as Emperor Augustus, Caesar of 
 4-v,/i \^oc.f n^roi-lnrrl nf (l(\\\\ Snnin and Britain., and Com- 
 mander of the Army of the Rhine. This was in L. i t-. -. r 806. 
 
 180 
 
 I 
 
 ^Plasi 
 
irno xix. 
 
 century 
 5 Empire 
 aximian, 
 ^o great 
 with the 
 ind Con- 
 (minions, 
 gn3 were 
 us CsEsar 
 } through 
 k. Soon 
 Lghter of 
 bdicated, 
 
 fourteen 
 lelighting 
 boy Con- 
 ;h, in the 
 t at once 
 
 Csesar of 
 ind Com- 
 
 r-i806. 
 
 r 
 
 Constantine the Great i8i 
 
 in^^A A^r *r'*5 "^^^ *° '"^^"*^ *^^ F^^^ks who had 
 invaded Gaul during the absence of his father, Con- 
 stant msm Britain. So resolute and te^.u], was the 
 defeat which the new lea ler inflicted th. .c was long 
 before the defiant enemy recovered ; and future attempts 
 were guarded against by the building of a line of castles 
 
 the Zl?"'"". "^^ '^'' ^^^'' ^^-g-"eys patrolled 
 the river, and garrisons were stationed ut its mouth • 
 and to make It easy to transpor^ troops and provisions 
 a bridge was built over the river at Cologne 
 
 Other difficulties which beset the path of the young 
 Emperor were the jealousy and intrigues of his father^ 
 colieague Galerius ; the revolt of Italy on account of 
 
 bition of other generals of the Roman armies. But his 
 courage and resolution were great, and his high spirit 
 and gallant behaviour made him the idol of his troops 
 
 ttrew T'-"" r, '"u^ °^ '^' ^^y ^" ^^i^h the soldiers 
 threw their whole heart into any task, however h .rd. 
 Once they are said to have refused to accept the nay 
 
 s^inn^,r ^'^ l^"^ '^'y ^°"^^ ^"^ the provisions 
 mSr^J^ sufficient, and took a long and fatiguing 
 march at high speed. Embarked on the Rhone in the fial 
 nver boats they chafed at their slow progress, and even 
 in^e swiftest current declared they were wasting time. 
 
 hi.r^l'l?'''*^"^' .^^"^^^"^ ^^^^y ^'' g^^^ds besought 
 him with tears not to imperil his royal person by pressing 
 always to the front. Thus, however^ he persfsted in 
 ^admg his army, and they went from victory to victory 
 He invaded Italy, besieged Turin, took the city a^d 
 marched on^to Milan, where he was received with admiring 
 - ..^ome. V cf ona made a stand, but was soon overcome" 
 and so many prisoners were taken that the soldiers of 
 
 * 
 
 A 
 
I. ' 
 
 82 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 Constantine had to make fetters out of the weapons of 
 their captives. Soon he was marching towards Rome 
 itself, the very heart of the Empire ; and a legend grew 
 up about a wonderful vision which he had, and was by it 
 encouraged to persevere. 
 
 As he rested in his pavilion with the ranks of his army 
 encamped around, a strange glow in the clear night sky 
 caught his attention. Watching it he saw gradually, 
 through a bright mist, a kind of sword-hilt appear, which 
 became clearer and larger till a Cross hung in the sky, 
 round which was a starry inscription with the words, 
 " In hoc signo vinces.*^ 
 
 Nearing Rome he fought a great battle at the Milvian 
 Bridge, when many of the enemy's troops were drowned 
 through the breaking of the Pontoon of Boats. The 
 painter Raphael commemorated the Vision and the 
 victory twelve centuries later in two of his great pictures. 
 
 On entering the city Constantine punished severely 
 the family of the dead Caesar Maxentius, but treated 
 all other foes with generosity. To celebrate the triumph 
 the Senate decreed a public festival and the building of 
 a Triumphal Arch with the words : " To the Liberator 
 of the City," and " To the Founder of our Repose," on 
 
 either side. 
 
 The great Emperor Diocletian, in whose reign the father 
 of Constantine won his fame as a general, had been a 
 cruel persecutor of the Christians. But after his abdica- 
 tion his successors showed less hostility, and Constantine 
 had never shown cruelty towards them in his own 
 dominions. Now, however, after the marvellous Vision 
 and his conquest at Rome, he determined, not merely 
 to refrain from persecution but to befriend the Christians. 
 
 In an edict which he published 
 
 
 that all subjects in the Empire were to have " perfect 
 
Constantine the Great 
 
 apons of 
 Is Rome 
 ;nd grew 
 vas by it 
 
 his army 
 light sky 
 radually, 
 ar, which 
 the sky, 
 le words, 
 
 B Milvian 
 
 drowned 
 
 its. The 
 
 and the 
 
 pictures. 
 
 severely 
 
 t treated 
 
 3 triumph 
 
 uilding of 
 
 Liberator 
 
 pose," on 
 
 the father 
 id been a 
 lis abdica- 
 )nstantine 
 his own 
 3US Vision 
 ot merely 
 Christians. 
 
 J " perfect 
 
 83 
 
 freedom to practise the religion which each has thought 
 best for himself." 
 
 Soon after this his brother-in-law, Licinius Augustus, 
 won a great victory at Byzantium, and he and Constantine 
 were joint-governors alone of the great Roman Empire. 
 Soon they quarrelled, and, in the war which followed, 
 Constantine proved the Victor, so that he reigned alone,' 
 wit"- his sons as governors of provinces. Some years 
 later he visited Rome to celebrate his accession, and 
 took the opportunity to show that he no longer con- 
 sidered Christianity one of many religions to be tolerated, 
 but a faith which had a special claim upon him. One 
 of the features of the celebration was a grand procession 
 known as the " Ride of the Knights," in which the 
 nobles went to the temple of Jupiter and offered incense. 
 The Emperor refused to be present or to witness any of 
 the ceremony, and thus greatly offended most of the 
 Roman people. His aged mother, Helena, was becoming 
 a Christian, but his own sons, like his half-brothers and 
 sisters, clung to the Pagan beliefs. This, and the dis- 
 content of the Romans, caused Constantine to fear 
 treachery from his son Crispus, whom he banished ; and 
 led to his forsaking Rome as a residence. 
 
 A story is told of how the Emperor, lying ill one day, 
 had a vision in which an angel charged him to recall 
 from exile the chief Bishop of the Christian Church, 
 Pope Sylvester, and to be baptised by him. This he 
 did, and in gratitude for his recovery, he is said to have 
 bestowed upon Sylvester and his successors complete 
 authority over Rome. This is known as the " Donation 
 of Constantine," and this it is which is referred to in the 
 lines at the head of this chapter. At the same time he 
 
 becran to order the bnilHinrt nt r^K^cf .'or. 
 
 vii Liiv;iiCS ill iliUiiy 
 
 Of the cities of his Empire ; and his mother, Helena 
 
1 84 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 Augusta, set off on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. As 
 was usual in those ancient times, this was inspired by a 
 vision, in which the Empress was shown how to find 
 the exact site of the Holy Sepulchre. 
 - She made the journey, reached Jerusalem, and found 
 the sacred Tomb and the Cross of Christ. In it were two 
 nails which she sent, most carefully guarded, to her son. 
 Constantine had one of them set in amongst the jewels 
 of his crown, and the other on the bridle of his war-horse. 
 
 With his conversion to Christianity the Emperor 
 determined to choose a new city for the seat of his Empire. 
 After some indecision he chose Byzantium, on the 
 Bosphorus, where only the narrow strait divides Europe 
 from Asia. Like Jerusalem of old, it might well be said 
 of Byzantium that it was " beautiful for situation," 
 and Constantine set about restoring it on a splendid 
 scale. We read that he himself marked out the new 
 boundaries, which were to be of far greater extent than 
 the ancient ones ; and that as he made an enormous 
 circuit his nobles ventured to point out how large the 
 city would be. The Emperor replied, " I shall still 
 advance until He, the invisible guide who marches before 
 me, thinks it right to stop." Later, in his edicts, he 
 always referred to the city he had built, and called after 
 himself, as founded by the command of God. 
 
 Never was so great a work carried on so quickly. 
 Within four years the walls were nearly complete ; 
 splendid churches, palaces and public buildings with 
 towers and domes stood out against the blue sky. 
 Forests were stripped, quarries were rifled, all the work- 
 shops of Imperial Rome were thronged with busy 
 labourers ; and highways and waterways saw a sue- 
 
 : ~t ^^••n.x^^r^ '>r»'' ■•r/^ciciQlci Vk Ao 1.1 ri /« TV! o i-o'i'i Q I a ff\T tno 
 
 new and glorious city. There might have been applied 
 
^nd. As 
 ired by a 
 J to find 
 
 nd found 
 were two 
 ► her son. 
 he jewels 
 ar-horse. 
 Emperor 
 3 Empire, 
 on the 
 IS Europe 
 11 be said 
 tuation," 
 splendid 
 the new 
 tent than 
 enormous 
 large the 
 shall still 
 les before 
 idiots, he 
 lUed after 
 
 quickly, 
 lomplete ; 
 ings with 
 3lue sky. 
 the work- 
 ith busy 
 w a suc- 
 
 ilc frkT fVi» 
 
 n applied 
 
 Constantine the Great 
 
 85 
 
 to it the rest of the Eastern poet's description of 
 Jerusalem, for Constantine's enthusiasm was making 
 it "the joy of the whole earth." 
 
 There are still preserved some of the links of the 
 massive chain which hung in the waves along the Golden 
 Horn, so that no hostile ship could enter the harbour. 
 In the very centre of the city was the Imperial Palace, 
 built round a great enclosure and full of statuary brought 
 from Egypt and Greece. On one side was the famous 
 Church of S. Sophia, the Wisdom of God ; on another 
 the Senate-House of the Emperor; on a thu-d the 
 Hippodrome, and on the fourth the Forum. Within the 
 Senate-House enclosure stood a marble column, from 
 which all distances were measured ; on its summit was 
 a sculpture, showing the Emperor and his mother, 
 standing on either side of a massive cross. 
 
 Opposite this was the tall column of Constantine, built 
 of porphyry, mounted upon a deep marble base. Tradi- 
 tion said that in the hollow of the base were placed some 
 most precious relics ; the alabaster box from which Mary 
 Magdalene anointed the feet of Christ ; the crosses of the 
 Two Thieves crucified with Him ; and the sacred buckler 
 which Numa, the Second King of Rome, proclaimed to 
 have fallen from heaven. An inscription on the base of 
 the column ran, " O Christ, Ruler and Master of the 
 World, to Thee have I now consecrated this obedient 
 city and this sceptre and the power of Rome. Guard and 
 deliver it from every harm." 
 
 Upon the column stood a colossal statue of Apollo, 
 brought from Athens, with the head of Constantine re- 
 placing the original. The globe borne in the left hand 
 of the figure had a cross upreared from it, and the some- 
 
 tliii^ JL v.-^a.Ii viciu_y icpicaciitcu ili lUturc tUC T ilSt L/miStian 
 
 Emperor, " Constantine shining like the Sun," as the 
 
 '4 
 
 "F 'I 
 
i86 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 1 
 
 
 
 title said. Once a year during the next seven centuries 
 a religious service was held in the square around the 
 column ; and so sacred and impressive was it felt to be 
 that no one passed it without reverently pausing, while 
 every horseman dismounted and went by on foot. At 
 the end of the fifth century the globe was thrown down 
 by an earthquake, and five hundred years later the 
 statue itself fell. 
 
 Besides all the fine buildings erected there were accom- 
 plished some wonderful engineering works for supplying 
 the city with water. Great aqueducts and reservoirs were 
 made, the most famous being that known as the Cistern 
 of the Thousand and One Columns ; and there may still 
 be seen some of the names of the generous citizens who 
 gave donations for the carrying out of the costly task. 
 
 The chief Bishop at Constantinople was known as the 
 " Patriarch," the Greek equivalent of the Latin " Papa," 
 and his Cathedral Church was dedicated to S. Irene, the 
 Peace of God, and was as magnificent a building as that 
 of S. Sophia. In a third famous Church, that of the 
 Holy Apostles, in after years lay buried the Emperors 
 and Popes of the East, until during the turbulent times 
 of the Crusades the tombs were pillaged and destroyed. 
 
 Some of the most remarkable decorations of the city 
 and its wide spaces were the great obelisks brought from 
 Egypt and Greece. We remember that on the Thames 
 Embankment there stands the tall pillar known as 
 " Cleopatra's Needle," and that the great Queen had 
 it brought from an ancient ruined city to form a pillar 
 in the portico of her temple. One which Constantine 
 had erected in Constantinople belonged to the same 
 period as that which is now in London, the capital of 
 the British Empire, Another wonderful column was 
 brought from Delphi, the town of the famous temple of 
 
I centuries 
 
 round the 
 
 felt to be 
 
 ling, while 
 
 foot. At 
 
 own down 
 
 later the 
 
 2re accom- 
 supplying 
 voirs were 
 he Cistern 
 i may still 
 jzens who 
 stly task. 
 >wn as the 
 I " Papa," 
 Irene, the 
 ng as that 
 lat of the 
 Emperors 
 lent times 
 lestroyed. 
 )f the city 
 ught from 
 le Thames 
 known as 
 iueen had 
 m a pillar 
 onstantine 
 the same 
 capital of 
 lumn was 
 temple of 
 
 
 Constantine the Great 187 
 
 Apollo where the Oracle was heard. It bore around it 
 the entwined serpents which were the symbols of wisdom, 
 and were sacred to Apollo. 
 
 During the reign of Constantine there were held Two 
 of the Great Councils of the Church ; that of Aries in 813, 
 and that of Nicaea in 325. The Emperor presided over 
 the deliberations ; and when the Church in Africa was 
 disturbed with quarrels, he did his best to bring about 
 peace. He ruled his Empire with firmness, but, like all 
 sovereigns who have absolute power, he was accustomed 
 to follow his own will more closely than the spirit of the 
 laws he administered. Thus, we read that in deciding 
 cases brought before him, he would present the loser 
 with a sum of money equal to that gained by the success- 
 ful pa^ty, in order that both should leave his presence 
 equally satisfied with his decision. 
 
 He was fond of magnificence in dress and surroundings ; 
 and his illustrious successor, Julian, wrote bitterly upon 
 his extravagance and vanity. Apart from his displeasure 
 with his eldest son, Crispus, in Rome, and the cruel 
 punishment he inflicted upon him, he had been devotedly 
 attached to his family. When he was growing weary of 
 sovereignty he arranged to divide his Empire amongst 
 his three sons. They were gifted lads, and had been well 
 trained and carefully educated; and their indulgent 
 father believed them to be able to follow in his steps. 
 To the eldest, Constantine, he gave his own first 
 dominions, Gaul, Spain and Britain; to the second, 
 Constantius, the provinces of Asia Minor, Syria and 
 Egypt; and to Constans, the youngest, Italy, Illyria 
 and Africa. To his daughter, Constantina, he gave as 
 dowry, Pontus, Cappadocia and Armenia; and her 
 ««jF^ctii,^ i-v,tivcv^ Liic new tiue of iNobiiiissimus." 
 When this arrangement was complete Constantine 
 
 .n 
 
i88 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 celebrated his Tri-cennalia, and the beautiful Church 
 built on the site of the Holy Sepulchre was dedicated 
 with elaborate ceremonies and great dignity. 
 
 Until now, although the Emperor had supported the 
 Christian faith, and bestowed much of his wealth upon 
 the Christian Church, he had not been baptised. Falling 
 ill early in the year 337, he felt that death was near, and 
 asked to be admitted a member of the Church. He had 
 deferred the rite in the hope of being baptised in the river 
 Jordan, but that was not to be. Removing his purple 
 robes he clad himself in the white of the catechumens, 
 and after the baptism lay down upon a white bed and 
 sought to prepare for death. " Now I know in very 
 truth that I am blessed ; now I know that I am a par- 
 taker of divine light," he declared; and when his 
 military leaders came to bid him farewell, he assured 
 them that he was glad to die, and desired to be with God. 
 
 Grand funeral ceremonies were observed for many days, 
 as subject-rulers from all parts of his mighty Empire came 
 to the lying-in-state, and passed by the sarcophagus of 
 gold in which the dead Emperor lay. Rome begged that 
 his remains might be brought to the home of the 
 Emperors, but Constantine had chosen the Church of the 
 Apostles in his own city as his last resting-place, and 
 thither he was borne. The coins commemorating his death 
 bore on one side the head of the Emperor veiled, and, on 
 the other, his seated figure in a chariot ascending to heaven. 
 
 Dante shows us this monarch in the sixth heaven, the 
 planet Jupiter. The souls of righteous sovereigns and 
 just rulers form a constellation in the figure of an Eagle ; 
 the eye of the bird is seen to be the souls of Kings ; David 
 in the centre, and, in the circle round it, Constantine 
 with the Jewish sovereign Hezekiah, the renowned 
 Roman Emperor Trajan, and other monarchs. 
 
: Church 
 ledicated 
 
 >rted the 
 1th upon 
 
 Falling 
 lear, and 
 
 He had 
 the river 
 is purple 
 :humens, 
 bed and 
 
 in very 
 tn a par- 
 ^hen his 
 
 assured 
 ith God. 
 nydays, 
 ire came 
 hagus of 
 ged that 
 
 of the 
 3h of the 
 ace, and 
 lis death 
 , and, on 
 > heaven, 
 -ven, the 
 gns and 
 1 Eagle ; 
 ; David 
 stantine 
 inowned 
 
 XVI 
 
 Severinus Boethiuu 
 
 475-524 
 
 " The saintly soul, that shows 
 The world's deceitfulness to all who hear him, 
 
 Is with the sight of all the Good that is 
 Blest there . . ." 
 
 Paradise x. 
 
 SEVERINUS BOETHIUS was born of a noble 
 Roman house at a time when the seat of the 
 Empire was at Constantinople. Italy, once the 
 home of the masters of the world, was under the rule of 
 the German invaders whom the Romans called " Bar- 
 barians." When Boethius was a boy of fourteen, the 
 Emperor Zeno sent Theodoric, the leader of the East- 
 Goths, to invade Italy, and drive out their rivals, the West- 
 Goths. Theodoric was successful, and at once set him- 
 self to make Italy a self -governed and flourishing country. 
 Unlike most conquerors he made no attempt to assert 
 his personal power over the Roman people. He claimed 
 the title •' King of the Goths " only, and permitted 
 freedom of religion to all the people over whom he ruled 
 so long as they kept the peace. 
 
 At the yearly election of consuls (no longer chosen by 
 the people) the Emperor named one and King Theodoric 
 the other. Theodoric required his subjects, whether 
 Goth or Roman or Jew, to respect each other's rights. 
 
I go 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 and to obey laws framed for the good of all. By his 
 wise and just government Italy became powerful and 
 prosperous. He made Verona the seat of his kingdom, 
 and there encouraged and protected scholars, and brought 
 back much of the dignity and greatness of the past. 
 
 Of all the Italian gentlemen whom Theodoric delighted 
 to honour the two foremost were Symmachus, a noted 
 orator and aristocrat, and the gifted Severinus Boethius. 
 More than once, each of them was named Senator by 
 the King, and no Roman more highly appreciated their 
 learning and judgment. The parents of Boethius had 
 died whilst he was still young ; and ne lived much in the 
 house of Symmachus, who had a daughter of about the 
 same age. The young man was devoted '•.o study and, 
 because so much of the Roman literature had perished 
 in the troubled years of the invaders, he journeyed to 
 Athens that he might there read the works of Plato and 
 Aristotle and the mathematicians. 
 
 On his return he translated into Latin many of the 
 works of the old Greek writers, amongst them the 
 wonderful treatise on Arithmetic of Nicomachus. This 
 work was then five centuries old, and was based upon 
 the still older one by Pythagoras, who liv^'^ before 
 Euclid. Boethius not only translated this A. etic, 
 but also enlarged it with some discoveries of his own, 
 and a collection of problems. We still gratefully use the 
 old classification of " odd " and " even" numbers ; but 
 we have nearly lost sight of a further difference upon 
 which Boethius dwelt in his book. 
 
 He points out that odd numbers may be seen to be 
 oddly-odd or evenly-odd ; thus 3, 7, 11, etc., are oddly- 
 odd, because they are made up of (an odd number-of- 
 times 2) + 1 ; while 5, 9, 13, etc., are evenly-odd because 
 they are made up of (an even number-of- times 2) + 1. 
 
. By his 
 
 erful and 
 kingdom, 
 d brought 
 past. 
 
 delighted 
 I, a noted 
 Boethius. 
 mator by 
 ated their 
 thius had 
 iich in the 
 about the 
 tudy and, 
 I perished 
 rneyed to 
 Plato and 
 
 ny of the 
 them the 
 us. This 
 Lsed upon 
 ^'^ before 
 etic, 
 his own, 
 ly use the 
 bars; but 
 nee upon 
 
 een to be 
 are oddly- 
 umber-of- 
 d because 
 les 2) + l. 
 
 Severinus Boethius 191 
 
 So the even numbers are either evenly-even or oddly-even • 
 ^enly-even if, like 4, 8, 12, they are made up of eve^ 
 factors ; and oddly-even if, like 2, 6, 10, they each have 
 an odd and an even factor. 
 
 Boethius also wrote a book on Geometry, containing 
 some of the propositions from Euclid, Books I. and III 
 and some examples in what we call practical mensura* 
 tion ; and he explained the making of the two scientific 
 time-measurers of antiquity, the sun-dial and the water- 
 clock. 
 
 Some time after his return from Athens he married the 
 beautiful daughter of his friend Symmachus ; and while 
 living in a palace as a patrician and a man of wealth 
 attended the Senate and took his share in the work of 
 government, sparing himself none of its irksome duties 
 and everywhere supporting Theodoric's ideas of justice 
 and tolerance for all Roman subjects. Presently he was 
 given one of the high positions about the Court at 
 Verona ; and as " Master of the Offices " had the control 
 of all matters in which the King consulted his ministers. 
 Soon, however, some action of his own was mis- 
 represented to Theodoric, and the King charged him 
 with plotting against him. Boethius indignantly denied 
 the accusation, but would not condescend to plead or 
 argue, and the King had him imprisoned. It reminds 
 us rather of the English King Henry VIII. and his treat- 
 ment of Sir Thomas More ; for Theodoric, as he grew 
 old, feared treachery, and suspected b most faithful 
 servants of evil designs. So the noble senator was sent 
 to the fortress of Pavia, and kept in a dungeon, heavily 
 loaded with fetters. There, instead of fretting or nursing 
 revengeful thoughts, he set himself to record all the joy 
 and strength that had come to him through his faithful 
 pursuit of truth and wisdom. He entitled his book 
 
PI 
 
 192 Stories from Dame 
 
 " The Consolation of Philosophy," and after the fashion 
 of the time, tells his story in the form of a Vision. 
 
 As he lay weeping for his past happiness there appeared 
 to him the figure of a beartiful woman, tall and majestic, 
 and with eyes of glowing tenderness. She was clad in 
 flowing robes of woven stuff with broad embroidery upon 
 the hem, the pattern of which formed certain Greek 
 characters. Boethius presently recognised them as 
 P and T, and understood that the one signified the 
 Active life of good deeds, and the other the Contemplative 
 life of devout thought. 
 
 Gazing upon him with pity and wonder she drew near, 
 while he lay abashed and sorry ; and, murmuring words 
 of tender reproof for his loss of heart, showed him that he 
 had forgotten the way to find comfort, and was wasting 
 his strength in lamentation. She recalled his studies 
 in the great truths of astronomy and philosophy', his 
 knowledge of the causes of things, and grieved to see him 
 thus cast down though loaded with chains in a dungeon. 
 She dried his eyes, which were dimmed with a " cloud of 
 mortal things " and full of tears, and presently he took 
 heart to look straight at his mysterious visitor. Then he 
 recognised his " divine mistress. Philosophy." He told 
 her why he was so downcast and miser iMe ; wrongfully 
 accused, banished from his home, imprisoned and in 
 chains ; and she reminded him that many men had suffered 
 likewise, and that no king could send his spirit into exile, 
 but only his body. By degrees he became comforted 
 and enlightened, and the whole of the rest of the book 
 is a collection of beautiful thoughts and reflections that 
 bear out the fine spirit of the cavalier lyric of twelve 
 centuries later : — 
 
 ** Stone wails do not a prison make ; 
 Nor iron bars a cage. 
 
 tl 
 
 b 
 
le fashion 
 n. 
 
 appeared 
 majestic, 
 IS clad in 
 iery upon 
 tin Greek 
 them as 
 lifted the 
 emplative 
 
 Irew near, 
 Ing words 
 m that he 
 is wasting 
 is studies 
 ophj', his 
 :o see him 
 
 dungeon. 
 " cloud of 
 y he took 
 Then he 
 He told 
 irrongfully 
 id and in 
 id suffered 
 into exile, 
 comforted 
 
 the book 
 tions that 
 of twelve 
 
 Severinus Bofithius 
 
 Minds innocent and quiet take 
 That for an hermitage," 
 
 »93 
 
 The book consists of alternate prose and verse and is 
 in part, m the form of a Dialogue between Boethius and 
 his heavenly visitant. We find in it a very favourite idea 
 of all old-time writers ; that of some distant early age 
 when men lived simply and happ'Iy. 
 
 " Blissful was the first age of men ! 
 They were content with the food which the trees and plants gave • 
 1 hey satisfied their hunger with the fruits of the Earth • ' 
 
 They made no strong drink ; * 
 
 They wore no rich garments ; 
 
 But slept wholesomely upon the green grass 
 And drank of the running waters. 
 
 None cut the high seas with oars or with ships ; 
 
 None sought to carry for money merchandise into far lands ; 
 Ihen the harsh clarions of war were still ■ 
 Nor had bloodshed by eager hate dyed their armour. 
 
 I would that our times should turn again to the old manners !" 
 
 Boethius shows us that the purpose of the heavenly 
 lady IS to lift his heart above the care of earthly things 
 So she inspires him with the thought of the peace and 
 lastingness of the things which are beyond the dis- 
 turbance of man, and the description reminds us of the 
 beautiful one in the Book of Job. 
 
 "If thou wilt judge in truth the ways of the Most High, 
 Look thou and behold the heights of the Sovereign heaven • 
 There by the rightful order of things the stars maintain their ancient 
 peace. 
 
 The sun glowing with ruddy fire disturbeth not the cold circle of the 
 moon. 
 
 Nor doth the star, the Bear, which taketh his course about the 
 sovereign heights of heaven, 
 
 1 ^..i,,,g,,. ,,,, i,aj„c3 iiinj tiiu vvestern Sea. 
 
 Likewise Hesperus abideth and shines in the late night, 
 N 
 
194 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 If! ; r^ 
 
 While Lucifer ariseth and showcth the early day : 
 
 Thus doth Love control the everlasting courses of the stars, 
 
 And discord and war are far removed from the high heavens." 
 
 Many striking details in the history of man and of the 
 world are introduced, so that Boethius may feel his mind 
 strengthened and refreshed to grasp the arguments 
 which " Philosophy " brings to comfort him. In his 
 misery he had been inclined to blame Fortune for his exile 
 and imprisonment ; so his visitant reminds him that 
 Fortune, or Chance, is not supreme, but that a Divine 
 power rules over all. She teaches him by means of a 
 fable or parable. 
 
 ** The rivers Tigris and Euphrates spring from one source. 
 From one source they arise in the crags of the high rocks ; 
 But soon these great streams conjoin their waters and separate. 
 Then float upon them by divers ways the mighty ships, 
 And the great rafts, and the stakes and trees uprooted in the flood ; 
 And whither they drift is determined not by the mighty stream ; 
 But by the downward bend of the Earth doth the water glide. 
 So also doth Fortune submit to a bridle that holds her, 
 And follows the course ordained, as do the mighty rivers." 
 
 At another time a cheering thought is gathered from 
 Natural History. 
 
 **The b" «sts of the Earth are many and or divers kinds : 
 Some have their bodies stretched and creep in the dust. 
 Drawing after them a furrow as they pass, as adders and snakes ; 
 Others there are with lightly fleeting wings that lift them through 
 
 the air spaces ; 
 Others there are that dig their homes in the woods and fields^ 
 But all alike have their faces toward the Earth ; 
 Man, and man alone, lifteth erectly his high head 
 And standeth with an upright body regarding the Earth beneath him. 
 Wherefore, O man, if at any time thou thinkest to despair, 
 This thought admonishes thee : Thou lookest to heaven : 
 Thou unliftest thy forehead that thou shouldst bear a high courage : 
 Thou shouldest not then cast low thy thought underfoot. 
 Since that thy body is so high upraised.'' 
 
stars, 
 leavens." 
 
 and of the 
 :1 his mind 
 arguments 
 1. In his 
 DF his exile 
 him that 
 t a Divine 
 leans of a 
 
 ks; 
 aparate. 
 
 n the flood ; 
 ' stream ; 
 glide. 
 
 lered from 
 
 1 snakes ; 
 hem through 
 
 fieldsj 
 
 beneath him. 
 
 lair, 
 
 gh courage : 
 
 t. 
 
 Severinus BoSthius 19^ 
 
 Well might the noble prisoner have needed some high 
 brave thoughts to console him as he lay for months in a 
 dungeon of the Tower of --^.da. Resolutely he kept 
 himself from fretting and anxiety during the long time 
 of suspense and devoted his lonely hourr to thinking out 
 and compiling the " Consolation of Philosophy." The 
 work became one of the most famous and most treasured 
 
 Alfrf^ .^' T'T. ""^ .*^' ^'^^^^ ^S''' O"^ «^n King 
 Alfred the Great loved it. and translated it into Anglo- 
 
 Saxon. Five centuries later the Scholar-Poet Chaucer 
 translated it into the English of his day, and many of 
 the religious and philosophical books of later times 
 were based upon it. 
 
 At lergth the Emperor, fearing that even in prison 
 Boethius was working against him secretly, gave orders 
 that he should be executed. Those were cruel times, so 
 that perhaps it is not to be wondered at that this peace- 
 ful, high-souled scholar was condemned to die a painfu^ 
 death. A strong cord was tied around his head, and 
 drawn tight, until he suffered terrible agony, and he was 
 then beaten to death with heavy clubs. His poor 
 mutilated body was buried in a cloister of the Church of 
 San Pietro di Ceildauro (the gilded ceiling) at Pavia • 
 but three and half centuries later his coffin was removed 
 to a splendid tomb by the Emperor Otho III 
 
 Dante shows us the soul of this martyred thinker in the 
 glowing circle which surrounded himself and Beatrice 
 in the heaven of the sun. His is one of Twelve spirits 
 which move m majestic order round them, uttering 
 music which may not be conceived on earth » 
 
 ii 
 
 mli 
 
XVII 
 
 The Emperor Justinian 
 
 483-565 
 
 « I tnrn'd 
 Toward the lustre. . . . Forthwith, brighter far 
 Than erst, it wax'd : and as himself the sun 
 Hides through excess of light, when his warm gaze 
 Hath on the mantle of thick vapours prey'd. 
 Within its proper ray the saintly shape 
 Was, through increase of gladness, thus concealed ; 
 And,' shrouded so in splendour, answer'd me, 
 E'en as the tenor of my song declares . . . 
 
 ' Csesar I was ; 
 And am Justinian : destined by the will 
 Of that prime love whose influence I feel, ^^^ 
 
 From vain excess to clear the encumber'd laws. 
 
 Paradiso vi. 
 
 THE Emperor Justinian was born in the year 
 483, in a mountain village of Bulgaria, and 
 named after his uncle, Justin, who m his 
 vouth had left his rustic home to find his fortune, and had 
 won fame as a soldier. When Justinian was about 
 thirteen years of age, his uncle adopted him and had 
 him educated at Constantinople. On the death of the 
 Emperor Anastatius, the many plots about the succes- 
 sion ended in the most brilliant soldier of the time 
 being appointed ; and thus the successful general became 
 the Emperor Justin I, 
 
 ii 
 
ize 
 
 ied; 
 
 nradiso vi. 
 
 the year 
 ^aria, and 
 ho in his 
 e, and had 
 vas about 
 1 and had 
 ath of the 
 ;he succes- 
 
 the time 
 ral became 
 
 The Emperor Justinian 197 
 
 The young Justinian was soon made Master-General 
 of the Eastern armies, and assisted his uncle in his 
 Imperial duties. The hard life which Justin had led, 
 and his increasing age, unfitted him for the exhausting 
 demands of his position, and tlie Senate and the Imperial 
 Guards asked him to associate his nephew with himself 
 in the Government. For this he was unwilling, as it 
 meant sharing a position which he had but just attained ; 
 but his growing weakness and a painful disease presently 
 compelled him to depute his power, and after a reign 
 of only nine years he died. 
 
 Justinian reigned for nearly forty years ; and his 
 successes in war, his good government and wise policy 
 in Church and State, and above all his reform of Roman 
 law, won for him the admiration and esteem of all later 
 ages. His Empire contained sixty-four provinces and 
 nine hundred and thirty-five cities, in Europe, Asia and 
 Africa ; the Imperial galleys were on every coast, and 
 the merchant fleet on every sea. He rebuilt the Church 
 of S. Sophia at Constantinople, and at the great festival 
 which celebrated its completion, the Emperor exclaimed, 
 " Glory be to God who hath thought me worthy to 
 accomplish so great a work ; I have vanquished thee, 
 O Solomon I " He encouraged the immigration of 
 Persian silk-workers and Babylonian artists in metal ; 
 protected the caravan roads, and built a line of forts 
 along the Danube to guard his territory from the inva- 
 sions of the Barbarians. His native village, Tauresium, 
 became a capital and the seat of a Dacian Archbishopric, 
 and was called Justiniana Prima. A great wall stretched 
 from the Propontis to the Euxine Sea, and another 
 guarded the shepherd-Goths in Crimea from the Avars. 
 He fortified the nnrf nf Trp>l-»i'7r»nrl«» • /li'dirii^'^ »*■ •^■^A u,,;i4. 
 
 aqueducts, and presented it with a Christian Church. 
 
 
;f. 
 
 :\ 51 
 
 fr 
 
 198 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 In later centuries, when the city had become the seat 
 of a Greek Empire, its inhabitants proudly claimed 
 Justinian the Emperor as the founder of its greatness. 
 
 Along those rivers Euphrates and Tigris, so famous in 
 the ancient world, stretched the Roman forts ; and 
 Armenia and Mesopotamia were both under his sway. 
 By a league with the Shah of Persia, the Emperor also 
 helped to maintain the great wall which protected their 
 dominions from the inroads of the Scythians, or Tartars. 
 
 In the West Justinian subdued the revolt in Africa 
 by a great victory won at Carthage, which his fleet and 
 army reached after a three months' voyage from Con- 
 stantinople. From Carthage they conquered Sardinia 
 and Corsica, and made firm their footing in Italy, seizing 
 Sicily, and easily landing troops at Rhegium whence they 
 marched to Naples. This town was largely Greek; 
 it had been the favourite residence of Virgil, and had 
 become as it were a little Athens. The Roman general, 
 Belisarius, one of the most famous of leaders, proposed 
 honourable terms which the Greeks would have ac- 
 cented ; but the Goths resisted and it was besieged. 
 By a clever strategy the Roman armies got into the town 
 by night, and Belisarius showed his greatness by for- 
 bidding slaughter or ill-treatment of fellow Christians, 
 but permitted his troops to plunder public buildings. 
 Everywhere many of the Italian Goths deserted their 
 allegiance to the Gothic King at Rome, and Belisarius 
 marched upon, and entered this city in triumph. Soon, 
 however, the Goths collected forces and began a siege, 
 one of the most exciting and wonderful in the records of 
 war. The great general fortified the city and gave each 
 gate into the charge of a responsible officer with the 
 
 
 A "reat trench was dug 
 
 round the fortifications : upon the walls were planted 
 
the seat 
 claimed 
 itness. 
 imous in 
 :s ; and 
 is sway, 
 eror also 
 ted their 
 Tartars, 
 n Africa 
 fleet and 
 om Con- 
 Sardinia 
 f, seizing 
 jnce they 
 Greek ; 
 and had 
 . general, 
 proposed 
 tiave ac- 
 besieged. 
 the town 
 } by for- 
 hristians, 
 )uildings. 
 ted th'f'ir 
 Belisarius 
 1. Soon, 
 1 a siege, 
 ecords of 
 rave each 
 with the 
 was dii0 
 
 5 planted 
 
 The Emperor Justinian 199 
 
 archers and deadly engines : a chain was drawn across 
 the Tiber : and ever strong building within the city, 
 including Hadrian's Mausoleum, was turned into a citadel. 
 
 The splendid statues and sculptures which orna- 
 mented this tower were torn down and flung upon the 
 besiegers : the townspeople watched while the troops 
 slept, and relieved them at their labours of trench- 
 ing and mining, following enthusiastically, with what 
 weapons they could find, when the army made a sally 
 from the town. Belisarius so skilfully and successfully 
 planned and planted guards, that the great highways into 
 the city, the " Latin Way," " the Appian Way," and the 
 " Ostian Way," could be used for the supply of corn 
 to the beleaguered inhabitants. Most thrilling are the 
 accounts of how this great general not only circum- 
 vented the besiegers, but also kept control of the be- 
 sieged : restrained the unwise ardour and the conceit 
 of the brave, and silenced the murmurs of the waverers 
 and the disloyal. His devices for safety against treachery 
 and spies were ingenious and innumerable : fresh 
 stations ; new patrols ; interlocked watchwords ; flash- 
 ing of lights ; sounding of signals ; all kinds of mysterious 
 signs and movements were woven into a great code of 
 watchfulness. Even dogs were trained to go about the 
 ramparts and the trenches carrying communications. 
 
 Only just in time was discovered an attempt of the 
 Pope to communicate from the Lateran with the Gothic 
 King. We have a striking picture of the interview 
 between the stern general and the pontiff; admitted 
 through the guarded, public chambers of the Pincian 
 Palace, Pope Sylverinus stood before Belisarius to be 
 questioned in privacy. Then he laid off, one by one, 
 his pontifical vestments, and was sent, clad as a poor 
 monk, to a remote Eastern city into perpetual exile. 
 
 
200 Stories from Dante 
 
 The Emperor Justinian commanded the clergy of Rome 
 to elect a new Bishop, and urged Belisarius to complete 
 the conquest of Italy without delay. There has been 
 preserved the letter of the general sent in reply : " Beli- 
 sarius to the most mighty Justinian, Imperator Augustus. 
 According to your commands we have entered the 
 dominions of the Goths, and reduced to your obedience 
 Sicily, Campania, and the city of Rome. Hitherto we 
 have successfully fought against the multitude of the 
 Barbarians, but their numbers may finally prevail. 
 Victory is the gift of Providence, but the reputation of 
 kings and generals depends on the success or failure 
 of their designs. Permit me to speak with freedom; 
 if you wish that we should live, send us subsistence ; 
 if you desire that we should conquer, send us arms, 
 horses, and men. For myself, my life is consecrated 
 to your service ; it is yours to reflect whether my death 
 in this situation will contribute to the glory and pros- 
 perity of your reign." 
 
 In response to this appeal Justinian sent a small 
 army of Huns and Sclavonians ; and these, with the 
 contingents raised in Campania, gave fresh vigour to the 
 besieged. The lady Antonina, wife of Belisarius, gave 
 great help, going forth herself at the head of a troop 
 and collecting volunteers. She was in her husband's 
 councils, and in all ways was another " good right hand " 
 to him. The story goes that she sat beside her husband 
 during the painful interview with the treacherous Pope ; 
 and that the grave, short questions of the general were 
 supplemented by more searching and imperious ones 
 from her. 
 
 The Emperor, when first planning to subdue Italy, had 
 inxrit^ri fVi*» Vif-ln of thft Franks ; but thev had responded 
 ill, as the Goths also approached them and offered bribes 
 
»f Rome 
 
 omplete 
 
 as been 
 
 " Beli- 
 
 LlgUStUS. 
 
 red the 
 jedience 
 lerto we 
 ; of the 
 prevail. 
 ;ation of 
 [• failure 
 :eedom ; 
 istence ; 
 IS arms, 
 secrated 
 ly death 
 id pros- 
 
 a small 
 vith the 
 ir to the 
 us, gave 
 a troop 
 usband's 
 t hand " 
 husband 
 IS Pope ; 
 !ral were 
 )us ones 
 
 taly, had 
 !sponded 
 id bribes 
 
 The Emperor Justinian 20 t 
 
 for their support. So that there were Franks and Goths 
 to iace ; and had it not been that disease struck down 
 not only the army, but also the populations of many 
 towns, Behsarius could hardly have conquered. Ravenna 
 was the last place to make a stand. There the Goths 
 offered Belisarius himself nominal sovereignty and the 
 title of King of Italy, and one less noble and single- 
 mmded would have yielded to the temptation. After 
 Ravenna fell, the Goths of Pavia and Verona approached 
 him m the same way ; but always he refused any oath 
 of allegiance except to his distant and exacting master 
 Justinian. In spite of his loyalty the Emperor doubted 
 him, and recalled him on the grounds of needing his 
 help in the East. On his arrival in Constantinople, 
 the honour and delight with which he was received, the 
 plaudits and acclamations, suggest that Justinian may 
 have felt something of the unworthy resentment of the 
 Hebrew King Saul, when his capital resounded with 
 songs in praise of David. 
 
 Belisarius undertook the needed Eastern campaign, 
 and once again returned to Constantinople, having 
 accomplished a mighty task, to be received coldly by 
 the Emperor, and presently to be heavily fined for 
 mismanagement of troops and trophies. Then he was 
 sent once more to Italy, to enforce the Imperial power 
 upon the Goths who had despised and revolted against 
 the eleven generals left by Belisarius. One ruled in 
 each principal city; as at Rome, Verona, Ravenna, 
 J^lorence, Perugia, etc. ; but the Gothic national feeling 
 was strong enough to lead them to welcome an enter- 
 prising chief Totila, and to unite again to overthrow the 
 Emperor's power. Under a great general, Narses, the 
 „„ .„,^ **■" ''="^"^ suuriuea, tneir king siain in battle, 
 
 and the Emperor's representative seated at Ravenna, 
 
 I I 
 
 
202 Stories from Dante 
 
 as Exarch. Of these, Narses was the first. When 
 Belisarius presented himself at Constantinople the 
 Emperor again received him coldly, and hardly cared to 
 give him an audience. Soon, an accusation was brought 
 against him by some officers of the Palace, that he was 
 concerned in a plot against Justinian, and he was confined 
 as a prisoner to his own palace fortress. When he was 
 released, after a few months' detention, he had no longer 
 spirit or resolution to face the world again, and he died 
 shortly, worn out and broken-hearted. The Emperor 
 confiscated his goods and the spoils of his victories, 
 leaving only a modest portion for his widow, who, 
 wearied of her strenuous and adventurous life, asked only 
 to retire into a convent for rest and peace. 
 
 Throughout his reign, Justinian had caused and 
 ordered wars, but he had not led in them. Thus he knew 
 little of the far-reaching evils of war, and, justly enough, 
 the glory of the successes belonged to his generals. 
 Once the seat of the Empire, Constantinople itself was 
 threatened by an invading army of Barbarians, and, but 
 for the skill and prompt action of Belisarius, the city 
 might have fallen. It had been much enlarged, and 
 enriched with beautiful buildings, since the rebuilding of 
 S. Sophia in the first years of the Emperor's reign. An 
 earthquake had destroyed part of this, and it had been 
 rebuilt even more magnificently. More than twenty 
 great churches, decorated with marble and gold, were 
 built, or rebuilt ; and the palaces and gardens of the 
 city were the wonder of the world. The population were 
 devoted to the shows and public amusements which 
 every capital provides, and the great races which cele- 
 brated special occasions were on an immense scale. 
 ATv»/>Ti£»of flif> rir/iAVc fhA nhoTAnlr rnoincr Vinrl been a series 
 
 of contests between twos ; but the Roman fashion per- 
 
When 
 )le the 
 :ared to 
 brought 
 he was 
 sonfined 
 he was 
 > longer 
 he died 
 imperor 
 ictories, 
 7, who, 
 :ed only 
 
 ed and 
 tie knew 
 enough, 
 [enerals. 
 self was 
 md, but 
 the city 
 ed, and 
 Iding of 
 ^n. An 
 ad been 
 
 twenty 
 Id, were 
 s of the 
 ion were 
 s which 
 ich cele- 
 ;e scale. 
 
 a series 
 don per- 
 
 The Emperor Justinian 203 
 
 mitted thirty or forty to start at once, driven by hired 
 charioteers who were the petted darlings of the spectators. 
 Justinian had married a beautiful Greek dancer, named 
 Theodora, and made her Empress, and associated her 
 with himself in all his public acts. She was a woman of 
 great strength of character, absolutely fearless, and as 
 imperious as any one born in the purple. Early in his 
 reign, when some adherents of another claimant were 
 plotting against him, the Emperor was about to flee 
 from his palace, but Theodora indignantly appealed 
 to his sen.-^ of honour and persuaded him to remain. 
 It Hight were the only means of safety," said she, " I 
 should disdain to fly. Death is the condition of our 
 birth, but they who have reigned should never survive 
 the loss of dignity and dominion. ... I hold to the 
 maxim of antiquity, that the throne is a glorious 
 sepulchre. 
 
 The Emperor was an able scholar, unlike Iiis uncle 
 and predecessor, Justin, who could neither read nor sign 
 his own name ; and he was a tireless worker. After 
 toiling for hours by day with his ministers and captains, 
 he would sleep for a few hours, and then pursue his great 
 task of revising the whole of the Roman laws. He 
 desired to understand the arts, science and literature • 
 and clad as a workman supervised the actual building 
 of palaces and churches in order that he might see that 
 the true laws of architecture were observed. He en- 
 deavoured to reconcile the doctrines of the Church so 
 tuat Arians and Catholics might sink their differences 
 and live in peace, and he proclaimed himself the patron 
 of poetry and music. 
 In his ambition to be the most powerful Christian 
 
 ruler, np f>nrrior1 r»r» nw,A «, 1 1 , - 
 
 u'j " ' ^"' "^"'^ '^^^" piuvuKea, wars ; and to do 
 
 so had to tax his subjects heavily, and cramr) the trade 
 
J' 
 
 , !■ 
 
 ' 'i1 = 
 
 1 ! 
 
 1 
 i 
 j 
 
 
 ' i ■ I 
 
 204 
 
 Stones from Dante 
 
 and industry of his realm. So that great poverty and 
 much suffering went on together with distant con- 
 quests, and there was much discontent with his govern- 
 ment. As is usually the case with monarchs who are 
 absolute, the well-being of even the great depended too 
 much upon his personal caprice. A favourite servant 
 or soldier or official would be profusely loaded with 
 gifts and honours, whilst others were so meanly supplied 
 that they could hardly fill their posts. His armies were 
 alternately over-paid and not paid at all : he absorbed 
 all the public tribute almost before it was due ; never 
 (as generous despots often do) excusing a part to signalise 
 special occasions : the public revenue was ostentatiously 
 " farmed out," and honours and offices permitted to be 
 sold for gain. 
 
 In order to concentrate all learning and political 
 power in the Eastern capital, Justinian closed the famous 
 Academies of Athens and abolished the Roman consul- 
 ships. Perhaps the study of philosophical statesman- 
 ship was dangerous to the supremacy of an Emperor ; 
 possibly the ready speech of debaters and arguers in the 
 schools boded ill for the silent acceptance of imperial 
 decrees. The consuls, too, recalled a day when the 
 people chose their magistrates ; and though Theodoric 
 had been proud to be called " consul," Justinian preferred 
 to have none even appear to share his authority. 
 
 The arrogance of Justinian was equalled, and perhaps 
 chastened, in his alliance with the great and ancient 
 Kingdom of Persia. The monarch of that realm declared 
 that he, the successor of Cyrus, was " as the Sun in his 
 unapproachable majesty," and that he graciously per- 
 mitted his younger brother, Justinian, " to reign over 
 
 4-1 tXT 1. :t.\, J-T .^»1»i. n-r^A -nr^a^ni-r^A citrAar\Ar\fif rtt flK* 
 
 moon." When h j ambassador visited Constantinople 
 
rty and 
 nt con- 
 govern- 
 ivho are 
 ided too 
 servant 
 ed with 
 supplied 
 ies were 
 ,bsorbed 
 ; never 
 signalise 
 atiously 
 2d to be 
 
 political 
 ; famous 
 I consul- 
 itesman- 
 mperor ; 
 rs in the 
 imperial 
 hen the 
 heodoric 
 )referred 
 
 perhaps 
 ancient 
 declared 
 m in his 
 isly per- 
 ign over 
 
 IT* r\t t-liA 
 
 mtinople 
 
 The Emperor Justinian 205 
 
 he went in the height of Eastern state, with guards and 
 horsemen and a train of camels, and stayed for nearly 
 a year, the Emperor's guest. In his latter years Justinian 
 w, s more ready to listen to counsels of peace, especially 
 ui regard to great Oriental powers, but he was resolute, 
 to the end of his rei'; , in trying to subdue any alien 
 people m Europe. Yet the greatness of his victories, 
 aad the extent of his Empire, and the magnificence of his 
 buildmgs, all are as nothing compared with his great 
 legacy of the ordered Roman Law. In the ten centuries 
 which had passed since the foundation of Rome, the 
 various laws and theories of government had become 
 hopelesslv confused. Only a lawyer could hope to 
 undevstaixd and justify any. The great divisions of 
 Natural law. National law, and Civil law had alike 
 passed under the personal will of the sovereign ; whilst 
 the studies and opinions delivered at various times on 
 legal matters were so many that no scholar could hope 
 to master and reconcile them. 
 
 Justinian arranged and restated all the main theories, 
 and swept away the confusing differences ; where laws 
 made at different times, contradicted each other by over- 
 seventy or too great leniency, he revised and modified 
 them, following a clear and strong principle of justice. 
 Thus his name has been handed down as the type of the 
 just Legislator, and the laws which he framed were the 
 foundation of those of modern Europe. 
 
 The Three great books in which they were enrolled 
 were known as the Code, the Pandects, and the In- 
 stitutes ; they were addressed to the Senate and the 
 provinces as the Eternal oracles of the Emperor, who 
 claimed to have been directly inspired by God to attempt 
 and to carry out the great task. He declared that he had 
 but arranged, copied and quoted, and that none of the 
 

 206 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 work was of his original composition ; and to guaid 
 against alterations or forgery he forbade the writing of 
 commentaries upon the text. As the years passed it 
 became necessary to revise the work again ; and this 
 time the Emperor did not hesitate to alter and rescind, 
 as well as to add fresh laws. 
 
 An army of notaries and copyists were kept employed 
 in making transcripts of these statutes for the use and 
 guidance of the various states of Justinian's vast empire ; 
 where they were proclaimed on Sundays >ifter Divine 
 Service, at the church doors. 
 
 Eight months after the death of his gallant and loyal 
 general, Belisarius, the Emperor Justinian died, at 
 the great age of eighty-three years. His beloved wife 
 was dead ; he had no son, and his only daughter died 
 young ; but he had nephews and grand-nephews, and to 
 the best-loved of these the Emperor bequeathed his realm. 
 
 Dante revered the memory of the great Roman 
 sovereign, and shows us his spirit in the Heaven of 
 Mercury. The shining being graciously explains to 
 Dante the august nature of the Roman Empire as he 
 recounts the steps of its progress down to his own day. 
 In that planet with his are the spirits of the heroes who 
 served the Empire, but whose service was not entirely 
 self-sacrificing. Now they std,nd purged of all desire for 
 glory, desiring only the fulfilment of the purpose of Divine 
 Love. 
 
 " It is part of our delight to measure 
 Our wages with the merit ; and admire 
 The close proportion. Hence doth heavenly justice 
 Temper so evenly affection in us, 
 It ne'er can warp to any wrongfulness. 
 Of diverse voices is sweet music made : 
 
 Sn in onr life the diffi 
 
 Render sweet harmony among those wheels.' 
 
 
 J«i! 
 
;o guatd 
 xiting of 
 )assed it 
 and this 
 . rescind, 
 
 mployed 
 use and 
 empire ; 
 
 r Divine 
 
 md loyal 
 died, at 
 ved wife 
 iter died 
 s, and to 
 lis realm. 
 
 Roman 
 eaven of 
 ilains to 
 re as he 
 )wn day. 
 roes who 
 
 entirely 
 lesire for 
 )f Divine 
 
 tice 
 
 XVIII 
 
 Charlemagne and Roland 
 
 742-814 
 
 " Blessed spirits abide, 
 J hat were below, ere they arrived in heaven, 
 So mighty in renown, as every muse 
 Might grace her triumph with them. . . . 
 
 . , Along the cross I saw 
 
 A splendour gliding . . . 
 
 For Charlemagne 
 And for the peer Orlando. ..." 
 
 Paradiso xviii. 
 
 IT is no wonder that Dante, in recording the marvels 
 of the Fifth Heaven, the Heaven of Mars, included 
 amongst the " blessed spirits, so mighty in renown " 
 that of the great Emperor. Sober history and glowing 
 fable unite in proclaiming the personality and the work 
 of Charlemagne as without equals. His father. Pippin 
 King of the Franks, had defeated the Lombards and pre- 
 vented their march to Rome, so that the Pope gratefuUv 
 accorded him the title of Patrician. Charles carried 
 .•1^1 u t/'^ conquests still further, and soon bore the 
 title, King of the Franks and the Lombards, and 
 Patrician of Rome » ; thus declaring the subdual of the 
 Lombard kingdom and its merging into his own 
 
 ~r"~"; V """" "^^ -^iisccia i]iinperor, uonstantine VI., 
 
 died, leaving no recognised heir, and the lofty idea of 
 
 207 
 
 
 iM' 
 
208 
 
 Stones from Dante 
 
 I •'■ 1^ 
 
 .i^ 
 
 combining the spiritual power under a Pope with the tem- 
 poral power under an Emperor, at Rome itself, took form. 
 Not only was Charles supreme over the greater part 
 of Europe, but also he received tribute from kingdoms 
 and peoples beyond, and hud friendly alliance with the 
 great Calijih Ilnroun al llaschid, who ruled at Baghdad. 
 This sovereign, whose name is known wherever the Tales 
 of the Thousand and One Nights arc known, was a 
 powerful and enlightened ruler. In his time learning 
 flourished, and Greek and Hindu scholars were always 
 welcomed at his court. Through the encouragement 
 given by him and his predecessor, the science of numbers, 
 as taught by the old Greeks and the Hindus, was studied ; 
 and the two mysterious branches of it, Algor-ithm and 
 Al-jebhra, were introduced into Europe. Cordova, in 
 Spain, was still the seat of the Moorish, or Arabian, 
 kingdom in Europe, and was one of the last citadels 
 to yield to the armies of Charles. This great warrior- 
 king fought, not from love of fighting merely, like many 
 of the heroes of old, but because he was resolved to have 
 a Christian Empire ; and thus the " heathen " or infidels 
 must be expelled or converted. 
 
 During the long and barbarous wars which had gone 
 on in Europe for the past three centuries, learning and 
 civilisation had almost disappeared. But Charles him- 
 self spoke Latin and read Latin literature, knew Greek 
 and reverenced the Greek Christian poets. He desired 
 peace throughout Christendom so that knowledge might 
 grow. He founded scliools in the German towns Aachen 
 and Hildesheim and Fulda, and required the Abbots of 
 monasteries and Priors of cathedrals to provide shelter 
 and teaching for all who would learn. His favourite 
 book was S, Aucnistine's " City of God," which he 
 would have read to him at his private meals. 
 
the tem- 
 )ok form, 
 ater part 
 dngdoms 
 with the 
 i3aghdad. 
 the Tales 
 1, was a 
 learning 
 e always 
 ragement 
 numbers, 
 studied ; 
 ithm and 
 'dova, in 
 Arabian, 
 t citadels 
 ; warrior- 
 ike many 
 d to have 
 Dr infidels 
 
 had gone 
 rning and 
 irles him- 
 ew Greek 
 [e desired 
 Jge might 
 is Aachen 
 A.bbots of 
 ie shelter 
 favourite 
 which he 
 
 Charlemagne and Roland 209 
 
 Late in the year 800. Charlemagne marched, with a 
 splendid retinue and many men-at-arms, through his 
 dominions to Rome to attend the Christmas services 
 at S. Peter's. The great festival wa^ taken as the 
 opportunity for proclaiming him tcuiporal sovereign of 
 Christendom; and according to the account written 
 by the Pope's secretary and librarian, this most im- 
 pressive ceremony took place on Christmas Day. '* All 
 men being gathered together in the basilica of the blessed 
 Peter the Apostle, then did the gracious and venerable 
 pontiff, with his own hands, crown the King with a very 
 precious crown. Then all the faithful people of Rome 
 did cry with one accord, with one voice, ' To Charles 
 the most pious Augustus, crowned of God, great and 
 peace-giving Emperor, be life and victory.' " Thus 
 Charles became acknowledged "Lord of the World" 
 and set himself anew to govern justly the men and states 
 over whom he was supreme. 
 
 We read that he called a great council at Aachen, and 
 revised the laws of his many subject-countries, seeking 
 to harmonise and correct them. 
 
 Then the time came when he needed a tutor for his 
 young sons ; and so grievously ha learning decayed 
 that nowhere in Europe might a devout scholar be found 
 save only in the Western Isle of Britain. lerne. There 
 in a few quiet monasteries, lived certain monks as devoted 
 to study as th( xiolars of old-time, and for one of these 
 the great Emperor sent. Alcuin had been a pupil of 
 Bede the \ enerable, in his N .rthumbiian monastery ; 
 and like hini was a man of saintly life as well as of great 
 abilities. As tutor to the young princes Alcuin had easy 
 access to the great Emperor, and his counsels more 
 thai, once served to bring his master s influence to h'^ar 
 lor good on the troubled state of Saxoii Britain. The 
 o 
 
2IO 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 mighty Offa ol Mercia and Egbert of Wessex were the 
 most powerful of our kings during the reign of Charle- 
 magne ; and the Emperor made treaties with the one, 
 and entertained the other at his court. 
 
 The little lads upon whom so much care was to be 
 lavished were very different from their father. The 
 youngest and most delicate, Louis, was the only one to 
 outlive the Emperor. We are able to know something 
 of the kind of education Alcuin tried to give the im- 
 perial princes ; first the honoured Roman trivium 
 of Grammar, Logic and Rhetoric ; and then the more 
 advanced quadrivium, Arithmetic, Music, Geometry 
 and Astronomy. Alcuin's teacher Bede had been a 
 notable mathematician, and had invented further aids 
 to counting besides the ten fingers ; and Alcuin had 
 something of the same gift. Amongst the few books 
 of the period which remained to later times was a col- 
 lection of Arithmetical problems compiled by him for 
 his pupils. Considering the few tools in the way of neat 
 notation and lists of results such as the multiplication 
 table, there must have been real difficulty in attacking 
 even so simple a question as one which has appeared in 
 generations of school-books since Alcuin's ; " A dog, 
 chasing a hare which has a start of one-hundred-and- 
 fifty feet, jumps nine feet for every seven of the hare. 
 In how many leaps will the dog overtake the hare ? " 
 
 We may imagine the great, genial Emperor sympathis- 
 ing with the boys' dismay on being confronted with 
 such unusual details of the hunting-field, and inviting 
 them to a riding contest or a wrestling bout as an easier 
 exercise. For physical prowess counted for much in 
 education in those days ; the gentleman must possess 
 varied accomplishments, and be en ornament in court 
 and camp, and excel in everything which he attempted. 
 
were the 
 
 )f Charle- 
 
 the one, 
 
 iras to be 
 er. The 
 ly one to 
 omething 
 3 the im- 
 i trivium 
 the more 
 Geometry 
 i been a 
 ther aids 
 icuin had 
 ew books 
 »ras a col- 
 T him for 
 ly of neat 
 iplication 
 attacking 
 •peared in 
 "A dog, 
 dred-and- 
 the hare, 
 lare ? " 
 ^mpathis- 
 ited with 
 i inviting 
 ; an easier 
 much in 
 st possess 
 : in court 
 ttempted. 
 
 Charlemagne and Roland 2 1 1 
 
 The "clerkly" side was by no means the most important, 
 unless the learner was intended for the Church ; but the 
 Emperor recognised that without acquaintance with 
 the gentler arts, and without any quieter pursuits, his 
 subjects would desire to be always fighting. 
 
 Charlemagne, like many sovereigns burdened with 
 state and power, sometimes chose to discard Imperial 
 forms and ceremonies, and with his intimate nobles 
 would adopt the name and assume the character each of 
 some hero of the past. Charlemagne chose that of 
 David, the famous king of Israel, whom, of all the 
 Illustrious men of old, he most admbed. 
 
 The appearance and accomplishments of the Emperor 
 were favourite subjects with the romancers and story- 
 tellers of the Middle Ages. Many wonderful legends 
 grew up about his feats of strength, his courage and 
 ingenuity, his knightly gentleness and grace. We read 
 that he was of great height and strongly made, of 
 commanding presence and of striking beauty. His 
 thick brows and flashing eyes were very noticeable : 
 When he was angry it was a terror to look upon him " 
 wrote Archbishop Turpin. The same chronicler records 
 his immense strength. He would invite a knight 
 wearing armour and fully accoutred, to stand upon his 
 hand on the ground and would then lift him shoulder 
 high. He had no greedy love for the pleasures of the 
 table, and drank wine mingled with water, but his 
 big frame was served by an enormous appetite. His 
 swordsmanship was amazing ; with one mighty blow of 
 his sword, Joyeuse, he could cleave in two a mounted 
 soldier from the helmet to the saddle and the steed as well. 
 In the ranks of his knights were several whose names 
 have been handed down as those of ffreaf. arxA tnvrr^iA^u\^ 
 warriors or invincible helpers of the oppressed, or br^ve 
 
 12 
 
 IM 
 
 I § 
 I % 
 
 it 
 
 Iff 
 
 •' 
 
 ll il 
 
i. 
 
 I:. 
 
 ■ :■■■: ji 
 
 
 ,; il, f: 
 
 ■ ■ u 
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 212 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 and courteous gentlemen incapable of deceit or guile. 
 Amongst these Paladins were men of all nations : 
 German and Briton and Tuscan and Frank and Dane, 
 united in the bonds of chivalry, like the knights of King 
 Arthur. And like those of the British Round Table, 
 one there was who was a traitor. Next in renown to 
 the Emperor himself was Roland, or Orlando, the son 
 of his eldest sister, whose valour and nobleness made 
 him much beloved of his uncle. It seemed that while 
 his own boys were children he lavished upon this young 
 kinsman something of the affection of a father as well 
 as the patronage of a superior, and we can fancy him 
 continually desiring that his sons should grow up daring 
 and valorous like their cousin. Count Roland had in the 
 band one especial friend and companion, Oliver, Count of 
 Genes, and together they rode in many a fight. The 
 names of these two Paladins have been handed down in 
 jest and story as examples of knightly friends and loyal 
 companions, but Shakespeare in his merry play As You 
 Like It, gave the names to two brothers, one of whom 
 is mean and jealous. Hence arose perhaps the proverb 
 which seems to tell of strife rather than of friendship, 
 " A Roland for an Oliver." 
 
 In Dante's day, Charlemagne and his warriors were 
 still the ideal and wonder-working Christian soldiers, 
 who had fought against and conquered all the " Paynim 
 Chivalry." People seemed still to hear the clang of 
 their arms and the ring of their shields ; and the valiant 
 deeds of Roland and the treachery by which he fell, 
 to the great grief of Charlemagne, were the subjects 
 of stirring romances. 
 
 When, after seven long years of war in Spain, the 
 Emperor and his host at last took Cordova, the Moorish 
 capital, he and his paladins encamped on a great green 
 
or guile, 
 nations : 
 id Dane, 
 
 of King 
 i Table, 
 nown to 
 
 the son 
 iss made 
 at while 
 is young 
 T as well 
 mey him 
 p daring 
 ad in the 
 Count of 
 lit. The 
 
 down in 
 md loyal 
 
 As You 
 3f whom 
 
 proverb 
 iendship, 
 
 ors were 
 soldiers, 
 ' Paynim 
 clang of 
 e valiant 
 I he fell, 
 subjects 
 
 3ain, the 
 I Moorish 
 sat green 
 
 Charlemagne and Roland 2 1 3 
 
 space outside the city, and awaited the full submission 
 of the heathen King Marsilius. But Marsilius had wily 
 counsellors, who thought to deceive the Christian Em- 
 peror ; so he sent an embassy of nine of his mighty 
 peers, with their sons as hostages, to Charlemagne's 
 pavilion, promising submission, and saying that he 
 would march to Aachen after Charlemagne, and there be 
 baptised on the Feast of S. Michael and do him homage 
 m his Christian temple. The Emperor assembled his 
 Counts and held consultation, for he never returned a 
 hasty or unconsidered answer, and one advised one thing 
 and one another. Count Roland recalled the many 
 times that Marsilius had broken his word, and urged 
 that no treaty should be made with him. Count 
 Ganelon who was at heart a traitor, recommended 
 tne sending of an ambassador and the fulfilment 
 of a covenant. 
 
 This was at length agreed upon, and then arose friendly 
 rivalry as to who should bear the Emperor's word to the 
 hr . r.en king. Count Oliver was adjudged too young, 
 •■■■^ Roland too impetuous, so, in the end. Count 
 Ganelon was sent. And on the way he meditated how to 
 be avenged of the many slights he fancied that he had 
 endured from his fellows and his royal master, and 
 determined to induce King Marsilius to make a last 
 attempt to win his freedom. Admitted to the audience 
 he delivered his message and then gave his private 
 advice ; which was that Marsilius and his hosts should 
 fall upon Charlemagne's army as they marched, un- 
 suspecting, back to Aachen, and wreak a terrible ven- 
 geance. The heathen king made him swear upon the 
 Koran and his own sword-handle that fh^ Tr.rv,^^ — »» 
 troops would by a certain day be gathered together^on 
 theu: homeward march so that he could attack them 
 
fiiili 
 
 11 •' 
 i I 
 
 li- 
 
 214 Stories from Dante 
 
 and then loaded him with gifts and entertained him 
 with great hop our. 
 
 Meanwhile in the Emperor's camp it had been 
 arranged that Count Olger, the Dane, should lead the 
 vanguard of the army, the Emperor march next, and the 
 valiant Count Roland be with the rearguard and 
 slowly follow after. Now the way through Spain to 
 Gern^any was perilous and wild ; through deep dark 
 valleys with gloomy mountains on either side, and over 
 narrow, dangerous passes with frowning crags and 
 yawning precipices, and everywhere were many li«rking- 
 places where secret foes might hide. And the mighty 
 Emperor was grave and ill-at-ease ; for before starting 
 he had dreamed an evil dream of a viper fastening upon 
 his hand, and a leopard springing upon him; and, 
 though a great hound sprang forv/ard to save him, he 
 knew not when he awoke that the beasts were overcome. 
 Thus he feared treachery, and longed to know that all 
 was well with Roland and his army, who we^e slowly 
 to follow towards Aachen, leaving all Spain subdued 
 and at peace. 
 
 Meanwhile Count Roland and his sworn friend Count 
 Oliver were leading their army towards the mountain 
 pass looking down upon the valley of Roncesvalles. 
 Roland was mounted on his beloved steed Vegliantino 
 (" the little vigilant one ") and wore his trusty sword 
 Durendal ; and Oliver rode his fleet charger Ferrant 
 d'Espagne (" Spanish traveller "), and carried his sword 
 Haltclere. When they reached the top of the Pass, 
 they saw that a vast Moorish army was gathered on the 
 plain below ; and they knew that Ganelon had betrayed 
 then' plans to the King Marsilius. Yet, would they 
 not turn back, tiiough the odds were great and the 
 Frankish soldiers were sorely fatigued with the hard 
 
ned him 
 
 ad been 
 lead the 
 , and the 
 ard and 
 Spain to 
 ;ep dark 
 and over 
 ags and 
 
 h<rking- 
 ; mighty 
 
 starting 
 ing upon 
 n ; and, 
 
 him, he 
 vercome. 
 
 that all 
 'e slowly 
 
 subdued 
 
 id Count 
 nountain 
 cesvalles. 
 gliantino 
 ty sword 
 
 Ferrant 
 lis sword 
 he Pass, 
 id on the 
 betrayed 
 uld they 
 
 and the 
 the hard 
 
 Charlemagne and Roland 2 1 5 
 
 march and the roughness of the way. Archbishop 
 Turpin, who went with them, gave his blessing to the 
 leaders and the troops, saying, " It is a right good thine 
 to die for King and faith." ^ 
 
 Then they marched on down the stony way to the 
 valley, and the battle which ensued was fierce and long. 
 After many hours, of the Generals there were but 
 Roland and Oliver left alive, and thousands of their 
 army were slain. Now Roland wore, slung on a baldrick, 
 a horn won by him from the giant Jatmund, which had 
 magical power, and a compact had been made between 
 them that should Roland ever be in sore need he should 
 sound his horn and Charlemagne would come to him 
 from the ends of the world. And the battle having gone 
 all against him, and he being wearied so that he could 
 hardly stand, Roland blew a great blast which re- 
 sounded for many miles and faintly reached the ears of 
 Charlemagne as he sat in his hall at Aachen. " Listen I 
 the horn of Roland 1 " he cried. But Ganelon urged 
 that it was the wind in the trees. Again Roland 
 sounded a loud blast, exerting so much strength that 
 the blood gushed from his eyes and his temples; and 
 again the distant Emperor heard the sound, and this 
 time more distinctly. " Surely," he exclaimed, " that 
 IS Roland's horn ? He is in battle and in need." But 
 Ganelon pretended that if it were really the horn, it 
 was merely that Roland was hunting and blew it tor joy 
 and gladness ; and he artfully continued, " Roland is 
 too proud to sound his horn in battle. My Lord the 
 Emperor allows himself to be easily startled." 
 
 At last, and for a thu-d time, Roland gathered together 
 ^u ^^*f®"Sth and sounded his horn yet again, so that 
 the blast reached the eajs of Charlemagne, leaving no 
 room for doubt. And he sprang from his seat, crying, 
 
 1 1 
 
 i! 
 
 
n 
 
 ;; li- 
 
 ;ii 
 
 2l6 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 (t 
 
 \\V:\r 
 
 O Roland, my brave knight, thou art in need ! Too 
 long have I delayed ! Quick, quick ! To arms ! " Then 
 he set out at full-speed with his gallant warriors to meet 
 Roland and Oliver and the rearguard ; but before he 
 could reach Roncesvalles, Oliver had fallen, mortally 
 wounded. Roland essayed to wind his horn yet once 
 more, and the faint sound was carried down the wind to 
 the Emperor as he drew near, so that he said to his cap- 
 tains, " Good barons, yonder is Roland's horn sighing. 
 Truly he is in great distress ! " and the trumpeters blew 
 loudly the signal to quicken the march. Then the 
 ringing of spears and the tramp of feet and the shrill 
 clarions so rolled and echoed amongst the mountains, 
 that the Paynim host heard and hastened to slay the 
 undaunted Roland, if that might be, before the Emperor's 
 army was upon them. And many of the heathen knights, 
 standing far off, flung their spears at the champion as 
 he sank from his horse. The spirited Vegliantino fell, 
 pierced with many wounds, and Roland's armour was 
 everywhere dented, and he lay as one dead. 
 
 The aged Archbishop Turpin was also sore wounded, 
 and he painfully dragged himself towards the Count, 
 and said, " Dear Roland, thank God the field is thine 
 and mine. We have fought a good fight." Then 
 Roland lay down with his face towards Spain and his 
 sword and his horn bf-'ide him, and there the Emperor 
 found him, and fell oi is face with a loud and bitter cry. 
 All night he wept and moaned for his brave young 
 captain, while his troops rested and slept. Then, with 
 morning light, leaving four nobles to watch beside the 
 dead, Charlemagne led his army on over the pass in full 
 chase of the Paynim troops ; and when he overtook 
 them he wrought upon them a complete destruction 
 for their treachery and their evil victory. 
 
 But always he mourned for Roland, and his heart was 
 
I! Too 
 ' Then 
 to meet 
 jfore he 
 nortally 
 '^et once 
 wind to 
 his cap- 
 sighing, 
 ers blew 
 len the 
 le shrill 
 untains, 
 slay the 
 nperor's 
 knights, 
 ipion as 
 ino fell, 
 our was 
 
 ounded, 
 Count, 
 is thine 
 ' Then 
 and his 
 Cmperor 
 tter cry. 
 J young 
 m, with 
 side the 
 s in full 
 •vertook 
 truction 
 
 ;art was 
 
 
 The Battle or Roncesvall 
 
 es 
 
 2l6 
 
Ir 
 
 :1 I 
 
 1 ' 
 
 i: 
 
 
 
 
Charlemagne and Roland 2 1 7 
 
 very heavy as he set off to return tv^ France. He would 
 murmur a lamentation which reminds us of that of his 
 ideal King David : " O Roland, my friend, my friend ; 
 would God I had died for thee ! " And because Ganelon 
 had wilfully set himself to betray his fellow-warriors, 
 Charlemagne caused him to be put to death with the 
 cruel death of a criminal. His name became a by- word 
 for treachery, and he is referred to with scorn and con- 
 tempt in all the " heroic " literature. We find him 
 mentioned in Chaucer's "Monk's Tale" and " Nonne 
 Prieste's Tale." Dante places him in the Ninth Circle 
 of Hell, the place of Traitors. 
 
 Then the Emperor grew aged, and white of hair and 
 beard, and saw with sorrow one after another of his 
 young sons fall sick and die ; until only the fair, 
 delicate Louis was left. He was a gentle lad and right 
 of heart, but in no way fitted to control the turbulent 
 Empire which should be his. Of the long tale of wonder 
 recording the great deeds of Charlemagne and his 
 paladins, the fragment giving the battle of Roncesvalles 
 was the best known and the most beloved. It was 
 sung in every castle-hall, told around every camp-fire ; 
 whispered in ladies' bowers ; penned by monks in their 
 silent cloisters ; and everywhere was powerful to stir 
 the hearts of men and women to achieve and to endure. 
 Taillefer, the favourite minstrel of Duke William of 
 Normandy, is said to have sung it as he rode in the 
 invading army at Senlac. 
 
 Because Charlemagne was a great Christian ruler, 
 and because he fought to subdue the infidels, Dante 
 in his Vision places him in the company of the mighty 
 Hebrew leaders, Joshua and Judas Maccabaeus, and there 
 
 
 
 rv# QTi4-irtni+^r on/1 
 
 the great crusaders, William of Piovence and Guiscard. 
 of the tenth century. 
 
XIX 
 
 The Story of Romeo 
 
 1160-1280 
 
 " Within the pearl that now encloseth us 
 Shines Romeo's light, whose goodly deed und fair 
 Met ill acceptance." 
 
 Paradiso vi. 
 
 LIT'|!:LE is known of the early years of Rom^o 
 di Villeneuve ; he was one of the many 
 fervent and adventurous spirits of the Middle 
 Ages who devoted themselves to pious travel, and hid 
 their identity beneath the Pilgrim's gown. They often 
 hid their names, too, under the guise of the humble 
 *' Palmer," or " Romer," from the latter of which the 
 name Rom^o is supposed to come. Lovers of Scott 
 will recall the delightful s=;nse of mystery in Marmion 
 at the entrance of the Palmer in Canto I., although 
 no doubt the experienced story-reader penetrated his 
 disguise. 
 
 The three forms of activity, journeying to various 
 holy sites, to Palestine, and to Rome, sprang from the 
 same devotional and daring idea. For, in the Middle 
 Ages, travel was an experience to be prayed against, as 
 in the Litany in the Book of Common Prayer ; hence 
 only those whose religious fervour was high, or physical 
 courage and endurance great, gave themselves up to such 
 
 218 
 
 
 B t r 
 
fair 
 radiso vi. 
 
 if Rom^o 
 le many 
 e Middle 
 , and hid 
 ley often 
 ; humble 
 i^hich the 
 of Scott 
 Marmion 
 although 
 rated his 
 
 ) various 
 from the 
 le Middle 
 ^ainst, as 
 r ; hence 
 physical 
 p to such 
 
 The Story of Rom^o 2 1 9 
 
 a way of life. There was, however, a real distinction 
 between the three kinds of pilgrims ; and to have been 
 ignorant of this would have been as impossible to an 
 observer in those days as to-day it would be not to know 
 the difference between a cab and a carriage. The 
 Pilgrim was one who undertook, perhaps only once in his 
 life, a journey to the Holy Land, or to some sacred 
 shrine in Europe, in fulfilment of a vow. The word 
 Pilgrim, from peregrinus, shows the mode of journeying. 
 The Palmer was he who went beyond seas and travelled 
 in the East from the holy places of Palestine to the 
 various sacred shrines in Asia, and spent his whole life 
 in thus doing. A spray of palm worn in the hood was 
 the proudly-humble token of the palmer. The long 
 list of places supposed to have been visited by the 
 mysterious visitor to Norham Castle shows how little 
 distance and difficulty stood in the way of such 
 journeys : — 
 
 "Here is a holy Palmer come. 
 From Salem first and then from Rome ; 
 One tb^t hath kissed the IJlessed Tomb, 
 And visited each holy shrine 
 In Araby and Palestine ; 
 
 On hills of Armenie hath been 
 Where Noah's rk may yet be seen ; 
 By that Red Sea, too, hath he trod 
 Which parted at the prophet's rod ; 
 In Sinai's wilderness he saw 
 The Mount, where Israel heard the law, 
 'Mid thunder-dint and flashing levin 
 And shadows, mists and darkness, given : 
 He shows St James's cockle-shell ; 
 Of fair Montserrat, too, can ell. 
 And of that grot where olives nod, 
 Where- darling of each hp.ir*. anH avs 
 From all the youth of Sicily, 
 Saiut Rosalie retired to God. 
 
 I il 
 
 M 
 
f' 
 
 
 \ '. 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 i. 
 
 
 M 
 
 
 h : 
 
 ')!■■ = 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 2 20 Stories from Dante 
 
 To stout Saint George of Norwich merry 
 
 Saint Thomas, too, of ( anterbury, 
 
 Cuthbert of Durham and Saint Bede 
 
 For his sins' pardon hath he prayed, 
 
 He knows the passes of the North 
 
 And seeks far shrines beyond the Forth. . . . 
 
 Dante, in his Vita Nuova, in describing a great pil- 
 grimage to Rome in the year 1301, adds a gloss or 
 deseription, of the three terms used : ' I wrote this 
 sonnet whieh beginneth. ' Ye pilgrim-folk,' and made use 
 of the word vilgrim in its general sigmficance. Ihe 
 word pilgrim may be understood in two senses, one 
 general and one special. General, so far as any maa 
 may be called a pilgrim who leaveth the place of his 
 birth; whereas, more narrowly speaking, he only is a 
 Dilerim who goeth towards or froward. the house ol &. 
 James. For there are three separate denominations 
 proper unto those who undertake journeys to the glory 
 of God. They are called Palmers who go beyond the 
 seas eastward, whence often they bring palm-branches. 
 And Pilgrims are they who journey unto the holy house 
 ofGalida; seeing that no other apostle was buried so 
 far from his birthplace as was the blessed S. James 
 And there is a third sort who are called Romers ; in 
 that they go, as I have said these folk werit, to Rome. 
 
 We car imagine how piety, as well as kindly feeling, 
 would lead to these travellers being received with 
 hospitable welcome in hall and castle : how the stories 
 of their adventures and perils and the wonders they 
 had seen would be Ustened to eagerly. For, although 
 there were Inns on the main roads of Europe yet they 
 were hardly enough for the ordinary travel ers well- 
 
 -1- J 
 
 :.--. „.:4.u ^«T,«x7 . nnd in seasons of pilgrimage, 
 or in places near pilgrimage towns, such as Amiens, 
 
reat pil- 
 tIoss, or 
 •ote this 
 nade use 
 ce. The 
 ises, one 
 my mail 
 ce of his 
 anly is a 
 use of S. 
 ninations 
 the glory 
 yond the 
 branches, 
 oly house 
 buried so 
 3. James, 
 mers ; in 
 • Rome." 
 ly feeling, 
 Lved with 
 bhe stories 
 iders they 
 , although 
 ;, yet they 
 sUers well- 
 jiigrimage, 
 is AmienSi 
 
 The Story of Romeo 2 2 1 
 
 Venice, Compostella, Rocamador in Guienne, Walsing- 
 ham, Durham and Canterbury, the chn itable had plenty 
 of scope for helping those in need on their journeys. 
 It became a custom for rich men, and monastic houses, 
 to establish "hospitals," or hostels, for the entertain- 
 ment of pilgrims. These humble dwellings usually 
 stood near the entrance to the town, or at the end of a 
 bridge, or beneath the shadow of a famous church. At 
 Calais there was one of the earliest of these, called, in the 
 pretty French phrase, a Maison-Dieu, "for the sustc i- 
 ance of the pilgrims and other poor folks repairing to 
 the said town to rest and refresh them." 
 
 By the time of Chaucer the habit of going on pilgrim- 
 ages had become a matter of fashion, as well as devotion. 
 Travel was easier, roads safer, horses to be had on main 
 highways, and altoge*^^'' ' the enterprise was undertaken 
 in a less serious an' i inoit. 'ight-hearted way. But away 
 back in the twilfih an.; thirteenth centuries, with 
 many kings at war ^vith <' ch other and rough soldiery 
 moving about the C« tinent ; with strong, quarrelsome 
 barons behaving like petty kings in their own territories ; 
 and with all the parts of great forest lands inhabited 
 by wild beasts, and undrained marshes to be crossed, a 
 pilgrimage was a matter of endurance and courage. 
 
 One day in the year 1196, amongst the travellers 
 arriving at the Court of the good Count Raymond of 
 Provence was a tall, thin man, wearing the serge gown 
 of the pilgrim and bearing staff and scrip. Grave was 
 he in manner and quiet and courteous in speech ; and 
 though he sat meekly enough in the outer hall conversing 
 pleasantly with those that stood near, yet, when he was 
 sent for to the Count's panelled chamber, none wondered 
 that he was kept there some long while in earnest talk. 
 When after a niaht's rest most of the wavfarers affain 
 
222 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 S ■;! 
 
 took the road, and when, later, the travelHng physician 
 and his Moorish attendants had taken grateful leave, 
 still the pilgrim stayed. Later in the day he was seen 
 walking round the battlements of the castle, and thought- 
 fully gazing over the fair domains stretching beyond the 
 moat. And again, in the evening, he sat attentive by 
 the heavy oaken chair of Count Raymond on the dais, 
 and when he spoke it was in measured tones. And men 
 saw that he would now and then raise his hand as does 
 a preacher ; and at times would take from the lining of 
 his gown a set of ivory tablets, and thereon write some- 
 thing. 
 
 Then, when the Count gave audience to his forest- 
 warden, his shepherd, his falconer, and the rest, the 
 pilgrim stood near and his observant eyes noted these 
 servants of Count Raymond ; and at times he would 
 ask a sudden, shrewd question concerning the timber 
 or the flocks or the mews. And the lord would now and 
 again say to him, " It is not thus in thy land, said'st 
 thou ? " Whereto the stranger sometimes replied, " I 
 said not," and at other times, " Nay." 
 
 When all the toil and traffic of the day were over, and 
 the Count sat in the great hall amongst his family and 
 retainers, and the serfs who gathered there from their 
 cots, near the great roaring fire upon the hearth ; then 
 would the minstrels bring forth their viols and lutes 
 and sing of war and love and gallant deeds. And the 
 grave eyes of the strange pilgrim would shine as the 
 singers told of Roland and Roncesvalles, and he would 
 gently beat on his knee in time with the twanging chords 
 of the players. Also he cared greatly to hear the verses 
 of the troubadours, many of whom visited the Court of 
 Count Raymond, as soon as the dark winter was ended. 
 There was also one mostly in residence there, a certaiu 
 
physician 
 ;ful leave, 
 5 was seen 
 i thought- 
 •eyond the 
 ;entive by 
 L the dais. 
 
 And men 
 id as does 
 e Hning of 
 rite some- 
 
 [lis forest- 
 rest, the 
 Dted these 
 he would 
 he timber 
 1 now and 
 id, said'st 
 iplied, " I 
 
 over, and 
 amily and 
 from their 
 rth; then 
 and lutes 
 
 And the 
 ne as the 
 he would 
 ing chords 
 the verses 
 g Court of 
 ;^as ended. 
 
 a certain 
 
 The Story of Romeo 223 
 
 Gerault de Berneil, whose fame spread over Europe. 
 He had travelled to England and sung before King 
 Richard of the Lion-Heart, like his great rival, Arnauld 
 iJamel ; and so great was his fame that he was known 
 as the Master of the Troubadours." With him the 
 pilgrim would hold much quiet converse; and men 
 said that both had travelled wherever it was worth 
 while to go, one in the service of Song and the other in 
 the service of Religion. 
 
 At the Court of Count Raymond every man of gifts 
 might be sure of a welcome. A poet would be listened 
 to courteously and sent on his way well-cheered, with 
 charge to return soon ; a scholar was entertained in the 
 upper Hall and lodged in the Httle turret chamber where 
 stood a chest with (some said) nine precious books 
 withm ; a knight would have bed and board and shelter 
 for his followers and his steeds, and all the stable villeins 
 would turn out to escort him over the drawbridge And 
 even the poor wayfarers were sure of a meal in the outer 
 court of the vast kitchen, where cooks prepared the food 
 for two hundred people every day. The Count, himself 
 was something of a poet, and more than something of a 
 warrior. But in his middle age he had few enemies, 
 and his neighbours readily acknowledged his high birth 
 and his great position. Even the fh-ebrand baron, 
 Bertrand de Born, refrained from casting gibes at the 
 honourable and stately Count Raymond ; and it was 
 said that he would have well liked it if his son Bertrand 
 could have wedded one of the four daughters of the 
 Berenger house. 
 
 In the year in which the pilgrim arrived the two elder 
 daughters were of an age to marry, and their hands 
 were sought by the elder sons of kin^s. «.s w.li oc k„ 
 subject-princes and great barons. But Count Raymond 
 
 I !: 
 
'I t ! 
 
 I':- 
 
 
 224 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 hastened not to give away either ; for he pondered much 
 upon how to govern his household and to act so that the 
 fortunes of his house might be maintained. The ladies 
 were wont to sit in the hall for their repast, and after- 
 wards to retire to their bower, where, it was said, the 
 Countess did much embroidery and tapestry, accom- 
 plishments in which she excelled. Her eldest daughter, 
 the Lady Margaret, also spent much time with her needle, 
 and both could design great pictures of warriors and 
 hunting, and sketch out the scenes on their canvas. The 
 two daughters next in age were less fond of this quiet 
 employment, and spent as much time as they could in 
 the great hall, or in the courtyard, ordering the falcons 
 and the hounds, and sat near their father while he dealt 
 with the cases which his steward laid before him. The 
 youngest, Beatrice, was but a child, and, as her mother 
 feared, somewhat of a hoyden. For she was daring and 
 fearless like a boy ; and one day, tearing her finger on a 
 hook so that it bled sorely, she wept not nor paled, but 
 charged the chaplain's attendant, who was also the 
 leech, to " bind it up without more ado so that it may 
 heal." The Lady Beatrice often had storms of passion, 
 when the nursery, where she abode with her nurse- 
 attendant, resounded with stamps and shrieks and furious 
 cries of anger. Then would the women seek out her 
 father, and he would order the child to be brought to him 
 as he arranged his weapons in the armoury, or kept his 
 accounts in the turret, or pondered the maps and plans 
 of his estate, so as to have here a new fish-pond, or there 
 a drained sward for the great tournaments. Then would 
 he look gravely at her and ask wherefore his ears had been 
 hurt by a noise that belonged to a mad-house and 
 wherefore a daughter should so distort her face with 
 
 anaer 
 
 — tp — 
 
 that. it. ha.c\ 
 
 become black like the sk'"' 
 
 hf^t, 
 
 p>lnr#» 
 
lered much 
 so that the 
 The ladies 
 and after- 
 s said, the 
 ry, accom- 
 ; daughter, 
 her needle. 
 Triors and 
 ivas. The 
 this quiet 
 y could in 
 :he falcons 
 le he dealt 
 him. The 
 ler mother 
 iaring and 
 finger on a 
 paled, but 
 i also the 
 lat it may 
 of passion, 
 tier nurse- 
 md furious 
 k out her 
 ght to him 
 )r kept his 
 and plans 
 d, or there 
 hen would 
 s had been 
 use and 
 {ace with 
 
 *v '^ 
 
 The Story of Romeo 22 c 
 
 with beJuiTgoltZTer^LZ '"•""'T'^ ""«* 
 and, within a border where TZ . ^T' .^'*"™°8 ' 
 weremanvH„.o «. • 8®'^ """^ cherubs played 
 
 Days became weeks, and weeks nfl««^ 
 
 his pen tharthf ehaXin fT, ^''"V""'^ "^^ ^"•^ 
 the Count, and rwafuTd;rstood:hft r" '"' '"* "'*'' 
 
 -,i___i. , . - "wicih, ana ne was known as Tf^^i^ _ 
 
 H-yxu. lorn. of the familiar "Romer." And 'lir^d 
 
 J 
 
226 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 given to him a turret chamber for his own, and he was 
 served with respect as one near to the Count himself. 
 
 Presently it became known that among the suitors for 
 the hand of the Lady Margaret was King Louis the VIII. 
 of France, who desired her for his son Louis who should 
 succeed him. But, as the treasury of the King was much 
 exhausted, it was needed that the lady his son should 
 marry should bring a great dowry with her, not only 
 in lands and castles, but also in louis d^ors. And after 
 much debate with Rom^o the Sieur Raymond gave 
 his consent, and presented the Lady Margaret to the 
 young Louis with much money. Soon afterwards the 
 King died, and the lady became Queen Margaret of 
 France, as the wife of Louis the Good. Then, since she 
 filled her great post with much dignity and grace, and 
 had, moreover, much wealth, the King of England, 
 Henry III., known abroad as " the King of the simple 
 life," desired that he might have her sister, the Lady 
 Eleanor, in marriage. And after consultation with 
 Romfeo, who affected no surprise but declared that he 
 expected this to happen, the Count gave his consent, and 
 Heniy fetched his bride to England. With her there 
 came a large number of Provengal knights and attendants 
 and their wives, and settled down in England, where 
 they wondered much at the plenty of the land and the 
 rough manners of the people. It was said that no 
 English lady had used a comb for her hair until the 
 fashion was set by Queen Eleanor and her ladies. 
 
 Then before long King Henry of England sent 
 noble ambassadors to ask in marriage the hand of the 
 Lady Costanza, Count Raymond's third daughter, for 
 his brother, the King of the Romans ; so she also became 
 a Queen. And the Lady Beatrice, now grown up, had 
 
 l<»ff f\ff Vtov Virkirrl#»r»icVi ixroirc anH V»iici*»r1 li*»rc*»lf •wrifVi rnlinr* 
 ,._.,„,.,, ,,,,.. ....J..,,., ^j..... » ,..„..- ^ 
 
 the castle and the maidens, and training her hawks and 
 
md he was 
 ; himself. 
 ! suitors for 
 is the VIII. 
 who should 
 w was much 
 son should 
 r, not only 
 
 And after 
 nond gave 
 Eiret to the 
 rwards the 
 largaret of 
 a, since she 
 
 grace, and 
 f England, 
 
 the simple 
 , the Lady 
 ation with 
 red that he 
 onsent, and 
 1 her there 
 
 attendants 
 and, where 
 nd and the 
 id that no 
 r until the 
 ies. 
 
 gland sent 
 Land of the 
 lughter, for 
 ilso became 
 vn up, had 
 
 ■HrifV* rnlinrr 
 "" ••'" • ------ji, 
 
 hawks and 
 
 The Story of Romeo 227 
 
 hounds, for the Countess now rarely left her bower 
 During the celebrations of the festival that was S 
 
 tpTA f I '^. *^°"b^dours from far and near con 
 tested for the prize and declaimed their verses On Z. 
 occasion Gerault de Berneil composed one of hTsW^^^^^^ 
 damtiest poems, and entered the lists wLrinrff: 
 favours of the daughter of the house. Se called ft "A 
 Song of the Morning," and it began thus :- 
 
 " Companion dear I or sleeping or awaking 
 Sleep not again ! for lo ! the morn is nigh : 
 And ,n the east the early star is breaking, 
 The day s forerunner, known unto mine eye ; 
 
 The morn, the morn is near ! " 
 During some of the quiet hours of the festivities there 
 was some solemn talk between the royal io^ZdZ. 
 father of his bride ; and Count Raymond wlteh^ wSt 
 mterest the behariour of the young brother Chiles Tho 
 WBS aetmg as squire to the kin|. He was S Zn^ 
 strong and grave ; tall and well-mfde, but ^ha^^some 
 for his nose was very large. He wa^ not preatiram^?J^' 
 by the music and singing and the buffoonsTand hS 
 with somewhat ill grace the pleasantries of the F^I ,^0 
 disported himself as he would amongst the ga7eomp.^v 
 It was understood that he desired to get ba^Ho W,; 
 
 r'; '7 ^l ""t^ ^""^ '^' •'^ •"ight de^se tie d^t 
 Manfred who had succeeded to the kingdom of SicUy^^ 
 reign m his stead. The Lady Beatrii reg^ded W^a^ 
 some one unlike the Provencal barons and the »"a^ 
 prmces who had visited her father's court jfd she 
 
 told ofth^d V;?™"!? ''*^^P«°" °' «>« gallarde^ds 
 told of the dark-browed yomig prince by his retainers 
 ^ So that when a formal message came from the kLL, 
 
 to bTbeteothed f "v "^ ""* '^"""''^ daughterrBVatric;; 
 to be betrothed to his youngest brother. Count Charles 
 
 t; ■ 
 
n- \ 
 
 t 
 « 
 
 
 U\ 
 
 ,28 Stories from Dante 
 
 of Anjcu, the Sieur Raymond conferred with Romfeo 
 and listened readily to his arguments. "Give the 
 Lady Beatrice to Count Charles," he said, " for thou 
 shoulflst let her have a brave man for her husband, and 
 tha' will he be. He will be the best man in the world 
 for her to wed, and good shall come of it." And so the 
 marriage came about ; and, when the bride's sifter, Queen 
 Eleanor of England, said to her, " Then tby husband m 
 but a Count and no King," Beatrice repliefl, " And that 
 he may be, but I will have him " ; which, m aiier days, 
 her sisters thought bore some meanirig otLer than tnat 
 
 which appeared. 
 
 With the four daughters manied and gone, and the 
 Countess soon after laid to her last long sleep in the white 
 tomb beside the altar. Count Ro-yn-K nd became silent, 
 and much ab.-orbed in thought. For he was '>ften 
 lonelv bis friends and neighbours setimed no longer 
 friend.'.- and courteous as before, but many shunned 
 him. Then li came about that tales reached his ears of 
 things wiiijh Roineo had advised havin<' turned out ill, 
 and "es oecially of the management of the lands of 
 Provence, whose revenues had to be used for the dowries 
 of the Queens, his daughters. And one day, when he 
 xvas depressed and sad, Count Raymond lamented to 
 Roin^o that he had done this and that, and questioned 
 whether he would not have been wiser to have acted 
 differently. Also he asked to have a fair and clear 
 reckoning made out of Romeo's stewardship in all 
 matters that he had not himself recorded. 
 
 Wherefore after gloomy and angered debate wherem 
 none dared approach them, Romeo said to Count 
 Raymond, " Sire, I have served thee a long time, and 
 brought thee from low to high estate, and for this 
 through false counsel or i-uy lua^ vnud a.iu iivvxv. g,„v^.,,.., 
 I came to thy court a poor pilgrim and have lived 
 
 I'-'^^jM 
 
Romfeo 
 Lve the 
 Dr thou 
 nd, and 
 e world 
 i so the 
 :, Queen 
 ^,ban<i is 
 nd that 
 er days, 
 lan that 
 
 and the 
 he white 
 le Silent, 
 fts often 
 o longer 
 shunned 
 IS ears of 
 i out ill, 
 lands of 
 B dowries 
 when he 
 ented to 
 aestioned 
 ,ve acted 
 md clear 
 ip in all 
 
 J wherein 
 
 to Count 
 
 time, and 
 
 for this 
 
 ^- £i r, tt w- » « - - ? 
 O 
 
 ave lived 
 
 The Story of Romeo 229 
 
 modestly on thy bounty. Have my mule and my staff 
 and scrip given back to me as when I came, and I ask 
 no further wages." Then the Count bade him not so to 
 withdraw, but Romeo refused to remain where he was 
 doubted and distrusted, and " he departed, as he had 
 come, none knew whither, nor did any man ever know 
 his name." Soon the busy tongues that had wrought 
 the mischief began to put it about that the Sieur 
 of Berenger was bereft and at a loss, and that his 
 mysterious helper had been a " sainted soul to whom 
 he had shown himself ungrateful and churlish." 
 
 Dante, writing nearly a century after his time, so 
 fully accepts the tradition of the saintliness of the 
 unknown pilgrim that he shows him a companion spirit 
 of the Emperor Justinian in the Heaven of Mercury, the 
 Second Heaven, and the Emperor informs Dante that — 
 
 *' This little star is furnished with good spirits 
 Whose mortal lives were busied to that end. 
 That honour and renown might wait on them. . . ." 
 
 and then follow the lines at the head of this chapter. 
 
 The ingratitude meted out to Rom^o undoubtedly 
 appealed to Dante, himself conscious of single-hearted 
 efforts which were ill-requited. He goes on : — 
 
 " But the Provencals 
 That were his foes have little cause for mirth. 
 Ill shapes that man his course who makes his wrong 
 Of other's worth. Four daughters were there born 
 To Raymond Berenger, and every one 
 Became a queen ; and this for him did Romeo, 
 Though of mean state and from a foreign land. 
 Yet envious tongues incited him to ask 
 A reckoning of that just one, who return'd 
 Twelve-fold to him for ten. Aged and poor 
 He parted thence : and if the world did know 
 The heart he had, begging his life by morsels, 
 'Twould deem the praise it yields him scantly dealt** 
 
XX 
 
 ■l,' 
 
 i 
 
 ! 
 
 
 
 
 Saint Dominic 
 
 1170-1221 
 
 " The loving minion of the Christian faith, 
 The hallowed wrestler, gentle to his own. 
 And to his enemies terrible." 
 
 "Of Christian Faith, the athlete consecrate." 
 
 Paradiso xii. 
 
 IN the year 1170, in the village of Callaroga, in Castile, 
 the noble lady Joanna da Guzman prayed to God, 
 like Hannah of old, for a son. Like Hannah of old, 
 too, when God granted her prayer, she promised him to 
 His service. Before he was born she dreamed that she 
 saw him stand, strong and fearless, bearing a torch 
 whose light lightened the whole world. And the lady 
 Clara of Aza, who was asked to be the child's godmother, 
 dreamed that she saw him with a gleaming star in his 
 forehead and another on the crown of his head. 
 
 These two dreams, in an age when dreams were still 
 felt to be channels of Divine communication, convinced 
 Joanna and her husband, Felix da Guzman, that some 
 great destiny lay before their child. So they decided 
 to call him by a name which should show this in some 
 woTT oT>rl i^hf^v f>Vinsp Tinminicas. "belonffinsr to the Lord." 
 The boy, even when quite little, was different from most 
 
 230 
 
■■ 1 
 
 Dominic and the Moorish Bandits 
 
 230 
 
1 .'i' 
 
 ! 
 
 i 
 
 
 ! 
 
 id 
 
 '1 
 i 
 
 
 child 
 
 of b€ 
 
 on tl: 
 
 Or 
 
 of be 
 
 pare] 
 
 eloqi 
 
 at P 
 
 and 
 
 servi 
 
 Unr 
 
 Ver] 
 
 The( 
 
 Araj 
 
 king 
 
 towi 
 
 Dor 
 
 not 
 
 unu 
 
 T 
 
 si'ri 
 
 ver 
 
 of i 
 
 Doi 
 
 sok 
 
 of 
 
 Cat 
 
 hiri 
 
 Mo 
 
 rai 
 
 far 
 
 to 
 
 an 
 
 cit 
 
 ti, 
 
Saint Dominic 
 
 ^3 
 
 children. Many a time would his nurse find him out 
 of bed, long after she had thought him asleep, kneelmg 
 on the nursery floor praying little prayers to God. 
 
 One day, when he was abo jight years old, a swarm 
 of bees settled on his lips, m.., finding him unhurt, his 
 parents took it as a sign that he was to be gifted with 
 eloquence. At fifteen he was sent to the public school 
 at Palencia, and there learned Grammar (Latin), Logic 
 and Rhetoric, and probably mu ic in order to smg the 
 services in the Cathedral. Then he went on to the 
 University, and became one of its most famous students. 
 Very early he found that of all subjects of learning. 
 Theology was his favourite. At this time Castile and 
 Aragon, afterwards to be united as Spain, were separate 
 kingdoms, and Old Castile was famous for its great 
 towns, its civilisation, learning and culture. Young 
 Dominic da Guzman won distinction at the University, 
 not only for his industrv ^nd ability, but also for a very 
 unusual tenderness and iarge-heartedness. 
 
 Those were the days before fine buildings and luxurious 
 surroundings for study ; and many of the students were 
 very poor, often begging their way from one great seat 
 of learning to another. One of the many stories told of 
 Dominic's charity is that of his offering himself to be 
 soU' into captivity to the Moors. A poor woman begged 
 of the students as they assembled in the porch of the 
 Cathedral around their professor, saying that her son, 
 him' "f a student, had been seized du ing a journey by 
 Mo. I bandies, and she was quite unable to pay 1 le 
 ransom d. anded. The students gave, but the sum was 
 far too little ; then Dominic stepped forward anu offered 
 to give himself. This was not permitted, howevei At 
 another time, when -reat want and sufferincT were in the 
 
 .1 I- ^-_J 1 «c.4-o wr«» finrl him .:ilin« 1)is fCW 
 
 City, CiiTOUgil UiXU il-: -V3V3, TT^. 
 
 lit 
 
 i 
 
32 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 ' ( I- 
 
 but most precious books, his desk and his pen, in order 
 to give bread to the starving people. 
 
 He was an ardent student, and especially good in his 
 favourite subject, Theolo^^y ; so that when only twenty- 
 five years of age he was made a Canon of the Cathedral 
 at Osma, and soon afterwards sub-prior of the convent. 
 There his chief work was to teach students and to 
 preach, and, like the eloquent S. Paul, his subject was 
 " Christ and Him crucified." 
 
 In 1208 Don mic accompanied his Bishop on an 
 Embassy to the court of Dennuirk. Passing through 
 the South of France on their return the Bishop and his 
 clergy interrupted their journey to preach a mission 
 against heresy. The city of Albi, in the domain of the 
 poweiail Count of Toulouse, was the centre of a strong 
 party of religious questioners ; and the King of Aragon, 
 who was the Count's overlord, chose the occasion to doubt 
 the loyalty of his suzerain. Political and religious 
 difficulties led to a Crusade against the Count, led by the 
 Count Simon de IVTontfort, the father of the famous 
 Earl of Leicester, about whom we hear in connection with 
 our English King Henry III. In the war many cruelties 
 were committed, and much [persecution practised in 
 order to subdue the Albigensian heresy ; and Dominic 
 and his Bishop gave themselves up to the more peaceful 
 part of the work, that of preaching and teaching. 
 
 1 So impressed was the good Bishop of Osma with the 
 need for teaching and for loving care of the people, so 
 much neglected, that he obtained permission from the 
 pope to resign his see, to give up his state and dignity, 
 and to become a wandering missionary. He sent his 
 clergy and attendants home, and, keeping Dominic with 
 him, journeyed about on foot preaching the gospel. 
 The example of this great man no doubt had much 
 
 I! ; ■ i 
 
order 
 
 Saint Dominic 233 
 
 effect upon the later resolve of Dominic. He saw a 
 prince of the Cliurch giving up his high position, and 
 undertaking painful and arduous work in order to save 
 souls, and gave himself up whole-heartedly to help in 
 the task. The pope gave his blessing and proclaimed 
 that " It is by preaching the truth that we can destroy 
 error " : so that Dominic became confirmed in his 
 idea of greatly extending this form of Christian influence. 
 The monasteries by the beginning of the thuleenth 
 century had lost much of their old usefulness. Their 
 inmates dwelt secluded or served Cathedrals, and almost 
 scorned the " secular " priests, as they were called, who 
 lived amongst the people, caring for their parishes, and 
 holding services in the little wooden churches. There 
 were great scholars amongst the monks, and great 
 statesmen, but the majority were absorbed in their quiet 
 lives, and cared little for what went on in the world. 
 Many of their houses, too, had become rich through gifts 
 and bequests from penitent rich barons ; and while the 
 Abbots and Priors lived much as great noblemen, their 
 inferiors often spent their lives in undignified idleness. 
 
 Dominic decided to establish a Society of Monks who 
 should be bound together by the desire to give up their 
 lives to hard work, and by the resolve to refrain from 
 becoming rich and encumbered with lands and abbeys. 
 They were to undergo strict training, live under stern 
 discipline, and go about continually preaching Christ. 
 So in 1215, the year in which the English barons were 
 confronting King John at Runnymede, the Society was 
 founded, which was to become one of the most wonderful 
 religious bodies in Christendom. Desiring to avoid old 
 titles and familiar things, Dominic called his associates 
 Preaching Friars; and having obtained the sanction 
 of the pope, he opened a small house at Bologna. This 
 
Stories from Dante 
 
 of Italy in the 
 Ages— free, independent, wealthy — and the 
 a great University famous for the study of 
 
 was one of the most famous towns 
 
 Middle 
 seat of 
 
 Law. . 
 
 Sixteen men were selected from the many enthusiasts 
 who desired to join. They were men of different nation- 
 alities, two of them being English ; but all united by 
 the common language of learning, the Latin tongue. 
 They were to live lives of self-denial ; follow the Rule, 
 or Way of Life, of S. Augustine ; study as well as preach, 
 and seek ever the glory of God and the spread of His 
 Name. Their dress was to be a coarse serge gown, black 
 in colour, with a leathern girdle; sandals on their feet; 
 and a small wallet or scrip in which to carry a copy of 
 one of the Gospels, or some religious treatise. In days 
 to come they were to be known by a nickname given by 
 the unlettered people amongst whom they worked, a 
 name which became a term of honour, the Black Friars. 
 Even to-day we are now and then reminded of these 
 missionaries by street and place names in our old towns. 
 On the Continent another nickname was more nopular, 
 a punning reference to the ir founder and their activity : 
 Domini Canes, " the watchdogs of the Lord." 
 
 Very proud was the old French city of Carcassone m 
 later years, since amongst its records there were more 
 than once the signatures of Dominic and of great 
 members of his order. Presently so many men and 
 women desired to join that there were three grades of 
 members : those who undertook to give up their whole 
 lives to study and preachin^T ; women who would give 
 themselves up to prayer and helping the poor ; and a 
 Third Order of men willing to fight for the Church. 
 
 . .1-- -M.m.'i^^ /^Z,*.-.'o*-i' ar\A in fVi*» 
 
 These were Known as tuc itj-umu x^ntt^v^-, »"- -* ~-- 
 troublous times of war between different towns and their 
 
Saint Dominic 
 
 ^35 
 
 leaders, these soldier-monks would guard the Cathedrals 
 and Churches. 
 
 Dominic, as years went on, gave himself no rest. 
 Travelling from one convent to another— organising, 
 preaching, studying— his example kept his followers 
 in a state of high enthusiasm. Not content with having 
 all Europe for his mission-field, he planned a journey 
 to Africa. A chronicler of the time writes, "He 
 preached by night and by day, in houses, in fields, and 
 by the roadside." Many wonderful occurrences became 
 connected with him. His personal holiness, courage and 
 devotion led people to think his power miraculous. 
 Stories are told of how he preached to a famished popu- 
 lation, and moving them to penitence promised rain. 
 Before his sermon was ended the long-wished-for showers 
 came. An insolent councillor ridiculed his work and 
 spoke evil of him. Dominic meeting him said, with 
 steady gaze, " Thou goest to meet thy God. Prepare," 
 and the man was shortly afterwards taken ill and died. 
 
 The rivalry which threatened discord between his 
 Order and the Franciscan was checked by his willing- 
 ness to be friend and servant to Francis. In a dream 
 Dominic saw the figure of Christ bearing arrows with 
 which He was about to punish the world for its wicked- 
 ness. His blessed Mother approached Him, and led with 
 her two men whose desire it was to convert all people, 
 and in his dream Dominic recognised himself and Francis 
 of Assisi. Acting upon his dream he approached the 
 other saintly leader, and proposed, " You are my com- 
 rade ; let us go together and nothing can prevail against 
 us." In sign whereof they exchanged girdles. The 
 large-heartedness of the leaders, huwever, did not pre- 
 Tvxiv tiiv c-xiBLciicc ui u jcuiuu!» rivalry Decween tne 
 followers of each. 
 
236 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 Dante expresses the generous spirit T\hich animated 
 the best minds when he makes, in his Vision of them in 
 Paradise, a Franciscan monk proclaim a glowing eulogy 
 of Dominic, and a Dominican similarly praise Francis. 
 In later years this spirit was perpetuated by the custom 
 of having a Franciscan preach in a Dominican Church 
 on its Founder's Day, and a Dominican preach in a 
 Franciscan Church on its similar festival. 
 
 Probably the energetic, masterful character of 
 Dominic was influenced towards gentleness by the 
 compelling influence of the loving Francis. The story 
 is told of how when both were at Cremona, labouring, 
 Dominic had thought Francis unwise in not taking more 
 active measures for the relief of the poor amongst whom 
 they toiled. But the example of the ardent pleader for 
 their souls so touched the townspeople far and near that 
 they sent ample supplies unasked. Dominic acknow- 
 ledged, " Of a truth God hath especial care of these holy 
 poor little ones, and I knew it not. Wherefore I promise 
 from henceforth to ooserve the holy gospel Poverty." 
 So, in the amended statu es of the Order, the Dominicans 
 were from henceforward to own no property, and to 
 depend upon charity for necessary food. 
 
 In the year 1221 this eager, unresting worker might 
 have been seen in the early days of a hot August walking 
 along the winding road amongst the hills from Venice 
 to Bologna. Thinking deeply, here and there stopping 
 wayfarers to reason with or comfort them ; here and 
 there preaching to the rustic people of the hamlets, but 
 hurrying, always hurrying forward. When he reached 
 Bologna he sank exhausted upon the floor of the convent, 
 and warned the startled brothers that his tinie had come. 
 They implored him to lei Iheni place his tired, fevered 
 body upon a bed, but he refused. " Let me lie upon the 
 
imated 
 liem in 
 eulogy 
 'rancis. 
 custom 
 Church 
 h in a 
 
 ter of 
 3y the 
 e story 
 ouring, 
 ig more 
 : whom 
 ider for 
 ;ar that 
 .cknow- 
 ;se holy 
 promise 
 fverty." 
 linicans 
 and to 
 
 r might 
 walking 
 Venice 
 topping 
 ere and 
 lets, but 
 reached 
 jonvent, 
 id come. 
 
 t A 
 
 IC V Cl C5J. 
 
 ipon the 
 
 Saint Dominic 
 
 237 
 
 ground," he said, "that is indeed a worthy enough 
 resting-place for my worn-out body." His whole mind 
 ran on the future work of the community, and with almost 
 his last breath he said, " Have charity ; guard humility ; 
 make your treasure out of voluntary poverty." The 
 troubled Brethren, seeing him grow weaker, carried him 
 up the vine-clad slopes of a hill outside the city, that the 
 purer air might revive him. But it was too late, and 
 Dominic had no desire to live now that strength to carry 
 on his great work had failed him. His last request 
 was to be buried in the convent ground ; his grave just 
 one beside others. As a last exercise in rsumble poverty, 
 when they removed the torn and trave stained gown 
 in which he had journeyed, he asked to borrow another 
 from one of his companions so that he might indeed 
 realise that he had nothing of his own. To the 
 Brethren's pleas that they might lay his bones beneath 
 the altar, he replied, " God forbid that I should be buried 
 anywhere save under the feet of my brethren." And 
 so, peacefully, he died. 
 
 However lowly the place of burial none could prevent 
 the devout honour paid to his memory in the funeral 
 services. Cardinal Ugolini, Bishop of Ostia, wcs present, 
 and wrote the epitaph which was placed on a tablet in the 
 convent church of S. Nicholas, in Bologna. 
 
 "The venerable servant of (ion, Dominic da Guzman, founder or 
 the Order of Friars Preachers. He slept in our Lord at noon on 
 Friday, Aug. 6, 1221. May the name of the Lord be praised for 
 ever." 
 
 It would have been against all the pious instincts of 
 his Brethren to place words of fulsome praise upon his 
 tomb. Dante, writing nearly ninety years later, repro- 
 duces in the words of S. Buonaventura, whom he meets 
 
238 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 in the heaven of the sun, panegyrics which many 
 preachers had pronounced upon him. 
 
 ** He grew 
 Mighty in learning ; and did set himself 
 To go about the vineyard that soon turns 
 To wan and withered if not tended well : 
 
 Then with sage doctrine and good will to help 
 Forth on his great apostleship he fared, 
 Like torrent bursting from a lofty vein." 
 
many 
 
 XXI 
 
 Saint Francis of Assisi 
 
 1182-1226 
 
 " He had, through thirst of martyrdom, stood up 
 In the proud Soldan's presence, and there preached 
 Christ and His followers ; but found the race 
 Unripen'd for conversion : back once more 
 He hasted (not to intermit his toil) 
 And reap'd Ausonian lands. . . ." 
 
 Paradiao xi. 
 
 IN beautiful Umbria, on the lower slopes of the 
 Apennines, stands the town of Assisi (I have 
 ascended), famous as the birthplace of S. Francis. 
 In the year 1182, a certain Pietro Bernardone and his 
 wife had a son born to them. They were well-to-do 
 people, holding a good position in Assisi, dealing in 
 cloth and woollen fabrics. They named their little son 
 John ; but his father's frequent jo irncys to France on 
 business led him to teach the boy French words as soon 
 as he could speak, and the child learnt them so readily 
 that his Father changed his name to Francis. Pietro 
 Bernardone seems to have been a man of a gay and 
 cheerful disposition, which little John inherited. He 
 was ever to be heard singing about his mother's knees ; 
 and later, as he roamed the sunny hillsides, he chanted 
 the Troubadour songs of which his father was fond. As 
 he grew older he went to the convent school, and was 
 
240 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 taught the Latin Grammar and the music of the Church 
 services. 
 
 When he was about eighteen years of age he joined his 
 father in business, and became expert in judging the 
 textures and colours of cloth, and pleasantly able to drive 
 a good bargain with the merchants, or to induce the 
 thrifty towns woman to buy for her household. In his 
 leisure hours he seems to have joined in the amusements 
 of the young nobles of the town, where his gay songs, 
 attractive manners, and open purse made him welcome. 
 In that age, and especially in France and Italy, there 
 was a great outburst of romantic feeling ; and youths 
 unable to go on high adventure set themselves the task 
 of composing verses about chivalrous heroes. Then, 
 instead of writing books quietly at home, or singing 
 privately in cheir own houses, they would form them- 
 selves into small bands and patrol the streets, singing 
 and reciting in the courtyards of palaces and the open 
 spaces of the market place. 
 
 Francis Bernardone was not, however, merely a stay- 
 at-home merchant's son. When Assisi ivas at feud with 
 the city of Perugia, he joined a regiment in defence of his 
 home, and was taken prisoner during the war. For a 
 year he was imprisoned in the fortress of Perugia. When 
 released he returned home, and hastened to join a band 
 of volunteers who were going to fight for the Pope against 
 the Emperor. 
 
 At this time he seems to have intended to be a soldier 
 all his life, and especially to join in the Cnisades. But 
 he took a fever during the marches and sieges, and when 
 he recovered was no longer able to follow so adventurous 
 a life. He travelled about, to Rome amongst other 
 places, where he was grieved to see how small and poor 
 were the offerings made to the Church. In a soirit of 
 
Church 
 
 ined his 
 fing the 
 to drive 
 uce the 
 In his 
 sements 
 f songs, 
 elt'ome. 
 y, there 
 
 youths 
 
 ;he task 
 
 Then, 
 
 singing 
 1 them- 
 
 singing 
 tie open 
 
 a stay- 
 
 ud with 
 
 le of his 
 
 For a 
 
 When 
 
 a band 
 
 against 
 
 I soldier 
 . But 
 id when 
 nturous 
 t other 
 id poor 
 ioirit of 
 
 Saint Francis of Assisi 241 
 
 generous enthusiasm he emptied his purse into the bowl 
 and was left pennil s , a stranger in thie city. This 
 seems to have been his first experiment with povertv 
 and soon he carried it further. He exchanged garment 
 with a b .g^ ar sittmg on the Cathedral steps, that he 
 might maKe acquiintpnce with the position of outcast 
 and learn to realise w..a. utter dependence meant. 
 
 Ihen he compelled himself to help and to visit the 
 poor afflicted lepers, who were at that time to be found 
 in every city, dreaded and shunned. Wrapped in irrev 
 garments with their faces concealec'., these unhappy 
 sufferers were required to carry a rattle and sound it as 
 they walked to warn people to get out of their way 
 By degrees it became borne in upon the mind of Francis 
 that a life of service and of poverty must be his. Kneel- 
 ing ,n the Church of S. Damiano he had a vision, in which 
 the figure of the crucified Christ seemed to accept his 
 row to give up his life to God. This resolution greatly 
 grieved his prosperous, genial father, who could not 
 understand why any one should seek discomfort, and 
 he took an angry farewell of him. 
 
 Clothed in poor garments and without money, Francis 
 walked along the roads of Assisi with joy in his heart, 
 fresently h. asked permission to help in repairing a 
 ruined chu^c.>, .ad obtaining food by this means he 
 then sought out churches needing this kind of work 
 A very ancient building in As^in. which had once been 
 served by S. Benedict, was falling mto ruins, and this 
 Francis determined to ^ .bi.M. Tradition said that 
 angels had sang in the roof u .he days of S. Benedict, 
 SIX centuries before, so that it was sometimes known as 
 the Church of S. Maria degli Angeli. 
 
 After some years spent in this way there came to 
 mm a more ueiimte guidance from heaven as to his 
 
242 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 future life; and during Divine Service one day he 
 seemed to hear Christ charging him to go about the 
 world and preach to the poor, tend the siek, and go 
 unencumbered with money, or scrip, or staff, or shoes. 
 So he abandoned even these last, and wearing the coarse, 
 single garment of the poorest Umbrian peasants, secured 
 about his waist by a hempen cord, he set off on his great 
 missionary journey. He had always been of a loving 
 and tender disposition, gay of heart, and able to find 
 pleasure in simple things; and now, with this new 
 happiness possessing him, he trod the earth, barefoot, 
 with joyous freedom. So wrapped up was he in the con- 
 sciousness of Divine Love that it transfigured his face, 
 and gave deep tones of tenderness to his voice. When he 
 accosted some person and spoke of the Love of God, 
 his hearer would often turn and follow him, begging to be 
 allowed to accompany him whithersoever he was going. 
 Moved by his example and behaviour, a rich man of 
 Assisi sold everything that he possessed, gave the money 
 to the poor, and joined Francis. Soon, a Canon of the 
 Cathedral resigned his position and did the same. But 
 at this time the young man had no idea of forming a 
 band of followers ; so that as many as came to him he 
 blest them, and sent them away, " two and two," to 
 preach and teach and serve, as Christ sent his disciples. 
 As time went on, however, it became necessary to have 
 some appointed meeting-place, some centre ; and then 
 Francis journeyed to Rome '^.gain ; this time to gain 
 the sanction of the Pope for a community living under 
 special vows. 
 
 The story goes that when Francis and his companions 
 approached the Lateran palace the Pope, believing them 
 to be merely beggars, refused an audience. That night 
 he had a dream: the fine Church of S John *-o^*^er*?rl an A 
 
S. Francis of Assisi tending Lepers 
 
 242 
 

 
 \ 
 
 i. 
 
 % 
 
 Hi 
 
 '1 
 
 
 
 was 
 
 morr 
 
 Assis 
 
 and 
 
 sand 
 
 show 
 
 also 
 
 Pove 
 
 Or 
 "mil 
 ever) 
 he ai 
 arrog 
 stud} 
 to be 
 conti 
 awak 
 bride 
 in a 
 looke 
 ness ( 
 of Di 
 gaiet; 
 prais( 
 trod 
 they 
 sellin 
 unha 
 
 Wi 
 profo 
 clergy 
 by k 
 despi 
 passe 
 

 Saint Francis of Assisi 
 
 '43 
 
 was about to fall wl.en the leading beggar " of the 
 morning supported it, and held it Arm. The Bishop of 
 Assisi asked him to grant an audience to the lissionaries, 
 and he gladly rommnnded them to his pn e, and 
 sanctioned the ittle S -iety's plans and v >' Uiotto 
 shows this striking intci ew in one of his fi coes, and 
 also represents in another trancis espousing his bride, 
 Poverty. 
 
 On returning to Assisi with his band of Brothers 
 *' minores," as he was careful to say, he set himself to 
 every kind of work of mercy in his nat ve town. Lest 
 he and his helpers should become proud or spiritually 
 arrogant towards the ignorant, Francis discouraged 
 study and elaborate preaching, and dr , nc Brothers 
 
 to be simple and plain in their disco He himself 
 
 continually dwelt on the Love of Gt ind sought to 
 awaken love in other hearts. In takin^ Poverty for his 
 bride he saw all the poor, small, and mean things of earth 
 in a new light. Nothing could be despised or over- 
 looked ; e\ ything made some claim upon the tender- 
 ness of his feelings. He has been called " a Minnesinger 
 of Divine Love " ; for his boyish fondness for song and 
 gaiety found expression in little canticles of love and 
 praise to God, which he and his companions san^ as they 
 trod the Umbrian roads. When they reached a town 
 they would seek out some humble tasks, carrying water, 
 selling wood, weaving baskets, and always tending the 
 unhappy lepers and the sick outcasts. 
 
 With this joyful simplicity of life they practised 
 profound humility. Any of the monks " ma j ores," the 
 clergy or the readers whom thry migut meet, they greeted 
 by kissing their hands. In every way they sought to 
 despise self and to do honour o others. As the years 
 passed, men ilockcd more ana more to take the vow oi 
 
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 244 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 poverty, until there were a thousand members. Women, 
 too, desired to give themselves up in the same absolute 
 way. Amongst them was the lady Clara, a daughter of 
 one of the noble houses of Assisi, and after some time 
 she became the head of a community of women attached 
 to the Church of S. Damiano, and devoted to good works 
 and to poverty. They were to nurse the sick, tend the 
 poor, and do fine embroidery for the vestments and 
 hangings of the Church. The "Poor Ladies of S. 
 Damiano " afterwards became known as the " Poor 
 Clares," and their work in Assisi was only the beginning 
 of a long record of saintly service. 
 
 Also, as in the case of the Dominicans, it was found 
 desirable to have a Third Order, consisting of men living 
 in the world and doing their ordinary work, but vowed 
 to especial purity of life and to the practice of unselfish 
 acts of love. It is believed that Dante was a member 
 of this Third Order of S. Francis ; and the Church of 
 Santa Maria at Ravenna, where he was buried, was a 
 Franciscan Church. As the years passed and Francis 
 grew old, he became even more, rather than less, devoted 
 to poverty. By means of it he believed that men and 
 women might acquire the virtues and graces of holiness ; 
 and in it, he felt, there was to be found the purest joy. 
 When a young member of the community once asked 
 to be allowed to have a psalter, he rebuked him, saying, 
 " When you have a psalter you will wish to have a 
 breviary, and when you have a breviary you will sit in a 
 chair like a great prelate, and will say to your brother, 
 * Brother, fetch me my breviary.' " Yet there was no 
 gloomy harshness in the life of self-denial. He truly 
 went " on his way rejoicing." Many years after his 
 
 irl a frf^aKUTeA nonv of the little 
 
 there was ff 
 
 - ir J 
 
 canticles sung by him and his companions : — 
 
V'omen, 
 bsolute 
 fhter of 
 le time 
 btached 
 i works 
 2nd the 
 ts and 
 of S. 
 " Poor 
 ginning 
 
 s found 
 n living 
 ; vowed 
 nselfish 
 nember 
 urch of 
 , was a 
 Francis 
 devoted 
 len and 
 oliness ; 
 est joy. 
 e asked 
 saying, 
 have a 
 . sit in a 
 brother, 
 was no 
 [e truly 
 iter his 
 [le little 
 
 Saint Francis of Assisi 245 
 
 " Praised be my Lord God with all His creatures, and specially our 
 brother the sun, who brings us the day and brings us the light : fair is 
 he, and shines with a very great splendour. 
 
 Praised be my Lord for our sister the moon, and for the stars which 
 He has set clear and lovely in heaven. 
 
 Praised be my Lord for our brother the wind, and for air and cloud, 
 calms and all weather. ..." 
 
 Thus the singer gathers into his embrace all things, and 
 finally praises God for " our sister death, the death of the 
 body." 
 
 We read that once he was sought in the quiet recesses 
 of a wood by a great churchman who had been attracted 
 by what he had heard of the new Teacher of Assisi. 
 He saw Francis coming to meet him, ragged, worn, 
 emaciated, and exclaimed : — 
 
 " To thee ? To thee ? Why do they come to thee ? " 
 
 " What say you ? " asked the Friar. 
 
 " Whv does the world run after thee ? Thou art not 
 noble, nor learned, nor handsome. Why ? " The story 
 does not give us the reply made by Francis, but the life 
 he lived was answer enough to any questioner. " Thai 
 man is very very strong and powerful, who looks rot to 
 be loved, nor to be admired, nor to have any hon or 
 dignity, nor to have gratitude shown him ; but whose 
 sole thought is for others, and who lives only for them." 
 
 When, as sometimes happened, Francis was present 
 at the tables of prelates and abbots, while talking 
 kindly, gaily, he would be eating nothing, drinking 
 sparingly of water, dipping his bread in the ashes on the 
 hearth. If any wonderingly remonstrated he would say, 
 " Brother, ash is pure " ; and the self-indulgent great 
 ones would see that this man had learned to care nothing 
 for the pleasures of the senses. In 1219 Francis journeyed 
 to Egypt to convert the Sultan, the most dreaded 
 personage of the time, and pleaded with him in his camp 
 
J 
 
 ■i ^ 
 
 j ; ■ 
 
 j 
 
 1 
 1 
 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 246 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 at Damietta. But the Friar's burning words concerning 
 Christ and His Passion had no effect on the impassive 
 Moslem, so that he ventured to propose another way of 
 convincing him. He offered to walk through the fire 
 (after the old manner of ordeals) in company with one 
 of the Sultan's subject^- who believed firmly in his re- 
 ligion ; then the one who should emerge safely must be 
 granted to hold the truer faith. But the challenge was 
 not accepted, and Francis returned to his convent. The 
 hardships of the journey and the condition of his poor 
 neglected body brought about a sickness, which only 
 the touching with a red-hot iron could cure. As the 
 surgeon approached the suffering Friar murmured, " O 
 brother Fire, the Most High hath created thee of exceed- 
 ing comeliness, beautiful, useful ; in this my hour, be 
 thou courteous, merciful to me " ; and when the opera- 
 tion was over he assured his friends that he had felt no 
 
 pain. 
 
 But --)on the poor tired body was unable to toil longer, 
 and he he d to be borne back to Assisi in a litter carried 
 by his loving Brothers. As the little procession wound 
 along the stony track round the hillside, and Assisi came 
 in sight, Francis asked for the litter to be set down that 
 he might take a last look at his beloved city. " Blessed 
 be thou of God, O holy city," he cried ; and he was 
 borne along to the convent hospital. There as he grew 
 worse and more feeble, he refused p'' comforts, and 
 insisted that he should be laid upon bare ground, 
 in his tattered garment, and there wrestle with his bodily 
 weakness. The watching Friars noticed that as evening 
 drew on, and the sun sank to rest, and stillness crept over 
 the land, the larks still flew and sang above the little 
 hut where the saint lay dying. 
 
 With tender farewell words to his Brothers, Francis, 
 
 
Saint Francis of Assisi 
 
 247 
 
 
 the man of love, passed away. He had asked that his 
 body might be buried in the olot of ground outside the 
 city where condemned criminals lay, but neither the 
 sorrowing Friars nor the authorities of the Church paid 
 heed to the request. The long funeral procession of 
 Friars, and clergy, and canons, and monks, and weeping 
 townspeople, and ragged beggars, and far behind the 
 slinking figures of two o^ three lepers, wound from the 
 Convent of the Portiuncula through the narrow, roughly 
 paved streets of Assisi to the Church of S. George, passing 
 on the way the humble abode of the Poor Clares, and with 
 words of love and humble faith the body of Francis was 
 laid in its last resting-place. 
 
 Very true had been the dream of the Pope that the 
 humble beggar had supported the tottering Church. 
 For the great awakening of love had done much to 
 check the self-seeking spirit which had crept into the 
 Christian Church, and had aroused numberless men and 
 women to devotion. This was so fully acknowledged 
 that the meek Brother was canonised two years later, and 
 as S. Francis of Assisi his name is handed down the ages. 
 His example and the bea^i'iful devotion of his life have 
 moved thousands to devotion ; but also, in unworthy 
 hearts, there grew up the notion that a life of selfish- 
 ness might be atoned for at death by putting on the 
 Franciscan habit of coarse serge. Dante refers to this 
 in the Inferno when he shows us Count Guido de Monte- 
 feltro amongst those punished 'or giving evil counsels. 
 The Count at death had donned the Franciscan gown 
 and hempen girdle, but vainly ; 
 
 " Believing thus begirt to make amends " ; 
 
 for the black Cherubim regarded not the claim on S. 
 Francis, and insisted : — 
 
248 Stories from Dante 
 
 " He must come down among my servitors 
 Because he gave the fraudulent advice." 
 
 Dante also refers to the mysterious experience which 
 S. Francis was beheved to have shared with some other 
 saints of eminent devotion. His continual meditation 
 upon the love of Christ and His Passion and Death 
 brought about in his own body marks similar to those of 
 the Crucified Lord. The prints of nails showed as barely 
 healed wounds upon hands and feet, and the thorn- 
 marks on the brow and the spear dint in the side, stood 
 as perpetual symbols of his absorbing thought. 
 
 " On the hard rock 
 'Twixt Arno and the Tiber, he from Christ 
 Took the last signet, which his limbs two years 
 Did carry. Then the season came that He, 
 Who to such good had destined him, was pleas'd 
 To advance him to the meed which he had earn'd 
 By his self-humbling." 
 
 ^ 
 
vhich 
 other 
 ation 
 )eath 
 3seof 
 •arely 
 horn- 
 stood 
 
 
 XXII 
 
 Albertus Magnus 
 
 1193-1280 
 
 " Thus heard I one who spake ... 
 ' Thou Tain wouldst hear what plants are these that bloom 
 In the bi'ight garland. . . . 
 He nearest on my right hand brother was 
 And master to me : Albert of Cologne. . . .'" 
 
 Paradiso x. 
 
 ALBERTUS VON Bollstadt was born in a town 
 in Swabia towards the end of the twelfth 
 century. The great Emperor Frederick Bar- 
 barossa had been dead three years, and his son and 
 successor Henry the Sixth sat on the Imperial throne. 
 At this time Italy and Germany were united in what 
 was called the Holy Roman Empire ; but the Lombard 
 cities of Italy were strong and independent, and under 
 their own dukes often resisted the power of the Emperor. 
 For a hundred years the Emperors belonged to the great 
 Swabian house of the Hohenstauffen ; and it was 
 through the struggle between these Emperors and the 
 Popes that the rival parties of Ghibellines and Guelfs 
 grew up. 
 •The Swabian Emperors were enlightened rulers and 
 
 pnnmiracrpri t.hp crrnwfVi nf nprman fQwno rrrnnfinrt 
 
 favours and privileges to them through their counts or 
 
 843 
 
\ 
 
 I 
 
 250 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 dukes, so that in days to come they joined together as the 
 old towns of Greece had done, to protect their hberties, 
 and control their trade. 
 
 The town of Laningen is famous only c ; the birth- 
 place of Albertus, one of the greatest scholars of the 
 Middle Ages. It was during the twelfth century that 
 the revival of learning led to the founding of Universities 
 or Colleges for the study of All Learning. Some of them 
 grew out of the schools attached to cathedrals or monas- 
 teries ; and at the time when Albertus was a lad, two of 
 the most famous Universities were those of Paris and 
 Padua, and Bologna and Oxford were rising to honour. 
 We must, however, think of " Universities " not at all 
 as collections of stately buildings, with lecture-halls 
 and cloisters and gowned professors and resident 
 students ; but as the temporary abodes of some eminent 
 teacher or teachers, who travelled thither and announced 
 their desire to lecture upon some branch of learning. 
 Then the scholars would follow their instructor to some 
 retired place : a large porch or an inn-yard, a quiet 
 cloister or a deserted market, and there the lecture would 
 be delivered. There is still to be seen in Paris a narrow 
 street under the shadow of the Cathedral of Notre Dame, 
 stone-paved and with a rough pavement on only one 
 side, called the Rue du Fouarre, or Straw Street. The 
 name recalls the distant days of the mediaeval University, 
 where Anselm and Abelard taught, and Becket and 
 Albertus studied; with dry straw from the market 
 near by strewn for warmth and comfort on the rough 
 stones, the teacher mounted on a threshold and the 
 learners clustered round. 
 
 The language spoken at all the universities, whether 
 Paris or Bologna or Oxford or x au.ua, was j-iatm, for, as 
 yet, the various dialects spoken by the people in France, 
 
Albertus Magnus 251 
 
 Italy and England, had no written Literature. Thus, 
 students of all nationalities understood each other ; 
 though we find that wherever a large number of foreigners 
 attended, there was some regulation by which they 
 assembled more cr less according to their countries, and 
 were known as different " nations." It was the custom, 
 too, to travel from one University to another, each 
 being famous for excellence in one or more subjects. 
 That of Paris was distinguished for Logic, Bologna for 
 Law, Oxford for Theology. What books there were, 
 were in manuscript ; very precious, cumbrous and 
 expensive ; so that the study was largely carried on by 
 means of discussions, or disputations. 
 
 We may picture this Swabian youth leaving his 
 father's square, turreted house, about the year 1210, 
 attended by a servant, and travelling in a party of knights 
 and merchants, by the well-guarded military road down 
 to Padua ; there lodging in one of the many students* 
 inns, and joining the crowd of eager learners as they 
 sought the different teachers in the byways and quiet 
 spaces of the city. The famous Arabian scholar, 
 Averrhoes, had taught at Padua, but had died a few 
 years before this time. His subject and methods of 
 study were the principal ones in esteem there, and thus 
 young Albertus made acquaintance with the works of 
 Aristotle, the " Master of them that know," which 
 Averrhoes had translated into Latin. 
 
 Then he went on to Paris, and studied Logic, Geometry, 
 and Natural Philosophy. For this last-" imed subject, 
 and for what afterwards became NavJ -a! Science, 
 Albertus had great fondness. It is thought that the 
 mathematical lecturer of the time at Paris was his 
 illustrious countryman, Jordanus dc Saxonia. This 
 scholar had studied at Cordova, and brought to Paris 
 the knowledge of the Arabic Notation and the early parts 
 
252 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 of Algebra. Under him, too, the students considered 
 some of Aristotle's illustrations of Mechanics : the prin- 
 ciple of the lever, the movements of bodies, and the 
 unanswered questions. Why a thing in motion should 
 ever stop ? and. Why a chariot goes more easily on large 
 wheels than on small ones ? 
 
 Another great mathematician of the time was 
 Leonardo da Pisa, and perhaps the University of Paris 
 had in its Library a copy of his "Liber Abaci," or Book of 
 Counting, in which the beautiful Arabic system of nume- 
 ration and notation was explained. The scarcity of books 
 and the expense of writing materials made the study of 
 science very difficult, and, in the case of some branches, 
 the absence of instruments, even of graduated rulers and 
 compasses, balances, correct weights, and of all the 
 handy, delicate tools which we find in a laboratory now, 
 made progress very slow. Besides this, the investiga- 
 tion of the nature of substances, or Chemistry, was 
 believed to be connected with Magic ; and the study 
 was discouraged at Paris both in Albertus' day, and later, 
 when Roger Bacon studied there. 
 
 At this time the great religious movement begun by 
 Dominic and Francis was making itself felt. Their 
 followers were to be found amongst all ranks and classes 
 of men, and especially at the Universities. There the 
 Friars eagerly studied, and disputed upon the philosophy 
 of Aristotle, which Christian thinkers had hitherto 
 shunned. While the Franciscan Orders were intended 
 rather for men prepared to give up everything and to 
 devote themselves to works of mercy, the Dominicans 
 aimed at reforming the world of thought. Thus they not 
 only had specially-trained preachers, able to support the 
 Christian faith by argument, but also they endeavoured 
 to gather all that was good in the great pre-Christian 
 learning. The Christian thinkers had by this time 
 
Albertus Magnus 253 
 
 become absorbed in diflficult points of doctrine, and the 
 Church frowned upon the study of philosophy as leading 
 to heresy. 
 
 We are sure that a man so eager after learning would 
 desire to know all that could be known, and that the 
 enthusiasm of the new religious feeling would be sure to 
 touch such an ardent mind. So that we are prepared 
 to hear that x\lbertus, after he had studied for some 
 years at Paris, joined the Order of Dominicans, and 
 placed his talents and his life at the disposal of the 
 Society. He was first sent to Cologne to spend a quiet 
 time in a monastery there, and afterwards appointed 
 to lecture in the convent schools throughout Germany. 
 But his superiors required him to give up his study of 
 Natural Science, on account of its dangerous likeness to 
 Magic and the Black Art. This led him to a still more 
 resolute devotion to the writings of Aristotle, who cared 
 for Science only as a means to help correct thinking, and 
 not for the sake of the convenient inventions that might 
 come of it. In that age of nicknames one soon became 
 attached to him. Scoffers called him the " Ape of 
 Aristotle," but a more honourable title clings still to his 
 name. Those who recognised how wide and how 
 thorough was his knowledge called him the " Universal 
 Doctor," and even during his life he was spoken of by 
 the name by which he is known in history, Albertus 
 Magnus. It is worth while remembering that he is one 
 of the few men who have been called " Great " for other 
 and more peaceful reasons than that of winning many 
 battles or ruling over great territories. 
 
 After some years' teaching at Cologne, where he had 
 one pupil who became even more distinguished than 
 himself, he was made Grand Provincial of the Dominicans 
 in Gtermany. Then, as the Pope and his ministers saw 
 the good work done by this Order, he had an honour 
 
^il 
 
 ^54 
 
 Stories from Dante 
 
 bestowed upon him at Kome. He was made Grand 
 Master of the Palace ; and in this position had many 
 opportunities of pleading the cause of the Dominicans 
 who were undertaking missionary work in every part of 
 the world, and strengthening the position of the Church 
 by their able preaching and devotion. 
 
 Presently Albertus was made Bishop of Ratisbon, 
 a town famous in later history for other reasons than that 
 of possessing a most wonderful scholar as its bishop 
 After nearly twenty years' hard work in his diocese, he 
 gave up the great position, and, like so many men of his 
 time, retired to a convent to spend his last days in 
 meditation and quiet. So in the peaceful cloisters at 
 Cologne we may picture him in a tiny cell fitted with a 
 desk attached to the wall and a high stool, sitting in his 
 black frock and leathern girdle, his figure bent, writing 
 busily, in beautiful even script, the long treatises which 
 he left behind him. Twenty-one great books of large 
 pages, heavily bound, were penned by him in his retreat 
 in order that some of the learning he had gathered and 
 uttered by word of mouth, during his long and strenuous 
 life, should be preserved. 
 
 We should think those books a strange mixture could 
 we read them now. Written in Latin, but in the careless 
 mediseval Latin of Christendom, not the clear, pure 
 tongue of Cicero; and discussing theology and philo- 
 sophy and metaphysics and natural history. One of the 
 volumes is devoted to pointing out the errors of the 
 teaching of the great Arabian scholar, Averrhoes, in 
 whose translation of Aristotle, Albertus had first become 
 acquainted with the philosophy of his revered master. 
 
 Dante pays great honour to the memory of this 
 fanious German scholar, who died when he himself was a 
 lad of fifteen, and was just beginning his more advanced 
 studies under Ser Brunette Latini. Like Albertus, 
 
I 
 
 Albertus Magnus 255 
 
 Dante loved learning and spoke of Philosophy as a knight 
 might speak cf his lady ; so that he had especial rever- 
 enc; for those who devoted their lives and their gifts 
 to its service. 
 
 He shows us the illustrious spirits who dwell in the 
 Fourth Heaven, the Heaven of the Sun ; and so intent 
 upon his task is he, and so absorbed in his desire, that the 
 leader may grasp his description that he interrupts 
 himself to say, 
 
 " Now rest thee, reader ! on this bench and muse 
 Auticipative of the feast to come : 
 So shall delight make thee not feel thy toil." 
 
 Then he goes on to describe how, encircling Beatrice 
 and himself like a wreath, was a ring of Twelve blessed 
 spirits, the souls of devout scholars. Amongst them are 
 Solomon the Wise, the famous King of Israel and Judah ; 
 Dionysius, the Areopagite, a professor of Philosophy at 
 Athens, who was converted by the preaching of S. Paul 
 and became his disciple ; Boethius, the last of the R^ man 
 philosophers ; * the Venerable Bede of England, and 
 other saintly men. Amongst them was the favourite 
 pupil of Albertus Magnus, the learned Thomas Aquinas, 
 known as the " Angelic Doctor." He is described as 
 explaining to Dante the presences in the mysterious 
 ring ; and, himself a Dominican, pronouncing the 
 eulogy upon S. Francis of Assisi, the twelfth glowing 
 light in the circle. Dante ends his Book of the Paradise 
 with this vision of the blessed spirits who abide in the 
 Light of God, but cannot interpret all that he is vouch- 
 safed to perceive : "To the high fantasy here power 
 failed ; but already my desire and will were rolled — even 
 as a wheel which moveth equally — by the Love that 
 moves the sun and the other stars." ' 
 
 > Ch. xvii. 
 
 2 Dent's " Temple Classics " Dante : Mr Wicksteed's translation. 
 
Conclusion 
 
 "The tbree kingdoms. Inferno, Purgatorio, Paradiso, look out on 
 one another like compartments of a great edifice, a great supernatural 
 world-cathedral, piled up there, stern, solemn, awful : Dante's World 
 
 of Souls." 
 
 Carlyle ; The Hero as Poet. 
 
 THE action of the Divine Comedy, which re- 
 veals to us this World of Souls, covers a period 
 of one \, eek. The supposed date is March 24th, 
 the eve of Good Friday, to April 1st, in the year 1300. 
 Dante, in his letter of dedication to Can Grande, says 
 that the purpose of the Comedy is " to remove those 
 living in this life from the state of misery and lead them 
 to the state of felicity." Thus, in virtue of its subject, 
 its aim, and its felicitous treatment, it stands as one of 
 the greatest epic poems of all time. 
 
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