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flHMBHH
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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 ;
fully held
5 Pope at
concerned
I Church,
3 coveted
mise that
gave this
h he was
:ury too ;
Lil, meant
e enough
he kept
en known
courts of
ly hours,
nations,
scholars,
)nks and
Emperor
medifieval
3omed at
le wizard
magician
L Natural
The Lay
m
He
neces
given
for hi
theT
him t
was <
himh
task ]
W\
his re
him
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an ar
for Si
comn
tions
sever;
retun
given
one.
know
He
trave
them
his d<
ties, A
But J
bisho
derid
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
'I:
'Ji
f
i
1
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t
1
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1 '-f
1
■
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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
om Palermo
ocession, all
r the honour
tely retinue,
ed and com-
was one of
o Rome, but
r road. The
oach accord-
edominantly
were always
fie.
Dsing magni-
es and cities
Counts and
hronged the
; and in the
own on that
of "Ave!"
e assembled
Iter this, but
•e was hardly
ind supreme,
my from the
m he had to
„._«-» -,V1^
)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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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-
I
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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."
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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.
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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
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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
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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.
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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,
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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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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
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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 .'=
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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;
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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
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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.
it
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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
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promise
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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.
k out on
ernatural
•s World
IS Poet.
ich re-
L period
ih24th,
ir 1300.
le, says
e those
id them
subject,
I one of
Bate Due
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