not down with its heavy body." And we have the further lesson that mere sorrow of the lips and outward observance of the law, or reception of the Sacraments, will avail little unless accompanied by change of heart and sincere detestation of sin: "He cannot be absolved who doth not first repent; nor can he repent the sin and will it at the same time, for this were contradiction to which reason cannot consent."2 Thus, in picturing sin and its punishment, in such colors as human conception has never approached, the poet is teaching us the lesson of struggle with self, of abhorrence of wrong-doing, and of making effort towards personal holiness. This is especially the great lesson of the Purgatorio. Before entering these realms of hope and sweet contentment amid great suffering-hope and contentment because accompanied by Love— the poet must first be washed of the grime and filth that have clung to him in the evil world, the contemplation of which so saddened his eyes and weighed down his heart. He is, furthermore, to be girt with a lowly and pliant rush; "Go then," says Cato," and gird this man with a smooth rush; then wash his face so that therefrom thou mayst put away all filthiness; for it were unseemly, with eye obscured by any cloud, to go before the first Minister who is of them of Paradise." In which words is conveyed the wholesome lesson that after one has been cleansed from the grime of sin, one must gird on the plain rush of humility; for as pride is the chief of all capital sins, so is humility the foundation of all virtue; and with meek and lowly heart must one walk in the narrow way, fearing lest one fall and remembering that one carries heavenly treasures in a frail vessel. And once the soul has set out upon the road of virtue and right-doing, she must not go back: "Let not your returning be hitherward. The Sun which is now rising will show you where to take the mountain at an easier ascent." In proportion as the soul becomes enlightened by prayer and meditation will she find all the easier the ascent up the mountain-heights of perfection. It is only through humble obedience in all right-doing and humble submission in all right-thinking that the soul can attain the great object of this pilgrimage. This is the only road to liberty. And liberty of spirit is what the poet seeks: "He goeth in search of liberty, which is so dear, as he knoweth who for it gave up his life." He goes in search of the highest spiritual good. And he can only advance in the light: " To go upward in the night 1 Inferno, xxiv., 46–54, Cf. Wisdom, ix., 15. 3 Purgatorio, I., 94-99. 2 Inferno, xxvii., 118–120. 4 Ibid., 106-108. • Purgatorio, I., 71-72. Cato taking his own life rather than renounce liberty, is symbolical of the soul, destroying all selfishness that it may attain the light and freedom of spiritual life. See Bianchi's Ed. Div. Com., note to those lines p. 245, Ed. 1863; p. 253, Ed. 1868. whose face is radiant with beauty There are three steps. The first may not be." Only by grace and mercy can one progress in the path of perfection. Still freedom of will is respected, and so the poet may retrace his steps in the darkness: "Well might one therewith turn downward and wander about the hillside whilst that the horizon holds the day closed." The poet arrives at the gate of purgation. It is guarded by an angel and who bears a sword and keys. is of white marble so polished that therein the poet may see himself mirrored. The second is a fire-burnt rock tinted more deeply than perse, with a cross through its length and breadth. The third is porphyry flaming as blood spirting forth from a vein. The poet begs for mercy, striking his breast, and asks to enter. Here, indeed, the allegorical veil is so thin that whoso chooses may penetrate it in the light of Catholic doctrine and Catholic practice. "We need hardly be told," says one who has written a charming book instinct with beautiful thoughts and suggestions, "that the gate of St. Peter is the Tribunal of Penance. . . . . The triple stair stands revealed as candid Confession mirroring the whole man, mournful Contrition breaking the hard heart of the gazer on the Cross, Love all aflame offering up in satisfaction the life-blood of body, soul and spirit the adamantine threshold-seat as the priceless merits of Christ the Door, Christ the Rock, Christ the sure Foundation and the precious Corner-Stone. In the Angel of the Gate, as in the Gospel Angel of Bethesda, is discerned the Confessor; in the dazzling radiance of his countenance the exceeding glory of the ministration of righteousness; in the penitential robe the sympathetic meekness whereby restoring one overtaken in a fault, he considers himself lest he also be tempted; in the sword the wholesome severity of his discipline; in the golden key his divine authority; in the silver, the discernment of spirits whereby he denies absolution to the impenitent, the learning and discretion whereby he directs the penitent." 5 And now, repentant and with good resolve, the soul goes forth on its final pilgrimage of purification. There is still upon it the impress of the Seven Capital Sins. To rid itself of the last trace of these is its first endeavor. And as the angel brushes away the trace of one sin after the other," and the soul advances farther and farther in the way of perfection, it finds itself growing all the lighter for having gotten rid of the burden of its imperfections, and 2 Ibid., 58-60. 'Purgatorio, vii., 44. "Perse is a mixture of purple and black, the black predominating.”—Dante. Convito, iv., 20. 4 Purgatorio, ix., 90–102. 5 Maria F. Rossetti, A Shadow of Dante, pp. 112, 113. See the Dissertation of Tommaseo to Purgatorio, ix., Penitenza Correzione. • Purgatorio, xii., 140 sqq. is it to mount to the summit.1 2 66 0, the more eager Charity takes possession of the soul and she would see all men ascend with her: race of men," admonishes the poet, "born to fly upwards, why at a little wind fall ye so down?" He also upbraids us for allowing ourselves to remain blind to the beauty and splendor of things spiritual, and becoming absorbed in things earthly: "Heaven calls you, and revolves around you, showing you its eternal beauties; and your eye gazes only on the earth, wherefore He who discerns all chastises you. We here perceive too that in affliction and trouble the soul has come to recognize the Hand that punishes: “He who discerns all chastises you;" and she accepts her trials as coming from the hand of a loving Father, and offers them up in expiation for past sin and as a source of meriting. and Finally, the poet passes through the fire that cleanses him whole, and Virgil says to him: The temporal fire and the eternal hast thou seen, my son, and thou art come to a part where of myself no farther do I discern. With reason and with art have I brought thee hither. Take for guide thine own good pleasure; beyond the steep ways the narrow art thou. Yonder is the sun that shines upon thy forehead; here are the young grass, the flowers and the shrubs, which the land of itself alone brings forth. Whilst rejoicing come the fair eyes that with their weeping made me go to thy aid, thou mayst sit down and mayst go among them. Await no more word nor sign from me; free and upright and sound is thy Free-will, and it were wrong not to do its bidding; wherefore thee over thyself I crown and mitre." The soul has conquered. Therefore Virgil leaves the poet free from the dominion of his passions; more than free, a king crowned triumphant over himself; more than king, a mitred priest, ruling the cloister of his heart, his thoughts and his affections, and mediator and intercessor before the Divine Mercy for himself and those commending themselves to his prayers. Through speculation and through right-doing has he been led by reason as far as reason can lead him. He now passes into the hands of Divine Theology and Grace Illuminant, and in the radiance beaming from her eyes and dispelling many a mist of ignorance, he will read profitable lessons of wisdom and of spiritual perfection. He meets Beatrice. Henceforth neither fear of eternal torments, nor hope of mere earthly reward, nor consolations of sense and feeling will be his incentive to right-doing. Love alone will lead him. In the company of Beatrice, basking in her sweet smile and receiving her loving admonitions, will he walk from sphere to sphere and traverse the 1 -Pungémi la fretta Per la impacciata via.-Purgatorio, xxi., 4-5. 2 Purgatorio, xii., 95–96. Empyrean. She begins by showing him how great is the distance between the mere science of reason and speculation and the high and holy Light that will now be a guide to his feet. The poet asks: "But why so far above my sight flies thy wished-for speech, that the more my vision strains to see it the more it loses it? And Beatrice answers: To the end that thou mayst know the School that thou hast followed; mayst see how its doctrines can keep pace with my speech; mayst also see that your way is from the Divine way as far apart as from earth in distance speeds the highest heaven.” Henceforth the soul will tread God's way. And in what consists that way? It is a way not unknown to every soul seeking after spiritual perfection and union with God. It is the way of personal purity and holiness. It hath been well and beautifully said: "The only obstacle to spiritual growth lies in ourselves. Goodness Divine, which spurns from Itself all envy,' is forever shining in ideal beauty and drawing the soul with cords of love. If we do not see the heavenly vision, it is because we are blinded by sin; if we do not press forward towards it, it is because we are clogged by sin." But the whole mission of the Church-that to achieve which she makes use of all the means at her command-is to enable the soul to divest herself of sin and become united with the Supreme Good. In the Church flows the spirit of regeneration. She is the mystical vine perennially shooting forth branch and leaf and luscious fruit throughout the ages, and in every fibre retaining vigor and freshHer mystical sap continues to nourish souls and impart to them a healthful and health-giving growth and development. And that mystical sap is none other than Love Divine. It glows in the heart of every member grafted on her mystical body. It inspires the spirit of charity and fosters the communion of saints. Now it is in this spirit that Dante wrote his great poem, and in this spirit must that poem be read. It is the story of a soul seeking perfection in unison and harmony with the Church, by the light of Faith and borne upward by the supreme law of Love. ness. Now, indeed the scales of selfishness, and worldly wisdom, and earthly motives and measures fall from the poet's eyes and he sees things as they are in the light of God's presence. The beauty of virtue and personal holiness, the nobility and dignity of obedience, the exalted grandeur of humility, the great excellence of poverty and the numberless blessings accompanying it; the necessity of being detached from things of earth; the intrinsic worth of riches, honors and pleasures; the wonders of the Incarnation and Redemption and the exhaustless oceans of grace flowing Purgatorio, xxxiii., 82-90. Cf. De Imitatione Christi, Lib., iii., Cap., 31, 32. 2 A Study of Dante, Susan Blow, p. 65. 1 therefrom; all these subjects, and many more as well, are dwelt upon directly or impliedly, amid the music of the spheres and the Hosannas of angels and saints-catching up and re-echoing in heaven the hymns and offices sung by the saints on earth—with a wealth and gorgeousness of expression, and a sustained music, borrowed from the heavenly music that had entered the author's heart and welled forth again with a rhythm and a harmony becoming the sublime theme. All this is of the essence of the Illuminative way. The soul has grown detached from the things of this world. She has renounced sin and the vanities of life. She has become enamored of the spiritual goods of prayer and the sacraments. The Love and the Light wherewith she is filled diffuse themselves upon her neighbor in charitable thought and kind word and helping deed. Hence, she is zealous for the spiritual well-being of her neighbor and seeks to make it assured by prayer and edification. She has left the way of Nature, "which respecteth the outer things of a man," and adopted those of Grace, " which turneth itself to the inward." She finds comfort in God alone, and regards all else as vain and trifling, except in so far as it leads to God. In this spirit, and animated by these sentiments, does Dante move from sphere to sphere-each moment soaring higher on the wings of love; for in his own words, " The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence of burning love and of living hope, which conquer the Divine Will"—each moment revealing to him some new truth —each moment adding to the brilliancy of the smile of his Beatrice as she approaches nearer to the Fountain of Light and Life and Love-admiration on his lips, love in his heart and ecstacy in his soul; all in harmony with that “harmony and sweetness that can never be known save where joy is everlasting." The splendor of the eternal Sun that illumines all the lights in Heaven, now comes within his vision and through the living light appears the shining substance of the glorified body of the Redeemer, and its radiance dazzles his gaze: "Here is the Wisdom and the Power which opened the roads between heaven and earth." And now Beatrice would wean the poet from interpreting all things in her countenance, and initiate him into a higher state of spiritual life by contemplating heavenly things in themselves: "Why," she says, " so enamors thee my face that thou turnest not to the beautiful garden which flowereth under Christ's beams? Here is the Rose wherein the Divine Word was made flesh; here are the lilies whose odor attracted into the 1 De Imitatione, Lib. iii., Cap. 31, 5. Da caldo amore e da viva speranza, Che vince la Divina Voluntate.-Paradiso, xx., 94-96. $ Paradiso, x., 146-148. |