worthy guide for the main features of his subject. He visited Dante's daughter Beatrice, a nun in a convent at Ravenna, in December, 1350; and from her or from her brothers must no doubt have heard many of the circumstances which he relates. He was also intimate with Andrea Poggi, Dante's nephew, and with others of his personal friends.

The colouring which a critic and annotator of the present century has thrown over Boccaccio's work, would indeed make its literal credibility in some respects more than doubtful. If it be true that the biographer's mode of treating his subject was but the outer garb of fancy, covering the political sectarian's mystical intent, it seems difficult to assign the limit to which our distrust of him must extend. It is evident, however, that Leonardo Aretino had no such idea of Boccaccio's drift. He would have been somewhat surprised to hear that the contemned romancer was in fact the instructed hierophant ; that Boccaccio knew and purposely concealed the important realities of Dante's life, while he was himself only conversant with its less material portions.

Rossetti's view, as is well known, aims at not only allegorizing Boccaccio's Life of Dante, but Dante's own account of himself and his love. As the two accounts depend the one upon the other, the few remarks we shall make may treat of them as one subject. We do not intend to enter into a detailed argument concerning the 'gergo' and the 'setta d'amore.' Whatever truth there may be in Rossetti's viewsand that he has arrived at the true interpretation of the chief symbolical features of the Commedia at all events seems almost incontestible to an unprejudiced mind-we think he tries too much to fit his key into every lock, and does not sufficiently

allow for the variety, the inconsistency it may be, of the feelings which sway the mind of a poet who goes on imagining and composing from his eighteenth to his fiftysixth year. That Dante had one permanent political notion in view from the first line of his Vita Nuova to the last of his Paradiso, we do not believe. That he had in his youth one of those fiery, soulabsorbing passions of love which perhaps no poet has ever been without, seems à priori probable in the highest degree. That if he had such a passion he should have described it, and glorified it, aye, and exaggerated it, is strictly in accordance with the habits of thought prevalent in the middle ages. There was a conventional mode then of viewing the passion of love and its requirements, which may almost be called the subsidiary religion of those times. The genuine part of the passion is as much felt now as it was then; but there is this difference-modern good sense checks or modifies the full expression of emotions which good taste then delighted in exhibiting, even to a fantastic excess. Supposing we refuse to take the effusions themselves of the so-called amatory poets of Italy and the South of France in evidence, still there exist other records, literary and historical, which establish the whimsical love-creed of the age of chivalry beyond dispute. Under various fashions suited to successive generations of mankind, it existed far beyond the times that had any immediate connexion with chivalry; and it extended to regions where certainly no theories of imperial divine right occupied men's minds. Some of the Teutonic Minne-singers' could hardly be surpassed in extravagance, though they might be in elegance, by the minstrels of Southern Europe.*

The extravagance, therefore, of the expressions used by the amatory poets of Dante's age and country proves nothing, of itself, against the acceptation of their literal sense. But that some devotees of imperial supremacy may have availed themselves of the current literary fashion to veil their political views; that the tempting anagram of Amor and Roma may have been made serviceable for the utterance of aspirations not always emanating from dreams of love in ladies' bowers, we are far from denying. Our question is, how far was this the case with Dante? Boccaccio's account of his

early love is very simple. He assigns for the first meeting of Dante and Beatrice, the first of May; a date which should be remarked, because it can have nothing to do with those mystical associations which excite Rossetti's incredulity when the amatory poets speak of Good Friday, Holy Thursday, or Easter Day, as eras in their lovehistory. The first of May was a day of annual feasting and rejoicing in Florence. It is a date frequently occurring in the records of public commotions and spectacles at that period. Moreover, Boccaccio mentions that Dante at the time was under nine years old, and that Beatrice was not more than eight. This also should be noticed; for it is on Dante's mystical play on the number nine that the argument for the unreality of the love is partly grounded. How far the love at that time was really anything more than a mere childish fancy, is another matter. Boccaccio's trade of romance writer might well lead him to a little exaggeration here. The love perhaps grew up afterwards, and then the first meeting was always tenderly remembered by one at least of the lovers. But when Dante came to poetize in his mystical way about his passion and its accompaniments, a little license on his part may have been assumed, to bring the mystery of numbers to bear on the subject. The mys

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tery of numbers held an important place in the scholastic lore of those times it did not require much straining of facts to bring both Beatrice and her lover within the magic influence of the best and most wonderful of numbers, Nine. So, again, Dante can make nothing of the first day of his beholding Beatrice, as a mystical date, but he marks Holy Thursday as the day of his deliverance from the dark wood through her influence, which was altogether a mystical cireumstance.

Besides this, we know from documentary evidence that there was a real Beatrice Portinari, daughter of Folco Portinari, living at this time in Florence. We know that her father's will is dated at about the time Dante's poetry speaks of him as dying. We know also that she eventually became the wife of one Simone di Bardi, a circumstance which, according to the custom of the times, need have been no hindrance whatever to the continued indulgence and utterance of the poet's love.

For the details of his love, and the changes of feeling consequent thereon, we are dependent on Dante's own account in his sonnets written at this time, and on the commentary on those sonnets, which was composed the year after Beatrice's alleged death, which sonnets and commentary together constitute the Vita Nuova, the first in time of his works. The assumption that his love was purely allegorical, and that the sonnets were political effusions, puts them out of court as evidence, except on the grounds of internal probability, on the subject of Beatrice Portinari; and the circumstance that the Vita Nuova is dedicated to Guido Cavalcanti, the poet's earliest friend, is adduced as an additional reason why they should be understood as a Ghibelline parable. For Guido Cavalcanti was undoubtedly a Ghibelline; his poems are strangely enigmatical, and seem frequently to point to some meaning purposely

concealed; and as he enjoyed a peculiar reputation in his own days, and exercised no small influence on Dante's mind, a few words may here be given to the character of this remarkable man, an interesting specimen of the poet, philosopher, and politician, as blended in that period of expanding intellect and stormy partisanship.

Guido Cavalcanti's seems to have been one of those self-reliant and gifted minds which, when joined to a certain grace and refinement of outward manner, exercise at will so invincible an attraction on all within their sphere. Boccaccio, writing half a century afterwards, makes him the hero of one of his tales, a version, probably, of a real anecdote relating to him. Besides being one of the best logicians in the world,' he says, and an excellent natural philosopher, he was also very witty, had fine manners, and spoke much. Everything that he did was done better than any one else could do it, and in a mode befitting a gentleman.' Dino Compagni describes him as 'a noble, courteous, and daring youth, but haughty and retired, and devoted to study. The vulgar report that his solitary meditations were occupied with the endeavour to discover that there was no God, was probably a calumny, arising from the same dread of intellectual freedom which had already aspersed the character of the high-souled Frederick. That Guido's meditations assumed the strong anti-papal character prevalent among the more intellectual Ghibellines of those times, there can be no doubt, even if we hesitate to admit that the whole of his love-poems, and the lady of his dreams, Mandetta of Toulouse, were merely political fables. Worthy of Dante's ardent friendship was this refined and accomplished Florentine; and, as we have seen, Dante dedicated to him his Vita Nuova. Now, if there is, as we are not prepared to deny, a political allegory in the Vita Nuova, it seems most likely that this meaning was superinduced upon the original love-sonnets at a later date, and that the germ of such allegory

is to be found in the concluding sentence of the work. It runs thus:

After this sonnet there appeared to me a wonderful vision, in the which I beheld things that made me resolve to say no more of that blessed one until such time as I might more worthily descant upon her and to attain to this I study to the utmost of my power, as she doth truly know wherefore, so it be His pleasure for whom all things live that my life should be prolonged yet a few years. I hope to say that of her which was never before said of any one. And may it then please Him who is the Lord of Graciousness, that my spirit may go and behold the glory of its mistress-that is, the blessed Beatrice, who gloriously looks into the face of Him qui est per omnia sæcula benedictus. Laus Deo.

Here we have not improbably the first hint, vaguely and generally conceived, of that identification of Beatrice with the paramount sovereignty of the Roman Empire, which was with Dante not a merely poetical or fanciful, but a religious idea, and which was afterwards to be expanded to more definite proportions.

It is a curious fact that during the sixty years which elapsed between the death of Frederick II. and the arrival of Henry VII. in Italy, a period when the Empire was contested between rival claimants, whose attention was wholly withdrawn from the affairs of the peninsula-so much so that not one of them had even set foot beyond the Alps-the high doctrines of Imperial divine right had made remarkable progress in the minds of Italians, and had acquired the aspect of a systematic theory. The cause of this is no doubt to be found in the awakening taste for classical studies, in the awakening appreciation of the proud inheritance of the Roman name, and in the attention paid more especially to the adulatory poets and jurisconsults of the later Empire. The Pandects of Justinian became a prominent subject of study at the great universities, and there the minds of thoughtful men became moulded to political theories adverse to Republican or Papal pretensions.

That Dante studied at Bologna during the early period of his life, is a fact sufficiently well attested by his biographers. Here, as well as at Florence, in the company of Guido Cavalcanti, he may have imbibed the principles which became the inspiration of his genius in after life. Certain it is that in the political distractions which convulsed the Florentine state during the latter years of the thirteenth century, he drew off from the Guelphic associations of his family, and joined that division of his party which approximated to its old foes, the Ghibellines.

This

section was known as the Bianchi, in opposition to the Ghibelline Guelphs, the Neri. The split took place in 1300; but it was only the sequel to other intestine commotions in which Dante, like his compatriots, bore a part. Thus, when the tenure of the chief magistracies of the Republic was entirely withdrawn from the nobles and placed in the hands of the popolani, Dante was one of those who, themselves of noble birth, consented to enrol themselves in some guild or trade, and so to become a citizen on the popular plan. The trade which Dante selected was that of a physician and dealer in Oriental spices; but the profession was probably nothing more than nominal-a mere subterfuge to evade the law, and enable him to take up a position of active hostility against Corso Donati, the leader of the aristocratic Guelph party of those days. The same hostility to the Donatis and their party inclined him towards the rival family of the Cerchi, the leaders of the Forest or Rustic party (parte selvaggia, salvatica), as it was denominated from the origin of the Cerchi among the woods of the Val di Sieve, which was finally merged in the faction of the Bianchi.

Dante's biographers assert that he was very much employed at this time in affairs of state; but they confine themselves to vague generalities down to the time of Mario Filelfo, who, writing more than a century after his hero's death, avers that he was employed in no less

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than fourteen embassies previously to his election to the office of Prior in 1300. An unwarranted assertion on Filelfo's part,' says Ugo Foscolo, and an impossibility, considering that all these embassies must be comprised within the space of seven years.' If indeed Filelfo had spoken merely of missions to neighbouring cities of Italy, his statement might perhaps have been received with less distrust; but of Dante's appearance at the court of France, where his oratory is said to have won over Philip le Bel to a bond of eternal amity with Florence, we must doubt, simply on account of the length of the journey in those days, and the numerous other avocations and missions to which the poet's attention was directed.

The year 1300 was a marked æra in Dante's history. It was the mezzo cammin which furnished the standing-point for his immortal Vision: it was the year of the Jubilee at Rome which suggested some of its leading ideas; it was the year of his election to the office of Prior, from which he himself dated the misfortunes of his life. This office he held, conjointly with five other citizens, from the 15th of June to the 15th of August. The work before him was that of pacifying the contending factions; for which the Pope's legate was also sent to Florence. The method adopted was that of banishing some of the principal men on both sides. Among the banished Neri was 'il Barone,' as his compatriots nicknamed the proud and turbulent Corso Donati, who led that faction; among the banished Bianchi was the poet's beloved friend, Guido Cavalcanti. During the rest of Dante's priorate and the months that succeeded, the Bianchi gained ground on the Neri; and great jealousy was excited among the latter when the banished members of the opposite party were suffered to return from their marshy exile at Sarzana, in the Val di Magra. But the reason of their return was that the pestilential air of the Florentine Cayenne that hot summer season had affected the health

of the noblest Florentine of them
all, Guido Cavalcanti. He lingered
awhile, but before another year was
out, the fatal sickness bore him to
the grave:
a great loss,' says the
historian Villani, 'because he was
a philosopher and an excellent man
in many things, except that he was
too sensitive and irritable.' The
muse was his companion in exile
and sickness. Plaintive is the ad-
dress to one of his little ballads
which was evidently composed at
Sarzana-

Perch'io nò spero di tornar già mai
Ballatetta in Toscana;
Và tu leggiera e piana
Dritta a la donna mia

*

Tu senti, Ballatetta, che la morte
Mi stringe si, che vita m'abbandona.

Dante has consecrated to the memory of this his 'first friend,' as he elsewhere calls him, some of the most touching lines in his Inferno. When Cavalcanti, the father, inquires whether his son is still among the living, Dante hesitates to answer; and then-for at the date of his imagined vision the stroke of death had not fallen, though Dante, writing some time after, knew the mournful truth too well-he says to his guide, the paternal shade having fallen to the ground with anguish

Ora direte a quel caduto, Che il suo nato e coi vivi ancor congiunto. (Inf. x. 110.)

On this passage Foscolo beautifully remarks

Dopo più tempo ch' egli aveva perduto per sempre il suo nobile compagno, Dante scrivendo ANCORA è vivo sentiva un lutto che non può essere concepito se non da' lettori i quali non hanno più nè patria nè amico.

Reports at last reached Rome that Florence, the old Guelph city, was rapidly becoming a stronghold of Ghibellinism. Then Pope Boniface VIII., the strenuous opponent of Imperial claims, proposed to send the French Prince, Charles of Valois, as a pacificator,' ie., a champion of Neri ascendancy; and then Dante, earnest all his life against French intervention, consented to go as ambassador to

Rome, to prevent the hateful mission. He hesitated, however, it is said, when it was first proposed to him; and uttered words which sank deep into the resentful hearts of his countrymen. If I go,' he said, who remains? and if I remain, who goes?' •

Charles of Valois arrived in Florence on the 1st of November, and immediately a revolution in favour of Corso Donati and the Neri was accomplished. Dante's name was proscribed three times. The accusations brought against him were his opposition to the coming of Charles of Valois, and barratry, i.e., the vending public offices for money, or otherwise making illicit gains; a crime of which no evidence exists, or probably ever did, to convict him. Confiscation and destruction of his goods, and banishment from Florence, were the punishments decreed by the first sentence; the second was yet more cruel; he and those of his party sentenced with him were condemned to be burnt should they ever be found within the walls of the city.

Tu lascerai ogni cosa diletta

Più caramente e questo è quello strale Che l'arco dell' esilio pria saetta,

says the shade of Cacciaguida to his descendant. (Par. xvii. 55). And Dante when he wrote those lines thought of his wife Gemma and his little ones left behind in the home no longer his, while he was himself to become a wanderer henceforth on the face of the earth. Gemma was a Donati, a relation of the powerful Barone,' and she remained with prudent care to tend her children, and to save her own inheritance from the confiscation of her husband's goods.

And here, in April, 1302, commences the period of Dante's exile; an exile which was to last nineteen years, to end only with his life; an exile the events of which come before us like the shadows and sunshine of an April day, with occasional clear glimpses, followed by happy uncertainties. We try in vain to establish any incontestible basis for the course of his