from one another by the windings of a large stream, which flows in circles through Hell. Of these circular windings there are four. The first, separating the forecourt from Hell properly so called, is the joyless Acheron, the second the marshy Styx, the third the burning Phlegethon, and the fourth the cold Cocytus. The stream ends at last in an icy lake, in the centre of which sits the Devil. This is probably intended to represent the stream of Belial, mentioned in 2 Sam. xxii. 5, as encompassing the dead in Hell. It rises, according to Dante, in the island of Crete, from the confluence of all the tears which the human race has ever wept in consequence of sin, and will yet weep during the different ages of its existence, which increase in wickedness, and find their representatives in these four streams. * In the division of the sins our poet follows Aristotle, who divides the bad into three classes, namely, incontinence, (dxgadia,) wickedness, (xaxía,) and violence or beastly wildness, (Angións). But, in accordance with his Christian stand-point, Dante differs from Aristotle in that he places wickedness, or as he terms it, cunning, (froda,) lowest in the scale. The first kind of sin, that of incontinence, is human; the second, violence, is bestial; the third, cunning, is demoniacal. Each of these genera comprises again a number of distinct species. Under incontinence, for example, he ranks licentiousness, avarice, prodigality, wrath, &c.; under violence he includes murder, blasphemy, &c.; under cunning especially the different forms of treachery. The punishments of the damned are, according to Dante, not only spiritual but bodily also. The spiritual punishments consist chiefly in an impotent hatred towards God, in envying the happy condition of the blessed, in dissensions among themselves, and in a continual lust for sin without the power or prospect of satisfying it. This everlasting torment also expresses itself externally, and Dante loves most to tarry in describing these bodily punishments. In doing this, he follows in general the principle laid down in Wisdom xi. 17, “Wherewithal a man sinneth, by * Ethics, vii. 1. the same also shall he be punished." A similar thought was supposed to be implied in the assertion of our Lord: "With what measure ye mete it shall be measured to you again. Mark iv. 24; Luke vi. 38. Sin itself, in the other world, is the punishment of sin. Sinners flee from the punishment but desire the sin; the desire is present, but its satisfaction unattainable; the desire itself has become a tormenting sting. This general idea of the close connection between sin and the form of its punishment is, however, carried out, not in a pedantic and literal, but in a very free and manifold way. The lazy, for example, roll themselves about in mire; the licen tious are driven to and fro by a storm-wind; the irascible smite each other in the muddy Styx; the Archbishop Ruggieri, who upon earth had denied food to Count Ugolino, is doomed to have his head chewed constantly by him in Hell. Our limited time will not permit us to tarry separately in the different circles of Hell. Dante has here brought together a variegated mass of pictures from all ages and ranks. Poets, learned men, philosophers, heroes, princes, emperors, monks, priests, cardinals, and popes-in short, all that truth and history, poetry and mytholo gy, have been able to afford of distinguished sins and vices, he causes to pass before us, living, speaking, and suffering; until overcome with fear and horror, we feel compel led to bow ourselves in deep reverence before the judgment-seat of that just God, t whom every sin is an abomination. There is opened here to the careful reader a wide field of the most interesting historical, psychological, metaphysical, theologica, and edifying observations. We shall be able only, by the way of example, to ex template the beginning and the end Hell, the lightest and the heaviest sins, be fore passing over to Purgatory. to In front of Hell properly so called, in its vestibule or outer court, Dante ve characteristically places the indifferent those lukewarm, honorless souls who har no desire for the good and no courage for the bad, who live rather like the irrat and slavish vegetable and animal work and on this account are rejected alike a Heaven and Hell. As companions, he signs them those angels who in the gre original apostacy remained neutral. R "Cacciarli il oiel, per non esser men belli, Nè lo profondo inferno li riceve Che alonna gloria i rei avrebber di elli."* The biblical foundation of this represen; tation rests upon Rev. iii. 15, 16: "I would thou wert cold or hot. So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee out of my mouth." The names of these contemptible beings have been lost; they are never spoken of. Hence Virgil exclaims to Dante, "Non ragionam di lor, ma guarda e passa !"'† He recognizes but one shade, that of one of his cotemporaries, who from fear permitted himself to be led astray into the "great refusal," (il gran rifinto.) Commentators have generally understood this to refer to Pope Celestine V., who knew nothing of the government of the Church, and took no interest in it, and who was hence easily persuaded by his cunning successor, Boniface VIII., to abdicate the papal power only a few months after his election in the year 1294, and to retire again to his quiet monkish life. If this interpretation be correct, Dante comes here in direct collision with his Church, which has enrolled Celestine among its saints. In the first circle we do not yet meet with Their sin properly so called and fully developed, for this can only be perfectly unfolded in opposition to the positive and written law of God, and against the preached and known grace of Christianity. These are yet in the natural state of man as affected by original sin, but at the same time endowed also with a certain natural virtuousness, and are such as have not yet come into any contact with the Church. condition hence is only that of negative punishment, the being deprived of seeing God, (poena damni,) the absence of blessedness, and an indefinite longing for it. The poet first meets with a forest-like crowd of unbaptized children and undistinguished heathen. But he soon perceives in the distance those of the heathen world who were "rich in honor," the heroes of natural virtue. A glimmer of light beams around them, but it is only the reflection of their own glory, this highest aim of the The poet, in company with Virgil, passes heathen according to the maxim of Cicero: rapidly by these miserable beings torment-"Optimus quisque maximè gloria ducitur." ed by flies and wasps, their truest representatives. He is then, in sleep, safely transported across Acheron by a divine miracle; and a boundless cry of woe, sounding up from the deep abyss, announces to him that now he is indeed in Hell. The first circle, which he describes in the fourth song, is Limbus, the abode, according to the doctrines of the Romish Church, of unbaptized children and of heathen, and hence of Virgil also. Here the fathers too of the old covenant originally abode, but were released and raised to blessedness by Christ, when he descended in triumph into Hell, i. e. into this limbus patrum, between his death and his resurrection. Among these, Dante draws attention to those (v. 55 ff.) who represent the different stages of develop So also in the other world honor is still the element in which they live, and hence they are constantly complimenting one another, enjoying themselves in the remembrance of their glorious deeds. Hence their countenances also bear the stamp of a lofty self-feeling, and a stoical indifference, which is neither joy nor sorrow. He first sees the shades of the four poets, Homer, Horace, Ovid, and Lucan. So soon as these perceive Virgil again, they bow themselves reverently before this their colleague and exclaim: "Onorate l'altissimo poeta !" After a short conversation they also receive Dante into their midst as the sixth of the tuneful band. Next in order they reach the heroes and sages of antiquity, who remain forever upon an open and verdant oasis, the reflection of Elysium: "With slow and solemn eyes, And great authority in their countenance, Who speak but seldom with soft,pleasant voices some suppose to three sins which concentrate themselves in him, but according to others, to the three grand divisions of the world as then known, over which his dominion extends; with six weeping eyes, every mouth crushing a sinner, but most grievously the traitor Judas; and with three pairs of plumeless, bat-like wings, which, constantly flapping, bear the pestilential breath of seduction into all regions of the world. Here he sees the Trojan heroes, Hector, | one pale, and one yellow, referring* as Eneas, and then their descendant Cæsar, with other heroes and heroines of eternal Rome; and among them also, though apart by himself, the magnanimous Mohammedan, Saladin; lastly also the philosophers, who stand highest. The leader of the band is Aristotle, the pinnacle of all extra-Christian wisdom, according to the conception of the middle ages. Dante does not mention him by name, because the whole world is supposed to know him. He merely designates him as "the master of those who know," to whom all pay the tribute of admiration and reverence. Nearest to him stand Socrates and Plato, and then in proper gradation the other worldsages of Greece and Rome. The series ends with Averrois, the Arabian expounder of Aristotle. In the presence of such a horrible monster even Virgil becomes fearful and afraid, and bearing his protégé, slides down the shaggy, icy sides of the monster, who still in the end must be of service to the good; whence passing through a cavern, they as cend to the opposite side of the earth, and come forth to see the stars again. In attempting to present an idea of the Purgatory and Paradise of Dante, we must be brief. Purgatory Dante conceives to be a steep, spherical mountain on the western hemisphere, which according to the original plan of Providence, was to have been the abode of the human race. Its summit is crowned with the Terrestrial Paradise, out of which Adam was thrust on account of his trans of Zion, the mountain of salvation, on the From this region of noble heathen, Dante with his companion now descends to ever deeper and heavier sins and severer punishments, until he reaches the middle point of the earth, the seat of the absolute bad. In the lowest circle sit the traitors. He divides these into such as betrayed their blood-relations, those who were traitors to their father-land, to confidants, and to benefactors. The first of these divisions is hence called Caina, from Cain, the mur-gression, forming thus the direct antipodes derer of his brother; the second Antenora, from Antenor, the betrayer of his Trojan father-land; the third Ptolemæa, (Tolemea,) either from Ptolemy the Egyptian king, who betrayed Pompey when fleeing to him for protection, or more probably from Ptolemy who betrayed Simon and his son at a feast, (1 Macc. xvi. 15-17 ;) and lastly Judecca, from Judas Iscariot. Here are found Cassius and Brutus, the murderers of Cæsar, the betrayers of their human benefactor. Dante regards them as both offenders against divine arrangements, and transgressors against the Roman empire, in which he recognizes a divine order and the type of the Roman papacy. Still more culpable than these is Judas, the betrayer of his heavenly benefactor, the offender against the visible likeness of the invisible Divinity. Lastly, sunk to the lowest depth, is Satan, the emperor of Hell, the traitor towards God himself. He is represented as a hideous monster, half immersed in a frozen lake, the image of his own life-element, absolute selfishness, with three faces, one red, At the foot of the mountain of puri tion is a lake, guarded by Cato of Utica the stoic friend of liberty. Dante and Virgil must first wash from their countenan ces the filth of Hell. Then an angel, the direct reverse of the fearful Charon, who conducts the dead across Acheron, brings them in a light bark to the opposite shore. Purgatory has also, like Hell, a vestibule where all those are required to tarry, whe have postponed repentance while upa * Comp. Milton, P. L. B. iv. 114: earth to the last moment. An angel es- | step approach nearer to its confines. corts the wanderers over three thresholds, Whenever a soul has completed its purifiwhich represent the three stages of peni- cation, a trembling of the whole mountain tence, (confessio, contritio, and satisfactio,) announces its entrance into Heaven.* Havthrough the gate of repentance, and, in or- ing reached the Terrestrial Paradise, on der that he may think of the seven mortal the summit of the mountain, Dante sees in sins, cuts the letter P (peccata) seven times a great vision, the Church triumphant, unupon his forehead with his sword. The der the image of a triumphal car drawn mountain itself has seven broad terraces by a griffon, representing Christ. Beatrice cut into its sides, and on these dwell the now descends from Heaven, and appears penitent. The different penances corre- to him in the car, and takes the place of spond with the punishments of Hell, in in- Virgil, who is not permitted to tread the verted order. In Hell Dante descended courts of Heaven, as his conductor. She from the lesser to the greater transgres- represents to him, in strong language, his sions; in Purgatory he leads us from the errors, and exhorts him to bathe in the greater sins and penances upwards to those brook Lethe, that he may forget all evil of less enormity. The sins for which pen- and all past afflictions. A second vision ance is done here, are the same which are displays to him the corruption of the punished there; but with this difference, Church. In this Beatrice prophecies to him that we have to do here with contrite, but its restoration, and causes him to drink there with obdurate souls. As in Hell, conversion from the brook Eunoë, wheresin and punishment, so in Purgatory, sin by he becomes capable of rising upward and penance, stand in a causal relation to Heaven. tward one another; but the relation here is one of opposition, sin being destroyed, since the will is brought to break and yield, in direct contrariety to what it was before. The proud, who fill the first and lowest terrace, are compelled to totter under huge stones, in order that they may learn humility. The indolent, in the fourth terrace, are compelled to be constantly and actively walking. In the fifth, the avaricious ind prodigal, their hands tied together, ie with their faces in the dust, weeping ind wailing. In the sixth, gluttons are ompelled to suffer hunger and thirst, in iew of a tree richly laden with fruits, and of a fresh flowing fountain, like Tantalus, intil they have learned moderation. In he seventh, the licentious wander about n flames, that their sensual passion may De purged from them by fire. At the entrance into every circle, the ngel who conducts them obliterates one f the P's upon the forehead of the poet. n the same measure also his ascent beomes easier at every terrace. In place f the fearful darkness, he is here lighted n his way by the three stars of the theogical virtues, Faith, Love and Hope. In lace of the heart-rending lamentations of he damned, he hears here the ever sweetr sounding tones of the hymns of salvaion, as sung by the souls which are longngly gazing towards Paradise, and step by In ac Lightly now, as upon the wings of light, Dante flies upward through the different portions of the Celestial Paradise, and marks his progress only by the higher glory of his exalted companion.t cordance with the Ptolemaic system, he places Paradise in the heavenly bodies known at that time, and views them as transparent spheres, rolling around the earth with different degrees of velocity, so that those which are nearest move slowest, while the most distant revolve with the greatest rapidity. He reminds us, however, that the Planet-Heaven indicates only the different stages of felicity, and that the proper seat of blessedness is the Empyrean. Between the different abodes and their inhabitants, and the grade of their felicity, there is again an intimate correspondence. Paradise consists of three chief regions, the Star-Heaven, the Crystal Heaven, and the Empyrean. With the seven subdivisions of the first, it comprehends ten places of abode for the blessed, whereby is indicated the fullness and perfection of Paradise. The Star-Heaven consists of the seven planets, and the fixed stars. According to the view and arrangement of that age, the seven stars were the following :-First the moon; this is first reached by Dante, after passing through the region of air and fire, and he here sees the souls of those who did not quite fulfil their spiritual vows. Second, Mercury, where dwell the souls of those who, although virtuous, yet strove in their bodily life after earthly fame. Third, Venus, which contains those spirits that in their pious strivings were not sufficiently free from earthly love. Fourth, the Sun, which holds a middle position among the stars, sending forth its rays equally in all directions, and which is the clearest mirror of God for the inhabitants of the earth. Here reside the most worthy theologians and doctors of the Church, (comp. Dan. xii. 3, Matt. viii. 43.) Thomas Aquinas, Bonaventura, Francis of Assissi, instruct the poet in the mysteries of salvation, and the depth of the Divinity. Fifth, Mars, the abode of the blessed heroes who have fought for the true faith. These shine as stars, and are arranged in the form of a bright cross, from the midst of which beams forth the form of Christ. Sixth, Jupiter, the star of justice, (a Jove justitia,) where are found the souls of just and righteous princes. These are arranged so as to express, in the first place, the words, Diligite justitiam, qui judicatis mundum; afterwards in the form of an eagle, as the symbol of the German empire, in which Dante saw the concentration of secular power according to divine institution. Seventh, Saturn, where reside the pious hermits and contemplative souls, which like flames are constantly ascending and descending a ladder. Dante reaches now the fixed-star-heaven. Here, in a vision, he sees the triumph of Christ and the Virgin Mary, and is instructed in the nature of Faith by the apostle Peter, in the nature of Hope by James, and in the nature of Love by John. This last Dante explains to be that which gives Heaven its peace-the Alpha and the Omega of the Holy Scriptures. It arises from a knowledge of God, who is Love itself. It is with transport that he becomes aware of being in possession of the true apostolic faith, over which Heaven exults, and the blessed spirits shout for joy. In the ninth sphere, the Crystal Heaven, or primum mobile, he sees the eternal hierarchy of angels who rule the nine heavenly spheres, and move in nine concentric circles around a bright, light-giving central point-the Divinity. Now Dante nears the pinnacle of glory and blessedness, the Empyrean, which, in itself immovable, is yet the original cause of all movement. For God is without longing for anything that is without him, but yet gives forth all life from himself. The poet here sees all those blessed spirits, which, like innumerable leaves, form an endless sweet-scented rose. Beatrice now leaves him, to resume her place among the blessed. The godly Shystic, the holy Bernard of Clairvaux, now stands by his side, and, on his request, permits him one fearful gaze upon the Godhead. He beholds three circles of equal circumference, but of different colors; one of these exhibits a human countenance. The pen refuses its office; his spirit is, as it were, electrified by a sudden shock; and he is inexpressibly happy in the contemplation of the Love of the Trinity, which lumines the sun and the stars, gives heaven and earth their motions, fills Time and Eter nity, and draws from the choir of the blessed and angels an endless song of praise. Thus have we attempted to give a briei sketch of this poem, in its organic unity. It is a mirror of the universe; a "myste unfathomable song," as Tieck calls it. Its "encyclopædic" in its very nature, as Villemain well remarks in his tableau de la Litte rature du Moyen Age, because it carries in its bosom "a complete history of the science and poetry of its time." If we cast a glance once more at the mutual relation of the separate parts, we shall be struck with the profound truth of the hint first given by Schelling, that the first is sculptural. the second picturesque, and the third mus in accordance with the subjects there treated.* Hell is an immense group sharply defined statues, of dusky, shadowy forms, fearful monuments of Divine j tice, illuminated by the torch of poetry. Purgatory is a gallery of variegated p tures, opening, in an endless perspective into Heaven. Paradise is a harmo unison of the music of the spheres, w: the song of praise of the blessed ratio creation: here all swims in light; here is feeling, sound, Hallelujah. The p opens with the cry of despair; it forward through the sadness of longing. it closes with the jubilee of bliss. In the Critical Journal of Philosophy, issued him in conjunction with Hegel, Vol. II. ה |