shall then find that it is manifestly the principle which gives unity to these two works. For the all-embracing nature of Theologia is pictured in the opening of the Vita Nuova' by love in childhood, and it is again illustrated at the close of the 'Paradiso' by the human apprehension of the Divine Nature through a mysterious inspiration without the aid of dialectic argument. Within these extreme poles,-the one before intellect is developed, the other after its course is run,—the two works are enclosed, and the master-thought of the whole design is manifested beyond possibility of mistake.

The allegorical system of Dante centres in Beatrice. And to the right exegesis of Beatrice it is well to remember this: that the idea which she represents, though truly one, is not stamped with a rigid uniformity. Like the moon, she has her phases, her aspects vary with seasons and occasions, but the variation is without inconsistency, because they all naturally merge into one capital and comprehensive truth. Her figure resembles that of Dame Philosophy in Boethius :

'Her stature varied with occasions, as if another being and yet the same. At one time she limited herself to the ordinary standard of men, at another time she seemed tall enough to strike the sky with her forehead; and when she reared her head yet higher, she entered within the sky, and baffled the utmost stretch of human ken.'*

When we say that Beatrice represents Theology, we do not by this term understand the scholastic Theology which was assimilated as nearly as possible to Science and Philosophy. No, the aspect of Theology here intended is precisely that which is distinct from and unconformable with demonstrative Science. It is not Theology as a dialectic system, but as a principle of conviction, the principle of Faith. And this is made manifest by the identification of Beatrice with the Church of Christ. That such identification is intended by the author of the Vita Nuova' is a point which we cannot afford to leave in uncertainty. Whatever variations of aspect Beatrice undergoes, they all merge in the Church as their collective whole; and there are passages of the highest mark, in which this idea itself in all its integrity and fulness is her only adequate equivalent. This is the meaning of those superhuman attributes which are lavished upon Beatrice, and of which D'Ancona thinks it enough to say: the ardent imagination of the poet

* Statura discretionis ambiguæ. Nam nunc quidem ad communem sese hominum mensuram cohibebat, nunc vero pulsare cælum summi verticis cacumine videbatur; quæ cum caput altius extulisset, ipsum etiam cælum penetrabat, respicientiumque hominum frustrabatur intuitum.' ('De Consolatione Philosophiæ,' i. 1.)

She

exalts the beloved one into a being of a superior order.' is a new and gentle miracle' which God has granted to the world, and which the saints in the highest heaven claim with a loud voice; she is a living type of perfect beauty, physical and moral; God purposes to make of her a new thing (cosa nuova); passing through the throng of men, she spreads around her a strange and supernatural fragrance, a divine spirit of love, of humility, of peace. The literalists are nowhere more embarrassed than in dealing with these attributes, which to them are nothing better than passionate exaggerations. As against this, we contend that these lofty expressions are entirely free from extravagance, that they appropriately correspond to the Church of Christ, the idea in the author's mind; and therefore we cannot agree with D'Ancona that they are fitly explained by his formula, the ardent imagination of the poet exalts the beloved one into a being of a superior order.'

6

Such a comment assumes that the real subject of discourse is not superhuman at all, but only so represented by an ardent imagination, which carries the poet beyond the bounds of common sense, to let loose a rhapsody which cannot be translated into any true meaning at all. Such comment has therefore the effect of laying to Dante's charge a shallow trick of rhetorical composition which he has repudiated by anticipation. For so we understand the indignant passage:

'Great shame were it to him who should indite under vesture of figure or rhetorical colour, and afterwards when asked should be unable to divest his words of such garb, so as that their veritable meaning might appear. My first friend and I know a good many of such as indite in this absurd manner.'

em

Could anyone (using an indirect form of speech) more phatically disclaim the frivolity of trifling with figured diction? Assuredly Briscioni was right when he suggested that this passage, the last paragraph of c. 25, was intended by Dante as an instruction to the vigilant reader.

But happily we can justify these attributes of Beatrice by a palmary example, in the exposition of which another of the stock difficulties will, as we hope, be cleared up. There is no instance in which hyperbole seems to be more unmeasured than when it is said of Beatrice in the first canzone, that Heaven lacks nothing but her; Heaven has no other defect than that which is caused by her absence. If this could be no otherwise explained than as an effusion of the ardent imagination, it

'Nella ardente fantasia del poeta, l' amata diventa un essere superiore all' uLana condizione.' (D'Ancona, Vita Nuova,' p. xxxiv.)

would

would be a wild frenzy without rule or law, a thing which has no place in art; and in that case we might be fain to take refuge in D'Ancona's position, who maintains indeed that the 'Vita Nuova' is not to be classed as a work of art, but as a product of inspiration. We do not pause to ask whether art and inspiration are irreconcilable, because the refuge is only hypothetical, and we have no fear that we shall be driven to it. Scartazzini's handling of this difficulty in the first canzone is rather vacillating. He discourses on this wise:

'This canzone contains verily some passages which are obscure and enigmatical; otherwise it overpasseth not the limits of humanity. If a lover says, that his idol is desired in heaven, to which it alone is wanting, we cannot deny that this is rather a strong exaggeration. Howbeit, exaggerations of this kind are not unusual in erotic poetry.' (Prolegomeni, p. 172.)

Are they not? The critic gives no indication of a parallel instance; an omission which we cannot affect to deplore, because no amount of instances could have advanced his argument. He is entirely off the track, for in this case there is no exaggeration. Dante's meaning is one which is quite sober and well-authorized and capable of verification.

It was a received doctrine with mediæval theologians, that the creation of man was designed to fill the void caused by the expulsion of the rebellious angels; and that the Church is the instrument whereby the heavenly ranks are to regain their due complement. This belief is touched by Dante in Convito ii. 6. Here then is orthodox ground for the assertion that Heaven lacks nothing but Beatrice, if only we may suppose that, under the figure of Beatrice, Dante thought of the Church.

It is the variability in the symbolism of his chief characters that baffles the commentator on Dante. We have seen that in Canzone 1 Beatrice is the Church áλos, simply and fully. In Paradiso x., on the other hand, she represents the Church not in this unqualified manner but in a phase; namely, as the manifestation of the Wisdom of God. Founded upon Rev. xii. 1, where it has always been held that the woman in the sun was the Church, this and the next cantos have been influenced in their development by the words of St. Paul in Ephes. iii. 10: 'to the intent that now unto the principalities and powers in the heavenly places might be made known through the Church the manifold wisdom of God' (R.V.). A like variability attends the character of Love in the Vita Nuova.' In some places he is but the personification of Dante's ardour, in others he is the Christ, as in c. 12, where, if we allow this highest symbolic

value, there is no longer any difficulty attending that mysterious utterance:-Ego tanquam centrum circuli, cui simili modo se habent circumferentiæ partes; tu autem non sic.

Vita

When we maintain that the essential nature of the Nuova' is allegorical, the question whether Beatrice was a real human person whom Dante loved is neither affirmed nor denied. We do not contend for the negative, because it is rather natural than otherwise to suppose that some tender memories may have winged the author's pen. But if once we are assured that the book is essentially an allegory, then the interest of this question becomes secondary. What difference would it make in our estimate of the Pilgrim's Progress' if we could know (what indeed we can hardly doubt) that scenes and incidents of Bunyan's life are there preserved ? It would not be one whit the less an allegory.

Let us now attempt to translate the allegory, not line by line and sentence by sentence, but with a free hand, throwing in not only what it seems to say, but what it seems to suggest. At the same time we shall not seek to bring it all out of the chiaroscuro of allegory into the light of common day. Perhaps there are parts which have no inner meaning at all-which belong not to the allegory but to the outer garment only, inserted merely to make the story run and to give it verisimilitude. Other parts seem to us to be teeming with a spiritual signification, and yet we cannot with any confidence assign it. Of this sort is the fair stream of clear water which on two occasions (chaps. 9 and 19) ran along by the road of our pilgrim. We will therefore only translate some chief outlines, still leaving fields for diligent readers to explore.

1. At the close of my ninth year I experienced strong impressions of religion. This was the time of my confirmation and my first Communion. I was filled with reverence for the wondrous truths instilled into my mind by those whom I loved best; and my whole being glowed with the roseate glow of a first love. My feelings were rapturous yet constant; and from that time I date the beginning of a New Life.

From that time forward I was so completely under the influence of this divine principle, that my soul was, as it were, espoused to heavenly love, and it was in the precepts and ordinances of the Church that this passion found its proper satisfaction. Often and often did it lead me to the congregation of the faithful, where I had meetings with my youthful angel, and these were so gratifying that all through my boyhood I would frequently go in search of a repetition of those pleasures, and I perceived her to be so noble and admirable in all her bearings, that of her might assuredly be said that saying of Homer's: " She seemed no daughter of mortal man

but

but of God." With all this, however, my religion was by no means fanatical; but wherever the voice of Reason was to be heard, I always yielded thereto an attentive ear. Of such reminiscences I will, however, record only some chief points, those which in my book of memory are indicated by big paragraph-marks.

'As I grew older the tints changed. The roseate glow of emotion passed imperceptibly into the white light of intelligent faith. Each successive day seemed to open before me some new spiritual insight; and what I had at first apprehended only by the affections, I now seemed to apprehend by the understanding also. New accessions of light and expansions of view were vouchsafed to me from time to time, like the gracious salutation of some superior being. When I look back, it seems to me that my Religion was supported by Faith on one side and by Reason on the other. Such appears to have been the state of my mind in my eighteenth year.

'I mentally resolved to make religion the chief aim of my life. To strengthen myself in this resolution, I made an enigmatical sonnet in the fashion of a vision, and I sent it to poetical friends. Some of them sent answers, and one was in some vague sympathy with my feelings; but yet there was no one who had the remotest idea of my meaning at that time. In that enigmatical sonnet I dedicated my heart to religion and the Church.

'I applied myself so closely to the study of sacred literature that my animal spirits began to flag, and I became so emaciated that my friends began to be anxious about me; while others, with no kind intent, busied themselves to penetrate my secret. Perceiving the nature of their curiosity, and wishing to be at once amiable and cautious, I told them it was Love had got hold of me. When their curiosity pushed them further to enquire after the object of my love, I regarded them with a smile and said nothing.

'Having no mind to pose as a theologian, I screened my real pursuit under colour of secular studies, either astronomy or astrology or ancient poetry. These pursuits had the smile of the public countenance, which theology had not; at least not for a layman. Under such pretexts I pursued my studies in Scripture, which I called the city wherein God had placed my beatitude. I gave also to my beatitude a lady's name, calling her Beatrice. Moreover, I had the fancy to enrol her name among honoured women of old time; and to that end I gathered the names of select women out of the Bible, studying where would be the meetest place for Beatrice. The names amounted to sixty, and these I called the fairest ladies of the City of God. It will appear marvellous, but so it was, that I could not satisfy my mind to place Beatrice in any other than the ninth place, next after Rachel, thus: Eva, Adah, Zillah; Sarah, Hagar, Rebekah; Leah, Rachel, Beatrice.

I had been led to perceive that theology cannot be pursued satisfactorily without the light of other studies,-secular literature, and science and philosophy. I took every opportunity of enlarging my knowledge; and when I got as far as I could go in one subject or

my