taken them up, it becomes impossible to | years passed on, his love for his Beatrice lay them down until the last page has been reached. grew with his growth and strengthened with his strength. "Whenever she drew The time had now arrived when the nigh," he says, "and I was waiting her era of Italian literature which had already gracious welcome, I felt as if I had no dawned was about to reach its glorious longer a single enemy-a flame of divine culmination. Great had been the pro- charity towards all mankind was kindled gress which the country had made during in my breast: none who had offended me the preceding century; great as to its but had been forgiven then; and if at that moral condition, great also as to its ad- moment any one had asked me a quesvancement in knowledge and general en- tion, my only answer would have been lightenment. In that same city of Florence, 'Amore!" From the canzoni which he the seat of a vigorous democracy such as addressed to her, it is easy to picture to ancient and modern days have never seen ourselves the graceful and dignified lady surpassed, amidst the stirring times which who in her earliest childhood had gained marked the latter half of the thirteenth possession of the poet's heart. Her hair, century, the sublime intellect which was which in her childhood was fair and flowdestined to create the national thought and ing, had later assumed a golden hue; her to bring Italian literature to perfection, eyes shone with light vivid and dazzling Dante Alighieri, "the heir of all the ages," as the rays of the sun; her lips were rosy was born, in the month of May, A.D. 1265. and beautifully curved, her mouth most In common with many of the poets and eloquent, her smile surpassed all loveliest historians of Italy, he was descended from things in sweetness, her chin was small a long line of noble ancestors, of whom and dimpled, her forehead wide and amnone were more illustrious than the va- ple; the eye-brows dark and finely arched; liant Caccia-Guida, who, fighting in the the nose straight, pure, and refined in outCrusades, under the Emperor Conrado, line; her neck, fair and round, sprang met with a hero's death in the Holy Land. gracefully from a finely-developed bust; Dante was still a child of tender years her arms were beautifully formed, her when his father died, but he was blest in hands white and small, the tapering fina mother who not only early perceived gers circled with jewels. In stature she the genius of the boy, but did her utmost was tall and majestic; in complexion, to bring it to perfection. Under her ju- color angelico di perla. In all her ges dicious training, his love of learning was tures she was true to her own noble nafostered and directed aright, his innate ture, graziosa e disdegnosa, sweet or reverence for all that was good, and his lofty, as occasion required. Most gentle aversion for every thing that was mean and modest was she in demeanor, and and false, encouraged and strengthened. with such entire repose about her, such While he was thus happily living under dignity in her air, such self-control in her the care of his mother, he accompanied manner, that she impressed all who apher, being then little more than nine years proached her with reverence as well as love. of age, to a festive reünion at the house Crowned with gentleness and clothed with of her friend, Folco Portinari, one of the humility she moved along, all unconscious most distinguished citizens of Florence. of the feelings she excited, and which At his house the young boy's eyes rested made many exclaim as soon as she had for the first time on the lovely child with passed by: "This is no mortal maid, but the bright curling hair and sun eyes, on one of the most divinely beautiful of the whose brow he was destined to place the angels." So meekly did she wear her crown of a pure, immortal fame. It was beauty and her virtue, that none ever in the springtide of the year-fit season thought of envying her: love, honor, and for the soul-betrothal of those child-reverence ever followed in her train; all lovers-that the two, singling out one another from the festive crowd, wandered together, hand-in-hand, through the gardens of the Portinari Palace. There the young Dante's heart, which had hitherto responded only to a mother's love, first began to palpitate with a new and as yet undefined emotion. Thenceforward, as who gazed on her angel-face were raised and elevated by the contemplation; nothing evil or base, no pride or anger, could live in the light of her presence. When she spoke, the sound of her gentle voice awoke within the heart all pure thoughts and gentle feelings, and when the shadow of a smile passed over her face "Quel ch' ella par, quando un poco sorride Non si può dicer nè tener a mente, Si è nuovo miracolo e gentile." Such, then was Beatrice as she appears in her lover's sonnets and canzoni. What Dante was at the same period it is more difficult to picture to ourselves, for in thinking of his personal appearance our minds involuntary revert to that grand face which for so many centuries has glorified the white walls of the Church of Santa Maria del Fiore. But very different from his cold stern aspect there, must have been the expression of his countenance at the time when he was writing the poems which tell the story of his love. The large melancholy eyes, which still retain within their depths a world of tender pity, and which have that fixed, solemn look in them as if they had gazed on unutterable things, were during that only happy and most blessed season of his life lit up with love, and joy, and hope. That mouth which tells such a tale of sorrow borne unflinchingly and silentlythose lips so sternly compressed, and which seem as if they had never parted except to give expression to accents of scorn and indignation, were then wreathed about with sunny smiles, and were ever ready to utter the sweet word "Amore;" that lofty brow, encircled by the deathless laurel, which but half conceals the marks impressed by the crown of thorns that lay there during many a year of suffering and painful thought, and hopelessness of good, was free from furrows then; nothing was there about him of that awful aspect which in after years made the women shudder as they pointed out to one another the swarthy-complexioned man, with sparse raven hair hanging about his face, and grizzled beard scorched as by the fires of the Inferno, who paced the street with such majestic steps, awing them to speak in whispers as they said: "Guarda colui che va in Inferno e ne porta novelli de' dannati." The love with which Dante was so early inspired did not lead him to neglect his studies. Under Brunetto Latini he went through a course of the sciences, while Guido Cavalcanti, at once his tutor and his friend, cultivated his taste, and instructed him in the liberal arts. Being of a naturally melancholy disposition, he was accustomed to solace himself with song and music, taking great delight in the society of all the celebrated musicians who lived at Florence; and forming an intimate friendship with Casella, under whom it is said that he studied music. It is not certain when he became a member of the University at Bologna, but while there it is more than probable that he frequented the school of Cimabue, and became acquainted with Giotto, whom ever afterwards he tenderly loved. He was also careful in cultivating the whole man, and to this end perfected himself in the art of horsemanship, and became accomplished in all feats of arms. There is enough internal evidence in Dante's Vita Nuova to show that he very early began to give expression to his love for Beatrice, but it was not until he had reached his nineteenth year that he published his first sonnet, and even then his modesty prevented him from announcing himself as the author. It was, however, recived so favorably, that he was encouraged to write another, and from that time he continued to pour forth in rapid succession sonnets and canzoni. Burning to become not only famous with his pen, but glorious by his sword, he took part in a battle waged by the Florentines against the Ghibellines of Arezzo, fighting in the foremost ranks of the cavalry, and by his prowess contributing to the victory gained by his party. He was now in the twenty-fourth year of his age, and the period was quickly approaching which was destined to cast a funeral pall over all the bright dreams and the happiness of his life. In 1296 he fought against the Pisani at Caprona, and then with his fellow-citizens returned to Florence to offer in the Church of San Giovanni the arms with which they had vanquished the enemies of the republic. Soon afterwards, when he was in the midst of writing a sonnet in praise of Beatrice, tidings came to him that "it had pleased the Lord of justice to call to himself this most lovely being, and to place her in his kingdom near that blessed Queen Mary whose name had ever been had in the greatest reverence by this blessed Beatrice." So overwhelmed was Dante by the terrible blow, that for a long time he refused all consolation; his whole aspect becoming so changed that his most intimate friends found it difficult to recognize him. "Nature," he says, "which had hitherto seemed but to reflect the smiles of Beatrice, was changed now into a barren and arid desert" but after a time, "when his eyes had wept | with Beatrice the empire of his heart, and many tears," and he was so "exhausted often in his imagination to be indistinwith sorrow that he wearied for some guishable from her whom he had lost, consolation," ," he endeavored to alleviate was none other than "the lovely and his grief by making his lost Beatrice once honorable daughter of the Ruler of the more the subject of his verse. Then it universe, to whom Pythagoras has given was he addressed to all the "tender and the name of Philosophy." sympathizing souls her companions in this life," that touching and beautiful canzone, In Morte di Beatrice, wherein he speaks of her as having gone "into highest heaven, into the kingdom where the angels have peace." Perhaps one of the most exquisitely pathetic passages in this canzone is that in which says, that often while meditating upon her death, her image became so vividly present to him that he writhed under the intensity of his anguish; then bursting into tears, exclaimed: "Beatrice, art thou dead indeed ?" and even whilst calling upon her, received comfort in the sense of her spiritual presence. The anniversary of her death he always devoted to meditation upon her; and once, while thus engaged, his hand had, half unconsciously to himself, traced the figure of an angel upon his tablets. What his state was during this terrible year we further learn from his own lips: "When my delight (mia diletta he says) was taken from me, I was so overpowered by sorrow that nothing and no one could comfort me. However, after some time I began to seek consolation from the same sources as those which had brought relief to others who had been afflicted in like manner. And as it sometimes happens that when a man is looking for silver he finds gold, owing doubtless to the guidance of a Divine Providence, so I, whilst seeking after consolation, found not only solace for my tears, but so many other things besides in the authors which I studied, that after meditating long upon them, I was constrained to believe that Philosophy, who was the mistress of all these writers, was indeed a supreme and sublime science. Then I began to picture her to myself as a lovely lady, nor could I imagine her engaged in aught which was not holy and beneficent; and my sense of truth so willingly admired her, that I could hardly tear myself from the contemplation of her. After having thus conceived her image in my mind, I began to frequent the places where she most truly reveals herself that is to say, in the schools of theology, and in the debates of philosophers and in a short time-it may have been in the course of thirty months-I began so to delight in her beauty that the love of her vanquished and destroyed every other thought." Thus it came to pass that the lady who henceforth was to reign, or rather to share VOL. XLIV.-NO. III. It was about this period that Dante espoused Gemma Donati, of whose house Corso Donati, the poet's most inveterate enemy, was the head. It has been apparently on very slight foundation that Dante's biographers have maligned the character of this poor lady. Certain it is that differences did occur between them, and we can easily imagine that Dante and his wife could have felt but little sympathy with each other. Great minds such as his ever dwell apart in an awful solitude, thrown back upon themselves and God; their weakness and strength, their joys and griefs, alike unfathomable by their fellows. But there is no evidence to show that Dante was not a kind husband, or that Gemma was not all that a wife could be to such a man. She bore him five sons, and a daughter whom he named after the beloved Beatrice. Allusion is often made in the Vita Nuova to a secondo amore awakened in Dante's heart while still suffering under the first anguish of his loss. This love was excited in his breast by his suddenly perceiving a lady gazing upon him with pitying looks from a window, when he fancied that no one could see him indulging in his grief. The compassion expressed in her eyes reminded him of his lost Beatrice, on whose face he had often seen the like gentle look, and by little and little he began to take delight in her presence, until his heart bitterly reproached him for allowing himself to seek consolation from such a source, and for permitting his thoughts to stray for an instant from Beatrice. However, the feeling that was thus kindled in his heart for the beautiful Gentucca seems to have increased in spite of his endeavors to extinguish it, and during a long season she was the object of his affection. One of the most graceful of his ballata is that in which she is represented as speaking in her own person, exclaiming in joyous and triumphant strains : "Io mi son pargoletta bella e nuova 22 Her name also occurs in canto twenty-four | caused the citizens to tax Dante with of the Purgatorio. "Ei mormorava, e non so che Gentucca Sentiva io là v'ei sentia la piaga." It has, moreover, been thought that it is she to whom Beatrice alludes with sorrowful reproach in the thirty-first canto of the Purgatorio, when she says: "Non ti dovea gravar le penne in guiso Ad aspettar più colpi o pargoletta." It was somewhere about his twentyninth year that Dante collected together the sonnets and canzoni to which we have made such frequent reference, and inserted them in a prose work, which he entitled the Vita Nuova, and sent to Brunetto Latini, with a sonnet. The Vita Nuova concludes with the mysterious words which by some have been supposed to contain the germ of the Commedia, though Signor Guidici sees in them only the expression of a fervent desire to raise to Beatrice a monument worthy of her. We are now approaching that phase of Dante's life when he was constrained to quit his peaceful studies, and engage in the affairs of the republic. The fame he had already gained by his learning, the reputation he had acquired by his holy and virtuous life, the high opinion which had been formed of his judgment, all combined to fix the eyes of his fellowcitizens upon him. He is said to have been sent on no less than fourteen embassies, but respecting these matters we have no certainty. In the year 1300 his name occurs amongst the Priors of Florence, as having held the office from the 5th of June until the 15th of August, and that period he ever afterwards assigned as the beginning of the misfortunes which henceforth relentlessly pursued him. Just before he had been elected to the priorate, the city, which had long been distracted and torn to pieces by contending factions, seemed about to enjoy a period of repose. But suddenly the flames of discord again burst forth, and the unhappy Florence was once more divided into the two rival parties of the Bianchi and the Neri. On this occasion Dante sided with the Bianchi, many of whom were subsequently sent into exile. One of these exiles, Guido Cavalcanti, suffering greatly from the pestilential climate of Sarzana, was permitted to return to Florence a circumstance which partiality. Already hated and feared for the inflexibility of his character, the voice of calumny was no sooner raised than every day it waxed louder and louder. The Neri had been greatly exasperated by his strenuous endeavors to prevent them from introducing Charles de Valois into the city in the character of pacificator, and uniting with some among the Bianchi, who, while they considered Dante a good citizen, were anxious to get him out of the way as a factious person, they plotted to send him on an embassy to the Pope. Dante, seeing that he had been over-reached by his enemies, fearing that Florence would be lost if he quitted it-uncertain, also, whether his presence might not be required at Rome, was placed in a position of extreme perplexity. "If I go," he exclaimed, "who remains; and if I stay, who goes ?" At last he decided to set off, and had scarcely quitted Florence ere Charles de Valois was admitted a reign of terror followed; the most honorable among the citizens were betrayed, and the Ghibellines abandoned to the fury of the Guelphs. Dante did not escape their vengeance. He received a command to present himself before the Count Gabrielli d'Agubbio, on whom Charles had conferred the title of Podestà, in order to render to him an account of his conduct during his priorate, being threatened with heavy penalties if he did not make his appearance within a given time. Trembling with indignation, he hastily prepared to return to his beloved and ungrateful Florence, but he had scarcely reached Siena before he received tidings that the iniquitous sentence had been passed upon him by which he was mulcted in a sum of eight thousand lire, failing the payment of which his property was to be confiscated and his house des troyed. Separated thus from his family, without a roof to shelter his head or bread to eat, he united with his fellow-exiles, and in their company made an unsuccessful attempt to overcome the Neri, who, still thirsting for vengeance, passed a new sentence upon the exiles, by which Dante and fourteen others were condemned to be burnt alive. Nothing daunted, however, the exiles again began to concoct new schemes for returning to Florence; while Dante, seeing that but too many of them were influenced by the blind spirit of party, and scorning to share in their intrigues, sorrowfully took his leave of them. As time went on, he passed from court to court of Italy, ever preserving the imperturbability of his character, and meeting with dignity all the adverse shocks of fortune, whilst inwardly feeling how bitter it was to eat the bread doled out by another's hand. Making his appearance in those "dens of turpitude," as in his Commedia he styles the courts of Italy, his dignified and solemn presence must have produced something of the same kind of effect as the apparition so finely described in Schiller's Macht des Gesanges: "As if into the round of pleasure, Be mute, and every mask fall down; Fated thus to dwell among such men and amidst such scenes, Dante sought refuge in books, to the study of which he betook himself with ever fresh ardor. In his anxiety to convince the people by his writings what they had lost in losing him, he wrote his work entitled the Convito, which consists of a commentary on fourteen of his best canzoni. Convinced as he was of the growing power of the Italian language, he resolved to write this commentary in the vulgar tongue, the triumphs of which he predicted in strains of glowing eloquence. The Convito may thus be regarded as the first severe prose work of which the Italian language can boast, and the first which treats it philosophically. It is probable that Dante began it during the period which elapsed between the commencement of his exile and the election of Arrigo, Count of Luzemburgh, to be King of the Romans -a period when political affairs had taken such a turn as to revive in his heart hopes of a recall to Florence. He had trusted that the dignity and prudence of his conduct, and his having abstained from taking any part in the intrigues of the exiles, would have recommended him to the favorable opinion of the Florentines; and his hopes were raised still higher when he saw Arrigo proceeding to the holy work of conciliation. Joy once more entered his soul, and forgetting his poverty and troubled life, he addressed a letter "to the princes, the tyrants, the people, the happy and unhappy of Italy," announcing to them that the day of redemption had arrived, in words of impassioned eloquence. In Arrigo, Dante beheld the saviour of Italy who should free her from all tyranny, and in his advent he bids all the people of Italy to rejoice: "Rejoice, O Italy!" he cries, "soon thou shalt become the envy of the world. For thy spouse, who is the joy of the people and the glory of the nation, the illustrious Arrigo, Cæsar Augustus, is hastening to espouse thee. Dry then, O lovely one! thy tears; put off the emblems of thy sorrow, for he is at hand who shall deliver thee." Then calling on Arrigo to hasten speedily to Florence, he exclaims, "Cura l'inferma Firenze e l'Italia fia salva ;" and rebukes him for delaying so long at the siege of Brescia. But Arrigo had scarcely reached Siena ere he died; the Italian horizon once more became overcast, and Dante beheld fresh disasters gathering over his beloved country. Whilst Arrigo had been endeavoring by his arms to restore the nation, Dante had been striving to bring about the same result by his treatise De Monarchia, in which he makes it his endeavor to prove that the Empire is necessary to man, and that its authority is derived directly from God, and not from the Pope; whilst Church and State are mutually dependent, and have their several duties to perform towards one another. Then he develops his views as to the system by which Italy was to become one, and concludes with rejoicing over the regeneration of his country which would thereby be effected. But it was impossible for him always to turn away his eyes from the present condition of Italy-a slave and the servant of slaves; and thus his soul was a prey alternately to joy and sorrow, to hope and despair. Immediately after Arrigo's death he repaired to Guido da Polenta at Ravenna; and there, it is most probable, he set himself diligently to finish the great work of his life-that for which all his adversities and trials, his happy youth and his bitter manhood, had been preparing him. Sustained by the consciousness of the greatness of his task, his soul found comparative peace. Though still compelled to "eat the bread of carefulness," he had at last learned the hard |