University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA)

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THE REDWOOD the heaven of heavens, in the region of light — the light of transcendent love. A river of light ' effulgent with flashing splendors ' sparkles before him. Beatrice bids him dip his eyes into the light, and no sooner do his eyelashes touch it, than the stream becomes a vast circle, of greater circumference and brightness than the sun, wherein the combined courts of heaven are revealed. Myriads of blessed souls, white-mantled and golden-winged, are seated in rising tiers, in the form of a great white rose. He sees Beatrice now shining among them; he beholds the Blessed Virgin re- splendent with light; surrounded by thousands of angels; he hears the an- gelic choirs thundering forth the Ave Maria; and lifting his eyes towards the greater vision, he beholds what he neither has power to describe nor the memory to endure. Carlyle declares this poem an ' archi- tectural harmony, ' ' a supernatural world cathedral. ' He says, ' It is, at bot tom, the sincerest of ' all Poems. It came deep out of the author ' s heart of hearts; and it goes deep through long gener- ations, into ours. ' In its idea it is the grandest of all poems; embracing all that is seen by the mind and eye, — to speak with the poet, A sacred poem built with earth and heaven. It is the song of a soul that believes, of a soul that raises itself out of the finite, and which, having cro.ssed the confines of space and time, goes into the eternal splendors of the Deity. He dwelt not on objects, that fall under the percep- tion only of senses, weaving fantastic romances, or lauding the grandeur of the mountain, or the glory of the field. He was too intense to be a mere pas- toral poet, too ethereal to indulge in hero-worship. Being no less a phil- osopher and theologian than poet, he opened to his imagination new fields ex- tending over the broad and deep areas of reason and faith, and caused beauti- ful flowers of poetry never before seen to blossom along his path. Mine eyes did look On beauty such, as I believe in sooth, Not merely to exceed our human; but, That save its maker, none can to the full Enjoy. Dante is a sovereign painter, present- ing whatever he wishes us to see, as real and lifelike, by catching the most luminous point in the scene and bring- ing it out with a few bold strokes. We might say, of his pictures, such is their magnitude and strength, that his canvas is infinite space; his background, the universe; and his strokes, flashes of lightning? Yet so graphic and exact are his descriptions, so particular is he about truth, so conscious of detail as opposed to the deliberately practised obscurity of Milton; that the very measurements of Hell are given, the height of its mountains, and dikes, and the time that elapsed during his pil- grimage; and modern Dantists have computed the measurements of, sur- veyed, and even charted, his visionary universe. Energy and life constitute the singu- lar charm of his style. As he accom- panies his images with concise, robust,

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THE REDWOOD I saw my three wee childreu, cuie by one, Between the fifth day and the sixth, all die: I became blind; and in my misery Went groping for them, as I kuelt and crawled About the room; and for three days I called Upon their names, as tho ' they could speak too. Till famine did what grief had failed to do. The final scene that Hell presents is the Titan. Lucifer immersed in a lake of ice in the centre of the earth devour- ing the great betrayers, among them be- ing Judas. Here at the centre of gravity of the globe they become in- verted and pass through the earth, emerging on the other side at the foot of the mount of Purgatory. Carried in sleep to its threshold by Lucia, or Divine Grace, Dante beholds the kingdom of purification where the same sins punished forever in Hell, are pardoned after true repentance. The envious dressed in vile sack-cloth have their eyes sewed in by wire; the angry are wrapped in black mists; the gluttons tormented with visions of sweets they are powerless to obtain. Confronted by a path of fire he dare not proceed fur- ther until, encouraged by Virgil with word of Beatrice ' s presence on the other side, he surmounts the horrors of the flames and emerges in the terres- trial Paradise. Here Virgil takes his leave and Dante wanders forth alone into the fragrance of the celestial forest, ringing with the music of warbling birds and the soft winds swelling through the trees. At the bank of a crystal rivulet a beautiful lady appears culling flowers. She explains to him the name and nature of the stream: it is Lethe, the river of forgetfulness. She wanders along its bank until of a sudden she stops and cries, Behold and listen! and a light of exceeding lustre comes streaming through the woods. On closer inspection Dante sees that it is a chariot, brighter than the sun, sur- rounded by angels, and seated within it, garbed in white and crowned with olive, is Beatrice. She speaks to him, but filled with shame for his frailties he turns his gaze to the ground. Com- manded to lift up his eyes he is so over- come by her beauty that he falls sense- less to the earth. After this meeting he is carried through the Lethe and hav- ing been immersed in the waters of the Eunoe is regenerated and prepared for Paradise. Dante ' s idea of the structure of the universe is taken from Ptolemy of Pelusium, the celebrated astronomer , who supposed the earth to be the centre of the universe and the planets to re- volve around it. The seven planets constitute Dante ' s first seven heavens; the eighth heaven is the region of the fixed stars where the host of Christ triumphant march; the ninth is the crystalline heaven from which all the former receive their motion. Through each of these increasing splendors Dante has been carried upward by Beatrice ' s look, and now he is in the Empyrean,

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THE REDWOOD and figured speech, they remain indeli- bly pictured in our mind. What sub- lime pictures are those of the city of Dis, the entrance to Purgatory, with The beauteous star which lets no love despair, Making the Orient laugh with loveli- ness, the summit of the mountain of Purga- tory, and the Cross and Rose in Heaven? What marvelous pieces of sculpture are the Charon, Phlegyas, the Furies, Ugolino, Lucifer, the Angels and Cacciaguida. The richness and splendor of Dante ' s similitudes are known to all. The poet is such a master of the matter which he has in hand, that while he is thinking of one thing, he has time and leisure to fix his eyes on the rest of creation, and to match those objects that bear some relation to his own, placing them face to face. Hence we have that super- abundance of comparisons taken from all orders of things, be they sensible or rational, subjective or objective. Allow me here to make a brief dis- tinction on the excellence of Dante ' s similes. When they are compared to those of other classics, one would think that those of our poet are superior, but we must recall that in the criticism similes are regarded from two points of view, — the form, and the matter. The form of the figure is beautiful when the thing is said with elegance and style; the matter, when it not only appro- priately fits the other term of the com- parison, but also when the resemblance is not an ordinary one, but needs for its discovery the eye of a genius; for it is by this the poet offers you new knowledge, and therefore a new de- light. It is certainly a proof of great merit to see a point of resemblance be- tween two things which to others ap- pear most unlike and furtherest re- moved from each other. To apply this to our poet, we may grant that other classics in .some particular cases exhibit the better form; but if we take into ac- count the matter, we must acknowledge him to excel all in power of invention, profundity, and genius. But his inventive merit lies not so much in creation as organization. There was many beautiful visions re- counted before his time, such as those of Bede, St. Patrick, St. Farcy, and Albeir of Monte Cassino, but through the fault of the narraters the.se were confused and eccentric, awaiting a ray of heat and light to give them order and beauty, and this ray was the sub- tile intellect of Dante. Like the prophet of the Testament he beheld a plain covered with the scattered bones of an array which under his scrutiny became revivified, and rose once more a living army. Without sign of strain or evidence of effort he produces a continu- ous series of new ideas, bright fancies, and stern truths, using all the while, in his account of Hell and Purgatory, him- self, Virgil, the tormented, and the tor- ment: yet his variety is inexhaustible. In his description of heaven the scenes hinge on two elements, song and light, but with these two he paints scenes so sweet, so novel, so wondrous and