being possible after sunset, though they could not have ascended, cf. vii. 58, 59) into the valley, as twilight deepens (viii. 43-51). Taking the moment of full moon to have been at sunrise on the Friday morning, it is now 3x24 hours since full moon, and the retardation of the moon is therefore 3x52 minutes = 2 hours 36 minutes; and the moon, therefore, has passed through the Scales and is 36 minutes deep in Scorpion. The first stars of Scorpion, then, and the glow of the lunar aurora are on the horizon, and it is just over 8.30 P. M. on what (with the reservations indicated in the chronological note on the Inferno) we may call Monday evening,1 when Dante falls asleep (ix. 1-12). Before dawn on the next morning Dante has a vision of the eagle, and is in point of fact carried up by Lucia near to the gate of Purgatory (ix. 13-63), where he awakes at about 8 a. M. (ix. 44). The retardation of the moon is now three hours and two minutes, and when they issue upon the first terrace she has already set (x. 13-16). It is therefore about 9 A. M. About 12 o'clock noon they reach the stair to the second circle (xii. 80, 81). When the poets pass from the second to the third terrace they are walking westward and have therefore reached the northern quarter of the mount, and it is 3 o'clock in the afternoon (xv. 1-9); and their direction has not sensibly changed when they meet the wrathful (xv. 139). The sun has already set at the base of the mountain (xvii. 12) when the final visions of the circle of the wrathful come upon Dante, and he sets to the poets, high up on the mountain, just as they have completed the ascent of the stair to the fourth circle 1 Sunday according to Table II. (xvii. 70-75). By comparing these data, it will be seen that the poets traverse portions of the first three circles, constituting all together a quadrant or a little more, during the day. They start on the eastern side of the mountain, and end at the north, or a little west of it, and have spent about three hours in each circle. About three hours more are occupied by Virgil's discourse, which ends towards midnight, when the moon, which rose at 9.28, a good way south of east, now first appears due east, or a trifle north of due east, from behind the mountain (xviii. 76-81). Before dawn (xix. 1-6) on what we may call Wednesday,1 Dante has his vision of the Siren, and it is full daylight when he wakes. They still travel due, or nearly due, west, with the newly risen sun at their backs (xix. 37-39). They swiftly pass the fourth circle and reach the fifth, in which they stay so long that it is after ten when they reach the sixth circle (xxii. 115-120). Though they are now well to the west of the mountain, the sun has traveled with them, so that Dante casts a shadow (xxiii. 114). Indeed it is after 2 o'clock when they reach the stair which leads to the seventh circle (xxv. 1-3), so that by this time shadows are visible on the mountain from near the northeast to near the southwest of its surface. As Dante converses with the shades on the seventh terrace the sun is almost due west; the poet is walking nearly due south, the sun on the right and the flame glowing redder under his shadow at the left (xxvi. 1-9). And the position is not perceptibly changed when the angel of the circle appears to them as the sun sets at the base of the mountain (xxvii. 1 Tuesday in Table II. 1-6); nor have they mounted many stairs after passing through the flame, before the sun, exactly behind them, sets on the higher regions of the mount where they now are (xxvii. 61-69). Before sunrise (xxvii. 94-96) on the day we may call Thursday,1 Dante sees Leah in his vision, and wakes at dawn of day (xxvii. 109-114). The sun shines full upon their faces as they enter the Earthly Paradise from the western point, facing east (xxvii. 133); and it is noonday (xxxiii. 103-105) as they reach the source of Lethe and Eunoë. In the Paradiso we have passed from time to eternity, yet Dante intends us to understand from one or two hints which he gives (Par. xxii. 124–154, xxvii. 82-87) that time is still passing on earth, and that when he returned to it, he found it to be the evening of Thursday, April 14th. 1 Wednesday. V DANTE'S STATEMENT OF THE MEANING OF THE POEM LETTER TO CAN GRANDE.1 To the magnificent and victorious lord, the Lord Can Grande della Scala, Vicar General of the Most Holy Roman Empire in the city of Verona and the town of Vicenza, his most devoted Dante Alighieri, a Florentine by birth, but not by character, desires a life happy throughout the duration of many years, and a perpetual augmentation of his glorious name. 1. The glorious renown of your magnificence, which Fame proclaimeth abroad on never resting wing,2 leadeth different men to such opposite conclusions, that it emboldeneth some to hope for good fortune and driveth others to fear for their very existence.3 Indeed, I once thought such a renown, too lofty for modern deeds, somewhat beyond the truth and 1 Dante's Eleven Letters, translated by Chas. S. Latham. Houghton, Mifflin & Co. The notes also are Mr. Latham's. The authenticity of this letter is disputed by some, but is generally accepted. (Used by permission.) 2 Interea pavidam volitans pennata per urbem Nuncia Fama ruit. 8 On him rely, and on his benefits; (Eneid, ix. 473, 4.) By him shall many people be transformed, (Paradiso, xvii. 88-90.) excessive. But that a long uncertainty might not keep me in too great suspense, as the Queen of the East sought Jerusalem,1 as Pallas sought Helicon, so sought I Verona to examine with faithful eyes the things that I had heard. And there I beheld your splendor; and likewise I beheld and enjoyed your bounty. And even as at first I had suspected an excess in the reports, so afterward I recognized that the excess was in the deeds themselves. And thus it came to pass, that as before from hearsay alone I had been, with a certain subjugation of spirit, your wellwisher, so on first seeing you I became both your most devoted servant and your friend. 2. Nor do I think I shall incur the imputation of presumption in assuming the name of friend, as some perchance might object, since those of unequal rank are united by the sacred bond of friendship no less than equals. For if one chooseth to glance at pleasant and profitable friendships, very frequently it will be evident to him that persons of preeminence have been united with their inferiors; and if his glance is turned to true friendship - friendship for its own sake will it not be acknowledged that many a time men obscure in fortune but distinguished in virtue have been the friends of illustrious and most great princes? And why not? Since even the friendship of God and man is in no way hindered by disparity? But if this assertion should seem unbecoming to any one, let him hearken to the Holy Ghost, who doth avow that certain men have been made participators in his friendship; for in the Book of Wisdom in regard to wisdom it is written: "For she is a treasure unto men |