Strangely like the face of Dante as Giotto has given it to us is that known from the traditional mask taken after death. The historical evidence of its genuineness is imperfect; but the resemblance between Boccaccio's well-known description of Dante's personal appearance, and the very striking similarity of the contour of this face with that of Giotto's portrait go far to establish its authenticity. The face is pre-eminently worthy of a man who knew to a greater extent than most the true significance of the warfare crowned by eternal triumph. It is a face of supreme pathos; hollow cheeks down which the tears had flowed,

grim lips that had tasted the bitter "savor of severe compassion," 2 and had proved

sunken eyes that had looked on sin, whose sight

"venendo sincera,

E più e più entrava per lo raggio

Dell' alta luce, che da sè è vera." 4

"There's magic in its majesty," for it is the majesty of one who had learned from the "radiance sweet" of Divine revelation the true end of life, and had risen to a comprehension of the will of God as

66 our peace; this is the sea

To which is moving onward whatsoever

It doth create, and all that nature makes." 5

It was this recognition of the common end of man that was, as we have seen, the main source of the sympathy which was the keystone of Dante's character. Sympathy in its full

1 Purgatorio, xv. 95.

3 Paradiso, xvii. 58.

5 Ib. iii. 85.

2 Purgatorio, xxx. 81.

4 Paradiso, xxxiii. 52.

comprehensiveness is the proof of the strongest individuality. . . . The New Life' shows the first stages of that genius, the first proofs of that comprehensive sympathy which at length find their full manifestation in the "Divine Comedy.' It is like the first blade of spring grass, rich with the promise of the golden harvest." 1 His strength was in his simplicity of aim. "Truly," he says of himself, "I have been a ship without a sail and without a rudder; "2 nevertheless, such was the concentration of his purpose, drawing all his actions to itself, that he stands steady in his determination,

66 come torre ferma, che non crolla

Giammai la cima per soffiar de' venti.” o

The eternal verities are known, peace is attained.

"Lethe and Eunoe the remembered dream

That perfect pardon which is perfect peace."

More than a poet's laurel rests upon his brow, for with his poet's kingship is joined a priesthood, the guerdon of "him that overcometh." By his intense individuality, born of simplicity of purpose, he has, with rare distinctness, revealed himself by his writings as a living personality. He has "bequeathed unto the future peoples" the portrait of a man self-assertive, yet of lordly humility, of keen sensitiveness and delicacy of feeling, tender, gentle, pitiful, sternly just withal, a student of men and manners, a lover of learning, of art,

1 Norton, Essay on the New Life, i. 2 Convito, Tr. i. c. iii.

3 Purgatorio, v. 14.

Dante's similes alone would testify to this, even if there were no other manifestations. His interest in men is shown by the wide range of subjects of which he treated in these similes, as indicated by the varied occupations from which he drew them, both among his own and other peoples. Inferno, xv. 4; xxi. 7; xv. 22; xvi. 22; xxvi. 25; Purgatorio, iv. 19; xxiv. 94; xxvi. 67; xxx. 58; xxxiii. 106; Paradiso, xiii. 131. The man in doubt, the weary, the blind, the suffering, and the infinite forms in which human character and condition manifests itself, all appealed to him. Purgatorio, iii. 72; vii. 10; ix. 64; Paradiso, xvii. 103; Purgatorio, iv. 105; xxiv. 70; xiii. 61; xvi. 10; vi. 149; xx. 21; Inferno, i. 22, 55; ii. 37; ix. 4, also Purgatorio, xxiv. 143; Inferno, xiii. 111; xv. 18; xvi. 133;

1

and nature in all her forms, a loather of every manifestation of baseness, a practical mystic, so enraptured by his poetic vision of the supersensual that through temporal defeat he failed not to grasp the things eternal. By his sympathy, which enabled him to identify himself with the whole human race, he stands as the master pointing to an ideal of lofty aspiration, and as the guide to

"L'Amor che muove il Sole e l'altre stelle."

xvii. 85; xxi. 25; xxiv. 25, 112; xxx. 55, 136; Purgatorio, i. 119; ii. 11, 54, 70; iii. 69; vi. 1; x. 69; xii. 127; xiv. 27, 67; xv. 119; xix. 40; xxi. 74, 109; xxii. 67; xxiii. 1, 16; xxv. 4; xxviii. 52; xxix. 1; xxxiii. 25, 130; Paradiso, v. 17; vii. 15; xvi. 14; xviii. 22, 58; xxiii. 14, 49; xxiv. 46; xxv. 64, 103, 118.

1 For his enjoyment of inanimate nature, vid. Inferno, i. 37; ii. 1; vii. 122; xxiv. 1-15; this last is particularly significant from its blending of the human element with the poet's enjoyment of the spring-tide of the year: Purgatorio, ii. 7; vii. 69-87; ix. 1–9, 13; xxviii. 1-33. Dante's similes throw great light upon his personal tastes, as well as his habit of mind; his accurate memory of sights that he had seen and the picturesque power of his single epithets, render them especially forcible. Friar Pacificus illuminated his Gospel of St. John with no greater care than Dante used in elaborating the scenes he paints. Cf. particularly Purgatorio, ii. 124-129; xxvii. 76–84; Paradiso, xx. 1-6; xxiii. 1-9. His love of inanimate Nature supplied him with many similes; they were suggested to him by the sunlight (Purgatorio, xv. 16, 69; xvii. 52; Paradiso, ii. 31–34; v. 133; ix. 114), sunset and dawn (Purgatorio, v. 37; Paradiso, xiv. 70; Purgatorio, ii. 13; xxx. 22), the stars (Purgatorio, xii. 90; xxix. 91; Paradiso, xiv. 97 ; xv. 13; xxiv. 147), moonlight (Paradiso, xxiii. 25), mists and clouds (Inferno, xxvi. 39; xxxi. 34; xxxiv. 4; Purgatorio, xvii. 1; Paradiso, xiv. 69), wind and storms (Inferno, iii. 29; v. 29; ix. 67; Purgatorio, ix. 29; xiv. 134; xxxii. 109; Paradiso, xxiii. 40), the rainbow (Paradiso, xii. 10), the snow (Inferno, xiv. 30; Purgatorio, xxix. 126; xxx. 85; Paradiso, ii. 106), the waves (Inferno, vii. 22; Purgatorio, x. 9), plant-life (Inferno, xiii. 99; Purgatorio, xviii. 54; xxiv 145; xxv. 53; Paradiso, iv. 130), trees (Inferno, iii. 112; Purgatorio, viii. 28; xxii. 133; xxiii. 133; xxviii. 17; xxxi. 70; xxxii. 52). From birds he draws more similes than from any other creatures (Inferno, iii. 117; v 40, 82; xvii. 127; xxii. 130; Purgatorio, xiii. 71, 122; xix. 64; xxiv. 64; xxv. 10; xxvi. 43; Paradiso, i. 48; xviii. 73; xix. 34, 91; xx. 73; xxi. 34; xxv. 19). Of insect and animal life, too, he was evidently a careful observer (Inferno, xvi. 3; Purgatorio, xviii. 58; xxvi. 34; xxxii. 133; x. 128; Paradiso, viii. 54; Purgatorio, xxvi. 134; Paradiso, v. 100; Inferno, ix. 76; xxii. 25; xxxii. 31; xvii. 22; xxv. 79; xiii 124; xxi. 67; xxiii. 16; xii. 22; xxxii. 50; Purgatorio, iii. 79; viii. 101; xii. 1 ; Paradiso, iv 127; v. 80).

THE paper printed on the preceding pages was originally one of the documents accompanying the Eleventh Annual Report of the Dante Society, issued May 17, 1892.

The officers of the Dante Society for 1891-92 were: