The Heaven of the Moon.—They are received into the eternal pearl of the Moon (Par. ii.); where Beatrice first confutes Dante’s former theory concerning the luminous substance of the celestial bodies, and, by explaining how everything in the visible world depends upon the angelic movers of the sphere, gives a mystical interpretation of a natural phenomenon, on this first step of his ascent to the suprasensible. Within this eternal pearl appear faint but divinely beautiful forms of women; the souls of those who had yielded to violence and broken their solemn vow (Par. iii.). Piccarda Donati, sister of Corso and Forese, sets forth the perfection of celestial charity, where all wills are made absolutely one with the will of God, who has awarded different degrees or mansions of beatitude to all His chosen ones:
E la sua volontade è nostra pace,
“And His will is our peace.”[38] Transfigured now with ineffable joy, Piccarda tells the pathetic story of her frustrated life on earth; and points out to Dante the Empress Constance, mother of Frederick II., torn, like her, from the convent’s shelter. Beatrice explains to the poet the place of all the saints in the Empyrean—the “heaven of humility where Mary is,” as Dante had sung long before of Beatrice herself in the Vita Nuova—and the reason of this temporary apparition in the moon (Par. iv.). The other questions solved in this sphere are all connected with Free Will. Rectitude of will is necessary for the gaining of Paradise, and nothing whatever can take away that freedom of the will. “As regards the proper act of the will, no violence can be done to the will”; and, since Piccarda and Constance yielded through fear of greater evil, they fell voluntarily from the state of perfection to which they were called. Freedom of the will is God’s greatest gift to man (Par. v. 19-24); hence the sanctity of an accepted vow, wherein this supreme gift is offered to God as victim, although Holy Church has power to commute, save, apparently, in the case of solemn vows of perpetual chastity. It will be observed that this heaven is moved by the Angels, who are severally assigned to individuals as guardians, and who are the bearers of tidings of God’s bounty to men; and, corresponding to this, the questions solved relate to the salvation and guidance of individual souls, and to the great gift of liberty, whereby God’s bounty is specially shown.
The Heaven of Mercury.—In the second sphere, the heaven of Mercury, appear the souls of those who did great things for humanity or for special nations, but who were actuated by mixed motives; personal ambition, desire of fame and honour, made “the rays of true love mount upwards less vividly” (Par. vi. 117); and they have thus the next lowest mansion of beatitude to the spirits that appeared in the inconstant Moon. The Emperor Justinian recites the proud history of the Roman Eagle, and shows how Divine Providence established the sway of the Roman people over all the earth, made the Eagle the instrument of the Atonement offered by Christ for all mankind, the avenger of His death, the protector of His Church. As the monarch who reformed and codified Roman Law, of which he is for Dante the personification, and who restored Italy to the Empire (the work which the Veltro is to renew under altered conditions of Christendom), Justinian lifts the imperial ideal far above the factious politics of the Middle Ages, condemning Guelfs and Ghibellines alike as traitors and sowers of discord. Here, too, is Romeo of Villanova, who did in a lesser degree for Provence what Justinian did for the Empire, thus appearing with him in the sphere that is moved by the Archangels, whose function is to guide and protect particular nations. The figure of Romeo—unjustly accused of corrupt practices in office, supporting with magnanimous heart the poverty and humiliations of voluntary exile—is perhaps an unconscious portrait of Dante himself. Even as the Archangels announce messages of special import and sacredness, as Gabriel did to Mary, so Beatrice explains to Dante the mystery of man’s redemption by the Incarnation and Crucifixion, the supremest work at once of Divine Justice and Divine Mercy (Par. vii.), and touches somewhat upon the immortality of the soul and the resurrection of the body.
The Heaven of Venus.—The third heaven, the sphere of Venus, is moved by the celestial Principalities, whose office is to influence earthly rulers to imitate the principality of God, by uniting love with their lordship. They are those, according to St. Bernard, “by whose management and wisdom all principality on earth is set up, ruled, limited, transferred, diminished, and changed.” Into this sphere descend the souls of purified lovers, brilliant lights moving circle-wise and hidden in the rays of their own joy. Carlo Martello, son of Charles II. of Naples, and son-in-law of Rudolph of Hapsburg, who, by reason of his marriage with Clemenza, might have healed the feuds of Guelfs and Ghibellines, pictures the realms over which he should have ruled, denounces the misgovernment of his own house, and explains the influence of the celestial bodies for the constitution of society and the government of states (Par. viii.). Cunizza da Romano, the famous sister of Ezzelino, rebukes the anarchy of the March of Treviso; a “modern child of Venus,” she here appears as the type of a perfect penitent (Par. ix.). Like her, Folco of Marseilles, poet then prelate, but here recorded only as troubadour, remembers the love sins of his youth, not with sorrow, but with gratitude to the Divine Mercy and wonder at the mysteries of Providence. Rahab of Jericho, the highest spirit of this sphere, is a type of the Church, saved by Christ’s blood from the ruin of the world; and, with a fine thrust at the loveless avarice of the Pope and his cardinals, Dante passes with Beatrice beyond the shadow of the earth.
The Heaven of the Sun.—To mark this higher grade of bliss and knowledge, Dante pauses on his entrance into the fourth sphere, the heaven of the Sun, to sing again of the Creation, the work of the Blessed Trinity, and the order of the Universe, the visible expression of the perfection of Divine art (Par. x. 1-21). The Sun is ruled by the celestial Powers, the angelic order that represents the Divine majesty and power, combats the powers of darkness, and stays diseases. Here, in two garlands of celestial lights surrounding Dante and Beatrice, appear the glorious souls of twenty-four teachers and doctors, who illuminated the world by example and doctrine; the twofold work of co-operation with the celestial Powers, which is seen in its supereminent degree in the lives of St. Francis and St. Dominic, the champions who led the armies of Christ against the powers of darkness and healed the spiritual diseases of the Christian world. St. Thomas Aquinas, the great light of the Dominicans, after naming the other eleven spirits of his circle (Albertus Magnus, Gratian, Peter Lombard, Solomon, Dionysius, Orosius, Boëthius, Isidore, Bede, Richard of St. Victor, and Siger), sings the glorious panegyric of St. Francis, the seraphic bridegroom of Poverty, laments the backsliding of the Dominicans (Par. xi.). St. Bonaventura, once minister-general of the Franciscans, extols the marvellous life of St. Dominic, the cherubical lover of Faith, the great paladin in Holy Church’s victorious battle where St. Francis bore the standard of the Crucified (Par. xii.). Lamenting the degenerate state of the Franciscans, he names the eleven spirits that accompany him; two of the followers of St. Francis, Illuminato and Agostino; Hugh of St. Victor; Peter Comestor, Peter of Spain (the logician whose elevation to the papacy as John XXI. may be ignored in Paradise), Nathan, Chrysostom, St. Anselm, Aelius Donatus (the Latin grammarian), Rabanus Maurus, and the Calabrian abbot Joachim. Lovers of poverty, rebukers of corruption, historians, mystics, theologians, writers of humble text-books are here associated in the same glory, as servants of truth in the same warfare against the powers of darkness. They illustrate what St. Bonaventura calls the broadness of the illuminative way. Each group closes with a spirit whose orthodoxy had been at least questioned. Siger of Brabant, the champion of Averroism at the university of Paris, had “syllogised invidious truths,” and met with a violent death at the Papal Court at Orvieto about 1284. Joachim of Flora, “endowed with prophetic spirit,” had foretold the advent of the epoch of the Holy Ghost, in which the Everlasting Gospel, the spiritual interpretation of the Gospel of Christ, would leave no place for disciplinary institutions; his later followers among the Franciscans had been condemned at the Council of Anagni in 1256.
St. Thomas further explains to Dante the grades of perfection in God’s creatures, from the Angels downwards; whereby His Divine light is more or less imperfectly reflected, and the likeness of the Divine ideas more or less imperfectly expressed—perfectly only when the Trinity creates immediately, as in the case of Adam and the humanity of Christ (Par. xiii.). Solomon, whose peerless wisdom St. Thomas had explained as “royal prudence,” instructs Dante concerning the splendour of the body after the resurrection, when human personality will be completed and the perfection of beatitude fulfilled (Par. xiv.). In a mysteriously beautiful apparition of what seems to be another garland of spirits in the Sun, this vision of the fourth heaven closes; and Beatrice and her lover are “translated to more lofty salvation” in the glowing red of Mars.
The Heaven of Mars.—The fifth heaven, the sphere of Mars, is ruled by the angelic Virtues. This is the order which images the Divine strength and fortitude; their name, according to Dionysius, signifies “a certain valiant and unconquerable virility.” According to St. Bernard, they are those “by whose command or work signs and prodigies are wrought among the elements, for the admonition of mortals,” and it is through them that the sign of the Son of Man shall appear in heaven as foretold in the Gospel.[39] Therefore, in Mars, Dante beholds a great image of the Crucified, blood-red, formed by stars which are the souls of the warrior saints, whom the Virtues impressed at their birth with the influence of the planet (Par. xvii. 76-78), to be strongly and manfully valiant, and to do notable things on earth (ibid. 92, 93), even as the Virtues, according to St. Bernard, work signs and prodigies among the elements.
Cacciaguida passes from the right arm of the Cross to greet his descendant, like Anchises to Aeneas in Elysium. In his long discourse with the poet (Par. xv. and xvi.) we dimly discern a splendidly ideal picture of a free Italian commune of the twelfth century, before what Dante regards as the corrupting influence of wealth and illegitimate extension of its boundaries had fallen upon it, and before the hostility of the Church to the Empire, with the resulting confusion of persons in the city, had involved the Florentines in the feuds of Guelfs and Ghibellines. Then, having bitterly lamented the decay of the old Florentine families and the corruption of their successors, Cacciaguida co-operates with the Virtues by inspiring Dante with endurance and fortitude to suffer unjust exile and perform his life’s work (Par. xvii.). In the famous and most noble lines, to which reference has already been made in touching upon this epoch of Dante’s life, Cacciaguida foretells the poet’s banishment, the calumnies of his enemies, his sufferings in exile, his forming a party to himself, the future greatness of Can Grande, Dante’s own certainty of eternal fame. And let him be no timid friend to truth, but make manifest his whole vision, and especially assail corruption in highest places (cf. Mon. iii. 1). It is Dante’s apologia for his own life, first as citizen, then as poet. The keynote of the closing years of his life is struck at the opening of Canto xviii.: “And that Lady who was leading me to God said: ‘Change thy thought; think that I am near to Him who unburdens every wrong.’” Gazing upon her, his affection “was free from every other desire.” Then, with a charge of celestial chivalry across the sky, this vision of warriors closes; Joshua and Judas Maccabaeus, Charlemagne and Orlando, William of Orange still with Renoardo, Godfrey de Bouillon and Robert Guiscard, flash through the Cross, and are rejoined by Cacciaguida in their motion and their song.
The Heaven of Jupiter.—The silvery white sphere of Jupiter, the sixth heaven, is ruled by the Dominations, the angelic order which images the archetypal dominion in God as the source of true dominion. “We must consider in the Dominations,” writes St. Bernard, “how great is the majesty of the Lord, at whose bidding empire is established, and of whose empire universality and eternity are the bounds.” This, then, is the sphere of ideal government, the heaven of the planet that effectuates justice upon earth (Par. xviii. 115-117). The souls of faithful and just rulers appear as golden lights, singing and flying like celestial birds. They first form the text, Diligite iustitiam que iudicatis terram, “Love justice, you that are the judges of the earth” (Wisdom, i. 1, Vulgate), tracing successively the letters until they rest in the final golden M, the initial letter of Monarchy or Empire, under which alone can justice be paramount on earth, and then, with further transformations, become the celestial Eagle (Par. xviii. 100-114). This is the “sign which made the Romans reverend in the world” (xix. 101); no emblem of material conquest, but the image of the sempiternal justice of the Primal Will, the type of dominion on earth ordained by God. It is the allegorical representation of the doctrines of the Monarchia. And, since justice is obscured and good government rendered abortive by the simony of the pastors of the Church, which leads them to oppose the Empire, Dante has a bitter word in season for the reigning pontiff, John XXII (Par. xviii. 130-136).