and down [_i.e._ goes north and south alternately], you would see the
glowing zodiac [that part in which the sun is] revolving still closer
to the Bears.” Gemini is literally nearer to the constellations of the
Bears than Aries, but this is not the sense of Virgil’s statement: he
means merely to indicate the north in general (see Ptolemy, p. 157).
“To understand why the sun goes north,” Virgil says, “you must know
that this mountain and Zion [Jerusalem] are so situated on the earth
that one is precisely antipodal to the other; and so, the sun’s path
being between them, when he is viewed in one direction from Jerusalem,
he is viewed in the opposite direction from Purgatory. If you turn from
the east to your right to see him from Jerusalem, you must turn to your
left in Purgatory.” Virgil speaks of the sun’s path or the ecliptic as
the path which Phaëton was not able to keep, and he describes the two
antipodal places as having one and the same horizon but two entirely
different hemispheres.

“Certainly,” replies Dante, “I have never seen anything so clearly as
I now perceive what at first puzzled me. For the middle circle of the
celestial motion,[398] which is called the equator in a certain art
[astronomy], and which always remains between the sun and winter, [the
sun crosses it departing from us in either hemisphere at the autumnal
equinox], here lies to the north of us, for the reason you have given
[namely, that we are in the southern hemisphere], whilst the Hebrews
[inhabitants of Jerusalem] see it towards the hot region [the south].”

Observe that the expression used of the equator “che sempre riman
tra il sole e il verno,”[399] distinctly suggests the reversed
seasons in the southern and northern hemispheres, so that Dante has
no intention, as Dr. Moore suggests, of assuming by a poetic licence
that it is spring in Purgatory as well as in Italy.[400] It is autumn
in the southern hemisphere, but this need not distress us: the holy
Mountain knows no inclement weather,[401] and in the Garden of Eden
on its summit spring flowers and autumn fruits eternally flourish
together.[402]

An allusion is made to a tropical summer in “la terra che perde
ombra.”[403] Tropical Africa is intended, where the sun at certain
times passes directly overhead, and therefore casts no shadows, as the
Alexandrian astronomers had observed (see p. 117).

[398] _Cf. Conv._ III. v. 76, 191.

[399]
    “Which always remains between the sun and the winter.”
                                        _Purg._ iv. 81.

[400] _Studies in Dante_ iii. p. 166.

[401] _Purg._ xxi. 46-48; _Purg._ xix. 38.

[402] _Purg._ xxviii. 143.

[403] “The land where shadows are lost.” _Purg._ xxx. 89.

Did Dante believe that no land exists anywhere in the southern
hemisphere? There are some indications that he thought it possible to
push the limits of the habitable earth a little beyond the equatorial
boundary of Alfraganus. There would be no heresy in lengthening the
southward extremities of Africa or Asia, because all that the Church
forbade was to plant another land in the south, separated from us
by a vast ocean or impassable torrid zone, and to people it with
inhabitants, who could not therefore be descendants of Adam or have the
Gospel preached to them. Nor would there be any inconsistency with the
poet’s own description of our hemisphere as that covered by “la gran
secca,”[404] or with the voyage of Ulysses, on which he saw no land but
the Mountain of Purgatory; for he sailed south-west, not due south, and
the “mondo senza gente”[405] was “diretro al Sol.”[406]

[404] “The great dry land.” _Inf._ xxxiv. 113.

[405] “The unpeopled world.” _Inf._ xxvi. 117.

[406] “Behind the sun.” _Ibid._

The indications are as follows:—

(1) The passage quoted above, where it is said that the equator
“divides the uncovered land from the ocean”[407] is ambiguous in the
original, and might mean “divides the land uncovered by Ocean.”

[407] _Conv._ III. v. 117, 118.

(2) Shortly before, he has distinctly admitted that there is some land
in the southern hemisphere, by saying that the north celestial pole is
visible to _nearly all_ the land not covered by sea, and the south is
hidden from _nearly all_ of it. The first is true in any case, since
though the pole is theoretically visible as far as the equator, it is
often hidden by mist or rising land on the northern horizon; but unless
the second “nearly” has been added by a (somewhat natural) mistake of a
copyist, it can only apply to lands in the southern hemisphere.[408]

[408] Refraction makes the pole visible a little before one reaches the
equator, but such refinements need not be considered in dealing with a
popular work like the _Convivio_.

(3) There is a stanza in _Canzone XV._ which suggests that Dante
believed Ethiopia to be on the south side of the equator. Classical
and mediæval cosmographers had very vague ideas about the extent and
position of this country. Dante describes a wind raised in its deserts
by the sun, which _now_ is heating it (implying the time of summer?);
but the same wind, crossing the sea to Europe, darkens all _this_
hemisphere, bringing clouds which fall in snow.

    “Levasi della rena d’Etiopia
      Un vento pellegrin, che l’ aer turba,
      Per la spera del sol, ch’ or la riscalda,
      E passa il mare, onde n’adduce copia
      Di nebbia tal, che s’ altro non la sturba
      Questo emisperio chiude tutto, e salda;
      E poi si solve, e cade in bianca falda
      Di fredda neve, ed in noiosa pioggia.”[409]

[409]
    “There riseth up from Ethiopia’s sands
    A wind from far-off clime which rends the air,
    Through the sun’s orb that heats it with its ray.
    The sea it crosses; thence, o’er all the lands
    Such clouds it brings that but for wind more fair
    O’er all our hemisphere ’twould hold its sway;
    And then it breaks and falls in whitest spray
    Of frozen snow and pestilential showers.”
                       _Canz._ xv. 14-21. (_Plumptre_).

However, it may be said that “or la riscalda”[410] means merely
that it is always hot in the tropics, even when we have winter, and
that “questo emisperio”[411] cannot possibly mean the whole of the
terrestrial northern hemisphere from equator to pole, but simply
describes the appearance of the hemispherical sky,[412] completely
covered with cloud.

These doubtful passages are not strong enough to set against the
explicit statement in the _Quæstio_ that the habitable earth extends
from the equator to the Arctic circle and no further.[413] Letters and
reports from missionaries and traders, none of them scientific, did not
shake Dante’s faith in the limits laid down by Ptolemy and Alfraganus.
His geography was utterly wrong, but his astronomy was right; and
therefore, although he had no idea of what he would see on our globe in
untravelled latitudes, he knew exactly, and has described vividly, what
he would see in the sunny sky.

[410] “Now heats it.”

[411] “This hemisphere.”

[412] Just as in _Par._ xxviii. 80.

[413] _Qu._ xix. 53-57, and repeated in xxi. 36-40.

9. CELESTIAL PHENOMENA AND TIME.

The foregoing quotations have shown how well Dante understood
the changing appearances of the celestial phenomena as viewed
from different latitudes: it now remains to be seen what were his
conceptions of longitude.

A difference in longitude between two places makes no difference in the
stars, nor in the apparent paths of the heavenly bodies, but they come
to the meridian sooner in the more easterly place; and as it is the
meridian passage of the sun which determines local time, this will vary
in exact proportion to the distance east. When it is early morning in
England, it is noon in Burmah, and evening in Fiji. As Alfraganus had
observed (following Ptolemy), a celestial phenomenon such as a lunar
eclipse, which is caused by an actual darkening of the moon’s surface
when immersed in Earth’s shadow, is visible in every place where the
moon is above the horizon, though the local hour differs.

It is otherwise with a total solar eclipse, for this is only visible
from the very small portion of Earth on which the moon’s shadow falls
as she passes between us and the sun (see fig. 44); and as this shadow
moves on, owing to her own motion and the diurnal revolution combined,
the eclipse becomes visible successively from different parts of
the earth. Dante realized this when he quoted the argument of some
theologians that the miraculous three hours’ darkness described in
the Gospels could not have been caused by an eclipse of the sun, as
Aquinas and others had suggested, because it was visible all over the
earth at the same absolute time, that is, during the Crucifixion.[414]
Some said, he tells us, that the moon went back and placed herself
between us and the sun (for the moon at Passover time was always full,
and therefore opposite the sun), so that the sun’s light should not
come down (to us on the earth); others, that the sun hid itself, for
a corresponding eclipse was seen by Spaniards and Indians as well as
Jews.[415] Spaniards and Indians were supposed to live at the extreme
western and eastern limits of the habitable earth: they were 180° in
longitude, or 12 hours in time, apart, and Jerusalem was midway between
them. Therefore the sun would be visible to all, though only just
rising in India and just setting in Spain;[416] but it could not have
been an eclipse that darkened it to all at the same time.

[414] _Luke_ xxiii. 44.

[415] _Par._ xxix. 97-102.

[416] Dante believed the death of Christ to have taken place when it
was noon in Jerusalem. _Conv._ IV. xxiii. 105-106.

[Illustration: Fig. 44. Lunar and Solar Eclipses.]

This passage shows that Dante was entirely orthodox and conservative
in his geography, as far as longitude was concerned, and confirms us
in the conclusion that he was so also with regard to latitude, and was
not likely to accept contemporary evidence about lands south of the
equator, or stars unknown to Ptolemy. In the _Divine Comedy_ there are
several passages which refer to the same system, as for instance where
Night is described as covering the whole region from “the Shore” to
Morocco,[417] or where the time is stated to be noon on the Ganges,
sunrise at Jerusalem, and midnight in Spain.[418] And in the _Quæstio
de Aqua et Terra_ the system is thus clearly explained:—

    “As all these agree in believing [the naturalists,
    the astrologers, and the cosmographers], this
    habitable earth extends in longitude from Gades,
    which lies on the western boundaries of Hercules,
    as far as the mouths of the Ganges, as Orosius
    writes.[419] That longitude is such that at the
    equinox the sun is setting upon those who are at
    one of these boundaries, while it is rising upon
    those who are at the other, as astrologers have
    discovered by eclipses of the moon. Therefore the
    aforesaid boundaries must be 180 degrees distant in
    longitude, which is half the distance of the whole
    circumference.”[420]

[417] _Purg._ iv. 137-139.

[418] _Purg._ xxvii. 1-5.

[419] Orosius says: “Europæ in Hispania occidentalis oceanus termino
est, maxime ubi apud Gades insulas Herculis columnæ visuntur.... Asia
ad mediam frontem orientis habet in oceano Eoo ostia fluminis Gangis.”

[420] _Qu._ xix. 38-52.

Gades is not the city of Cadiz, but two islands (the “Gades Insulæ” of
Orosius), on which Hercules was said to have set up his Pillars, as a
sign that no one should venture further; and they were thought to lie
in the mouth of what we call the Straits of Gibraltar:[421]—

[421] Moore, _Studies in Dante_ iii. p. 124.

                    “quella foce stretta,
    Ov’ Ercule segnò li suoi riguardi,
    Acciochè l’uom più oltre non si metta.”[422]

[422]
    “The strait pass, where Hercules ordained
    The boundaries not to be o’erstepped by man.”
                           _Inf._ xxvi. 107-109. (_Carey_).

Through these Ulysses sailed, never to return.[423]

[423] _Inf._ xxvi. 106-142.

It is difficult to believe that a lunar eclipse had ever been observed
simultaneously, and the local time compared, on the Ganges and at
Gibraltar, as the above quotation from the _Quæstio_ declares: and if
it had been, the astrologers, the cosmographers, and the naturalists
would have found out that they were greatly mistaken, for the distance
is little more than half what they thought. All that Ptolemy had said
was that this was the right method for calculating longitudes, and he
gave as an example an eclipse which had been seen at Arbela at the
fifth hour and at Carthage at the second hour.[424] It was, in fact, an
excellent method, and the only one before the day of chronographs and
telegraphs; and it seems to have been assumed that Ptolemy’s guess of
180° for the extent in longitude of the inhabited earth was based upon
it.

[424] _Ptolemy’s Geography_, Bk. I.

Then this 180° was considered, in the Middle Ages, as divided into two
equal parts, the western half containing Europe and Africa, the eastern
containing Asia. On the western front of Asia lay Jerusalem, thus
holding the central position in the inhabited earth which was thought
to be her right, on the authority of certain Scripture texts, as we
saw.[425] This gave the Mediterranean a length of 90°, which of course
is vastly too great. Even Ptolemy had only estimated it at 62°, and the
Alfonsine Tables made it 52°, while the true distance is only about 42°.

[425] See p. 176.

Latitude, however, was much more easily measured than longitude, for
it was only necessary to take the height of the pole star above the
horizon with an astrolabe; and the latitude of Jerusalem is really
just about midway between the supposed limits of the habitable earth,
the equator and arctic circle, for it is nearly 32° north.

Some daring spirits ventured to suggest that the dry land stretched
much further round the globe than was commonly supposed, so that one
might sail from Spain to Asia in quite a short time, and they sheltered
themselves behind the great names of Aristotle, Seneca, Pliny, and
Esdras.[426] Albertus Magnus quotes Aristotle to this effect, although
in another part of the same book (his _De Cælo et Mundo_), he repeats
the usual phrase about the habitable Earth being all contained within
one of the northern quadrants of earth. Roger Bacon expresses himself
more boldly, and it is possible that he was impressed by the long
journey of the Franciscan friar Rubruquis, on his mission to Central
Asia, from St. Louis of France to the Emperor of the Mongols. Besides
relating the story of this journey, Bacon speaks of men who were known
to live in tropical Taprobane (Ceylon), and if there, why not also
south of Capricorn? There may be delightful countries there, since it
is the better and nobler part of the world, as Aristotle and Averroës
taught.

Moreover, Dante’s own countryman, the learned Pietro d’Abano,
maintained that there are habitable lands on, and even beyond the
equator, and did not hesitate to quote conversations with Marco Polo
as evidence, although this “most extensive traveller and most diligent
enquirer” was accounted a romancer by most of his contemporaries. Had
not Messer Marco told him that in islands south of the equator he had
seen not only great rams with coarse stiff wool like the bristles of
pigs, but human beings?[427]

[426] _Esdras_ II. vi. 42.

[427] Beazley, _Dawn of Geography_ iii. 28, 29.

Roger Bacon was banished from Oxford on a charge of heresy and
witchcraft: Pietro d’Abano escaped the Inquisition by dying, in 1316.
Men such as these belonged to the new age that was coming, the age
that would throw away the old lesson-books, and begin to discover for
itself—and they suffered in consequence. Dante belonged heart and soul
to his own era, and clung passionately to its ideals and traditions.
For him the Ganges still flowed into the all-surrounding ocean on
the east coast of Asia, 90 degrees from Jerusalem, as Orosius had
pictured it, and there is not the faintest echo in his writings of the
voyages of his countrymen, Corvino and his bishops, or Polo and his
companions,[428] between “Greater India” and “Zayton” (Amoy harbour),
although they surely must have recognized, when they praised the great
rivers of China, that these flowed into a sea many days’ journey
beyond that into which the Ganges rolled its waters. Nor is there, on
the other hand, any hint of the monstrous races with which Dark-Age
superstition had peopled the remote regions of the earth, although
they were regularly represented on the maps of that time. It is true
that the “portolani,” or handy charts, of which the earliest known
date from Dante’s life-time, showed none of these things, but depicted
the coast-lands of the Mediterranean and Black Seas with marvellous
accuracy: but they were only for pilots and merchant captains, and
had nothing to do with scholars. The maps Dante would see were hung
on church or monastery walls, or illustrated learned books; and the
mappe-monde of Cardinal Heinrich of Mainz may be taken as typical of
them all. It much resembles our great Hereford Map of the World, and
was probably copied from the same original design.

[428] Corvino and Marco Polo made the voyage in the same year, 1292,
but in reverse directions.

It is two hundred years older than Dante, but so stationary was
geography throughout the Middle Ages that it might have been executed
in his day, or, except for a few details, several centuries earlier.

Mediæval maps are as fascinating as a fairy tale, which indeed they
much resemble. The shape is conventional, and not supposed to represent
the true shape of the habitable earth; it is sometimes circular,
sometimes quadrilateral, occasionally oval, as in the present instance.
The east is here, as usual, at the top, and there we see the Paradise
of Adam and Eve, and close beside it, to the north, the River Ganges,
flowing into the great ocean which surrounds all the land. At the
opposite or western extremity are the Pillars of Hercules, which two
angels appear to be guarding. In the centre, but not so exactly or
conspicuously central as in some other maps, we find “Hierusalem.”
Along the south is the long narrow continent of Africa, with the Atlas
and Ethiopian mountains; and the Nile, rising far in the south-west,
after mysterious submergences and reappearances, finally flows into
the Mediterranean, past the pictured Pyramids, here strangely called
(according to Dark-Age myth) the Barns of Joseph. In the north another
Angel points to the country where dwell the Gog-Magogs, and not far
off are the lands of the Hyperboreans, here described as untroubled
by disease or discord, of the “most wicked” Gryphons, and of the
Dog-headed folk, adjoining the Arctic Ocean.

Italy is a very large country, roughly triangular, and in the
Mediterranean to the south lie Sicily, the whirlpool Charybdis, the
rock Scylla, Sardinia, Corsica, and other islands. Rome is figured as a
battlemented city, about halfway between Jerusalem and the Pillars of
Hercules.

[Illustration: MAP OF THE WORLD BY HEINRICH OF MAINZ, ABOUT A.D. 1110.

_To face p. 344._

_Reproduced by permission from Beazley’s “Dawn of Modern Geography.”_]

This is where Dante also places the imperial city, for in his system
it is about 45°, or 3 hours, east of Gades and west of Jerusalem. He
tells us in one place that it was vespers in Naples when the sun rose
in Purgatory,[429] and in another that when it was vespers or three
o’clock in the afternoon in Purgatory, it was midnight “here”[430]
which may mean Florence or Italy in general; both these statements
indicate a difference of nine hours or 135° between Italy and
Purgatory. Purgatory in the _Divine Comedy_ is exactly antipodal to
Jerusalem, and therefore twelve hours distant in time;[431] and for
the sake of his allegory Dante has so far departed from tradition as
to place the Earthly Paradise here also.[432] These five places may
therefore be diagramatically represented thus:—

[429] _Purg._ iii. 25.

[430] _Purg._ xv. 1-6.

[431] _Purg._ iv. 68-71; xxvii. 1-5.

[432] _Purg._ xxviii. 142. Opinions differed as to its exact site, and
some placed it in the ocean beyond the eastern limit of the habitable
earth. In _V. E._ I. viii. 6-10, Dante says that the root of the human
race was planted in eastern lands, but this refers to Adam’s home after
the expulsion from Paradise.

         +---------------------------------------------------------+
          EARLY <----------------  TIME ----------------------> LATE
          12 hours    6hrs.   3hrs.          6hrs.    12 hours
          ---+----------+-------+----+---------+-----------+--------

          Purgatory   Gades  Italy Jerusalem  Ganes   Purgatory

          ---+----------+-------+----+---------+-----------+--------
          180°      90°       45°    0°        90°         180°
          WEST <--------------- LONGITUDE --------------------> EAST
         +---------------------------------------------------------+

With this key, Dante’s fondness for describing the time at one place by
mentioning one of the others need be no stumbling-block, as it is to
many readers.

The fact is that though Dante had none of our opportunities for
changing time-reckoning by long journeys, nor for communicating with
friends at the other side of the world, who wake while we sleep, the
marvellous daily revolution of the skies had a fascination for him,
and he delighted to picture a glorious sunrise taking place in one
country while in another it was high noon, or the middle of the night.
Thus, the beautiful description of the stars fading in the growing
light of dawn, which we quoted above, is preceded by a picture of the
sun glowing on the meridian some 6000 miles away (rather more than a
quarter the circumference of the globe), while with us Earth’s shadow
has sunk almost to a level plane.[433]

Again, Folco of Marseilles, when describing his birthplace, says that
the greatest of all the seas (the Mediterranean) except the ocean which
encircles all the habitable earth, stretches so far against the sun
(i.e. from west to east), that the line of sky which is on its horizon
at one end is on its meridian at the other.[434] If the sun were
seen just rising on the eastern horizon at Gades, it would be on the
meridian at Jerusalem and the time would there be noon.

[433] _Par._ xxx. 1-3.

[434] _Par._ ix. 82-87.

Dante’s hours are always reckoned from sunrise, and they are the
“temporary” or Church hours. He defines both kinds in the _Convivio_.
The same lines of his Ode which provided him with a text whereon to
discourse of the sun’s movements, give him occasion to treat of the
division of each day into hours, thus:—

    “I say that the sun, in circling round the world,
    _ne’er beholdeth aught so noble as this lady_, from
    which it follows that she is, as the words affirm,
    the most noble of all the things on which the sun
    shines. And I say _in that hour_, etc. Wherefore
    we must know that the _hour_ is understood in
    two senses by astrologers. One sense is employed
    when they assign twenty-four hours to the day and
    night, that is, twelve to the day and twelve to the
    night, however long or short the day may be. And
    these hours become short or long in the day and in
    the night, according as the day and night wax and
    wane. And the Church uses hours in this sense when
    she speaks of Prime, Tierce, Sext, and None; and
    these are called temporal hours. The other sense is
    employed when, of the twenty-four hours alloted to
    the day and night, the day has sometimes fifteen
    and the night nine, and sometimes the night has
    sixteen and the day eight assigned to it, according
    as the day and the night wax and wane; and these
    are called equal hours. And at the equinox these
    latter are always one and the same with those which
    are called temporal; for it must needs be so when
    the day and the night are of the same length.”[435]

The choice of these two examples of unequal days and nights seems to be
another instance of Dante’s dependence upon Alfraganus, for in Chapter
VIII. of the _Elementa Astronomica_ we read that the middle of the
seventh climate (in which the inequality is greatest) has a longest day
of 16 hours, and the middle of the fifth, of 15 hours; and in chapter
IX. we find that Magna Roma is situated in the fifth climate.

In the fourth treatise of the _Convivio_, Dante returns to the same
subject, and enters into further detail about Church hours and
divisions of the day.[436] Our lives, like the arch of heaven which is
always above us, consist of a rise and a decline, with a culminating
point, and this point he fixes as normally reached at a man’s 35th
year, as Ristoro had also done.[437] In the same way the day rises and
declines, and culminates at the sixth hour; and it is the most noble
hour of the day and the most virtuous (in the old Latin sense of virtue
as strength, efficacy).

[435] _Conv._ III. vi. 7-32.

[436] _Conv._ IV. xxiii. 50 to end.

[437] _Comp. del Mondo_, I. xxii.
    “La sesta ora, cioè il mezzo del dì, è la più
     nobile di tutto il dì, e la più vertuosa.”[438]

[438] “The sixth hour, that is, the middle of the day, is the most
noble of all the day, and the most virtuous.”

This means the whole of the sixth hour (as we should say, from 11 to
12 o’clock): the beginning of the seventh hour is the exact moment of
noon, after which the day begins to decline. It was for this reason,
Dante believes, that Christ chose to die during the sixth hour,[439]
and during his 34th year, for then the day and his human life were both
at their culmination, and had not begun to decline.

[439] _Luke_ xxiii. 44-46. Dante understands this to mean that death
took place at about the sixth hour, not the ninth.

There was some difference in the methods of reckoning the hours for
Church offices, but Dante tells in this same passage which of them he
considered right, and he follows it consistently in his works. The
Church day was divided into four parts, viz.:—

                                                     At the equinox=
    Tierce,   Sunrise to the end of the third hour   6 to 9 a.m.
    Sext,     Fourth to end of sixth hour            9 a.m. to 12 noon
    Nones,    Seventh to end of ninth                12 noon to 3 p.m.
    Vespers,  Tenth hour to sunset                   3 to 6 p.m.

Two of the Church offices were to be said at the beginning, and one at
the end, of these periods, as follows:—

    Tierce,   at the end          _i.e._ 9 a.m. at the equinox.
    Nones,    at the beginning    _i.e._ 12 noon.
    Vespers,    ”       ”         _i.e._ 3 p.m. at the equinox.

Thus sext is omitted altogether, and Dante says that the reason for
the arrangement is to approximate in every case to that hour which is
the noblest of the whole day, the sixth.

Mid-tierce was halfway through the period from sunrise to the end of
the third hour, that is, 7.30 a.m. at the time of the equinox; and
mid-nones and mid-vespers were counted in the same way.

As an instance of reckoning hours by the sun, we may quote the reply of
Adam when Dante desired to know how long time he had spent in Eden:

    “Dalla prim’ ora a quella che seconda,
    Come il sol muta quadra, l’ora sesta.”[440]

[440]
    “From the first hour to that which cometh next
    (As the sun changes quarter) to the sixth.”
                          _Par._ xxvi. 141-142. (_Carey_).

Just as the time of day may be told, if one is accustomed to watch the
sun, by noting how much of the daily course has been run, so the time
of day or night (according to her phase) may be told by the moon; only
with her we must take into consideration the rapid and variable motion
eastwards in the zodiac. Alfraganus says that her _mean_ daily motion
in longitude is 13° and nearly 11 minutes,[441] but that a small amount
must be added or subtracted every day in order to find her true motion.
As a clock, therefore, for use in daily life, she leaves much to be
desired. This daily motion makes her fall constantly behind the sun, so
that she loses time every day, and not even the same amount of time;
for though she crosses the meridian on an average 50½ minutes later
each day, the interval is sometimes only 38 minutes and sometimes as
much as 66 minutes. And her times of setting and rising are even more
variable.

[441] It is easily seen that this is correct, if we divide the 360° of
the moon’s path through the zodiac by the 27 days and eight hours in
which she traverses it, and returns to the same star. Brunetto Latini
says “La lune s’esloigne _dou Soleil_ chascun jor xiii degrez po s’en
faut,” but he is wrong, having apparently forgotten that the sun is
also moving in the same direction, at the average rate of nearly 1°
daily.

This is easily understood if we remember how much the sun’s time
of setting varies throughout the year, according to the part of the
zodiac in which he is travelling, and consider that what the sun does
in a year the moon does in a month. And in her case the effect is
sometimes exaggerated, sometimes diminished, for her path in the zodiac
is inclined to the sun’s path; moreover, her greatest departure from
it to north and south takes place in different parts of the zodiac at
different times. These facts were well known to Ptolemy and to mediæval
astronomers, and everyone who watches the moon must have noticed how
variable are the intervals between one moonrise or one moonset and the
next.

The extent of variability also depends upon our latitude (just as with
sunrises and sunsets); and in Florence the retardation in one day may
sometimes be only twenty minutes, sometimes an hour and twenty minutes.
The difference would be less in Dante’s Purgatory, since this was in
latitude 32° south, and the intervals between moonset and moonset
become less variable in length as we approach the equator, just as the
days become less unequal all the year round. Still, they would vary
a good deal, so we must conclude that Dante only means to indicate
the time quite roughly when he uses the moon as a clock. As a matter
of fact, he seldom does so in the _Divine Comedy_ without giving us
another clue to the time as well.

These passages all belong to a most interesting series of time
indications, which we may now proceed to examine.

_VI. DANTE’S JOURNEY THROUGH THE THREE REALMS: INDICATIONS OF TIME AND
DIRECTION BY MEANS OF THE SKIES._

1. TIME REFERENCES IN THE DIVINE COMEDY.

The plan of the universe through which Dante feigns himself to have
journeyed is familiar to all readers of the _Divine Comedy_. Hell,
as the Fathers taught, was a subterranean cavity, and Dante pictures
it as an inverted cone, whose apex reaches the exact centre of Earth
and therefore of the universe. It is situated vertically underneath
Jerusalem, the centre of the inhabited Earth. He departs from the
Fathers, however, in removing Purgatory from these dim regions, and
placing it on an island in the midst of the ocean of the uninhabited
hemisphere, exactly at the antipodes of Jerusalem. On this island rises
a mountain whose immensely lofty summit reaches the upper regions of
the atmosphere, and upon the summit is the Eden of our first parents.
This original conception is an extraordinary gain, both from the
artistic and the allegorical points of view; and it is in harmony
with the idea of Aristotle, and of many mediæval writers, that the
southern hemisphere was the “nobler” part of Earth. Here, then, man was
permitted to dwell before the Fall, and hither come repentant souls,
saved from Hell, but not yet pure enough to enter Heaven. Paradise
consists of all the spheres of mediæval astronomy, and the poet
rises from one to another until he finally reaches the all-embracing
Empyrean, where his vision ends.

Nowhere does he describe this scheme in full, but it was evidently
clear in his own mind, and by following him step by step in his journey
it is easily reconstructed, and is represented in the accompanying
diagram.

In the same way he never states how long a time he spent on this
visionary journey, yet this also he had definitely determined, and in
each Cantica he refers once to the period of time alloted to each realm.

In the last Circle but one of the Inferno, he is warned by Virgil
that the time allowed is drawing to a close;[442] in the last but one
of the Purgatorio Virgil urges him to make the best use of the time
appointed;[443] and in the Paradiso, just before the final vision, St.
Bernard tells him that the time of his trance is nearly over.[444]

[442] _Inf._ xxix. 11.

[443] _Purg._ xxiii. 5, 6.

[444] _Par._ xxxii. 139.

In the first Canto, which is introductory to the whole _Commedia_,
he mentions the time at which he assumes that his vision began. It
was “nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita,”[445] which may mean simply
that he was middle-aged, or comparing it with the passage in the
_Convivio_ quoted earlier (see p. 347), we may suppose it to mean
that he was exactly in his 35th year. The season was spring—“la dolce
stagione,”[446] and when night was over the sun rose among those stars
which were with him at the Creation, which was believed to have taken
place at the vernal equinox some sixty-five centuries before.

[445] “Midway in the journey of our life.” _Inf._ i. 1.

[446] “The sweet season.” _Inf._ i. 43.

    “Il Sol montava su con quelle stelle
        Ch’ eran con lui quando l’Amor Divino
        Mosse da prima quelle cose belle.”[447]

[447]
    “Aloft the sun ascended with those stars
      That with him rose when Love Divine first moved
      Those its fair works.”
                               _Inf._ i. 38-40. (_Carey_).

[Illustration: Fig. 45. The Universe of Dante.]

The expression “quelle stelle,”[448] however, shows us that Dante
does not intend to be pedantically accurate, which would indeed be
inartistic in a poem. He speaks several times of the supposed slow
motion of the star sphere,[449] and although he never mentions its
effect in shifting the place of the equinox continually among the
stars, we can hardly imagine that he failed to understand this. He knew
quite well, therefore, that the stars which accompanied the sun in
that first springtime of the world could not be the same stars which
rose with him now. But astronomers had agreed to call the part of the
sky which contains the vernal equinox by its old name, and it would be
exceedingly tiresome if he were to distinguish, every time he mentioned
them, between the zodiacal constellations and the zodiacal signs; there
shall be no occasion, therefore, to stop and consider which he means,
and no ambiguity: he assumes once for all that they always have been
and always are identical, that the “first point of Aries” or vernal
equinox is now and always at the beginning of the constellation Aries.
To this assumption he is consistent throughout.

[448] “Those stars.”

[449] _Purg._ xi. 108; _Conv._ II. xv. 12-14.

Another important point to notice is that, since it is the time of
the equinox, there is no difference between “temporary” and “equal”
hours.[450] Days and nights are of equal length; sunrise and sunset
are nearly at 6 a.m. and 6 p.m., according to our modern method
of reckoning.[451] In this way also, and without any sacrifice of
astronomical accuracy, the poet has simplified his time references for
his readers.

[450] _Conv._ III. vi. 28-30.

[451] On the day of the spring equinox the sun rises and sets a few
minutes after six o’clock, because we set our clocks not by the real
sun but the more convenient “mean sun.”

We must observe, however, that the day is as uncertain as the year;
for, although it is certainly near the equinox, “quelle stelle” may
mean exactly the first point of Aries or only the constellation Aries
in general. From this Canto alone, therefore, we cannot be sure of the
exact date.

From other allusions of various kinds, scattered throughout the
_Divine Comedy_, we gather that Dante did intend a definite date to be
understood, but unfortunately the data by which he means to fix it are
themselves so ambiguous that commentators differ as to the day, the
month, and the year. The question has so direct a bearing on Dante’s
astronomy that we cannot shirk it; but for the present, leaving it
aside, let us deal merely with the hour, which is distinctly stated
from the first, and indicated in a number of passages so clearly that
readers with an elementary knowledge of the apparent movements of the
heavenly bodies can find little difficulty in following Virgil and
Dante through their journey, seeing exactly how many days it required,
and frequently at what hour of day or night they were in a particular
spot. If my readers are not now in possession of this elementary
knowledge, this book has been written in vain.

I give below a list of all the hour-indications, astronomical and
others, for the sake of clearness and completeness; but I omit for the
present those that indicate only the date, and merely call the days
the first, second, etc. These passages, though they are only to be
understood in a popular sense, prove quite as clearly as the elaborate
astronomical explanations in the _Convivio_ how deep an interest
Dante always took in astronomy; and a study of them shows that he had
carefully considered the positions of the heavenly bodies and their
movements during the progress of the action in his poem.

                     TIME REFERENCES IN THE DIVINE COMEDY

        Night. In the Forest. Moon full
        (see below, _Inf._ xx. 127-129, and _Purg._ xxiii. 118-121).

        “La notte ch’ i’ passai.”
                         _Inf._ i. 21.
                                           “The night that I had spent.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        1st day. Just before sunrise.
        At the foot of the Hill.

       “Ma poi ch’ io fui al piè d’un colle giunto,
                 .  .  .  .  .
        Guardai in alto, e vidi le sue spalle
          Vestite già de’ raggi del pianeta
          Che mena dritto altrui per ogni calle.”
                              _Inf._ i. 13-18.

                           “But after I had reached a mountain’s foot,
                                          .  .  .  .  .  .
                            Upward I looked, and I beheld its shoulders
                              Vested already with that planet’s rays
                              Which leadeth others right by every road.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Sunrise 6 a.m.[452]
        Climbing the Hill.

        “Tempo era dal principio del mattino,
           E il sol montava su con quelle stelle
           Ch’eran con lui quando l’ Amor divino
         Mosse da prima quelle cose belle.”
                            _Inf._ i. 37-40.

                        “The time was the beginning of the morning,
                           And up the sun was mounting with those stars
                           That with him were, what time the Love Divine
                         At first in motion set those beautous things.”

[452] The clock-hours in this column are not to be regarded as if taken
from a railway time-table! Sunrise is at 6 a.m. within a few minutes
only, for the reasons above stated, viz.: our clocks are regulated by
the “mean” sun, and it is not necessarily the exact day of the equinox
when the vision begins.

        Evening twilight.
        At the Gate of Hell.

        “Lo giorno se n’andava, e l’ aer bruno....”
                                 _Inf._ ii. 1.

                              “Day was departing, and the brown air....”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Midnight.
        Crossing the fourth circle.

        “Già ogni stella cade, che saliva
         Quando mi mossi.”
                  _Inf._ vii. 98, 99.

                             “Already sinks each star that was ascending
                              When I set out.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        2nd day. About 2 hrs. before sunrise (4 a.m.)
        On the edge of the cliff, preparing to descend to the 7th
        circle.

        “I Pesci guizzan su per l’ orizzonta,
         E il Carro tutto sovra il Coro giace.”
                         _Inf._ xi. 113, 114.

                               “Quivering are the Fishes on the horizon,
                                And the Wain wholly over Caurus lies.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        (Dante refers to the previous day.)
         In the 7th circle.

        “Mi smarri’ in una valle.
              .  .  .  .  .
         Pur ier mattina le volsi le spalle.”
                       _Inf._ xv. 50-52.

                              “I lost me in a valley.
                                  .  .  .  .  .
                               But yestermorn I turned my back upon it.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        After sunrise, between 6 and 7 a.m.
        Leaving the 4th Pit of Circle VIII.
       (Virgil reminds Dante of the night before last, spent in the
        Forest.)

             “Già tiene il confine
          D’ ambedue gli emisperi e tocca l’ onda
          Sotto Sibilia Caino e le spine;
        E già iernotte fu la luna tonda;
          Ben ten dee ricordar, chè non ti nocque
          Alcuna volta per la selva fonda.”
                         _Inf._ xx. 124-129.

                               “... Already holds the confines
                       Of both the hemispheres, and under Seville
                       Touches the ocean-wave, Cain and the thorns;
                     And yesternight the moon was round already;
                       Thou shouldst remember well: it did not harm thee
                       From time to time within the forest deep.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        7 a.m.
        On the bridge over the 5th Pit.

        “Ier, più oltre cinq’ ore che quest’ otta,
           Mille dugento con sessanta sei
           Anni compiè che qui la via fu rotta.”
                         _Inf._ xxi. 112-114.

                   “Yesterday, five hours later than this hour,
                      One thousand and two hundred sixty-six
                      Years were complete that here the way was broken.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        About 1 p.m.
        Leaving the 9th Pit.

        “E già la Luna è sotto nostri piedi,
           Lo tempo è poco omai che n’è concesso.”
                         _Inf._ xxix. 10, 11.

                           “And now the moon is underneath our feet.
                              Henceforth the time allotted us is brief.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Nightfall.
        At the bottom of the world.

           “La notte risurge; ed oramai
        È da partir, chè tutto avem veduto.”
                  _Inf._ xxxiv. 68, 69.

                              “Night is reascending, and ’tis time
                            That we depart, for we have seen the whole.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        3rd day. (no night intervening) 7.30 a.m.
        In the new hemisphere

        “Già il sole a mezza terza riede.”
                    _Inf._ xxxiv. 96.

                             “And now the sun to middle-tierce returns.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        4th day. About an hour  before sunrise (5 a.m.).
        On the island of Purgatory.

        “E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle.”
                        _Inf._ xxxiv. 139.

                          “Thence we came forth to see again the stars.”

        “Lo bel pianeta che ad amar conforta
          Faceva tutto rider l’ oriente,
          Velando i Pesci ch’ erano in sua scorta.”
                             _Purg._ i. 19-21.

                         “The beauteous planet that to love incites
                            Was making all the orient to laugh,
                            Veiling the Fishes that were in her escort.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Dawn.

        “Lo sol vi mostrerà, che surge omai.”
                         _Purg._ i. 107.

                        “The sun, which now is rising, will direct you.”

        “L’ alba vinceva l’ ora mattutina.”
                         _Purg._ i. 115.

                              “The dawn was vanquishing the matin hour.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Sun just below east horizon.
        On the Shore of the Island.

        “Già era il sole all’ orizzonte giunto
           Lo cui meridian cerchio coperchia
           Jerusalem col suo più alto punto;
         E la notte, che opposita a lui cerchia,
           Uscia di Gange fuor con le bilance
           Che le caggion di man quando soperchia;
         Si che le bianche e le vermilie guance,
           Là dove io era, della bella Aurora,
           Per troppa etate divenivan rance.”
                             _Purg._ ii. 1-9.

                      “Already had the sun the horizon reached
                         Whose circle of meridian covers o’er
                         Jerusalem with its most lofty point;
                       And night, that opposite to him revolves,
                         Was issuing forth from Ganges, with the scales
                         That fall from out her hand when she exceedeth;
                       So that the white and the vermilion cheeks
                         Of beautiful Aurora, where I was,
                         By too great age were changing into orange.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Sun risen.

        “Da tutte parti saettava il giorno
           Lo sol, ch’avea con le saette conte
           Di mezzo il ciel cacciato il Capricorno.”
                             _Purg._ ii. 55-57.

                     “On every side was darting forth the day
                        The sun, who had with his resplendent shafts
                        From the mid-heaven chased forth the Capricorn.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Soon after sunrise.
        Walking westward, towards the Mountain of Purgatory.

        “Lo sol che retro fiammeggiava roggio.”
                          _Purg._ iii. 16.

                             “The sun that in our rear was flaming red.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Shortly after 6 a.m. (3 p.m. in Italy).

        “Vespero è già colà dov’ è sepolto
           Lo corpo dentro al quale io facea ombra.”
                          _Purg._ iii. 25, 26.

                            “’Tis vespers there already where is buried
                                 The body within which I cast a shadow.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        About 9.30 a.m.
        At the foot of the Mountain.

        “Ben cinquanta gradi salito era
         Lo sole.”
                _Purg._ iv. 15, 16.

                                        “Fifty full degrees uprisen was
                                           The sun.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Midday.
        On a ledge of the Mountain (Anti-purgatory).

                      “Vedi ch’è tocco
        Meridian dal sole, e dalla riva.
        Copre la notte già col piè Morrocco.”
                   _Purg._ iv. 137-139.

                                              “See, the sun has touched
                                  Meridian, and from the shore the night
                                  Covers already with her foot Morocco.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Afternoon.
        Climbing the eastern slope of the Mountain.

        “Vedi omai che il poggio l’ ombra getta.
                 .  .  .  .  .
         Prima che sii lassù tornar vedrai
           Colui che già si copre della costa,
           Sì che i suoi raggi tu romper non fai.”
                          _Purg._ vi. 51-57.

                          “See, e’en now the hill a shadow casts.
                                   .  .  .  .  .
                           Ere thou art up there, thou shalt see return
                             Him, who now hides himself behind the hill,
                             So that thou dost not interrupt his rays.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Evening.

        “Vedi già come dichina il giorno.”
                    _Purg._ vii. 43.

                                     “See already how the day declines.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Sunset (6 p.m.).
        In the Flowery Valley, on the Mountain-side.

        “Era già l’ora che volge il disio
           Ai naviganti e intenerisce il core,
           Lo di ch’han detto ai dolci amici addio;
         E che lo nuovo peregrin d’ amore
           Punge, se ode squilla di lontano
           Che paia il giorno pianger che si more.”
                           _Purg._ viii. 1-6.

               “’Twas on the hour that turneth back desire
                   In those who sail the sea, and melts the heart,
                   The day they’ve said to their sweet friends farewell;
                And the new pilgrim penetrates with love,
                   If he doth hear from far away a bell
                That seemeth to deplore the dying day.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Evening twilight.

        “Tempo era già che l’ aer s’annerava.”
                       _Purg._ viii. 49.

                                 “Already now the air was growing dark.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        (Dante refers to the morning of the same day.)

        “Per entro il lochi tristi
         Venni stamane.”
             _Purg._ viii. 58, 59.

                                       “Through the dismal places
                                        I came this morn.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Early night: about 7 p.m.

               “Le quattro chiare stelle
        Che vedevi staman, son di là basse,
        E queste son salite ov’ eran quelle.”
                   _Purg._ viii. 91-93.

                               “The four resplendent stars
                         Thou sawest this morning are down yonder low,
                         And these have mounted up to where those were.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Shortly before moonrise, between 8 and 9 p.m.

        “La concubina di Titone antico
           Già s’imbiancava al balco d’oriente,
           Fuor delle braccia del suo dolce amico;
         Di gemme la sua fronte era lucente,
           Poste in figura del freddo animale
           Che con la coda percote la gente;
         E la notte de’ passi con che sale
           Fatti avea due nel loco ov’ eravamo,
           E il terzo già chinava in giuso l’ ale.”
                             _Purg._ ix. 1-9.

                       “The concubine of old Tithonus now
                        Gleamed white upon the eastern balcony,
                        Forth from the arms of her sweet paramour;
                      With gems her forehead all relucent was,
                        Set in the shape of that cold animal
                        Which with its tail doth smite amain the people;
                      And of the steps with which she mounts the Night
                        Had taken two in that place where we were,
                        And now the third was bending down its wings.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        5th day. Dawn.
        At the Gate of Purgatory.

        “Nell’ ora che comincia i tristi lai
           La rondinella presso alla mattina.”
                     _Purg._ ix. 13, 14.

                          “Just at the hour when her sad lay begins
                             The little swallow, near unto the morning.”

         (See also ix. 52 “nell’ alba che precede al giorno,”
          and ix. 59 “come il di fu chiaro.”)

                        (See also “At dawn, which doth precede the day.”
                         and “As day grew bright”).
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        More than 2 hours after sunrise (after 8 a.m.).

        “Il sole er’ alto già più che due ore.“
                          _Purg._ ix. 44.

                         “And now the sun was more than two hours high.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        About 9.30 a.m.
        On the 1st Cornice of the Mountain.

              “Pria lo scemo della luna
        Rigiunse al letto suo per rícorcarsi,
        Che noi fossimo fuori di quella cruna.”
                        _Purg._ x. 14-16.

                        “Sooner had the moon’s decreasing disc
                           Regained its bed to sink again to rest.
                           Than we were forth out of that needle’s eye.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        12 noon.
        Ascent to the 2nd Cornice.

        “Più era già per noi del monte volto,
           E del cammin del sole assai più speso
           Che non stimava l’animo non sciolto.
               .  .  .  .  .
                  ... Vedi che torna
           Dal servigio del dì l’ancella sesta.”
                       _Purg._ xii. 73-81.

                       “More of the mount by us was now encompassed,
                          And far more spent the circuit of the sun,
                          Than had the mind preoccupied imagined.
                              .  .  .  .  .
                               ... Lo, returning is
                          From service of the day the sixth handmaiden.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        3 p.m. (midnight in Italy).
        Ascent to the 3rd Cornice.

        “Quanto tra l‘ultimar dell’ ora terza
          E il principio del dì par della spera
          Che sempre a guisa di fanciullo scherza,
        Tanto pareva già in ver la sera
          Essere al sol del suo corso rimaso;
          Vespero là, e qui mezza notte era.
        E i raggi ne ferian per mezzo il naso,
          Perchè per noi girato era si il monte,
          Che già dritti andavamo in ver l’occaso.”
                             _Purg._ xv. 1-9.

                   “As much as ’twixt the close of the third hour
                      And dawn of day appeareth of that sphere
                      Which aye in fashion of a child is playing,
                    So much, it now appeared, towards the night
                      Was of his course remaining to the sun;
                      There it was evening, and ’twas midnight here.
                    And the rays smote the middle of our faces,
                      Because by us the mount was so encircled,
                      That straight towards the west we now were going.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Evening.
        On the 3rd Cornice.

        “Noi andavam per lo vespero, attenti
           Oltre, quanto potean gli occhi allungarsi
           Contra i raggi serotini e lucenti.“
                           _Purg._ xv. 139-141.

                          “We passed along athwart the twilight, peering
                             Forward, as far as ever eye could stretch
                             Against the sunbeams serotine and lucent.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Sunset at sea-level, 6 p.m.

                                  “Io rividi
        Lo sole in pria, che già nel corcare era.”
                          _Purg_ xvii. 8, 9.

                                                      “I saw again
                            The sun at first, that was already setting.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------

        On the 3rd Cornice.

        “I raggi, morti già, nei bassi lidi.“
                      _Purg._ xvii. 12.

                                  “Rays already dead on the low shores.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------

        Ascent to the 4th Cornice.

        “Procacciam di salir pria che s’abbui.”
                        _Purg._ xvii. 62.

                          “Let us make haste to mount ere it grow dark.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Sunset on the Mountain, shortly after 6 p.m.
        On the 4th Cornice.

        “Già eran sopra noi tanto levati
           Gli ultimi raggi che la notte segue,
           Che le stelle apparivan da più lati.”
                      _Purg._ xvii. 70-72.

                         “Already over us were so uplifted
                            The latest sunbeams which the night pursues,
                            That upon many sides the stars appeared.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Towards midnight.

        “La luna, quasi a mezza notte tarda,
           Facea le stelle a noi parer più rade,
           Fatta com’ un secchione che tutto arda;
         E correa contra il ciel per quelle strade
           Che il sole infiamma allor che quel da Roma
           Tra i Sardi e i Corsi il vede quando cade.”
                       _Purg._ xviii. 76-81.

                     “The moon, belated almost unto midnight,[453]
                         Now made the stars appear to us more rare,
                         Formed like a bucket that is all ablaze;
                      And counter to the heavens ran through those paths
                         Which the sun sets aflame when he of Rome
                         Sees it ’twixt Sardes and Corsicans go down.”

[453] Or “almost at late midnight.”

        6th day. Nearly 2 hours before sunrise, about 4 a.m.
        On the 4th Cornice.

        “Nell’ ora che non può il calor diurno
           Intepidar più il freddo della luna,
           Vinto da terra, o talor da Saturno;
         Quando i geomanti lor Maggior Fortuna
           Veggiono in oriente, innanzi all’ alba,
         Surger per via che poco le sta bruno.”
                        _Purg._ xix. 1-6.

                        “It was the hour when the diurnal heat
                            No more can warm the coldness of the moon,
                            Vanquished by Earth, or peradventure Saturn;
                         When geomancers their Fortuna Major
                            See in the orient, before the dawn,
                            Rise by a path that long remains not dim.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Early morning.
        Ascent to 5th Cornice.

        “Su mi levai, e tutti eran già, pieni
           Dell’ alto dì i giron del sacro monte,
           Ed andavam col sol nuovo alle reni.”
                         _Purg._ xix. 37-39.

                         “I rose, and full already of high day
                            Were all the circles of the sacred mountain,
                            And with the new sun at our back we went.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        About 10 a.m.
        On the 6th Cornice.

        “E già le quattro ancelle eran del giorno
           Rimase addietro, e la quinta era al temo,
           Drizzando pure in su l’ ardente corno.”
                         _Purg._ xxii. 118-120.

                        “And four handmaidens of the day already
                           Were left behind, and at the pole the fifth
                           Was pointing upwards still its burning horn.”

        (Dante refers to “the other day” when he began the journey.)

        “Di quella vita mi volse costui
           Che mi va innanzi, l’ altr’ ier, quando tonda
           Vi si mostrò la suora di colui—
         E il sol mostrai.”
                            _Purg._ xxiii. 118-121.

                          “Out of that life he turned me back who goes
                             In front of me, some days agone, when round
                             The sister of him yonder showed herself—
                           And to the sun I pointed.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Between 2 and 4 p.m.
        Ascent to the 7th Cornice.

        “Il sole avea lo cerchio di merigge
         Lasciato al Tauro, e la notte allo Scorpio.”
                             _Purg._ xxv. 2, 3.

                                 “The sun bad his meridian circle
                                  To Taurus left, and Night to Scorpio.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Evening.
        On the 7th Cornice, west side of the Mountain.

        “Feriami il sole sull’ omero destro,
           Che già, raggiando, tutto l’ occidente
           Mutava in bianco aspetto di cilestro.”
                         _Purg._ xxvi. 4-6.

                           “On the right shoulder smote me now the sun,
                              That, raying out, already the whole west
                              Changed from its azure aspect into white.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Sunset at sea-level, 6 p.m.
        About to cross the zone of fire.

        “Sì come quando i primi raggi vibra
           La dove il suo Fattore il sangue sparse,
           Cadendo Ibero sotto l’ alta Libra,
         E l’ onde in Gange da nona riarse,
           Sì stava il sole; onde il giorno sen giva.”
                             _Purg._ xxvii. 1-5.

                      “As when he vibrates forth his earliest rays
                         In regions where his Maker shed his blood,
                         The Ebro falling under lofty Libra,
                       And waters in the Ganges burnt with noon,
                         So stood the sun; hence was the day departing.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Sun about to set on the mountain heights.
        At the foot of the last stairway.

        “Lo sol sen va, soggiunse, e vien la sera.”
                           _Purg._ xxvii. 61.

                          “The sun departs, it added, and night cometh.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Sun sets.
        Climbing the last stairway.

                    “Io toglieva i raggi
        Dinanzi a me del sol ch’era già basso.
               .  .  .  .  .
        Il sol corcar, per l’ ombra che si spense
        Sentimmo.”
                       _Purg._ xxvii. 65-69.

                               “I cut off the rays
                             Before me of the sun, that now was low.
                                       .  .  .  .  .
                                By the vanished shadow the sun’s setting
                             Behind us we perceived.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Night.
        On the last stairway.

        “Vedev’ io le stelle.”
        _Purg._ xxvii. 89.

                                “I beheld the stars.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        7th day. About 4 a.m.

        “Nell’ ora, credo, che dell’ oriente
           Prima raggiò nel monte Citerea.”
                 _Purg._ xxvii. 94, 95.

                           “It was the hour, I think, when from the east
                              First on the mountain Cytherea beamed.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Dawn.

        “E già per gli splendori antelucani
               .  .  .  .  .
         Le tenebre fuggian da tutti i lati.”
                _Purg._ xxvii. 109-112.

                                “And now before the antelucan splendours
                                       .  .  .  .  .
                                 The darkness fled away on every side.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Early morning.
        In the Earthly Paradise.

        “Vedi là il sol che in fronte ti riluce.”
                        _Purg_. xxvii. 133.

                         “Behold the sun that shines upon thy forehead.”

        “L’ ôre prime.”
               _Purg._ xxviii. 16.

                                           “The hours of prime.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        Midday.
        By the fountain of Eunoë.

        “Teneva il sole il cerchio di merigge.”
                     _Purg._ xxxiii. 104.

                              “The sun was holding the meridian circle.”

        Ascent to Paradise.

        “Fatto avea di là mane e di qua sera
           Tal foce quasi, e tutto era là bianco
           Quello emisperio, e l’ altra parte nera.”
                              _Par._ i. 43-45.

                         “Almost that passage had made morning there
                            And evening here, and there was wholly white
                            That hemisphere, and black the other part.”
        ----------------------------------------------------------------
        8th day.
        A lapse of 6 hrs. since entering the 8th heaven.
                        (_Cf. Par._ xxii. 151-153).
        Sunset in Jerusalem (sunrise in Purgatory).
        In the eighth heaven among the stars of Gemini.

        “Dall’ ora ch’io avea guardato prima
           Io vidi mosso me per tutto l’arco
           Che fa del mezzo al fine il primo clima;
         Si ch’io vedea di là da Gade il varco
           Folle d’Ulisse. e di qua presso il lito
           Nel qual si fece Europa dolce carco;
         E più mi fora discoperto il sito
           Di questa Aiuola, ma il sol procedea
           Sotto i miei piedi un segno e più partito.”
                            _Par._ xxvii. 79-87.

                 “Since the first time that I had downward looked
                     I saw that I had moved through the whole arc
                     Which the first climate makes from midst to end;
                  So that I saw the mad track of Ulysses
                     Past Gades, and this side well nigh[454] the shore
                     Whereon became Europa a sweet burden;
                  And of this threshing-floor the site to me
                     Were more unveiled, but the sun was preceding
                     Under my feet, a sign and more removed.”

[454] Or “nigh me:” “presso” may mean either.

2. THE INFERNO.

Using the above table as a guide, we may now see how Dante uses the
movements of the heavenly bodies both for time and direction, and we
shall discover how long his journey takes.

Dante has spent a night in a dark forest. The moon was then full; but
we only learn this later, when Virgil reminds him of it, and he himself
mentions it to Forese, when talking in the Purgatorio. At dawn he finds
himself at the foot of a hill on which are already shining the first
rays of the morning sun—the planet which leads all aright by every
path. The sun rises: it is in Aries, consequently the moon, being full,
must be in Libra, and must have set as the sun rose, i.e. at about 6
a.m. Virgil appears, rescues the poet from three terrible beasts, and
announces that he has come to conduct him through Hell and Purgatory,
and to lead him to Beatrice, who will guide him to Paradise.

On the evening of the same day, at twilight, the poets enter the
Inferno. This great subterranean cavity, shaped like an inverted cone
(see fig. 45), is divided into nine circles, in which the different
classes of sinners are punished. In this blind world of eternal
darkness no star shines, and the sun is never once mentioned as
timegiver; when Virgil wishes to remind Dante that they must hasten, he
refers to the position of moon or stars, and the former is called “La
Donna che qui regge.”[455]

[455] “The Lady who rules here.” _Inf._ x. 80.

After passing through four circles, Virgil says that every star is now
sinking which was ascending when he started, indicating that it is
now six hours since they entered the Inferno, or soon after midnight.
He does not mean that all these stars are setting, but that they have
crossed the meridian, and are at some point of their descent towards
the west. Strictly speaking this does not apply to stars north of the
equator, since they take more than six hours to reach the meridian,
being above the horizon for more than twelve. Perhaps Virgil is
thinking chiefly of the constellations of the zodiac.

The poets cross the fifth circle, enter the “basso Inferno”[456] or
city of Dis, and on the edge of the precipice which borders the circle
of the Heretics they sit while Virgil explains the system of the
several circles. Then he expresses a wish to continue the journey, for
the Fishes (of the zodiac) are quivering on the horizon, and the Wain
lies to the north-west. As it is the time of the Vernal Equinox, and
the sun is in Aries, Pisces is the zodiacal sign immediately preceding
the sun, and begins to rise about four in the morning. The part of Ursa
Major called the Wain is somewhat less than 180° distant from Pisces;
hence when the latter appears on the eastern horizon the former will be
in the west (and of course always in the north). The “Caurus” of the
Latins was the wind from the north-west.

[456] “Lower Hell.” _Inf._ viii. 75.

They descend a cliff over loose stones which roll under the
unaccustomed weight of Dante’s living feet. Virgil tells him that
both here and elsewhere in Hell the ancient rocks were riven by an
earthquake which immediately preceded the triumphant descent of Christ
after His crucifixion. So mighty was the shock that he thought the
universe was dissolving into chaos by the force of love, as Empedocles
had said must happen periodically. At the base of the cliff they cross
the river Phlegethon, then pass through the wood of the Harpies, and
walk along the stone banks of a conduit which afterwards falls with
thunderous roar down a steep precipice. On the burning sand through
which the conduit runs, Dante sees Brunetto Latini, and tells him that
it was only yesterday that he escaped from the Forest. The monster
Geryon carries them down the precipice, and they reach the ten Pits of
Malebolge, which like so many moats surround the central Depth.

When looking down upon the astrologers in the fourth Pit, Virgil again
hastens Dante on, telling him that now Cain and the thorns—by which
he means the moon, alluding to the legend[457]—is on the boundary of
the two hemispheres, and already touching the waves below Seville.
The two hemispheres are those of the habitable earth whose centre is
Jerusalem, and the uninhabitable with Purgatory at its centre: the
moon, therefore, is just setting as seen from Jerusalem, and in the
Inferno the time is Jerusalem time. It is here that Virgil adds, “And
yesternight the moon was full:” did we not know this, the fact that
she was setting would give no clue to the time. When full, she set as
the sun rose, that was at 6 a.m.; now, therefore, she is setting after
sunrise, between six and seven in the morning;[458] and this is how
Virgil tells Dante, without mentioning the sun, that a new day has
begun.

[457] _Cf. Par._ ii. 48-51.

[458] The retardation is not likely to be more than the average of 50
minutes, and may be less, because the moon is in Libra, and therefore
going south. This tends to diminish the interval between one moonset
and the next in the northern hemisphere, just as the days get shorter
when the sun goes south in autumn.

The poets accordingly hasten on to the bridge above the next Pit, the
fifth, and here the demons treacherously mislead them by assuring them
that the next bridge directly on their way is broken down, but the
one to the left is standing. The anniversary of the catastrophe is
precisely determined by Malacoda, the chief demon of the band, as five
hours later than the present hour on the preceding day. There can be no
doubt that he refers to the same earthquake as Virgil described when
descending the stony cliff, and all commentators are agreed to this.
The time now, therefore, is five hours before midday, _i.e._ 7 a.m.,
since it was at midday that Dante believed Christ to have died.[459]

[459] Some think the interval between this reference and the last
almost too short, but the words do not indicate that Malacoda spoke on
the stroke of seven! and the moon may have set at about 6.30.

The scenes with the demons follow, the breathless escape into the next
Pit, of the Hypocrites, and the horrors of the Pit of the Thieves.

Then for a short space, when the suffering and the murk of Hell is
becoming almost intolerable, we are suddenly lifted into the upper
air by the narrative of Ulysses—into the pure air and the vast spaces
of the southern ocean, and we see once more the skies. We follow the
adventurers to the regions beyond the sun, the world where no one
lives; we see all the stars of the other pole, and the moon shines down
upon us. Too soon comes the tragic end of the story, and the waters
close over the ship; the shade of Ulysses passes on, and we are once
more in the “buio d’ inferno.”[460]

[460] “Darkness of Hell.” _Purg._ xvi. 1.

At the next Pit, that of the Schismatics, as Dante stands ready to weep
for pity on the bridge above it, Virgil reproaches him for delaying,
for little remains now of the time permitted for seeing the Inferno,
and already the moon is beneath their feet. This is about an hour
after midday; for if the moon were full she would be just opposite the
sun, hence under our feet when the sun is on the meridian, _i.e._ at
noon; but this is one day after Full Moon, and therefore she does not
reach the position till about an hour later.

The tenth and last Pit is traversed, and when the giant Antæus has
lifted them down into the sorrowful pit towards which all the rest
of Hell converges, the poets have nearly reached the centre of the
earth. For they have been descending continually, finding a slight
fall between each circle, and between the great divisions of different
classes of sin, three sharp steep falls—the cliff descending to the
River of blood and other circles of the violent, the precipice down
which Geryon carried them to the Malebolge of Fraud, and the Dark Pit
to the bottom of which Antæus conveyed them, where in the Frozen Lake
treachery was punished. Last of all, at the very centre and bottom of
the whole “dolorous kingdom” of Lucifer, they see its King, and Virgil
says all has been seen, and it is time to depart, for Night is rising
again.

Thus we see that the journey through the Inferno has taken exactly the
time from one sunset to another, twenty-four hours.

Now Virgil seizes the shaggy side of the fiend, while the monstrous
wings are raised, and with Dante clinging to him climbs down the side,
as far as the hip; here with difficulty and labour the master turns
round, so that his head is where his feet were, and climbs up, panting,
so that Dante thinks they are returning. But when the ascent has been
made, and both poets sit down to rest, Dante sees to his astonishment
that the frozen lake is gone, the head and wings of Lucifer are gone,
they are looking down upon him, and see only his legs which are
directed upwards! To add to Dante’s bewilderment, Virgil now says,
“Rise, for the way is long and the road is bad, and the sun has already
returned to middle-tierce,” which, as we have seen, means at the
time of the equinox 7.30 in the morning. Night was just beginning in
the dreadful place they have so recently left, but now for the first
time Virgil mentions the sun as giving them the time, and it is early
morning.

The explanation is that the point which they passed with so great an
effort is the exact centre of the world; they are now on its further
side, and above them is the other hemisphere, where all is ocean save
the island of Purgatory. Virgil explains how it was through the fall
of Lucifer from Heaven that all the land except Purgatory is in one
hemisphere, and that there is a cavity through which they may now climb
to the opposite hemisphere. When Lucifer fell, all the land which then
existed in the unknown hemisphere fled for fear of him, sinking under
the sea, and then escaping round the globe settled in the inhabited
hemisphere. It may be, he adds, that then the earth in the interior
fled away from him upwards to form land in this hemisphere (Purgatory)
and thus an empty space is left here. Up this, which is the same length
as the tunnel of the Inferno, they climb, guided through the darkness
by the sound of a little brook which has worn its winding way down
the rock. On this route there is nothing to detain them, for they are
alone in the darkness, but it presumably takes much longer to ascend
than it did to descend, for climbing without a pause it takes about
twenty-three hours (from the centre) to reach that round hole in the
rocks through which at last they once more see the stars, just before
the dawn of a new day.

3. PURGATORY.

Leaving Earth’s centre at sunset by Jerusalem time, sunrise by
Purgatory time, the poets emerge next morning by starlight when the
morning star is making all the orient smile. Henceforth Dante does not
need to be told how moon or stars are standing in the sky: he has but
to look up, and see the sun and sometimes the moon by day, the stars
and sometimes the moon by night. The Inferno was like one long dark
night, Paradise will be one brilliant day; in Purgatory the sun rises
four times and sets three times, before Dante reaches the summit, and
thence rises to Paradise with Beatrice.

“Lo bel pianeta che ad amar conforta”[461] is of course Venus: if there
were any doubt about this, the words used concerning the dawn of the
last morning on the Mountain would solve it, for there “Cytherea” is
spoken of as shining in the east on the mountain. She is in Pisces,
the sign which rises about two hours before Aries, or 4 a.m. at this
season, and as the stars are still clearly visible, it is about 5 a.m.
The poets have evidently come up from the subterranean passage facing
east, for they see Venus first, then Dante turns to his right (south)
and sees the four brilliant stars near the south pole, then turning
towards the north pole he sees that the Wain has disappeared beneath
the horizon, and close beside him he finds Cato, on whose face the
Four Stars are shining. Cato tells them that the sun, which is about
to rise, will be their guide to reach the Mountain, and as they first
go down to the shore, following his instructions, daylight begins to
appear.

[461] “The fair planet which kindles love.”

While they are still on the shore the sun reaches the point just below
the horizon, for he is described as just touching the western horizon
of the other hemisphere, whose zenith is above Jerusalem, and night is
just rising on the eastern horizon of that hemisphere. Where the poets
are the rose colour in the east is turning to orange, just before the
sun rises. It rises over their horizon while they are watching a light
far over the sea, which with almost incredible rapidity draws near,
becomes visible as a vessel, touches land, the spirits disembark, and
the celestial pilot “sen gì, come venne, veloce.”[462] The sun has now
driven Capricorn from the mid sky with his bright beams, that is, the
stars have become invisible in bright daylight, and fig. 46 shows that
when Aries rises over the eastern horizon Capricorn will be overhead.
But the sun is still very low, so swift was the coming of the spirits,
for Dante’s shadow is not yet visible to them: it is by his breathing
that they perceive he is a living man. It is only after the meeting
with Casella, and the dispersal of the spirits by Cato, that the sun,
still red with sunrise tints, makes Dante’s shadow fall in front of him
as the poets are walking westward towards the mountain. He is alarmed
not to see Virgil’s shadow on the ground beside it, and is told that
the body within which Virgil once had cast a shadow lies buried in a
country where it is now the time of vespers. That is, in Italy it is
three o’clock in the afternoon: hence in Purgatory, where they now are,
it is six in the morning.

[462] “Departed, as he came, swiftly.”

[Illustration: Fig. 46. The Signs of the Zodiac as seen at sunrise
from the Mountain of Purgatory at the autumnal equinox there (the
_vernal_ equinox in the Northern Hemisphere). _Purg._ ii. 55.

    At 6 a.m. Aries is just rising, Libra the opposite
    constellation is just setting, while Capricornus
    has just reached the meridian. The signs follow one
    another in their diurnal course over the sky in the
    direction shown by the arrows, circling parallel to
    the celestial equator.]

At the foot of the mountain they are joined by a band of spirits, and
walking very slowly with them, conversing with Manfred, so much time
passes that to Dante’s surprise, when they reach the place where the
ascent is to be made (still on the eastern side), the sun has travelled
fully fifty degrees since rising. As the sun passes over 360° in 24
hours, this indicates about 3½ hours after sunrise, or 9.30 a.m.[463]
The climb to the first ledge is slow and very arduous, for as Virgil
explains, the lower slopes are the most difficult, since the act of
climbing becomes more and more easy as the ascent is made. Resting on
a ledge, they look back and at the sun, and note how it has travelled
north, so that it now strikes their left shoulders; and after a
conversation with Belacqua Virgil begins to mount again, saying that
it is noon. The other hemisphere consequently is all in darkness, from
Ganges (“la riva”[464]) to Morocco.

[463] If the meaning is that the sun is now 50° _above the horizon_,
this would indicate a later hour, nearing midday, for the sun does not
rise vertically in this latitude, and reaches only 58° at noon at the
time of the equinox. But the first explanation is the more probable.

[464] “The shore.”

Other spirits have been met and spoken with, and they are still
climbing when evening comes, and Dante, thinking he is to reach the
summit of the mountain and see Beatrice that day, entreats Virgil to
hasten. “See,” he says, “how the mountain now casts a shadow.” For
the sun has travelled round to the west, and the poets, still on its
eastern side, are in deep shadow: this explains how, when they meet
Sordello, he does not recognize that Dante is a living man, as all the
spirits until now have done. But Virgil assures him that the way is
longer than he knows: before they reach the summit, the sun, now hidden
behind the mountain and not causing Dante to cast any shadow, will
return again to the east.

[Illustration: Fig. 47. Northern slope of the Mountain of Purgatory,
up which Dante climbed. Being in the southern hemisphere, this was the
sunny side, and he followed the sun’s course, from east through north
to west.]

Immediately after this, they meet with Sordello, who tells them that
it is impossible to climb even one step on the mountain after sunset,
and leads them to a flowery valley, in which to rest for the night.
The spirits in the valley sing the evening hymn while the sun sets;
and it begins to grow dark while Dante is talking with judge Nino,
explaining whence he came that morning. As soon as the stars become
visible, his eyes seek the southern pole, and fix themselves on three
brilliant stars which have taken the place of that constellation of
four which he saw some fourteen hours before. The latter have travelled
to the south-west, and are hidden behind the mountain, and the new
constellation is above the pole towards the east.

Night has risen two steps and part of a third in this place when
Dante falls asleep, and the most natural meaning of this is that it
is somewhat more than two hours after sunset, or after 8 o’clock, in
Purgatory. The moon has not yet risen, since she is like a clock which
loses on an average 50 minutes every day.

Since the first morning in the Forest, when she was exactly 12
hours behind the sun and set at six o’clock, three whole days have
elapsed,[465] and if she has lost 3 times 50 minutes, or 2½ hours, she
will rise 14½ hours after the sun rises, that is 2½ hours after sunset,
or at about 8.30. As the retardation varies much, let us say simply
that she rises to-night between eight and nine o’clock. She has also
moved among the stars, about 13 degrees each day, and as 3 × 13 = 39,
and there are 30° in a zodiacal sign, she has passed out of Libra and
is in Scorpio. Libra begins to rise at 6 p.m., and Scorpio at a little
before 8, therefore part of Scorpio is now above the horizon.[466]
This, then, is the meaning of the first two stanzas of Canto ix.: the
mistress of Tithonus is the aurora before moonrise (the solar aurora
being his wedded wife, according to classical mythology), and this
pale aurora is showing white in her balcony of the eastern sky, while
on her forehead shine the stars of Scorpio, the cold creature with the
stinging tail.

[465] See table on p. 361.

[466] “We must not assume, as some commentators have done, that the
signs rise at equal intervals of two hours, although each circles the
star sphere in 24 hours. See fig. 46, where the dotted line shows how
_e.g._ Cancer, circling parallel with the celestial equator, will rise
at a point considerably north of east, and having had to traverse more
than 90 degrees since Aries rose due east, will not rise until about 7
hours later, _i.e._ 1 p.m. Conversely Scorpio, following Libra, will
rise south of east, and a little _less_ than 2 hours later. The moon’s
retardation, therefore, is less in this part of the zodiac than it
would otherwise be, and the hour is probably nearer eight than nine.”

This curious passage has been otherwise interpreted by some
commentators, and Scartazzini calls it “oscuro al superlativo,”[467] a
riddle which still waits its Œdipus. According to him, “Titone” should
be read “Titan,” the sun-god, and his mistress is Tethys the ocean,
which is now shining not under his rays (“fuor delle braccia del suo
dolce amico”[468]) but under the rays of the rising moon. This seems
far-fetched, and the reading doubtful. In any case, it would indicate
the same hour and the same phenomenon (moonrise).

[467] “Superlatively obscure.”

[468] “Out of the arms of her lover.”

Others think that the solar aurora is intended, and explain the “freddo
animale”[469] as Pisces, and the “steps” as the watches of the night.
But why a terrible tail should be ascribed to a fish is not clear, nor
is it easy to see how the third step with which Night ascends could
be the hour of dawn. Night, which circles opposite to the sun, surely
reaches the culminating point and begins to descend at midnight, just
as midday is “il colmo del dì.”[470] Moreover, the third watch would
bring us at latest to a little before 3 a.m. To make the “steps” signs
of the zodiac is no better; for if Libra, Scorpio, and Sagittarius have
risen, it is midnight; what then can be shining in the east? and on
whose forehead are the stars of Scorpio glittering?

On the other hand, all accords well if we accept the first
interpretation—the light of the moon just about to rise whitening
the eastern sky, some brilliant stars of Scorpio shining there, and
Dante falling asleep at the third hour of the night, wearied after his
sleepless nights, and the hardest day’s climb that he will have. We
need not grudge him his long sleep of nearly twelve hours, as those do
who take this passage to indicate midnight or early morning.[471]

[469] “Cold creature.”

[470] “The climax of the day.”

[471] See Moore, _Studies in Dante_ iii. pp. 75-84, for a detailed
discussion of this passage. Several commentators have held that lines 1
to 6 describe the dawn of day _elsewhere_; and it is true that it would
be nearly 6 a.m. and Pisces would be on the horizon in Italy when the
hour was nearly 9 p.m. in Purgatory.

When Dante wakes the sun has already been up for more than two hours,
but a dream which had come to him in the early dawn, at the time when
the swallow begins to twitter, has had its counterpart in the truth,
that the lady Lucia came at that time and carried him up the mountain
side, leaving him outside the Gate of Purgatory when the day was bright.

When this Gate has been passed through, a narrow chasm between the
rocks has to be climbed, and the passage is so difficult that it is at
least an hour before the poets emerge on the open space of the First
Cornice. For the waning moon has already set, and as she has lost
another half hour or so during the night, the time of her setting this
morning was about 9 a.m.

When Dante next notices the position of the sun, which he is too intent
to do for some time, they have travelled some distance along the First
Cornice, with its outer edge on their right, and the sixth handmaid
is returning from the service of the day, that is, the sixth hour is
ended: it is midday, and they have spent nearly three hours here,
looking at the rock sculptures and conversing with the spirits.

The ascent to the Second Cornice is made with marvellously little
fatigue, as Virgil had promised. There they at first find no one to
direct them, so Virgil looks at the sun, and turns westward towards
it, taking it as their guide, and they walk for about a mile before
encountering any spirits in this circle.

The stairway to the next Cornice is reached at the time of vespers,
that is, 3 p.m.; and Dante describes the position of the sun by saying
that the portion of sky which it still had to traverse before evening
was equal to the portion which is brought into view between the
beginning of the day and the end of the third hour, that is, it was
three hours before sunset; and he compares this ceaseless motion of the
sky, which according to the Ptolemaic system caused the motion of the
sun, to an ever-playing child. We need not particularly enquire whether
he is thinking of the heaven of the sun, or the Primum Mobile: it may
be either, but is most likely simply the diurnal movement in general,
made strikingly evident by the sun. The sun’s rays now strike their
faces, for they have so far circled the mountain that they are walking
towards the west; “Vespero là”[472] means in Purgatory, and “qui”[473]
is Italy, where it is midnight now.

[472] “Vespers there.”

[473] “Here.”

The sun is low when they reach the third Cornice, and when they emerge
from the dense cloudy fog which here envelopes the spirits, Dante
gradually sees the ball of the sun as when mists clear away, and he
sees that it is just about to set. In fact the low shores at the foot
of the mountain are already in shadow. Virgil urges that they make the
ascent to the next Circle before darkness comes, and, as each ascent is
easier than the last, they are able just to reach the summit before the
sun is quite gone. Here Dante sees the stars begin to appear, while he
is wondering at the strange law which robs him of power to proceed (as
Sordello had warned them) after the sun has set.

They employ this time of forced inaction by talking of the sins which
are punished in the several Circles, until all Dante’s questions are
answered, and he is beginning to fall asleep. It is at this moment that
he first mentions the moon: she is glowing, shaped like a bucket in her
present phase, and the stars are paled by her light. She is “belated
almost till midnight,” if the epithet “tarda” belongs to her; if it
applies to “mezza notte,” then it is almost late midnight when she is
seen paling the stars. She ought to have risen about ten o’clock, but
Dante does not speak of her rising, so this may mean simply that it was
moonlight and starlight at the time of which he is about to speak, viz.
nearly the late hour of midnight; or else that since he is now on the
northern slope of the mountain, and the moon is in a southern sign, she
did not become visible to him till towards midnight. In any case, the
“quasi” shows that he is only giving us a rough idea of the time.

But in what sign was she? Her position in the zodiac is described in a
peculiarly round-about fashion. Dante says that her course _against the
sky_, that is, her monthly motion which is contrary to the diurnal,
had taken her to that part of her track in which the sun is when from
Rome he is seen to set between Sardinia and Corsica. The straits
between these islands lie west and a little south of Rome, therefore
the sun sets in that direction when he is going south after passing the
autumnal equinox in Libra, and this is just what the moon is doing now.
(The sun passes the same point again when coming north, before entering
Aries at the spring equinox, but Dante has either forgotten this, or
considers it obvious that the first position is meant here).

This is probably all that he means to convey, and if we ask for more
exact information, it is almost impossible to tell what degree or even
what sign in the zodiac he intends us to understand; for as the straits
are nearly two hundred miles from Rome they are quite invisible thence,
and we do not know what he thought was their precise direction. The
mediæval commentator Benvenuto da Imola says that the position intended
is in Scorpio; the moderns usually say Sagittarius, but without
explaining how they draw this conclusion. Benvenuto’s is probably
simply the position which he thought the moon ought to have in order to
agree with what Dante says about her, just as he states that Venus was
in Pisces in March 1300, although this was not the case at all, as we
shall presently see.

A calculation based on the difference in latitude between Rome and the
Straits shows that they are only about 9° south of west, and that the
sun, when setting in this direction is about 6° south of the equator:
this is the case 15 days after the equinox, which in the beginning
of the fourteenth century fell on September 14. Therefore the date
at which the sun was seen from Rome setting in the direction between
Sardinia and Corsica was the 29th of September, and its position in the
zodiac was then the middle of the sign Libra. (Owing to precession,
it would be in the _constellation_ Virgo, but we have seen that Dante
ignores precession in these references.)

But the moon ought now, on this second night in Purgatory, to
have reached at least the last degrees of Scorpio, since on the
previous night she rose when the first part was already above the
horizon. Dante has therefore made a flagrant mistake with his moon,
running her back into Libra again, and falsifying all his previous
descriptions—_if_ he knew as much about geography as we do now. But it
is only necessary to glance at the map of Henry of Mainz to see that
such a supposition would be grotesque. The portolan maps did indeed
show the relative positions of Rome, Sardinia, and Corsica, with
remarkable accuracy;[474] but as we have already said, it is not in
the least likely that Dante had ever seen one of these sailing charts.
It was on the classics, and especially on Orosius, that he relied
for his geography,[475] and the suggestion of Dr. Moore seems most
plausible, that he was here thinking of the Spaniard’s description of
Sardinia:—“Habet _ab oriente et borea_ Tyrrenicum mare quod spectat ad
portum urbis Romae.”[476] This implies that Sardinia lay south-west of
Rome, in a direction such as the sun might have had when setting in
November, in Scorpio or Sagittarius.

[474] See for instance the “Carte Pisane,“ and the Central
Mediterranean map of Vesconte, dating from about 1300 and 1311
respectively, in Beazley’s _Dawn of Geography_, iii. Latitudes and
longitudes are not given, but from certain centres lines radiate to all
points of the compass, like great spiders’ webs.

[475] _De Mon._ II. iii. 87-90. etc.

[476] “It is bounded _on the east and north_ by the Tyrrhenian sea,
which lies towards the port of Rome,” Moore, _Studies in Dante_ iii. p.
72.

Or possibly, when the poet was in Rome in 1301, he may have been
watching a sunset in the second week in November, and may have been
told, among other pieces of misinformation which are so readily given
to visitors to great cities, that he was looking towards the straits
which separate Sardinia from Corsica. We can imagine his replying, or
thinking: “Then the sun sets behind them when he has nearly finished
his course in Scorpio, and is about to yoke his steeds under another
star!”[477]

[477] _Purg._ xxxii. 56, 57.

It is while the moon is shining on this Cornice that the spirits who
purge their sins on it appear, rushing past in haste. Then at last
Dante sleeps, and dreams again in the cold moonlit dawn when Aquarius
and Pisces are on the horizon (see p. 290).

The mountain is full of daylight when Virgil wakes him, and the
newly-risen sun shines behind them as they continue their journey, for
they had reached the north point of the circle, and are walking now
due west. They mount almost immediately to the Fifth Cornice, where
presently they are startled by a violent trembling of the mountain
followed by a mighty shout of “Gloria in excelsis” from all the
spirits. Statius joins them, and from him they learn that this was
no earthquake, for since passing the gate of Purgatory they are in
a region too lofty for such disturbances to be felt, or for rain or
snow or dew to fall; the mountain trembles, and the shout of praise
follows, when a soul rises, purified and ready to ascend to Paradise.
With Statius they climb to the Sixth Cornice, and then, looking round,
they see that the fifth handmaid of the sun’s chariot is directing
its upward course, that is, it is the fifth hour, or between 10 and 11
a.m. As usual, they walk on with the outer edge of the circle on their
right. It is here that we are reminded, as once in the Inferno, that
only a certain time is allowed, for while Dante is looking eagerly at
the first mysterious tree Virgil gently urges him onward:—

    “Lo più che padre mi dicea, Figliuole,
     Vienne oramai, chè il tempo che c’ è imposto
     Più utilmente compartir si vuole.”[478]

[478]
    “My more than father said unto me, Son,
     Come now, because the time that is ordained us
     More usefully should be apportioned out.”
     _Purg._ xxiii. 4-6. (_Longfellow_).

It is here also that Dante informs his old friend Forese Donati and
other spirits, who are all astonished at the sight of his shadow, that
he is a living man who was rescued by Virgil some days ago, when the
sister of the sun was round (referring of course to the full moon in
the forest), and he points to the sun. Now a curious question arises:
Dante was in sunshine in the early morning; he is in sunshine now, and
has been walking all morning in the same direction in which the sun was
moving; how is it then that Statius did not notice his shadow, but had
to be told that he was not a spirit?[479] If the Mountain had been a
small hill, it would have been quite easy to walk so large a part of
a circle round it, in a short time, that the poets would have been in
shadow until the sun caught them up again when they lingered talking
on the Sixth Cornice; but the Mountain was so large that a whole
day’s walking only brought them a quarter of the way round, _i.e._
from the east side to the north, and it was evidently a distance of
many miles.[480] It is difficult to believe that Dante has forgotten,
because he is so careful throughout to mention the surprise of the
spirits except when his shadow could not be seen for one reason or
another. It is true that in the latitude of Purgatory (32° south, as
that of Jerusalem is 32° north), the sun rises rather steeply, which
makes it easier to get into the shade in the early morning while
circling a mountain.[481] On the other hand a simpler solution offers
itself in the text. Statius approaches Dante and Virgil from behind,
and they only stop and turn their faces to him for a few moments while
Virgil returns his greeting, then walk on quickly while Statius makes
his surprised reply: “What! if you are spirits....” If he has not yet
quite overtaken them he cannot see Dante’s shadow, which Dante himself
is screening from view as it falls in front of him, the morning sun
being still at his back, and Virgil explains at once that his companion
is a living man.

[479] _Purg._ xxi. 20-27.

[480] _Purg._ xiii. 22-23.

[481] On an Astronomical Point in Dante’s _Purgatorio_, by P. H.
Cowell, F.R.A.S., _The Observatory_, December 1906.

In spite of their haste, the three poets remain about four hours in
this sixth Cornice; and when they reach the ascent to the next it
was indeed time to climb without any delay, for the sun had left the
meridian to the sign which follows Aries, viz. Taurus, and Night, “che
opposita a lui cerchia,”[482] had left the meridian of the opposite
hemisphere to Scorpio. Aries at the time of the equinox begins to
cross the meridian at midday, Taurus at two o’clock, and Gemini at
four[483]: therefore it is now between two and four in the afternoon.
The three poets hasten therefore (Statius still accompanying Virgil
and Dante), like men who pause for nothing on their way, whatever the
road be like; and a question Dante is longing to ask with regard to
the form of purgation last seen is put and answered as they follow one
another up the narrow stair; as soon as they reach the top, they turn
to the right, as usual, without hesitation or delay. As Dante walks
cautiously between the outer edge of this Cornice and the fire which
bursts forth from the inner wall of rock, all the blue of the western
sky is already changing into ash-white, and he has come so far round
the Mountain that the evening rays strike his right shoulder. With
one of the many touches which show Dante’s close observation and his
vivid realization of the scene he is describing, he says here that his
shadow falling on the flame makes it appear a deeper red, and this is
observed by the spirits. When they reach the spot where, on the further
side of the flames, the chanting Angel guides them across to the last
ascent, the sun is very near to its setting. Its burning noonday beams
are shining on the waves of Ganges, its first morning beams quiver over
Jerusalem, and Spain lying under Libra is wrapped in midnight gloom;
hence it is beginning to set at sea-level in Purgatory. High on the
Mountain it still shines, but when the poets have crossed the flames,
the voice of the Angel persuades them to hasten their steps before the
darkness comes. The stair mounts through the rock on the west side of
the Mountain so that the low sun casts Dante’s shadow in front of him
as he climbs. And he has only climbed a few steps when they are all
aware that the sun has completely set because the shadow disappears.
Before the colour has all faded from the west, and the whole vast range
of the horizon seen from this height has become one uniform tint, each
of the three makes a bed of one step, and between the high and narrow
enclosing rocky walls Dante sees the stars come out, much brighter and
much larger than he has ever seen them before. No moonlight dims them,
for moonrise will be late to-night, long after Dante has fallen asleep.

[482] “That circles opposite to him.” _Purg._ ii. 4.

[483] The signs follow one another _on the meridian_ at intervals of
exactly 2 hrs.

Once again, for the third and last time, he has a prophetic dream in
the early dawn; and if we compare these three parallel passages, we
find that each begins with the same words “Nell’ ora.”[484] The first
time the ideas connected with the time are wholly sorrowful, for it is
said to be the hour when the swallow begins to twitter, perchance in
memory of her former woes—alluding to the tragic tale of Procne and
Philomel. The second is a depressing time, for it is the cold hour
when, the day’s heat being all spent, the chilled earth cannot overcome
the influence of the cold planets such as the moon or Saturn, but there
is a thought of hope in the stars of the Greater Fortune seen rising
in the east, in a sky which is now scarcely dark to them. The third is
all joy, for it is the hour when Cytherea (the planet Venus), burning
ever in the fire of love, shines first upon the mountain. Dante’s sleep
flees from him as the shades of darkness flee on all sides, chased by
the brightness before sunrise; and when Virgil tells him that to-day he
shall reach the goal of his desires, he speeds up the remaining steps
of the stair, almost as if on wings.

[484] “At the hour.”

The poets arrived on the shores of Purgatory, as we saw, facing east,
and now that they have attained the summit of the mountain, coming up
the western slope, they again face east, and the just risen sun shines
in their faces. Dante walks towards it: a breeze fans his forehead and
causes all the trees to bend in the direction of the shadow thrown at
sunrise by the Mountain (_i.e._ westwards), and the murmur of this
gentle wind in the branches forms a bass to the treble of the singing
birds who are greeting the morning hours. For a few steps the stream of
Lethe stays his steps in this direction, but he soon reaches a bend,
and once more “a levante mi rendei.”[485] The symbolical procession
which accompanies Beatrice comes towards him from the east, and after
he has crossed the river Lethe and joined the procession beside the Car
in which Beatrice is throned, all turn to the sun, which by this time
must have travelled some distance towards the north. After the vision
of the disasters which befell the holy Car, and after Beatrice has
spoken with Dante again, they reach the fountain whence Eunoe flows,
and now the sun is on the meridian and it is noon, though (as Dante
reminds us) different places have different meridians, so that it is
not noon everywhere else. He is bathed in the holy waters, and thus,
all having been accomplished for which he has visited these regions, he
is “puro e disposto a salire alle stelle.”[486]

[485] “I turned to the east.”

[486] “Pure and ready to rise to the stars.” _Purg._ last line.

Hell was entered at twilight, Purgatory at dawn, the ascent to Paradise
is made at noon, “il colmo del dì.”[487] The time spent in Purgatory is
three days and the morning of a fourth, which is the seventh from the
beginning of the vision.

[487] “The climax of the day.”

4. PARADISE.

That the time of ascent to the spheres was noon is again stated in
the opening Canto of the _Paradiso_, where Dante says that the sun
had brought morning there (Purgatory) and evening here (the inhabited
hemisphere), and that now the whole of that hemisphere was bright while
the whole of this was dark.[488] The sun is therefore now due north.
While Beatrice stood beside the waters of Eunoe, after walking towards
the sun, it had moved to her left, so she now turns in that direction
to gaze upon it.[489] She, like Virgil, takes as her guide that sun
which Dante has said is the fittest symbol of God, and it is through
the power of this heavenly light that he is raised from earth. Compare

[488] It has been suggested to read the line _Par._ i. 44. “Tal foce; e
quasi tutto là era bianco,” transferring the “quasi” (almost) so that
the meaning should be “almost was wholly white that hemisphere,” and
to interpret that it is now morning of the day following the events
in the last Canto of the _Purgatorio_. But if so, Dante would have
spent a whole night in the Earthly Paradise without mentioning it, or
explaining this long delay after he had become “pure and ready to rise
to the stars.” (For the meaning of “foce,” the “passage,” see later, p.
400).

[489] _Par._ i. 46, 47.
       “Amor che il ciel governi
    ... _col tuo lume_ mi levasti.”[490]

[490]
    “Love that rules the heavens,
    _with thy light_ Thou didst raise me.”
                         _Par._ i. 74, 75.

He is not conscious of any effort, or even movement, but is astonished
by a great light and strange music, and learns that he is in the sphere
of fire and listening to the harmony of the spheres. His soul, freed
from all that bound it to earth, is soaring towards its natural goal,
as fire mounts up and rivers run down.

The upward gaze to the sun or to the skies, and its power to raise
them, is again described in _Par._ i. 142: Beatrice “rivolse inver lo
cielo il viso,”[491] and in ii. 22, “Beatrice in suso ed io in lei
guardava.”[492] Thus they rise to the First Heaven, of the moon. In
answer to an eager question of Dante’s about the markings of the moon,
Beatrice is led to discourse on the spheres and their movers. Spirits
appear, and Dante learns that although all the redeemed dwell in the
Empyrean, those of different degrees of blessedness will manifest
themselves to him in each sphere. After explaining this and other
things, Beatrice once more

[491] “Turned her eyes again towards heaven.”

[492] “Beatrice gazed upwards, and I at her.”

                “si rivolse tutta disiante
    A quelle parte ove il mondo è più vivo,”[493]

[493]
              “Turned again with yearning
    to that part where the world is most living.”
                          _Par._ v. 86, 87.

and swift as an arrow that strikes its mark before the cord has ceased
to quiver, they ascend to the Second Heaven, of Mercury. To understand
the above lines we must remember that the sun, as Dante told us in the
introductory Canto,[494] is at the equinox, or near it, and therefore
on the equator; also that the equator of a sphere, where motion is
quickest, is its most living part.[495] Beatrice is therefore looking
again at the sun. Some understand “quella parte”[496] to refer directly
to the sun, “quegli ch’ è padre d’ogni mortal vita,”[497] some to the
equinoctial point;[498] others think that the east is meant; others the
Empyrean, in which is the true life of all the Universe.

[494] _Inf._ i. 38-40.

[495] _Conv._ II. iv. 52-62.

[496] “That part.”

[497] “He who is father of all mortal life.” _Par._ xxii. 116; see also
_De Mon._ I. ix. 6, 7.

[498] See _Par._ x. 7-21.

Equally swiftly and unconsciously, Dante ascends to the successive
heavens of Venus, the sun, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn, finding himself
always in the planet which occupies each sphere. Mounting the
mysterious golden ladder which is set up in Saturn, with a rapidity
inconceivable on earth, the poet finds himself in the Heaven of Stars,
in the constellation of Gemini. Now that he is so near the final
blessedness his eyes are clear and keen, and that his heart may be
filled with joy Beatrice bids him look down and see how much of the
universe is already beneath his feet. There lie the seven spheres, and
there is the little globe of Earth, so small that, like Scipio, he
smiles at its paltry appearance; there is the moon, showing him the
face turned away from Earth, which has no dark markings: there is the
sun, at which for once he is able to gaze; and near it circle Mercury
and Venus; the temperate Jupiter moves between his father Saturn and
his son Mars; with a new power of vision Dante can grasp all their
sizes and distances and the various speeds of their movements; and
the poor little disc of the earth, small and round as a threshing
floor,[499] about which we quarrel so fiercely, is all visible to him
at a glance, its highest hills and its lowest river-valleys running
down to the sea. He turns away his eyes to look into the beautiful eyes
of his guide. She is standing, erect, intent, watching eagerly for that
glorious Procession, whose coming is making a growing brightness in the
sky.

[499] Longfellow says:—“Looking down from the terrace of Monte Cassino
upon the circular threshing-floor of stone in a farm lying below, I
first felt the aptness of Dante’s phrase. This very scene may have
suggested it to him.”

      “La donna mia si stava eretta
    Ed attenta, rivolta inver la plaga
    Sotto la quale il sol mostra men fretta.”[500]

[500]
       “So my lady stood, erect
    and intent, turned towards that place
    under which the sun shows least haste.”
                 _Par._ xxiii. 10-12.

No other intimation is given as to the direction from which the
Procession comes. The sun’s daily motion appears slowest on the
meridian, as Dante remarked in _Purg._ xxxiii. 103, 104, because he
is scarcely changing his position with regard to the horizon; or in
the south (where we in this hemisphere see him when on the meridian);
he shows least haste to leave us in the long summer days, near the
solstice. If the Procession descends from the heaven of heavens to show
itself here symbolically to Dante, as we know that the spirits in other
heavens did,[501] then Beatrice was gazing upwards, and the meridian
may be meant, particularly that part of it which passes directly
overhead. If the Procession came from the east, like the Procession in
Eden,[502] the summer solstice in Cancer is meant, which lies east of
Gemini. It is difficult to see any special meaning in its coming from
the south, for although some commentators say that this suggests the
consummate glory of the midday sun, the same idea is conveyed by the
meridian. A constellation like Cancer perhaps corresponds better than a
circle like the meridian with the expression “plaga,”[503] and the idea
of the east makes more perfect the beautiful simile which the poet has
just drawn between the little bird on the spray beside its nest waiting
for the sun to rise, and Beatrice watching for the advent of Him who is
likened to a sun among the starry company of His saints.[504]

[501] See _Par._ iv. 34-39.

[502] _Purg._ xxix. 12 and 34.

[503] “Region.”

[504] _Par._ xxiii. 29, 30.

[Illustration: Fig. 48. Dante’s first view of Earth from the Stars.
_Par._ xxii. (see p. 397).]

When this glorious company has at length vanished, she bids him look
down once more, this time that he may realise how he has been revolving
with the spheres, the little earth lying immoveable at his feet. He
looks down, and notes what parts of Earth are lighted by the sun, and
what parts are wrapped in darkness, for now he is able to see what
he had often imagined, the shadow of night sweeping westward over
the globe. The Atlantic Ocean, where Ulysses sailed beyond Gades, is
all in daylight, and so is the Mediterranean, but the sun is setting
over Jerusalem, for he says that its position prevents him from
seeing beyond the coast whence Europa was carried (_i.e._ Phœnicia or
Palestine). It must therefore be midday at Gades, and the sun is on
the meridian there; it is “a sign and more,” or something between 30°
and 60°, advanced to the west beyond the meridian over which Dante
stands.

He does not define his own position more exactly than this, but we may
conjecture that he was 45° (a sign and a half) east of the sun, since
this would be the meridian of Rome, and there would be a peculiar
fitness in such a position at such a moment, when he has just received
a message of warning and prophecy from St. Peter to bear to this
city.[505]

[505] _Par._ xxvii. 64-66.

[Illustration: Fig. 49. The view six hours later. _Par._ xxvii.]

Fig. 49 shows these positions of Dante and the sun, and the consequent
limits of his vision. Jerusalem is “near,” in comparison with the much
more distant sunlit space of ocean in the opposite direction. We place
the sun in the middle of Aries, because we shall see presently (when
discussing the date) that this is its most probable position, and
Dante in the first degree of Gemini because this is 45° east of the
sun, and also because the fact that he is above Earth’s “first climate”
suggests that he is in the beginning of this sign. For the northern
limit of the first climate was 20½°, according to Alfraganus, and the
ecliptic in the sign of Gemini rises gradually from 20° north of the
equator to 23½° at its end, where it adjoins Cancer.

Since the time when he looked down before, he sees that he has revolved
over an arc equal to half the climate, that is 90°, for the climates
only extended over the habitable earth, which was 180° in longitude.
His former position, then, must have been 90° further east, halfway
between Jerusalem and Ganges; and it was then noon at Jerusalem, while
all the ocean east of Ganges lay in the black darkness of night. Fig.
48 shows this position.

In this interpretation of a difficult passage, the meaning given to
the first lines seems a little forced; but if we take them in the more
natural sense that Dante had moved from above the centre to the end
of the climate, that is, from the meridian of Jerusalem to Gades, we
are met by a difficulty in the following lines. For to say that he is
standing over Gades, and in the same breath that the sun is more than
30° further to the west, means that it is setting more than 30° west
of Jerusalem: he cannot therefore possibly see Jerusalem, nor is it
“near” him. It does not help us to take “presso” in its alternative
meaning, and say that he could see “nearly as far as” Jerusalem, for
however little more than 30° “a sign and more” may mean, it brings the
“terminator” (as astronomers call the dividing line between light and
darkness on a planet) a long way from Jerusalem and much nearer Italy,
according to Dante’s reckoning of distances in the Mediterranean. This
is shown on fig. 50, where the data are made as favourable as possible,
by putting the sun at the very end of Aries.

On the whole, it is easier to accept a round-about expression in
the first lines than an inaccurate one later. The former is quite
characteristic of Dante, and we have already met some like it in
the _Divina Commedia_ in descriptions of the positions of heavenly
bodies.[506]

[506] Compare _Purg._ xv. 1-5, where the course the sun still has to
run between vespers and sunset is described as equal to the space
between the third hour and sunrise.

Looking back to the earlier position, as described in Canto xxii., we
find no light thrown on the question; for here he does not mention any
particular place as visible, nor say where the terminator lay. His
words are:—

    “L’aiuola che ci fa tanto feroci,
       Volgendom’ io con gli eterni Gemelli,
       Tutta m’apparve dai colli alle foci.”[507]

[507]
    “The threshing-floor that maketh us so proud,
        To me revolving with the eternal Twins,
        Was all apparent made from hill to harbour.”
                           _Par._ xxii. 151-3. (_Longfellow_).

This seems to express simply a bird’s eye view of Earth, as it lay
stretched out like a map below the observer.

It is, however, often taken to mean that the whole habitable earth was
visible. This could never be unless the sun, as well as Dante, was over
the meridian of Jerusalem, which is obviously impossible while one is
in Aries and the other in Gemini; and as he refers back to the first
passage from the second he cannot have forgotten this.[508]

[508] Della Valle boldly assumes that they _were_ over the same
meridian, by a poetical licence, although at the same time the sun was
in a different sign. Dante only mentions the latter fact, he thinks, in
order to show that he was a few degrees north of the sun (Gemini being
more northerly than Aries); therefore he could see over the edge, as
it were, of the sun-lighted hemisphere of Earth. This is desperately
subtle.

It is, however, the only way in which the passages can be reconciled
with his further assumption, shared by some other commentators, that
Dante, in his flight through the spheres, simply ascended without any
movement in longitude except that he was carried round by the daily
revolution of the spheres. All the planets, therefore, were ranged one
above the other, in the sign of Gemini, and it was always noon on the
earth below his feet, since that was the hour at which he ascended from
the Earthly Paradise, and his movement was the same as the sun’s. (Here
Della Valle is inconsistent, however, for he maintains that the ascent
was made in the early morning.) But this is a very artificial conceit,
and not indicated by Dante. He implies that Beatrice, in leading him
to each sphere, chose the part of it which he was to enter (see _Par._
xxvii. 102), and he tells us that Saturn was in Leo, Venus in Pisces,
and the sun in Aries.

[Illustration: Fig. 50. An impossible interpretation of _Par._ xxvii.]

A book which aims at explaining Dante’s _Paradiso_ to young people[509]
suggests an original way of reconciling the two passages, for the
author gravely asserts that the sun was at first below Dante’s feet in
Gemini, but that by the time he looked down again it had moved a good
distance onward, and was then in the sign of Taurus! According to this,
a whole month must have elapsed, and time had gone backwards, from May
to April!

[509] _Il Paradiso di Dante dichiarato ai giovani_, by Angelo de
Gubernatis.

A suggestion much more worthy of attention is that of Professor
Rizzacasa d’Orsogna, who thinks the key is to be found in the line,
“Volgendom’ io con gli eterni Gemelli.” This, he suggests, is in
anticipation of the second passage, for although Dante could not see
the whole habitable earth at any one time, his change of position, as
he revolved with the Twins, enabled him to do so in the course of time
which elapsed between his two views. A comparison of figures 48 and 49
will make this clear.

One more suggestion may perhaps be made, though it is rather a
hazardous one. “Dai colli alle foci”[510] may mean from the Apennine
Hills to the mouths of Ganges. This would be decisive for the
correctness of the explanation illustrated by our diagram. (See fig.
48).

[510] “From the hills to the river-mouths.”

In any case, the points which Dante specially wishes us to understand
are clear and simple: at the first glance he was struck by the
insignificance of the Earth; at the second, he became conscious that
he was moving with the spheres, having passed over 90° of arc, or a
quarter of the diurnal revolution, and he saw that it was now sunset at
Jerusalem.

He next ascends to the Primum Mobile, though he cannot tell us to which
part of it Beatrice chose to lead him, since it is perfectly uniform
throughout. Beatrice explains that this most swift and living sphere,
although it contains no star by which its motion is made visible,
causes the (diurnal) motion of all the lower spheres; and thus it is
like a flower-pot in which are hidden the roots of Time, while in
the others we see the leaves. Here he sees the nine hierarchies of
angels who direct the nine moving spheres; and finally he soars to the
Empyrean, where Beatrice returns to her seat among the blessed spirits
who form the Celestial Rose, and St. Bernard encourages him to lift his
eyes to “L’Amor che move il sole e l’ altre stelle.”[511] This is the
end and consummation of the Vision.

[511] “Love which moves the sun and the other stars.” _Par._ last line.

The reader will have observed that although there are several
indications of direction in Dante’s journey through Paradise, all
referring to the heavenly bodies, there are no time references after he
has left Earth and entered the regions of eternity, except the passage
discussed above, which indicates a period of six hours spent in the
eighth heaven, since 90° of the diurnal revolution correspond with six
hours of time. But it tells us also that at the close of this period
the sun was setting over Jerusalem: consequently another morning was
dawning in Purgatory. Eighteen hours have passed, therefore, since
Dante left the Earthly Paradise at noon; and he rises to the Primum
Mobile and thence to the Empyrean on the eighth day of his Vision.

The whole Vision, therefore, occupied an octave, or eight days.

5. POSITIONS OF SUN, MOON, AND PLANETS AMONG THE STARS DURING DANTE’S
VISION.

The allusions to sun, moon, and stars in the _Divine Comedy_, when
thus brought together, are seen to follow one another according to a
regular scheme, and they form a very good guide by which to time Dante
on his journey. There is a little inaccuracy in one passage about the
stars, and the moon is ambiguous once, but quite explicable. Taking
the allusions in a simple popular sense, as he seems to intend us to
do, assuming that the signs and the constellations of the zodiac are
identical, and that the moon, which at first is opposite the sun,
traverses about 13° in the zodiac daily, and loses about an hour of
time more or less, there is very little difficulty in following him. It
is quite enough to know that the sun is somewhere in Aries throughout,
and that the moon is therefore in Libra at the beginning.

[Illustration: Fig. 51. The rising sun at the Spring Equinox.]

But if we wish to know a little more accurately the positions of sun
and moon among the stars, we must carefully compare the passages
bearing on this question. Commentators differ so much that while some
think the sun’s annual motion is ignored, and it is assumed to be at
the equinox all the time, others maintain that it was at the equinox
on the first day and moved on through Aries at the rate of about one
degree a day (as it should do, since there are 365 days in a year and
360° in the circumference of the sphere);[512] while others again say
that it was merely somewhere in Aries from the beginning.

[512] Alfraganus, as we saw, gives the daily movement of the sun
eastward in the zodiac as about 59 minutes of arc. (A degree contains
60 minutes).

What are the actual indications of its position? No one questions that
it was in Aries throughout the Vision, for this is often indicated,
sometimes directly, as in _Inf._ i. 38-40, sometimes by mentioning
Taurus as the sign following the sun,[513] or Pisces as the sign
preceding.[514]

[513] _Purg._ xxv. 2, 3.

[514] _Inf._ xi. 113; _Purg._ i. 21, xix. 4-6.

There are four detailed descriptions:—

(1) On the first morning, the sun rose among those stars which were
with him at the Creation.[515] As we have seen, this may mean merely
some point in Aries, or the first point of Aries, at which the sun was
thought to have been placed when created.

[515] _Inf._ i. 38-40.

(2) On the seventh day it rose near a point where three crosses are
formed by the intersection of four circles.[516] One naturally thinks
of the horizon as one of these circles; the equator and ecliptic, whose
intersection define the equinox, suggest themselves as two more; the
fourth is doubtless the colure which passes through the equinoctial
points and the poles, although curiously enough this is not mentioned
by Ptolemy or Alfraganus, who only speak of the solstitial colure. Fig.
51 shows how the horizon makes a cross with each of the other three
when the equinox is upon it. The sun is at the point of intersection
when rising with the equinox, and it was _near_ there when it rose
this morning—“quasi.” It was therefore near, but not exactly at the
equinox, and we know that it was the vernal, not the autumnal equinox,
from the many allusions to Aries.

[516] _Par._ i. 38, 39.

(3) When Dante rises to the sun (on the same day) he directs our