An Irish precursor of Dante : $b a study on the Vision of Heaven and Hell ascribed to the eighth-century Irish saint Adamnán, with translation of the Irish text
Dante Alighieri · en
Upon the whole, however, our author seems to dwell, by preference,
upon the spiritual aspects of his subject. In his eyes, the essence of
the punishment consists in the forfeiture of the Beatific Vision by
those _chi hanno perduto il ben del intelletto_, a loss enhanced by the
previous glimpse of it which has been vouchsafed to them. This, indeed,
is a common feature of ecclesiastical pictures of the Inferno, where
the idea, sufficiently obvious in itself, is sanctified by the parable
of Dives and Lazarus, though there it is introduced with a special and
different purpose. Commonly, however, it is used merely to intensify
the sufferings of the lost by a Tantalus vision of the contrast between
their own pains and the pleasures of the blest. Our author would seem
to introduce it as essential for their full comprehension of the good,
otherwise inconceivable, which they have forfeited by their own wilful
default. Evidently he understood that in this life and the next--Dante
notwithstanding--there is a _maggior dolore_ than the remembrance, in
time of sorrow, of past happiness, and that is the comprehension of the
things that once might easily have been, but never have been, and never
can be.
Finally, the lot of the sinner--‘the perfection of all evil, in
the Devil’s own presence, throughout all ages,’--forms the exact
correlative of the Beatific Vision enjoyed by the elect.
This climax leaves nothing to be desired for completeness, and it seems
impossible to believe that the next ten chapters were the work of the
same hand. Nevertheless, the author of this second part, whether he be
the original author or a compiler, has treated his materials, trite as
these are, with more than common skill.
The approach to the land of eternal pain, to which the Seer is now
conveyed, leads across a desolate, fire-scathed region, on the farther
side of which lies a glen, filled with ‘flame, that extends beyond
the margin on either hand.’ Even this slight descriptive touch is an
instance of the imaginative, or visualising, faculty which is often
apparent throughout the work. This glen is spanned by the bridge which
serves to separate the bad from the good, in a manner quite consistent
with precedent, but entirely inconsistent with the earlier part of the
present work.