Why should the minute, but
not fruitless criticism of texts be reserved for the ancient classic
writers? The great poet of the Middle Ages deserves this work at our
hands far more than any of the Latin poets, not excluding even his own
master and guide.
The eleventh canto of the _Paradiso_ is chiefly occupied with the noble
narrative of the life of St. Francis. Reading it as we do, at such a
distance from the time of the events which it records, and with
feelings that have never been warmed into fervor by the facts or the
legends concerning the Saint, it is hard for us to appreciate at its
full worth the beauty of this canto, and its effect upon those who had
seen and conversed with the first Franciscans. Not a century had yet
passed since the death of St. Francis, and the order which he had
founded kept his memory alive in every part of the Catholic world. A
story which may be true or false, and it matters little which, tells us
that Dante himself in his early manhood had proposed to enter its
ranks. There is no doubt that its vows of poverty and chastity, its
arduous but invigorating rule during its early days, appealed with
strong force to his temperament and his imagination, as promising a
withdrawal from those worldly temptations of which he was conscious,
from that pressure of private and public affairs of which he was
impatient.
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