Augustine of Hippo’s influence – whether explicit or implicit – on theologians, philosophers, and even poets up to the present day is well-studied. One example of these Augustinian-inspired poets, the Florentine poet Dante Alighieri (1265–1321), composed one of the most celebrated poems ever written, the Divina Commedia. Although Augustine is mentioned explicitly only once, in verse 120 of Paradiso, Canto X (I am drawing upon the Mandelbaum translation, as found on the 2014 relaunched project, Digital Dante), his theology resonates indirectly throughout many of Dante’s canti. Indeed, the central thread running through the entire Divina Commedia – the search for the vision of the Trinity through the elevation of the soul – is also the dominant theme in much of Augustine’s work.

A striking parallel exists between Augustine’s conversion beneath the fig tree in the Confessiones and Dante’s confession of sin and turning towards God in the Divina Commedia. In Book 8 of his Confessiones, Augustine reflects on his past sins and bursts into tears as he confronts “all [his] misery” and “the secret depths of [his] soul” (Conf. 8.12.28; trans. Pilkington, 1887). Upon hearing a child’s voice repeating “Tolle, lege” (“Take up and read”), Augustine opens a nearby book and reads: “Let us live honourably as in the day, not in revelling and drunkenness, not in debauchery and licentiousness, not in quarrelling and jealousy. Instead, put on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make no provision for the flesh, to gratify its desires” (Rom 13:13–14 NRSV). Interpreting the child’s song as a divine command to read Scripture, Augustine is convinced that he has, at that very moment, grasped a glimpse of divine wisdom through the text of Romans. He experiences this passage as “a light of security infused into [his] heart, driving away all darkness of doubt” (Conf. 8.12.29).

Just as Augustine’s mind rises from the darkness of sin to the illumination of grace, so Dante’s soul journeys from the murky depths of Hell (Inferno), through a stage of intense purification (Purgatorio), to the vision of the Trinity (Paradiso). Yet whereas God intervenes in Augustine’s life through the voice of a child, in Dante’s case He sends Beatrice – the poet’s great love, who had died ten years earlier – to guide him through Hell, Purgatory, and Heaven. Clothed in a white veil, a green mantle, and a flame-red dress, Beatrice appears as the personification of the three theological virtues of faith, hope, and love, and thus as a symbol of theology itself (Purgatorio XXX.31–33). In the medieval tradition, these three virtues were regarded as the very foundations of theology, since they dispose the human soul to receive divine truth.

The rest of Dante’s narrative displays remarkable parallels with Augustine’s conversion account. First, Beatrice confronts Dante with his sinfulness, causing him to feel ashamed and humiliated (Purgatorio XXX.78–96). Dante feels despair, which prompts him to confess that he has “turned his footsteps to an untrue path” – that is, he has abandoned the path of piety that leads to salvation (Purgatorio XXX.124–132). Like Augustine, Dante laments his sins and weeps in repentance for his former way of life (Purgatorio XXXI.85–88). His soul, now purified, yearns to behold the eternal splendour of the Trinity, guided by Beatrice – that is, by the discipline of theology which directs the intellect towards eternal truth (Purgatorio XXXI.115–145).

Having asked for forgiveness and made atonement through the shedding of tears, Dante reaches the apotheosis of his journey. He has returned to the way of the Lord and thus is finally able to grasp divine wisdom as his mind is enlightened by God’s eternal light (Paradiso XXX). Yet, at the same time Dante recognises the limitation of the human intellect: it cannot perceive God in His fullness. Therefore, Beatrice departs to take her place beside the Trinity and entrusts Dante to the care of Bernard of Clairvaux, the twelfth-century pioneer of Christian mysticism (Paradiso XXXI.55–70). This inability of the human mind to comprehend the beatific vision without the aid of divine love is, once again, an idea already present in Augustine’s theology (Conf. 4.16.30).

Both Augustine and Dante testify that divine wisdom is not a matter of abstract speculation but of lived transformation. For both, true knowledge of God arises only when intellect and love are united – when reason, purified by humility, is lifted by grace into the light of divine charity. In this way, Augustine’s tears beneath the fig tree and Dante’s tears before Beatrice reveal the same truth: that the path to understanding God begins in repentance and culminates in love.