Classic

The Divine Comedy100 / 104

Paradiso

Canto XXIX

Beatrice’s discourse of the creation of the Angels, and of the fall of Lucifer—Her reproof of the ignorance and avarice of preachers, and the sale of indulgences.

At what time both the children of Latona,1Surmounted by the Ram and by the Scales,2Together make a zone of the horizon,3As long as from the time the zenith holds themIn equipoise, till from that girdle bothChanging their hemisphere disturb the balance,So long, her face depicted with a smile,Did Beatrice keep silence while she gazedFixedly at the point which had o’ercome me.4Then she began: “I say, and I ask notWhat thou dost wish to hear, for I have seen it5Where centres every When and every Ubi.6Not to acquire some good unto himself,Which is impossible, but that his splendor7In its resplendency may say, ‘Subsisto,’In his eternity outside of time,8Outside all other limits, as it pleased him,Into new Loves the Eternal Love unfolded.9Nor as if torpid did he lie before;For neither after nor before proceededThe going forth of God upon these waters.10Matter and Form unmingled and conjoined11Came into being that had no defect,12E’en as three arrows from a three-stringed bow.And as in glass, in amber, or in crystalA sunbeam flashes so, that from its comingTo its full being is no interval,So from its Lord did the triform effectRay forth into its being all together,Without discrimination of beginning.Order was con-created and constructedIn substances, and summit of the worldWere those wherein the pure act was produced.13Pure potentiality held the lowest part;14Midway bound potentiality with act15Such bond that it shall never be unbound.16Jerome has written unto you of angels17Created a long lapse of centuriesOr ever yet the other world was made;But written is this truth in many places18By writers of the Holy Ghost, and thou19Shalt see it, if thou lookest well thereat.And even reason seeth it somewhat,For it would not concede that for so longCould be the motors without their perfection.20Now dost thou know both where and when these LovesCreated were, and how; so that extinctIn thy desire already are three fires.Nor could one reach, in counting, unto twentySo swiftly, as a portion of these angelsDisturbed the subject of your elements.21The rest remained, and they began this artWhich thou discernest, with so great delightThat never from their circling do they cease.The occasion of the fall was the accursedPresumption of that One, whom thou hast seen22By all the burden of the world constrained.Those whom thou here beholdest modest wereTo recognise themselves as of that goodnessWhich made them apt for so much understanding;On which account their vision was exaltedBy the enlightening grace and their own merit,So that they have a full and steadfast will.I would not have thee doubt, but certain be,’Tis meritorious to receive this grace,23According as the affection opens to it.Now round about in this consistoryMuch mayst thou contemplate, if these my wordsBe gathered up, without all further aid.But since upon the earth, throughout your schools,They teach that such is the angelic natureThat it doth hear, and recollect, and will,More will I say, that thou mayst see unmixedThe truth that is confounded there below,Equivocating in suchlike prelections.These substances, since in God’s countenanceThey jocund were, turned not away their sightFrom that wherefrom not anything is hidden;Hence they have not their vision interceptedBy object new, and hence they do not needTo recollect, through interrupted thought.So that below, not sleeping, people dream,Believing they speak truth, and not believing;And in the last is greater sin and shame.Below you do not journey by one pathPhilosophising; so transporteth youLove of appearance and the thought thereof.And even this above here is enduredWith less disdain, than when is set asideThe Holy Writ, or when it is distorted.They think not there how much of blood it costsTo sow it in the world, and how he pleasesWho in humility keeps close to it.Each striveth for appearance, and doth makeHis own inventions; and these treated are24By preachers, and the Evangel holds its peace.One sayeth that the moon did backward turn,In the Passion of Christ, and interpose herselfSo that the sunlight reached not down below;And lies; for of its own accord the lightHid itself; whence to Spaniards and to Indians,As to the Jews, did such eclipse respond.Florence has not so many Lapi and Bindi25As fables such as these, that every yearAre shouted from the pulpit back and forth,In such wise that the lambs, who do not know,Come back from pasture fed upon the wind,26And not to see the harm doth not excuse them.Christ did not to his first disciples say,‘Go forth, and to the world preach idle tales,’But unto them a true foundation gave;And this so loudly sounded from their lips,That, in the warfare to enkindle Faith,They made of the Evangel shields and lances.Now men go forth with jests and drolleries27To preach, and if but well the people laugh,The hood puffs out, and nothing more is asked.But in the cowl there nestles such a bird,28That, if the common people were to see it,They would perceive what pardons they confide in,For which so great on earth has grown the folly,That, without proof of any testimony,To each indulgence they would flock together.By this Saint Anthony his pig doth fatten,29And many others, who are worse than pigs,Paying in money without mark of coinage.30But since we have digressed abundantly,Turn back thine eyes forthwith to the right path,So that the way be shortened with the time.This nature doth so multiply itself31In numbers, that there never yet was speechNor mortal fancy that can go so far.And if thou notest that which is revealedBy Daniel, thou wilt see that in his thousands32Number determinate is kept concealed.The primal light, that all irradiates it,33By modes as many is received therein,As are the splendors wherewith it is mated.34Hence, inasmuch as on the act conceptiveThe affection followeth, of love the sweetness35Therein diversely fervid is or tepid.The height behold now and the amplitudeOf the eternal power, since it hath madeItself so many mirrors, where ’tis broken,One in itself remaining as before.”

  1. The Primum Mobile, or Crystalline Heaven, continued. The children of Latona are Apollo and Diana, the Sun and Moon. ↩
  2. When the Sun is in Aries and the Moon in Libra, and when the Sun is setting and the full Moon rising, so that they are both on the horizon at the same time. ↩
  3. So long as they remained thus equipoised, as if in the opposite scales of an invisible balance suspended from the zenith. ↩
  4. God, whom Dante could not look upon, even as reflected in the eyes of Beatrice. ↩
  5. What Dante wishes to know is, where, when, and how the Angels were created. ↩
  6. Every When and every Where. ↩
  7. Dante, Convito, III 14, defines splendor as “reflected light.” Here it means the creation; the reflected light of God. Job 38:7:— “When the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy.” And again, 35:— “Canst thou send lightnings, that they may go, and say unto thee, Here we are?” ↩
  8. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, I Quaest. LXI 3:— “The angelic nature was made before the creation of time, and after eternity.” ↩
  9. In the creation of the Angels. Some editions read nove Amori, the nine Loves, or nine choirs of Angels. ↩
  10. Genesis 1:2:— “And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.” ↩
  11. Pure Matter, or the elements; pure Form, or the Angels; and the two conjoined, the human race. Form, in the language of the Schools, and as defined by Thomas Aquinas, is the principle “by which we first think, whether it be called intellect, or intellectual soul.” See note 1260. ↩
  12. Genesis 1:31:— “And God saw everything that he had made, and, behold, it was very good.” ↩
  13. The Angels. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, I Quaest. L 2, says:— “Form is act. Therefore whatever is form alone, is pure act.” For his definition of form, see note 2006. ↩
  14. Pure matter, which is passive and only possesses potentiality, or power of assuming various forms when united with mind. “It is called potentiality,” comments Buti, “because it can receive many forms; and the forms are called act, because they change, and act by changing matter into various forms.” ↩
  15. The union of the soul and body in man, who occupies the intermediate place between Angels and pure matter. ↩
  16. This bond, though suspended by death, will be resumed again at the resurrection, and remain forever. ↩
  17. St. Jerome, the greatest of the Latin Fathers of the Church, and author of the translation of the Scriptures known, as the Vulgate, was born of wealthy parents in Dalmatia, in 342. He studied at Rome under the grammarian Donatus, and became a lawyer in that city. At the age of thirty he visited the Holy Land, and, withdrawing from the world, became an anchorite in the desert of Chalcida, on the borders of Arabia. Here he underwent the bodily privations and temptations, and enjoyed the spiritual triumphs, of the hermit’s life. He was “haunted by demons, and consoled by voices and visions from heaven.” In one of his letters, cited by Butler, Lives of the Saints, IX 362, he writes:— “In the remotest part of a wild and sharp desert, which, being burnt up with the heats of the scorching sun, strikes with horror and terror even the monks that inhabit it, I seemed to myself to be in the midst of the delights and assemblies of Rome. I loved solitude, that in the bitterness of my soul I might more freely bewail my miseries, and call upon my Saviour. My hideous emaciated limbs were covered with sackcloth: my skin was parched dry and black, and my flesh was almost wasted away. The days I passed in tears and groans, and when sleep overpowered me against my will, I cast my wearied bones, which hardly hung together, upon the bare ground, not so properly to give them rest, as to torture myself. I say nothing of my eating and drinking; for the monks in that desert, when they are sick, know no other drink but cold water, and look upon it as sensuality ever to eat anything dressed by fire. In this exile and prison, to which, for the fear of hell, I had voluntarily condemned myself, having no other company but scorpions and wild beasts, I many times found my imagination filled with lively representations of dances in the company of Roman ladies, as if I had been in the midst of them. … I often joined whole nights to the days, crying, sighing, and beating my breast till the desired calm returned. I feared the very cell in which I lived, because it was witness to the foul suggestions of my enemy; and being angry and armed with severity against myself, I went alone into the most secret parts of the wilderness, and if I discovered anywhere a deep valley, or a craggy rock, that was the place of my prayer, there I threw this miserable sack of my body. The same Lord is my witness, that after so many sobs and tears, after having in much sorrow looked long up to heaven, I felt most delightful comforts and interior sweetness; and these so great, that, transported and absorpt, I seemed to myself to be amidst the choirs of angels; and glad and joyful I sung to God: After Thee, O Lord, we will run in the fragrancy of thy celestial ointments.” In another letter, cited by Montalembert, Monks of the West, Auth. Tr., I 404, he exclaims:— “O desert, enamelled with the flowers of Christ! O solitude, where those stones are born of which, in the Apocalypse, is built the city of the Great King! O retreat, which rejoicest in the friendship of God! What doest thou in the world, my brother, with thy soul greater than the world? How long wilt thou remain in the shadow of roofs, and in the smoky dungeons of cities? Believe me, I see here more of the light.” At the end of five years he was driven from his solitude by the persecution of the Eastern monks; and lived successively in Jerusalem, Antioch, Constantinople, Rome, and Alexandria. Finally, in 385, he returned to the Holy Land, and built a monastery at Bethlehem. Here he wrote his translation of the Scriptures, and his Lives of the Fathers of the Desert; but in 416 this monastery, and others that had risen up in its neighborhood, were burned by the Pelagians, and St. Jerome took refuge in a strong tower or fortified castle. Four years afterwards he died, and was buried in the ruins of his monastery. ↩
  18. This truth of the simultaneous creation of mind and matter, as stated in line 29. ↩
  19. The opinion of St. Jerome and other Fathers of the Church, that the Angels were created long ages before the rest of the universe, is refuted by Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica, I Quaest. LXI 3. ↩
  20. That the Intelligences or Motors of the heavens should be so long without any heavens to move. ↩
  21. The subject of the elements is the earth, so called as being the lowest, or underlying the others, fire, air, and water. ↩
  22. The pride of Lucifer, who lies at the centre of the earth, towards which all things gravitate, and “Down upon which thrust all the other rocks.” Milton, Paradise Lost, V 856, makes the rebel angels deny that they were created by God:— “Who saw / When this creation was? Rememberest thou / Thy making, while the Maker gave thee being? / We know no time when we were not as now; / Know none before us; self-begot, self-raised / By our own quickening power, when fatal course / Had circled his full orb, the birth mature / Of this our native heaven, ethereal sons.” ↩
  23. The merit consists in being willing to receive this grace. ↩
  24. St. Chrysostom, who in his preaching so carried away his audiences that they beat the pavement with their swords and called him the “Thirteenth Apostle,” in one of his Homilies thus upbraids the custom of applauding the preacher:— “What do your praises advantage me, when I see not your progress in virtue? Or what harm shall I receive from the silence of my auditors, when I behold the increase of their piety? The praise of the speaker is not the acclamation of his hearers, but their zeal for piety and religion; not their making a great stir in the times of hearing, but their showing diligence at all other times. Applause, as soon as it is out of the mouth, is dispersed into the air, and vanishes; but when the hearers grow better, this brings an incorruptible and immortal reward both to the speaker and the hearer. The praise of your acclamation may render the orator more illustrious here, but the piety of your souls will give him greater confidence before the tribunal of Christ. Therefore, if any one love the preacher, or if any preacher love his people, let him not be enamored with applause, but with the benefit of the hearers.” ↩
  25. Lapo is the abbreviation of Jacopo, and Bindi of Aldobrandi, both familiar names in Florence. ↩
  26. Milton, “Lycidas,” 113:— “How well could I have spared for thee, young swain, / Enow of such as for their bellies sake / Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold! / Of other care they little reckoning make, / Than how to scramble at the shearers feast, / And shove away the worthy bidden guest! / Blind mouths! that scarce themselves know how to hold / A sheep-hook, or have learned aught else the least / That to the faithful herdman’s art belongs! / What recks it them? What need they? They are sped; / And, when they list, their lean and flashy songs / Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw: / The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed; / But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw, / Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread: / Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw / Daily devours apace, and nothing said: / But that two-handed engine at the door / Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more.” ↩
  27. Cowper, “Task,” II:— “He that negotiates between God and man, / As God’s ambassador, the grand concerns / Of judgment and of mercy, should beware / Of lightness in his speech. ’Tis pitiful / To court a grin, when you should woo a soul; / To break a jest, when pity would inspire / Pathetic exhortation; and t’ address / The skittish fancy with facetious tales, / When sent with God’s commission to the heart!” For a specimen of the style of popular preachers in the Middle Ages, see the story of Frate Cipolla, in the Decameron, Gior. VI Nov. 10. See also Scheible’s Kloster, and Menin’s Predicatoriana. ↩
  28. The Devil, who is often represented in early Christian art under the shape of a coal-black bird. See Didron, Christian Iconography, I. ↩
  29. In early paintings the swine is the symbol of St. Anthony, as the cherub is of St. Matthew, the lion of St. Mark, and the eagle of St. John. There is an old tradition that St. Anthony was once a swineherd. Brand, Pop. Antiquities, I 358, says:— “In the World of Wonders is the following translation of an epigram:— ‘Once fed’st thou, Anthony, an heard of swine, / And now an heard of monkes thou feedest still:— / For wit and gut, alike both charges bin: / Both loven filth alike; both like to fill / Their greedy paunch alike. Nor was that kind / More beastly, sottish, swinish than this last. / All else agrees: one fault I onely find, / Thou feedest not thy monkes with oken mast.’ “The author mentions before, persons ‘who runne up and downe the country, crying, Have you anything to bestow upon my lord S. Anthonie’s swine?’ ” Mrs. Jameson, Sacred and Legendary Art, II 380, remarks:— “I have read somewhere that the hog is given to St. Anthony, because he had been a swineherd, and cured the diseases of swine. This is quite a mistake. The hog was the representative of the demon of sensuality and gluttony, which Anthony is supposed to have vanquished by the exercises of piety and by divine aid. The ancient custom of placing in all his effigies a black pig at his feet, or under his feet, gave rise to the super stition that this unclean animal was especially dedicated to him, and under his protection. The monks of the Order of St. Anthony kept herds of consecrated pigs, which were allowed to feed at the public charge, and which it was a profanation to steal or kill: hence the proverb about the fatness of a ‘Tantony pig.’ ” Halliwell, Dict. of Arch. and Prov. Words, has the following definition:— “Anthony-Pig. The favorite or smallest pig of the litter. A Kentish expression, according to Grose. ‘To follow like a tantony pig,’ i.e. to follow close at one’s heels. Some derive this saying from a privilege enjoyed by the friars of certain convents in England and France, sons of St. Anthony, whose swine were permitted to feed in the streets. These swine would follow any one having greens or other provisions, till they obtained some of them; and it was in those days considered an act of charity and religion to feed them. St. Anthony was invoked for the pig.” Mr. Howells, Venetian Life, p. 341, alludes to the same custom as once prevalent in Italy:— “Among other privileges of the Church, abolished in Venice long ago, was that ancient right of the monks of St. Anthony Abbot, by which their herds of swine were made free of the whole city. These animals, enveloped in an odor of sanctity, wandered here and there, and were piously fed by devout people, until the year 1409, when, being found dangerous to children, and inconvenient to everybody, they were made the subject of a special decree, which deprived them of their freedom of movement. The Republic was always opposing and limiting the privileges of the Church!” ↩
  30. Giving false indulgences, without the true stamp upon them, in return for the alms received. ↩
  31. The nature of the Angels. ↩
  32. Daniel 7:10:— “Thousand thousands ministered unto him, and ten thousand times ten thousand stood before him.” ↩
  33. That irradiates this angelic nature. ↩
  34. The splendors are the reflected lights, or the Angels. ↩
  35. The fervor of the Angels is proportioned to their capacity of receiving the divine light. ↩

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