The Banquet (Il Convito): The Second Treatise

The Second Treatise

   Ye who the third Heaven move, intent of thought,
      Hear reasoning that is within my heart,
      Thoughts that to none but you I can impart:
    Heaven, that is moved by you, my life has brought
      To where it stands, therefore I pray you heed
      What I shall say about the life I lead.
    To you I tell the heart's new cares: always
      The sad Soul weeps within it, and there hears
      Voice of a Spirit that condemns her tears,
    A Spirit that descends in your star's rays.
      Thought that once fed the grieving heart was sweet,
      Thought that oft fled up to your Father's feet.
    There it beheld a Lady glorified,
      Of whom so sweetly it discoursed to me
      That the Soul said, "With her I long to be!"
    Now One appears that drives the thought aside,
      And masters me with so effectual might
      That my heart quivers to the outward sight.
    This on a Lady fixes my regard
      And says, "Who seeks where his salvation lies
      Must gaze intently in this Lady's eyes,
    Nor dread the sighs of anguish!" O, ill-starred!
      Such opposite now breaks the humble dream
      Of the crowned angel in the glory beam.
    Still, therefore, the Soul weeps, "The tender stir,"
      It says, "of thought that once consoled me flies!"
      That troubled one asks, "When into thine eyes
    Looked she? Why doubted they my words of her?"
      I said, "Her eyes bear death to such as I:
      Yet, vainly warned, I gaze on her and die.
    "Thou art not dead, but in a vain dismay,
      Dear Soul of ours so lost in thy distress,"
      Whispers a spirit voice of tenderness.
    "This Lady's beauty darkens all your day,
      Vile fear possesses you; see, she is lowly
      Pitiful, courteous, though so wise and holy.
    "Think thou to call her Mistress evermore:
      Save thou delude thyself, then shall there shine
      High miracles before thee, so divine
    That thou shalt say, O Love, when I adore,
      True Lord, behold the handmaid of the Lord,
      Be it unto me according to thy Word!"
    My song, I do believe there will be few
      Who toil to understand thy reasoning;
      But if thou pass, perchance, to those who bring
    No skill to give thee the attention due,
      Then pray I, dear last-born, let them rejoice
      To find at least a music in my voice.

CHAPTER I.

Since I, the servant, with preliminary discourse in the preceding
Treatise, have with all due care prepared my bread, the time now
summons, and requires my ship to leave the port: wherefore, having
trimmed the mizen-mast of reason to the wind of my desire, I enter the
ocean with the hope of an easy voyage, and a healthful happy haven to
be reached at the end of my supper. But in order that my food may be
more profitable, before the first dish comes on the table I wish to
show how it ought to be eaten. I say then, as is narrated in the first
chapter, that this exposition must be Literal and Allegorical; and to
make this explicit one should know that it is possible to understand a
book in four different ways, and that it ought to be explained chiefly
in this manner.

The one is termed Literal, and this is that which does not extend
beyond the text itself, such as is the fit narration of that thing
whereof you are discoursing, an appropriate example of which is the
third Song, which discourses of Nobility.

Another is termed Allegorical, and it is that which is concealed under
the veil of fables, and is a Truth concealed under a beautiful
Untruth; as when Ovid says that Orpheus with his lute made the wild
beasts tame, and made the trees and the stones to follow him, which
signifies that the wise man with the instrument of his voice makes
cruel hearts gentle and humble, and makes those follow his will who
have not the living force of knowledge and of art; who, having not the
reasoning life of any knowledge whatever, are as the stones. And in
order that this hidden thing should be discovered by the wise, it will
be demonstrated in the last Treatise. Verily the theologians take this
meaning otherwise than do the poets: but, because my intention here is
to follow the way of the poets, I shall take the Allegorical sense
according as it is used by the poets.

The third sense is termed Moral; and this is that which the readers
ought intently to search for in books, for their own advantage and for
that of their descendants; as one can espy in the Gospel, when Christ
ascended the Mount for the Transfiguration, that, of the twelve
Apostles, He took with Him only three. From which one can understand
in the Moral sense that in the most secret things we ought to have but
little company.

The fourth sense is termed Mystical, that is, above sense,
supernatural; and this it is, when spiritually one expounds a writing
which even in the Literal sense by the things signified bears express
reference to the Divine things of Eternal Glory; as one can see in
that Song of the Prophet which says that by the exodus of the people
of Israel from Egypt Jud�a is made holy and free. That this happens to
be true according to the letter is evident. Not less true is that
which it means spiritually, that in the Soul's liberation from Sin (or
in the exodus of the Soul from Sin) it is made holy and free in its
powers.

But in demonstrating these, the Literal must always go first, as that
in whose sense the others are included, and without which it would be
impossible and irrational to understand the others. Especially is it
impossible in the Allegorical, because, in each thing which has a
within and a without, it is impossible to come to the within if you do
not first come to the without. Wherefore, since in books the Literal
meaning is always external, it is impossible to reach the others,
especially the Allegorical, without first coming to the Literal.
Again, it is impossible, because in each thing, natural and
artificial, it is impossible to proceed to the form without having
first laid down the matter upon which the form should be. Thus, it is
impossible for the form of the gold to come, if the matter, that is,
its subject, is not first laid down and prepared; or for the form of
the ark to come, if the material, that is, the wood, be not first laid
down and prepared. Therefore, since the Literal meaning is always the
subject and the matter of the others, especially of the Allegorical,
it is impossible to come first to the meaning of the others before
coming to it. Again, it is impossible, because in each thing, natural
and artificial, it is impossible to proceed unless the foundation be
first laid, as in the house, so also in the mind. Therefore, since
demonstration must be the building up of Knowledge, and Literal
demonstration must be the foundation of the other methods of
interpreting, especially of the Allegorical, it is impossible to come
first to the others before coming to that. Again, if it were possible
that it could be so ordered, it would be irrational, that is, out of
order; and, therefore, one would proceed with, much fatigue and with
much error. Hence, as the Philosopher says in the first book of the
Physics, Nature desires that we proceed in due order in our search for
knowledge, that is, by proceeding from that which we know well to that
which we know not so well; so I say that Nature desires it, inasmuch
as this way to knowledge is innate in us; and therefore, if the other
meanings, apart from the Literal, are less understood--which they are,
as evidently appears--it would be irrational to demonstrate them if
the Literal had not first been demonstrated.

I, then, for these reasons will discourse in due order of each Song,
firstly upon its Literal meaning, and after that I will discourse of
its Allegory, that is, the hidden Truth, and sometimes I will touch
incidentally on the other meanings as may be convenient to place and
time.

CHAPTER II.

Beginning, then, I say that the star of Venus had twice revolved in
that circle which causes the evening and the morning to appear,
according to the two varying seasons, since the death of that blessed
Beatrice, who lives in Heaven with the Angels, and on Earth with my
soul; when that gentle Lady, of whom I made mention at the end of the
"Vita Nuova," first appeared before my eyes, accompanied by Love, and
assumed a position in my mind. And, as has been stated by me in the
little book referred to, more because of her gentle goodness than from
choice of mine, it befell that I consented to be her servant. For she
appeared impassioned with such sorrow for my sad widowed life that the
spirits of my eyes became especially friendly to her; and, so
disposed, they then depicted her to be such that my good-will was
content to espouse itself to that image. But because Love is not born
suddenly, nor grows great nor comes to perfection in haste, but
desires time and food for thought, especially there where there are
antagonistic thoughts which impede it, there must needs be, before
this new Love could be perfect, a great battle between the thought of
its food and of that which was antagonistic to it, which still held
the fortress of my mind for that glorious Beatrice. For the one was
succoured on one side continually by the ever-present vision, and the
other on the opposite side by the memory of the past. And the help of
the ever-present sight increased each day, which memory could not do,
in opposing that which to a certain degree prevented me from turning
the face towards the past. Wherefore it seemed to me so wonderful, and
also so hard to endure, that I could not support it, and with a loud
cry (to excuse myself from the struggle, in which it seemed to me that
I had failed in courage) I lifted up my voice towards that part whence
came the victory of the new thought, which was full of virtuous power,
even the power of celestial virtue; and I began to say: "You! who the
third Heaven move, intent of thought." For the intelligent
understanding of which Song, one must first know its divisions well,
so that it will then be easy to perceive its meaning.

In order that it may no longer be necessary to preface the
explanations of the others, I say that the order which will be taken
in this Treatise I intend to keep through all the others. I say, then,
that the proposed Song is contained within three principal parts. The
first is the first verse of that, in which certain Intelligences are
induced to listen to what I intend to say, or rather by a more usual
form of speech we should call them Angels, who are in the revolution
of the Heaven of Venus, as the movers thereof. The second is in the
lines which follow after the first, in which is made manifest that
which I felt spiritually amidst various thoughts. The third is in the
last lines, wherein the man begins to speak to the work itself, as if
to comfort it, as it were, and all these three parts are in due order
to be demonstrated, as has been said above.

CHAPTER III.

That we may more easily perceive the Literal meaning of the first
division, to which we now attend, it is requisite to know who and what
are those who are summoned to my audience, and what is that third
Heaven which I say is moved by them. And firstly I will speak of the
Heaven; then I will speak of those whom I address And although with
regard to the truth concerning those things it is possible to know but
little, yet so much as human reason can discern gives more delight
than the best known and most certain of the things judged by the
sense; according to the opinion of the Philosopher in his book on
Animals.

I say, then, that concerning the number of the Heavens and their site,
different opinions are held by many, although the truth at last may be
found. Aristotle believed, following merely the ancient foolishness of
the Astrologers, that there might be only eight Heavens, of which the
last one, and which contained all, might be that where the fixed stars
are, that is, the eighth sphere, and that beyond it there could be no
other. Again, he believed that the Heaven of the Sun might be
immediate with that of the Moon, that is, second to us. And this
opinion of his, so erroneous, he who wishes can see in the second book
on Heaven and the World, which is in the second of the Books on
Natural History. In fact, he excuses himself for this in the twelfth
book of the Metaphysics, where he clearly proves himself to have
followed also another opinion where he was obliged to speak of
Astrology. Ptolemy, then, perceiving that the eighth sphere is moved
by many movements, seeing its circle to depart from the right circle,
which turns from East to West, constrained by the principles of
Philosophy, which of necessity desires a Primum Mobile, a most simple
one, supposed another Heaven to be outside the Heaven of the fixed
stars, which might make that revolution from East to West which I say
is completed in twenty-four hours nearly, that is, in twenty-three
hours, fourteen parts of the fifteen of another, counting roughly.
Therefore, according to him, and according to that which is held in
Astrology and in Philosophy since those movements were seen, there are
nine moveable Heavens; the site of which is evident and determined,
according to an Art which is termed Perspective, Arithmetical and
Geometrical, by which and by other sensible experiences it is visibly
and reasonably seen, as in the eclipses of the Sun it appears
sensibly, that the Moon is below the Sun; and as by the testimony of
Aristotle, who saw with his own eyes, according to what he says in the
second book on Heaven and the World, the Moon, being new, to enter
below Mars, on the side not shining, and Mars to remain concealed so
long that he re-appeared on the other bright side of the Moon, which
was towards the West.

CHAPTER IV.

And the order of the houses is this, that the first that they
enumerate is that where the Moon is; the second is that where Mercury
is; the third is that where Venus is; the fourth is that where the Sun
is; the fifth is that where Mars is; the sixth is that where Jupiter
is; the seventh is that where Saturn is; the eighth is that of the
Stars; the ninth is that which is not visible except by that movement
which is mentioned above, which they designate the great Crystalline
sphere, diaphanous, or rather all transparent. Truly, beyond all
these, the Catholics place the Empyrean Heaven, which is as much as to
say, the Heaven of Flame, or rather the Luminous Heaven; and they
assign it to be immoveable, in order to have in itself, according to
each part, that which its material desires. And this is why that first
moved--the Primum Mobile--has such extremely rapid motion. For,
because of the most fervent appetite which each part of it has to be
united with each part of that most Divine Heaven of Peace, in which it
revolves with so much desire, its velocity is almost incomprehensible.
And this quiet and peaceful Heaven is the place of that Supreme Deity
who from above beholds the whole. This is the place of the blessed
Spirits, according as Holy Church teaches, which cannot speak falsely;
and even Aristotle seems to feel this, to him who understands him
well, in the first book of Heaven and the World. This is the highest
bound of the World, within which the whole World is included, and
beyond which there is nothing. And it is in no place, but was formed
alone in the First Mind, which the Greeks term Protonoe. This is that
magnificence of which the Psalmist spoke when he sang to God: "Thy
glory is raised above the Heavens."

So, then, gathering together this which is discussed, it seems that
there may be ten Heavens, of which the Heaven of Venus may be the
third; whereof mention is made in that part which I intend to
demonstrate. And it is to be known that each Heaven below the
Crystalline has two firm poles as to itself; and the ninth has them
firm and fixed, and not mutable in any respect. And each one, the
ninth even as the others, has a circle, which one may term the equator
of its own Heaven; which equally, in each part of its revolution, is
remote from one pole and from the other, as he who rolls an apple or
any other round thing can sensibly perceive. And this circle has more
swiftness in its movement than any other part of its Heaven, in each
Heaven, as he may perceive who considers well. And each part, in
proportion as it is nearer to it, moves so much the more swiftly; so
much the slower in proportion as it is more remote and nearer to the
pole; since its revolution is less, and it must of necessity be in one
self-same time with the greater. I say again, that in proportion as
the Heaven is nearer to the equatorial circle, so much the more noble
is it in comparison to its poles; since it has more motion and more
actuality and more life and more form and more touch from that which
is above itself, and consequently has more virtue. Hence the stars in
the Heaven of the fixed stars are more full of power amongst
themselves in proportion as they are nearer to that circle.

And upon the back of this circle in the Heaven of Venus, of which I
now speak, is a little sphere, which revolves by itself in this
Heaven, the circle of which Astrologers call Epicycle; and as the
great sphere revolves about two poles, so does this little sphere: and
so has this little sphere the equatorial circle; and so much the more
noble it is in proportion as it is nearer to those: and in the arc, or
rather back, of this circle is fixed the most brilliant star of Venus.
And, although it may be said that there are ten Heavens according to
strict Truth, this number does not comprehend them all: for that of
which mention is made, the Epicycle, in which the star is fixed, is a
Heaven by itself, or rather sphere; and it has not one essence with
that which bears it, although it may be more like to it than to the
others, and with it is called one Heaven, and they name the one and
the other from the star. How the other Heavens and the other stars may
be is not for present discussion; let it suffice that the nature of
the third Heaven, with which I am at present concerned, has been told,
and concerning which all that is at present needful has been shown.

CHAPTER V.

Since it has been shown in the preceding chapter what this third
Heaven is, and how it is ordered in itself, it remains to show who
those are who move it. It is then to be known, in the first place,
that the movers thereof are substances apart from material, that is,
Intelligences, which the common people term Angels: and of these
creatures, as of the Heavens, different persons have had different
ideas, although the truth may be found. There were certain
Philosophers, of whom Aristotle appears to be one in his Metaphysics,
although in the first book on Heaven and Earth incidentally he appears
to think otherwise, who only believed these to be so many as there are
revolutions in the Heavens, and no more; saying, that the others would
have been eternally in vain, without operation, which was impossible,
inasmuch as their being is their operation. There were others, like
Plato, a most excellent man, who place not only so many Intelligences
as there are movements in Heaven, but even as there are species of
things, that is, manners of things; as of one species are all mankind,
and of another all the gold, and of another all the silver, and so
with all: and they are of opinion that as the Intelligences of the
Heavens are generators of those movements each after his kind, so
these were generators of the other things, each one being a type of
its species: and Plato calls them _Ideas_, which is as much as to
say, so many universal forms and natures.

The Gentiles called them Gods and Goddesses, although they could not
understand those so philosophically as Plato did; and they adored
their images, and built large temples to them, as to Juno, whom they
called the Goddess of Power; as to Vulcan, whom they called the God of
Fire; as to Pallas, or rather Minerva, whom they called the Goddess of
Wisdom; and to Ceres, whom they called the Goddess of Corn. Opinions
such as these the testimony of the Poets makes manifest, for they
describe to a certain extent the mode of the Gentiles both in their
sacrifices and in their faith; and it is testified also in many names,
remains of antiquity, or in names of places and ancient buildings, as
he who will can easily find. And although these opinions above
mentioned might be built upon a good foundation by human reason and by
no slight knowledge, yet the Truth was not seen by them, either from
defect of reason or from defect of instruction. Yet even by reason it
was possible to see that very numerous were the creatures above
mentioned who are not such as men can understand. And the one reason
is this: no one doubts, neither Philosopher, nor Gentile, nor Jew, nor
Christian, nor any one of any sect, that they are either the whole or
the greater part full of all Blessedness, and that those blessed ones
are in a most perfect state. Therefore, since that which is here Human
Nature may have not only one Beatitude, but two Beatitudes, as that of
the Civil Life and that of the Contemplative, it would be irrational
if we should see these Celestial Beings to have the Beatitude of the
Active Life, that is, the Civil, in the government of the World, and
not to have that of the Contemplative, which is the most excellent and
most Divine.

But since that which has the Beatitude of the Civil government cannot
have the other, because their intellect is one and perpetual, there
must be others beyond this ministry, who live only in contemplation.
And because this latter life is more Divine--and in proportion as the
thing is more Divine so much the more is it in the image of God--it is
evident that this life is more beloved of God: and if it be more
beloved, so much the more vast has its Beatitude been; and if it has
been more vast, so much the more vivifying power has He given to it
rather than to the other; therefore one concludes that there may De a
much larger number of those creatures than the effects tend to show.
And this is not opposed to that which Aristotle seems to state in the
tenth book of the Ethics, that to the separate substances the
Contemplative Life must be requisite; as also the Active Life must be
imperative to them. Nevertheless, in the contemplation of certain
truths the revolution of the Heaven follows, which is the government
of the World; which is, as it were, a Civil government ordained and
comprehended in the contemplation of the movers, that is, the ruling
Intelligences. The other reason is, that no effect is greater than the
cause, because the cause cannot give that which it has not; wherefore,
since the Divine Intellect is the cause of all, especially of the
Human Intellect, it follows that the Human Intellect does not dominate
the Divine, but is dominated by it in proportion to the superior power
of the Divine. Hence, if we, by the reason above stated, and by many
others, understand God to have been able to create Spiritual Creatures
almost innumerable, it is quite evident that He has made them in this
great number. Many other reasons it were possible to see: but let
these suffice for the present. Nor let any one marvel if these and
other reasons which we could adduce concerning this are not fully
demonstrated; since likewise we ought to wonder at their excellence,
which overpowers the eyes of the Human Mind, as the Philosopher says
in the second book of the Metaphysics, and he affirms their existence.
Though we have not any perception of them from which our knowledge can
begin, yet some light from their most vivacious essence shines upon
our intellect, inasmuch as we perceive the above-mentioned reasons and
many others, even as he who has the eyes closed affirms the air to be
luminous, because of some little brightness or ray of light which
passes through the pupils; as it is with the bat, for not otherwise
are the eyes of the intellect closed, so long as the soul is bound and
prisoned by the organs of our body.

CHAPTER VI.

It has been said that, through defective instruction, the ancients saw
not the Truth concerning the Spiritual Creatures, although the people
of Israel were in part instructed by their Prophets, through whom by
many modes of speech and in many ways God had spoken to them, as the
Apostle says. But we are therein instructed by Him who came from God,
by Him who made them, by Him who preserves them, that is, by the
Emperor of the Universe, who is Christ the Son of the Supreme God, and
the Son of the Virgin Mary, a woman truly, and the daughter of Joseph
and Anna--very Man, who was slain by us in order that He might bring
us Life; who was the Light which enlightens us in the Darkness, even
as John the Evangelist says; and He told us the Truth of those things
which we could not have known without Him, nor seen truly. The first
thing and the first secret which He showed us was one of the
before-mentioned Beings or creatures. This was that one, His great
Legate, the Angel Gabriel, who came to Mary, a young damsel of
thirteen years, on the part of the Heavenly Saviour. This our Saviour,
with His own mouth, said, that the Father could give Him many Legions
of Angels. This He denied not, when it was said to Him that the Father
had commanded His Angels that they should minister unto Him and should
serve Him. Wherefore, it is evident to us that these creatures are in
a very great number; since His Spouse and Secretary, Holy Church, of
whom Solomon says: "Who is this that cometh forth from the Desert,
full of those things which give delight, leaning upon her friend?"
says, believes, and preaches these most noble creatures to be almost
innumerable; and She divides them into three Hierarchies, that is to
say, three holy, or rather Divine, Principalities: and each Hierarchy
has three orders, so that nine orders of spiritual creatures the
Church holds and affirms.

The first is that of the Angels, the second of the Archangels, the
third of the Thrones; and these three orders make the first
Hierarchy--not first as to nobility, nor as to creation, for the
others are more noble, and all were created together, but first in
degree, according to our perception of their exaltation.

Then there are the Dominations; after them the Virtues; then the
Principalities; and these make the second Hierarchy.

Above these are the Powers and the Cherubim, and above all are the
Seraphim; and these make the third Hierarchy.

And the most potent reason for their contemplation is the number in
which the Hierarchies are, and that in which the orders are. For,
since the Divine Majesty is in Three Persons, which have one
substance, it is possible to contemplate them triply. For it is
possible to contemplate the Supreme Power of the Father, which the
first Hierarchy gazes upon, namely, that which is first by nobility,
and which we enumerate last. And it is possible to contemplate the
Supreme Wisdom of the Son; and upon this the second Hierarchy gazes.
And it is possible to contemplate the Supreme and most fervent Charity
of the Holy Spirit; and upon this the third Hierarchy gazes, which,
being nearest to us, gives of the gifts which it receives.

And, since it is possible to regard each person in the Divine Trinity
triply, so in each Hierarchy there are three orders which contemplate
diversely. It is possible to consider the Father having regard to none
but Him; and this is the contemplation of the Seraphim, who see more
of the First Cause than any other Angelic Nature. It is possible to
consider the Father according as He has relation to the Son, that is,
how He is apart from Him, and how united with Him; and this is the
contemplation of the Cherubim. It is possible again to consider the
Father according as from Him proceeds the Holy Spirit, and how it is
apart from Him and how united with Him; and this is the contemplation
of the Powers.

And in like way it is possible to contemplate the Son and the Holy
Spirit.

Wherefore, there must be nine orders of contemplative Spirits to gaze
into the Light, which alone beholds itself completely. And this is not
the place to be silent so much as one word. I say, that of all these
orders some were lost as soon as they were created, perhaps in number
of the tenth part, to restore which Human Nature was created. The
numbers, the orders, the Hierarchies, declare the glory of the movable
Heavens, which are nine; and the tenth announces this Unity and
stability of God. And therefore the Psalmist says: "The Heavens
declare the glory of God, and the Firmament showeth His handiwork."
Wherefore it is reasonable to believe that the movers of the Heaven of
the Moon are of the order of the Angels, and those of Mercury may be
the Archangels, and those of Venus may be the Thrones, in whom the
Love of the Holy Spirit being innate, they do their work conformably
to it, which means that the revolution of that Heaven is full of Love.
The form of the said Heaven takes from this a virtue by whose glow
souls here below are kindled to love according to their disposition.

And because the ancients perceived that Heaven to be here below the
cause of Love, they said that Love was the son of Venus, as Virgil
testifies in the first book of the �neid, where Venus says to Love:
"Oh! son, my virtue, son of the great Father, who takest no heed of
the darts of Typhoeus." And Ovid so testifies in the fifth book of
his Metamorphoses, when he says that Venus said to Love: "Son, my
arms, my power." And there are Thrones which are ordered to the
government of this Heaven in number not great, concerning which the
Philosophers and the Astrologers have thought differently, according
as they held different opinions concerning its revolutions. But all
may be agreed, as many are, in this, as to how many movements it
makes. Of this, as abbreviated in the book of the Aggregation of the
Stars, you may find in the better demonstration of the Astrologers
that there are three: one, according as the star moves towards its
Epicycle; the other, according as the Epicycle moves with its whole
Heaven equally with that of the Sun; the third, according as the whole
of that Heaven moves, following the movement of the starry sphere from
West to East in one hundred years one degree. So that to these Three
Movements there are Three Movers. Again, if the whole of this Heaven
moves and turns with the Epicycle from East to West once in each
natural day, that movement, whether it be caused by some Intelligence
or whether it be through the rapid movement of the Primum Mobile, God
knows, for to me it seems presumptuous to judge. These Movers produce,
caring for that alone, the revolution proper to that sphere which each
one moves. The most noble form of the Heaven, which has in itself the
principle of this passive Nature, revolves, touched by the Moving
Power, which cares for this; and I say touched, not by a bodily touch,
but by a Power which directs itself to that operation. And these
Movers are those to whom I begin to speak and to whom I put my
inquiry.

CHAPTER VII.

According to that which is said above in the third chapter of this
treatise, in order to understand well the first part of the Song I
comment on, it is requisite to discourse of those Heavens, and of
their Movers; and in the three preceding chapters this has been
discussed. I say, then, to those whom I proved to be Movers of the
Heaven of Venus: "Ye who, with thought intent" (_i.e._, with the
intellect alone, as is said above), "the third Heaven move, Hear
reasoning that is within my heart;" and I do not say "Hear" because
they hear any sound, for they have no sense of hearing; but I say
"Hear," meaning with that hearing which they have, which is of the
understanding through the intellect. I say, "Hear reasoning that is
within my heart," within me, which as yet has not appeared externally.
It is to be known that throughout this Song, according to the one
sense (the Literal), and the other sense (the Allegorical), the Heart
is concerned with the secret within, and not any other special part of
the soul or body. When I have called them to hear that which I wish to
say, I assign two reasons why I ought fitly to speak to them. One is
the novelty of my condition, which, from not having been experienced
by other men, would not be so understood by them as by those who
superintend such effects in their operation. And this reason I touch
upon when I say: "To you alone its new thoughts I impart." The other
reason is: when a man receives a benefit or injury, he ought first to
relate it to him who bestows or inflicts it, if he can, rather than to
others; in order that, if it be a benefit, he who receives it may show
himself grateful towards the benefactor, and, if it be an injury, let
him lead the doer thereof to gentle mercy with sweet words. And this
reason I touch upon when I say: "Heaven, that is moved by you, my life
has brought To where it stands;" that is to say, your operation,
namely, your revolution, is that which has drawn me into the present
condition; therefore I conclude and say that my speech ought to be to
them, such as is said; and I say here: "Therefore to you 'tis need
That I should speak about the life I lead." And after these reasons
assigned, I beseech them to listen when I speak.

But, because in each manner of speech the speaker especially ought to
look to persuasion, that is, to the pleasing of the audience, as that
which is the beginning of all other persuasions, as do the
Rhetoricians, and the most powerful persuasion to render the audience
attentive is to promise to say new and wonderful things, I add to the
prayer made for attention, this persuasion, or embellishment,
announcing to them my intention to speak of new things, that is, the
division which is in my mind; and great things, namely, the power of
their star; and I say this in those last words of this first part:

To you I'll tell the heart's new cares: always
The sad Soul weeps within it, and there hears
Voice of a Spirit that condemns her tears,
A Spirit that descends through your star's rays.

And to the full understanding of these words, I say that this Spirit
is no other than a frequent thought how to commend and beautify this
new Lady. And this Soul is no other than another thought, accompanied
with acquiescence, which, repudiating that Spirit, commends and
beautifies the memory of that glorious Beatrice. But, again, because
the last sentiment of the mind, acquiescence, is held by that thought
which memory assisted, I call it the Soul, and the other the Spirit;
as we are accustomed to call the City those who hold it, and not those
who fight it, although the one and the other may be citizens. I say
also, that this Spirit comes on the rays of the star, because one
desires to know that the rays of each Heaven are the way by which
their virtue descends into things here below. And since the rays are
no other than a light which comes from the source of Light through the
air even to the thing illuminated, and the light has no source except
the star, because the other Heaven is transparent, I say not that this
Spirit, this thought, comes from their Heaven entirely, but from their
star. And their star, through the nobility of its Movers, is of such
virtue that in our souls, and in other things, it has very great
power, notwithstanding that it is so far from us, about one hundred
and sixty-seven times farther than it is to the centre of the Earth,
which is three thousand two hundred and fifty miles. And this is the
Literal exposition of the first part of the Song.

CHAPTER VIII.

What I have said shows clearly enough the Literal meaning of the first
part. In the second, there is to be understood how it makes manifest
what I experienced from the struggle within me; and this part has two
divisions. In the first place it describes the quality of these
oppositions, according as their cause was within me. Then I narrate
what the one and the other voice of opposition said; and upon that
firstly which described what was being lost, in the passage which is
the second of that part and the third of the Song. In evidence, then,
of the meaning of the first division, it is to be known that things
must be named by that part of their form which is the noblest and
best, as Man by Reason, and not by Sense, nor by aught else which is
less noble; therefore, when one speaks of the living man, one should
understand the man using Reason, which is his especial Life, and is
the action of his noblest part. And, therefore, whoso departs from
Reason and uses only the Senses is not a living man, but a living
beast, as says that most excellent Boethius, "Let the Ass live."

Rightly I speak, because thought is the right act of reason, wherefore
the beasts who have it not do not think; and I speak not only of the
lesser beasts, but of those who have a human appearance with the
spirit of a sheep or of some other abominable beast. I say then:
"Thought that once fed my grieving heart"--thought, that is, of the
inner life--"was sweet" (sweet, insomuch as it is persuasive, that is,
pleasing, or beautiful, gentle, delightful); this thought often sped
away to the feet of the Father of those Spirits to whom I speak, that
is, God; that is to say, that I in thought contemplated the realm of
the Blessed. "Thought that once fled up to the Father's feet." And I
name the final cause immediately, because I ascended there above in
thought when I say, "There I beheld a Lady glorified," to let you
understand that I was certain, and am certain by its gracious
revelation, that she was in Heaven; wherefore I, thinking many times
how this was possible for me, went thither, rapt, as it were. Then
subsequently I speak of the effect of this thought, in order to let
you understand its sweetness, which was such that it made me desirous
of Death, that I also might go where she was gone. And of this I speak
there: "Of whom so sweetly it discoursed to me That the Soul said,
'With her would I might be!'" And this is the root of one of the
struggles which was in me. And it is to be known that here one terms
Thought, and not Soul, that which ascended to see that Blessed Spirit,
because it was an especial thought sent on that mission; the Soul is
understood, as is stated in the preceding chapter, as thought in
general, with acquiescence.

Then, when I say, "Now One appears that drives the thought aside," I
touch the root of the other struggle, saying how that previous thought
was wont to be the life of me, even as another appears, which makes
that one cease to be. I say, "drives the thought aside," in order to
show that one to be antagonistic, for naturally the opposing one
drives aside the other, and that which is driven appears to yield
through want of power. And I say that this thought, which newly
appears, is powerful in taking hold of me and in subduing my Soul,
saying that it "masters me with such effectual might" that the heart,
that is, my inner life, trembles so much that my countenance shows it
in some new appearance.

Subsequently I show the power of this new thought by its effect,
saying that it makes me "fix my regard" on a Lady, and speaks to me
words of allurement, that is to say, it reasons before the eyes of my
intelligent affection, in order the better to induce me, promising me
that the sight of her eyes is its salvation. And in order to make this
credible to the Soul experienced in love, it says that it is for no
one to gaze into the eyes of this woman who fears the anguish of
laboured sighs. And it is a beautiful mode of rhetoric when externally
it appears that you disembellish a thing, and yet really embellish it
within. This new thought of love could not induce my mind to consent,
except by discoursing of the virtue of the eyes of this fair Lady so
profoundly.

CHAPTER IX.

Now that it is shown how and whereof Love is born, and the antagonist
that fought with me, I must proceed to open the meaning of that part
in which different thoughts contend within me. I say that, firstly,
one must speak on the part of the Soul, that is, of the former
thought, and then of the other; for this reason, that always that
which the speaker intends most especially to say he ought to reserve
in the background, because that which is said finally, remains most in
the mind of the hearer. Therefore, since I mean to speak further, and
to discourse of that which performs the work of those to whom I speak,
rather than of that which undoes this work, it was reasonable first to
mention and to discourse of the condition of the part which was
undone, and then of that which was generated by the other.

But here arises a doubt, which is not to be passed over without
explanation. It would be possible for any one to say: Since Love is
the effect of these Intelligences, to whom I speak, and that of the
first Love might be the same as that of the new Love, why should their
virtue destroy the one, and produce the other? since it ought to
preserve the first, for the reason that each cause loves its effect,
and ought to protect what it loves. To this question one can easily
reply, that the effect of those Spirits, as has been said, is Love:
and since they could not save it except in those who are subject to
their revolution, they transfer it from that part which is beyond
their power to that which is within reach, from the soul departed out
of this life, into that which is yet living; as human nature transfers
in the human form its preservation of the father to the son, because
it cannot in this father preserve perpetually its effect: I say effect
in as far as soul and body are united, and not effect in as far as
that soul, which is divided from the body, lasts for ever, in a nature
more than human. And thus is the question solved.

But since the immortality of the Soul is here touched upon, I will
make a digression upon that; because to discourse of that will make a
fit conclusion to the mention I have made of that living and blessed
Beatrice, of whom I do not intend to speak further in this book.

For proposition I say that, amongst all the bestialities, that is the
most foolish, the most vile, and most damnable which believes no other
life to be after this life; wherefore, if we turn over all books,
whether of philosophers or of the other wise writers, all agree in
this, that in us there is some everlasting principle. And this
especially Aristotle seems to desire in that book on the Soul; this
especially each stoic seems to desire; this Tullius seems to desire,
especially in that book on Old Age. This each of the Poets who have
spoken according to the faith of the Gentiles seems to desire; this
the law seems to desire, among Jews, Saracens, and Tartars, and all
other people who live according to some civil law. And if all these
could be deceived, there would result an impossibility which even to
describe would be horrible. Each man is certain that human nature is
the most perfect of all natures here below. This no one denies: and
Aristotle affirms it when he says, in the twelfth book On Animals,
that man is the most perfect of all the animals. Therefore, since many
who live are entirely mortal, as are the brute animals, and all may
be, whilst they live, without that hope of the other life; if our hope
should be in vain, our want would be greater than that of any other
animal. There have been many who have given this life for that: and
thus it would follow that the most perfect animal, man, would be the
most imperfect, which is impossible; and that that part, namely,
reason, which is his chief perfection, would be in him the cause of
the chief defect: which seems strange to say of the whole. And again
it would follow that Nature, in contradiction to herself, could have
put this hope in the human mind; since it is said that many have
hastened to death of the body that they might live in the other life;
and this also is impossible. Again, we have continual experience of
our immortality in the divination of our dreams, which could not be if
there were no immortal part in us, since immortal must be the
revelation. This part may be either corporeal or incorporeal if one
think well and closely. I say corporeal or incorporeal, because of the
different opinions which I find concerning this. That which is moved,
or rather informed, by an immediate informer, ought to have proportion
to the informer; and between the mortal and the immortal there is no
proportion. Again, we are assured of it by the most truthful doctrine
of Christ, which is the Way, the Truth, and the Light: the Way,
because by it without impediment we go to the happiness of that
immortality; the Truth, because it endures no error; the Light,
because it enlightens us in the darkness of worldly ignorance. This
doctrine, I say, which above all other reasons makes us certain of it;
for it has been given to us by Him who sees and measures our
immortality, which we cannot perfectly see whilst our immortal is
mingled with the mortal. But we see it by faith perfectly; and by
reason we see it with the cloud of obscurity which grows from the
mixture of the mortal with the immortal. This ought to be the most
powerful argument that both are in us: and I thus believe, thus
affirm; and I am equally certain, after this life, to pass to that
other and better life--there where that glorious Lady lives, with whom
my soul was enamoured when it was struggling, as will be set forth in
the next chapter.

CHAPTER X.

Returning to the proposition, I say that in that verse which begins "A
foe so strong I find him that he destroys," I intend to make manifest
that which was discoursing in my Soul, the ancient thought against the
new; and first briefly I show the cause of its lamentation, when I
say: "This opposite now breaks the humble dream Of the crowned angel
in the glory-beam." This one is that especial thought of which it is
said above that it was wont to be the life of the sorrowing heart.
Then when I say, "Still, therefore, my Soul weeps," it is evident that
my Soul is still on its side, and speaks with sadness; and I say that
it speaks words of lamentation, as if it might wonder at the sudden
transformation, saying: "'The tender star,' It says, 'that once was my
consoler, flies.'" It can well say consoler, for in the great loss
which I sustained in the death of Beatrice this thought, which
ascended into Heaven, had given to my Soul much consolation.

Then afterwards I say, that all my thought, my Soul, of which I say,
"That troubled one," turns in excuse of itself, and speaks against the
eyes; and this is made evident there: "That troubled one asked, 'When
into thine eyes Looked she?'" And I say that she speaks of them and
against them three things: the first is, she blasphemes the hour when
this woman saw them. And here you must know, that although many things
in one hour can come into the eyes, truly that which comes by a
straight line into the point of the pupil, that truly one sees, and
that only is sealed in the imaginative part. And this is, because the
nerve by which the visible spirit runs is directed to that part, and
thereupon truly one eye cannot look on the eye of another so that it
is not seen by it; for as that which looks receives the form of the
pupil by a right line, so by that same line its form passes into that
eye which gazes. And many times in the direction of that line a shaft
flies from the bow of Love, with whom each weapon is light. Therefore,
when I ask, "When first into mine eyes looked she?" it is as much as
to ask, "When did her eyes and mine look into each other?"

The second point is in that which reproves their disobedience, when it
says, "Of her, why doubted they my words?" Then it proceeds to the
third thing and says that it is not right to reprove them for
precaution, but for their disobedience; for it says that, sometimes,
when speaking of this woman, it might be said, "Her eyes bear death to
such as I," if she could have opened the way of approach. And indeed
one ought to believe that my Soul knew of its own inclination ready to
receive the operation of this power, and therefore dreaded it; for the
act of the agent takes full effect in the patient who has the
inclination to receive it, as the Philosopher says in the second book
on the Soul. And, therefore, if wax could have the spirit of fear, it
would fear most to come into the rays of the Sun, which would not turn
it into stone, since its disposition is to yield to that strong
operation.

Lastly, the Soul reveals in its speech that their presumption had been
dangerous when it says, "Yet vainly warned, I gazed on her and die."
And thus it closes its speech, to which the new thought replies, as
will be declared in the following chapter.

CHAPTER XI.

The meaning of that part in which the Soul speaks, that is, the old
thought which is undone, has been shown. Now, in due order, the
meaning must be shown of the part in which the new antagonistic
thought speaks; and this part is contained entirely in the verse or
stanza which begins, "Thou art not dead," which part, in order to
understand it well, I will divide into two; that in the first part,
which begins "Thou art not dead," it then says, continuing its last
words, "It is not true that thou art dead; but the cause wherefore
thou to thyself seemest to be dead is a deadly dismay into which thou
art vilely fallen because of this woman who has appeared to thee." And
here it is to be observed that, as Boethius says in his Consolation,
each sudden change of things does not happen without some flurry of
mind. And this is expressed in the reproof of that thought which is
called "the spirit voice of tenderness," when it gave me to understand
that my consent was inclining towards it; and thus, one can easily
comprehend this, and recognize its victory, when it already says,
"Dear Soul of ours," therein making itself familiar. Then, as is
stated, it commands where it ought to rebuke that Soul, in order to
induce it to come to her; and therefore it says to her: "See, she is
lowly, Pitiful, courteous, though so wise and holy."

These are two things which are a fit remedy for the fear with which
the Soul appeared impassioned; for, firmly united, they cause the
individual to hope well, and especially Pity, which causes all other
goodness to shine forth by its light. Wherefore Virgil, speaking of
�neas, in his greater praise calls him compassionate, pitiful; and
that is not pity such as the common people understand it, which is to
lament over the misfortunes of others; nay, this is an especial effect
which is called Mercy, Pity, Compassion; and it is a passion. But
compassion is not a passion; rather a noble disposition of mind,
prepared to receive Love, Mercy, and other charitable passions. Then
it says: "See also how courteous, though so wise and holy."

Here it says three things which, according as they can be acquired by
us, make the person especially pleasing. It says Wise. Now, what is
more beautiful in a woman than knowledge? It says Courteous. Nothing
in a woman can be more excellent than courtesy. And neither are the
wretched common people deceived even in this word, for they believe
that courtesy is no other than liberality; for liberality is an
especial, and not a general courtesy. Courtesy is all one with
honesty, modesty, decency; and because the virtues and good manners
were the custom in Courts anciently, as now the opposite is the
custom, this word was taken from the Courts; which word, if it should
now be taken from the Courts, especially of Italy, would and could
express no other than baseness. It says Holy. The greatness which is
here meant is especially well accompanied with the two afore-mentioned
virtues; because it is that light which reveals the good and the evil
of the person clearly. And how much knowledge and how much virtuous
custom does there not seem to be wanting by this light! How much
madness and how much vice are seen to be by this light! Better would
it be for the wretched madmen high in station, stupid and vicious, to
be of low estate, that neither in the world nor after this life they
should be so infamous. Truly for such Solomon says in Ecclesiastes:
"There is a sore evil that I have seen under the Sun; namely, riches
kept for the owners thereof to their hurt."

Then subsequently it lays a command on it, that is, on my Soul, that
it should now call this one its Lady: "Think thou to call her Mistress
evermore," promising my Soul that it will be quite content with her
when it shall have clear perception of all her wonderful
accomplishments; and then this one says: "Save thou delude thyself,
then shall there shine High miracles before thee;" neither does it
speak otherwise even to the end of that stanza. And here ends the
Literal meaning of all that which I say in this Song, speaking to
these Celestial Intelligences.

CHAPTER XII.

Finally, according to that which the letter of this Commentary said
above, when I divided the principal parts of this Song, I turn back
with the face of my discourse to the same Song, and I speak to that.
And in order that this part may be understood more fully, I say that
generally in each Song there is what is called a Tornata, because the
Reciters, who originally were accustomed to compose it, so contrived
that when the song was sung, with a certain part of the song they
could return to it. But I have rarely done it with that intention;
and, in order that others may perceive, this I have seldom placed it
with the sequence of the Song, so long as it is in the rhythm which is
necessary to the measure. But I have used it when it was requisite to
express something independent of the meaning of the Song, and which
was needful for its embellishment, as it will be possible to perceive
in this and in the other Songs.

And, therefore, I say at present, that the goodness and the beauty of
each discourse are parted and divided; for the goodness is in the
meaning, and the beauty in the ornament of the words. And the one and
the other are with delight, although the goodness is especially
delightful. Wherefore, since the goodness of this Song might be
difficult to perceive, because of the various persons who are led to
speak in it, where so many distinctions are required; and the beauty
would be easy to see, it seemed to me, of the nature of the Song that
by some men more attention might be paid to the beauty of the words
than to the goodness of matter. And this is what I say in that part.

But, because it often happens that to admonish seems presumptuous in
certain conditions, it is usual for the Rhetorician to speak
indirectly to others, directing his words, not to him for whom he
speaks, but towards another. And truly this method is maintained here;
for to the Song the words go, and to the men the meaning of them. I
say then: "My Song, I do believe there will be few Who toil to
understand thy reasoning." And I state the cause, which is double.
First, because thou speakest with fatigue--with fatigue, I say, for
the reason which is stated; and then because thou speakest with
difficulty--with difficulty, I say, as to the novelty of the meaning.
Now afterwards I admonish it, and say:

But if thou pass perchance by those who bring
No skill to give thee the attention due,
Then pray I, dear last-born, let them rejoice
At least to find a music in my voice.

For in this I desire to say no other according to what is said above,
except "Oh, men, you who cannot see the meaning of this Song, do not
therefore refuse it; but pay attention to its beauty, which is great,
both for construction, which belongs to the Grammarians; and for the
order of the discourse, which belongs to the Rhetoricians; as well as
for the rhythm of its parts, which belongs to the Musicians." For
which things he who looks well can see that there may be beauty in it.
And this is the entire Literal meaning of the first Song which is
prepared for the first dish in my Banquet.

CHAPTER XIII.

Since the Literal meaning has been sufficiently explained, we must now
proceed to the Allegorical and true exposition. And, therefore,
beginning again from the first head, I say that when I had lost the
chief delight of my Soul in former time, I was left so stung with
sadness that no consolation whatever availed me. Nevertheless, after
some time, my mind, reasoning with itself to heal itself, took heed,
since neither my own nor that of another availed to comfort it, to
turn to the method which a certain disconsolate one had adopted when
he looked for Consolation. And I set myself to read that book of
Boethius, not known to many, in which, when a captive exile, he had
consoled himself. And, again, hearing that Tullius had written another
book, in which, treating of Friendship, he had spoken words for the
consolation of L�lius, a most excellent man, on the death of his
friend Scipio, I set myself to read it. And although at first it was
difficult to me to enter into their meaning, yet, finally, I entered
into it so much as the knowledge of grammar that I possessed, together
with some slight power of intellect, enabled me to do: by which power
of intellect I formerly beheld many things almost like a person in a
dream, as may be seen in the Vita Nuova. And as it is wont to be that
a man goes seeking for silver, and beyond his purpose he finds gold,
whose hidden cause appears not perhaps without the Divine Will; I, who
sought to console myself, found not only a remedy for my tears, but
words of authors and of sciences and of books; reflecting on which I
judged well that Philosophy, who was the Lady of these authors, of
these sciences, and of these books, might be a supreme thing. And I
imagined her in the form of a gentle Lady; and I could imagine her in
no other attitude than a compassionate one, because if willingly the
sense of Truth beheld her, hardly could it turn away from her. And
with this imagination I began to go where she is demonstrated
truthfully, that is, to the Schools of the Religious, and to the
disputations of the Philosophers; so that in a short time, perhaps of
thirty months, I began to feel her sweetness so much that my love for
her chased away and destroyed all other thought. Wherefore I, feeling
myself to rise from the thought of the first Love to the virtue of
this new one, as if wondering at myself, opened my mouth in the speech
of the proposed Song, showing my condition under the figure of other
things: for of the Lady with whom I was enamoured, no rhyme of any
Vernacular was worthy to speak openly, neither were the hearers so
well prepared that they could have easily understood the words without
figure: neither would faith have been given by them to the true
meaning, as to the figurative; since if the truth of the whole was
believed, that I was inclined to that love, it would not be believed
of this. I then begin to speak: "Ye who, intent of thought, the third
Heaven move."

And because, as has been said, this Lady was the daughter of God, the
Queen of all, the most noble and most beautiful Philosophy, it remains
to be seen who these Movers were, and what this third Heaven. And
firstly of the third Heaven, according to the order which has been
gone through. And here it is not needful to proceed to division, and
to explanation of the letter, for, having turned the fictitious speech
away from that which it utters to that which it means, by the
exposition just gone through, this meaning is sufficiently made
evident.

CHAPTER XIV.

In order to see what is meant by the "third Heaven," one has in the
first place to perceive what I desire to express by this word Heaven
alone: and then one will see how and why this third Heaven was needful
to us. I say that by Heaven I mean Science, and by the Heavens "the
Sciences," from three resemblances which the Heavens have with the
Sciences, especially by the order and number in which they must
appear; as will be seen by discussing that word Third. The first
similitude is the revolution of the one and the other round one fixed
centre. For each movable Heaven revolves round its centre, which, on
account of its movement, moves not; and thus each Science moves round
its subject, which itself moves not; for no Science demonstrates its
own foundation, but presupposes that. The second similitude is the
illumination of the one and the other. For each Heaven illuminates
visible things; and thus each Science illuminates the things
intelligible. And the third similitude is the inducing of perfection
in the things so inclined. Of which induction, as to the first
perfection, that is, of the substantial generation, all the
philosophers agree that the Heavens are the cause, although they
attribute this in different ways: some from the Movers, as Plato,
Avicenna, and Algazel; some from the stars themselves, especially the
human souls, as Socrates, and also Plato and Dionysius the
Academician; and some from celestial virtue which is in the natural
heat of the seed, as Aristotle and the other Peripatetics. Thus the
Sciences are the cause in us of the induction of the second
perfection; by the use of which we can speculate concerning the Truth,
which is our ultimate perfection, as the Philosopher says in the sixth
book of the Ethics, when he says that Truth is the good of the
intellect. Because of these and many other resemblances, it is
possible to call Science, Heaven.

Now it remains to see why it is called the third Heaven. Here it is
requisite to reflect somewhat with regard to a comparison which exists
between the order of the Heavens and that of the Sciences Wherefore,
as has been previously described, the Seven Heavens next to us are
those of the Planets; then there are two Heavens above these, the
Mobile, and one above all, Quiet. To the Seven first correspond the
Seven Sciences of the _Trivium_ and of the _Quadrivium_,
namely, Grammar, Logic, Rhetoric, Arithmetic, Music, Geometry, and
Astrology. To the eighth Sphere, i.e., to the starry, correspond
Natural Science, which is termed Physics, and the first Science, which
is termed Metaphysics. To the ninth Sphere corresponds Moral Science;
and to the Quiet Heaven corresponds Divine Science, which is
designated Theology.

And the reason why this is, remains briefly to be seen. I say that the
Heaven of the Moon is likened unto Grammar because it is possible to
find a comparison to it. For if you look at the Moon well, two things
are seen to be proper to it which are not seen in the other stars: the
one is the shadow which is in it, which is no other than the rarity of
its body, in which the rays of the Sun can find no end wherefrom to
strike back again as in the other parts; the other is the variation of
its brightness, which now shines on one side, and now on the other,
according as the Sun sees it. And these two properties Grammar has:
for, because of its infinity, the rays of reason can find no end in it
in parts, especially of the words; and it shines now on this side, now
on that, inasmuch as certain words, certain declensions, certain
constructions, are in use which were not formerly, and many formerly
were which again will be; as Horace says in the beginning of his book
on the art of Poetry, when he says: "Many words will spring up again
which have now fallen out of use."

And the Heaven of Mercury may be compared to Logic because of two
properties: that Mercury is the smallest star in Heaven, that the
amount of its diameter is no more than two hundred and thirty-two
miles, according as Alfergano puts it, who says that it is one
twenty-eighth part of the diameter of the Earth, which is six thousand
five hundred miles; the other property is, that it is more concealed
by the rays of the Sun than any other star. And these two properties
are in Logic: for Logic is less in substance than any other Science,
for it is perfectly compiled and terminated in so much text as is
found in the old Art and the new; and it is more concealed than any
other Science, inasmuch as it proceeds with more sophistical and
probable arguments than any other.

And the Heaven of Venus may be compared to Rhetoric because of two
properties: the one is the brightness of its aspect, which is most
sweet to behold, far more than any other star; the other is its
appearance, now in the morning, now in the evening. And these two
properties are in Rhetoric: for Rhetoric is the sweetest of all
Sciences, since it principally aims at sweetness. It appears in the
morning, when the Rhetorician speaks before the face of the hearer; it
appears in the evening, that is, afterwards, when it speaks by Letters
in distant parts.

And the Heaven of the Sun may be compared to Arithmetic because of two
properties: the one is, that with his light all the other stars are
informed; the other is that the eye cannot gaze at it. And these two
properties are in Arithmetic, which with its light illuminates all its
Sciences: for their subjects are all considered under some Number, and
with Number one always proceeds in the consideration of these; as in
Natural Science the movable body is the subject, which movable body
has in itself three reasons of continuity, and this has in itself
reason of infinite number. And of Natural Science its first and
chiefest consideration is to consider the principles of natural
objects, which are three, that is, matter, privation, and form; in
which this Number is seen, and not only in all together, but again in
each one, as he who considers subtly may perceive. Wherefore,
Pythagoras, according to what Aristotle says in the first book of the
Physics, established as the principles of natural things, the equal
and the unequal; considering all things to be Number. The other
property of the Sun is again seen in Number, of which Number is the
Science of Arithmetic, that the eye of the intellect cannot gaze at
it. For Number, inasmuch as it is considered in itself, is infinite;
and this we cannot, understand.

And the Heaven of Mars may be compared to Music because of two
properties. One is its most beautiful relative position; for, when
enumerating the movable Heavens, from which one soever you may begin,
either from the lowest or from the highest, this Heaven of Mars is the
fifth; it is the central one of all, that is, of the first, of the
second, of the third, and of the fourth. The other is, that this Mars
dries up and burns things, because his heat is like to that of fire;
and this is why it appears flaming in colour, sometimes more and
sometimes less, according to the density and rarity of the vapours
which follow it, which of themselves are often kindled, as is
determined in the first book on Meteors. And, therefore, Albumassar
says that the kindling of these vapours signifies the death of Kings
and the change of Kingdoms; for they are the effects of the dominion
of Mars. And, therefore, Seneca says that, on the death of Augustus,
he beheld on high a ball of fire. And in Florence, at the beginning of
its destruction, there was seen in the air, in the form of a cross, a
great quantity of these vapours following the planet Mars. And these
two properties are in Music, which is all relative, as is seen in
harmonized words and in songs, from which the sweeter harmony results
in proportion as the relation is more beautiful, which in this Science
is especially beautiful, because there is in it a special harmony.
Again, Music attracts to itself human spirits, which are as it were
chiefly vapours from the heart, so that they almost cease from all
labour; so is the whole soul when it hears it, and the power of all
those spirits flies as it were to the spirit of sense, which receives
the sound.

And the Heaven of Jupiter can be compared to Geometry because of two
properties. The one is, that it moves between two Heavens, repugnant
to its good tempering, namely, that of Mars and that of Saturn. Hence
Ptolemy says, in the book alluded to, that Jupiter is a star of a
temperate complexion, midway between the cold of Saturn and the heat
of Mars. The other is, that amongst all the stars it appears white, as
if silvered. And these things are in the Science of Geometry. Geometry
moves between two things antagonistic to it; as between the point and
the circle, and I term circle freely anything that is round, either a
body or superfices; for, as Euclid says, the point is the beginning of
Geometry, and, according to what he says, the circle is the most
perfect figure in it, which must therefore have reason for its end; so
that between the point and the circle, as between the beginning and
the end, Geometry moves. And these two are antagonistic to its
certainty; for the point by its indivisibility is immeasurable, and
the circle, on account of its arc, it is impossible to square
perfectly, and therefore it is impossible to measure precisely. And
again, Geometry is most white, inasmuch as it is without spot of
error, and it is most certain in itself, and by its handmaid, called
Perspective.

And the Heaven of Saturn has two properties because of which it can be
compared to Astrology. One is the slowness of its movement through the
twelve signs; for twenty-nine years and more, according to the
writings of the Astrologers, is the time that it requires in its
orbit. The other is, that above all the other planets it is highest.
And these two properties are in Astrology, for in completing its
circle, as in the acquirement of this Science, the greatest space of
time is revolved, because its demonstrations are more than any other
of the aforementioned Sciences, and long experience is requisite to
those who would acquire good judgment in it. And again, it is the
highest of all the others, because, as Aristotle says in the
commencement of his book on the Soul, the Science is high, because of
its nobility, and because of the nobleness of its subject and its
certainty. And this Science more than any other of those mentioned
above is noble and high, for noble and high is its subject, which is
the movement of the Heavens; and high and noble, because of its
certainty, which is without any defect, even as that which springs
from the most perfect and most regular principle. And if any one
believe that there is defect in it, it is not on the part of the
Science, but, as Ptolemy says, it is through our negligence, and to
that it must be imputed.

CHAPTER XV.

After the comparisons which I have made of the seven first Heavens, we
must now proceed to the others, which are three, as has been often
stated.

I say that the Starry Heaven may be compared to Physics because of
three properties, and to Metaphysics because of three others. For it
shows us of itself two visible things, such as the multitude of stars
and such as the Galaxy, that white circle which the common people call
the Path of St. James. It shows to us also one of the poles, and keeps
the other hidden from us. And it shows to us one movement alone from
East to West; and another, which it makes from West to East, it keeps
almost, as it were, hidden from us. Therefore, in due order are to be
seen, first the comparison with the Physical and then that with the
Metaphysical.

I say that the Starry Heaven shows us many stars; for, according to
what the wise men of Egypt have seen, even to the last star which
appeared to them in the Meridian, they place there twenty-two thousand
bodies of stars, of which I speak. And in this it has the greatest
similitude with Physics, if these three numbers, namely, Two, and
Twenty, and Thousand, are regarded well and subtly. For by the two is
meant the local movement, which is of necessity from one point to
another; and by the twenty is signified the movement of the
alteration, for, since from the ten upwards one advances not except by
altering this ten with the other nine and with itself; and the most
beautiful alteration which it receives is its own with itself, and the
first which it receives is the twenty; reasonably by this number the
said movement is signified. And by the thousand is signified the
movement of increase, which in name, that is, this thousand, is the
greater number, and to increase still more is not possible except by
multiplying this. And these three movements alone are observed in
Physics, as it is demonstrated in the fifth chapter of his first book.

And because of the Milky Way, this Heaven has a great similitude with
Metaphysics. Wherefore, it is to be known that concerning this Galaxy
the Philosophers have had different opinions. For the followers of
Pythagoras said that the Sun at some time or other went astray from
his path, and, passing through other parts not suitable to his fervent
heat, he burnt the place through which he passed, and there remained
that appearance of the conflagration. And I believe that they were
moved by the fable of Phaeton, which Ovid relates in the beginning of
the second part of his Metamorphoses. Others said, such as Anaxagoras
and Democritus, that it was the light of the Sun reflected into that
part. And these opinions, with demonstrative reasons, they proved over
and over again. What Aristotle may have said of this is not so easy to
learn, because his opinion is not found to be the same in one
translation as in the other; and I believe that it might be due to the
error of the translators, for in the new one he seems to say that the
Galaxy is a collection of vapours under the stars of that part which
always attract them; and this does not seem to be the true reason. In
the old translation he says that the Galaxy is no other than a
multitude of fixed stars in that part, so small that we cannot
distinguish them from here below, but that they cause the whiteness
which we call the Milky Way. And it may be that the Heaven in that
part is more dense, and therefore retains and represents that light;
and this opinion Avicenna and Ptolemy seem to share with Aristotle.
Therefore, since the Galaxy is an effect of those stars which we
cannot see, if we understand those things by their effect alone, and
Metaphysics treats of the first substances, which we cannot similarly
understand except by their effects, it is evident that the Starry
Heaven has a great similitude to Metaphysics.

Again, by the pole which we see is signified the things known to our
senses, concerning which, taking them universally, the Science of
Physics treats; and by the pole which we do not see is signified the
things which are without matter, which are not sensible, concerning
which Metaphysics treats; and therefore the said Heaven has a great
similitude with the one Science and with the other.

Again, by the two movements it signifies these two Sciences: for by
the movement in which every day revolves, and makes a new revolution
from point to point, it signifies things natural and corruptible which
daily complete their path, and their material is changed from form to
form; and of this the Science of Physics treats. And by the almost
insensible movement which it makes from West to East by one degree in
a hundred years, it signifies things incorruptible, which received
from God the beginning of their creation, and will have no end; but of
these Metaphysics treats. Therefore I say that this movement signifies
those things, for it began this revolution which will have no end; the
end of the revolution being to return to one self-same point, to which
this Heaven will not return by this movement, which has revolved a
little more than the sixth part from the commencement of the world;
and we are now in the last age of the world, and verily we wait the
consummation of the celestial movement. Thus it is evident that the
Starry Heaven, on account of many properties, may be compared to the
Science of Physics and Metaphysics.

The Crystalline Heaven, which, as the Primum Mobile, has been
previously counted, has a sufficiently evident comparison to Moral
Philosophy; for Moral Philosophy, according to what Tommaso says upon
the second book of the Ethics, teaches us method in the other
Sciences.

For as the Philosopher says in the fifth book of the Ethics, legal
Justice requires the Sciences to be learnt, and commands, in order
that they may not be abandoned, that they be learnt and taught: thus,
the said Heaven rules with its movement the daily revolution of all
the others; from which revolution every day all those receive and send
below the virtues of their several parts. For, if the revolution of
this Heaven could not rule over that, but little of their power would
descend below, and little of their aspect. Wherefore we hold that, if
it could be possible for this ninth Heaven not to move, the third part
of the Heaven would not again be seen in any part from the Earth:
Saturn would be for fourteen years and a half concealed from any place
on the Earth, Jupiter would be hidden for six years, and Mars for
almost a whole year, and the Sun for one hundred and eighty-two days
and fourteen hours (I say days, meaning so much time as so many days
measure); and Venus and Mercury, almost like the Sun, would be hidden
and would reappear, and the Moon for the space of fourteen days and a
half would be hidden from all people. Verily, here below there would
be neither generation, nor the life of animals, nor of plants; there
would be no night, nor day, nor week, nor month, nor year; but the
whole Universe would be disordered, and the movement of the stars
would be in vain. Not otherwise, should Moral Philosophy cease to be,
would the other Sciences be hidden for some time, and there would be
no generation nor life of happiness, and all books would be in vain,
and all discoveries of old. Therefore it is sufficiently evident that
there is a comparison between this Heaven and Moral Philosophy.

Again, the Empyrean Heaven, because of its Peace, bears a similitude
to the Divine Science, which is full of all Peace; which endures no
conflict of opinion or of sophistical arguments, on account of the
most excellent certainty of its subject, which is God. And of this He
Himself speaks to His disciples: "My peace I give to you: My peace I
leave unto you," giving and leaving to them His doctrine, which is
this Science whereof I speak.

Solomon says of this Science: "Sixty are the queens, and eighty the
friendly concubines; and youthful virgins without number; but one is
my dove and my perfect one." All the Sciences he terms queens, and
friends, and virgins; and he calls this one dove, because it is
without blemish of strife; and he calls this one perfect, because it
causes us to see perfectly the Truth in which our Soul finds Peace.

And therefore the comparison of the Heavens to the Sciences having
been thus reasoned out, it is easy to see that by the Third Heaven I
mean Rhetoric, which has been likened unto the Third Heaven, as
appears above.

CHAPTER XVI.

By the similitudes spoken of it is possible to see who these Movers
are to whom I speak; what are the Movers of that Heaven; even as
Boethius and Tullius, who by the sweetness of their speech sent me, as
has before been stated, to the Love, which is the study of that most
gentle Lady, Philosophy, by the rays of their star, which is the
written word of that fair one. Therefore in each Science the written
word is a star full of light, which that Science reveals And, this
being made manifest, it is easy to see the true meaning of the first
verse of the purposed Poem by means of the exposition, Figurative and
Literal. And by means of this self-same exposition one can
sufficiently understand the second verse, even to that part where it
says, This Spirit made me look on a fair Lady: where it should be
known that this Lady is Philosophy; which truly is a Lady full of
sweetness, adorned with modesty, wonderful for wisdom, the glory of
freedom, as in the Third Treatise, where her Nobility will be
described, it is made manifest. And then where it says: "Who seeks
where his Salvation lies, Must gaze intently in this Lady's eyes;" the
eyes of this Lady are her demonstrations, which look straight into the
eyes of the intellect, enamour the Soul, and set it free from the
trammels of circumstance. Oh, most sweet and ineffable forms, swift
stealers of the human mind, which appear in these demonstrations, that
is, in the eyes of Philosophy, when she discourses to her faithful
friends! Verily in you is Salvation, whereby he is made blessed who
looks at you, and is saved from the death of Ignorance and Vice. Where
it says, "Nor dread the sighs of anguish, joys debarred," the wish is
to signify, if he fear not the labour of study and the strife of
conflicting opinions, which flow forth ever multiplying from the
living Spring in the eyes of this Lady, and then her light still
continuing, they fall away, almost like little morning clouds before
the Sun. And now the intellect, become her friend, remains free and
full of certain Truth, even as the atmosphere is rendered pure and
bright by the shining of the midday Sun.

The third passage again is explained by the Literal exposition as far
as to where it says, "Still therefore the Soul weeps." Here it is
desirable to attend to a certain moral sense which may be observed in
these words: that a man ought not for the sake of the greater friend
to forget the service received from the lesser; but if one must follow
the one and leave the other, the greater is to be followed, with
honest lamentation for desertion of the other, whereby he gives
occasion to the one whom he follows to bestow more love on him. Then
there where it says, "Of my eyes," has no other meaning except that
bitter was the hour when the first demonstration of this Lady entered
into the eyes of my intellect, which was the cause of this most close
attachment. And there where it says, "My peers," it means the Souls
set free from miserable and vile pleasures, and from vulgar habits,
endowed with understanding and memory. And then it says, "Her eyes
bear death," and then it says, "I gazed on her and die," which appears
contrary to that which is said above of Salvation by this Lady. And
therefore it is to be known that one Spirit speaks here on one side
and the other speaks there on the other; which two dispute
contrariwise, according to that which is made evident above. Wherefore
it is no wonder if here the one Spirit says Yes, and there the other
Spirit says No. Then in the stanza where it says, "A sweet voice of
tenderness," a thought is meant which was born of my deep
contemplation; wherefore it is to be known that by Love, in this
Allegory, is always meant that deep contemplation which is the earnest
application of the enamoured mind to that object wherewith it is
enamoured. Then when it says, "There shall shine High miracles before
thee," it announces that through her the adornments of the miracles
will be seen; and it speaks truly, that the adornment of the miracles
is to see the cause of the same, which she demonstrates; as in the
beginning of the book on Metaphysics the Philosopher seems to feel,
saying that, through the contemplation of these adornments, men began
to be enamoured with this Lady. And concerning this word, i.e.,
miracle, in the following treatise I shall speak more fully. What then
follows of this Song is sufficiently explained by the other
exposition.

And thus at the end of this Second Treatise, I say and affirm that the
Lady with whom I became enamoured after the first Love was the most
beautiful and most excellent daughter of the Ruler of the Universe, to
which daughter Pythagoras gave the name of Philosophy. And here ends
the Second Treatise, which is brought in for the first dish at my
Banquet.

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