{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_12867/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_12867","id":"gutenberg_12867","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12867","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Philosophy"],"text":"IL  CONVITO\n\n              THE BANQUET\n\n                  OF\n\n            DANTE ALIGHIERI\n\n\n             Translated By\n\n         Elizabeth Price Sayer\n\n   With An Introduction By Henry Morely\nLL.D., Professor Of English Literature At\n       University College, London\n\n\n                 1887\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n\nThis translation of Dante's Convito--the first in English--is from the\nhand of a lady whose enthusiasm for the genius of Dante has made it a\nchief pleasure of her life to dwell on it by translating, not his\nDivine Comedy only, but also the whole body of his other works. Among\nthose works the Vita Nuova and the Convito have a distinct place, as\nleading up to the great masterpiece. In the New Life, Man starts on\nhis career with human love that points to the divine. In the Banquet,\nhe passes to mature life and to love of knowledge that declares the\npower and the love of God in the material and moral world about us and\nwithin us. In the Divine Comedy, the Poet passes to the world to come,\nand rises to the final union of the love for Beatrice, the beatifier,\nwith the glory of the Love of God. Of this great series, the crowning\nwork has, of course, had many translators, and there have been\ntranslators also of the book that shows the youth of love. But the\nnoble fragment of the Convito that unites these two has, I believe,\nnever yet been placed within reach of the English reader, except by a\ntranslation of its poems only into unrhymed measure in Mr. Charles\nLyell's \"Poems of the Vita Nuova and the Convito,\" published in 1835.\n\nThe Convito is a fragment. There are four books where fifteen were\ndesigned, including three only of the intended fourteen songs. But the\nplan is clear, and one or two glances forward to the matter of the\nlast book, which would have had Justice for its theme, show that all\nwas to have been brought to a high spiritual close.\n\nIts aim was no less than the lifting of men's minds by knowledge of\nthe world without them and within them, bound together in creation,\nshowing forth the Mind of the Creator. The reader of this volume must\nnot flinch from the ingenious dialectics of the medi\u00e6val reasoner on\nMan and Nature. Dante's knowledge is the knowledge of his time.\nScience had made little advance since Aristotle--who is \"the\nPhilosopher\" taken by Dante for his human guide--first laid its\nfoundations. It is useful, no doubt, to be able in a book like this,\nshaped by a noble mind, to study at their best the forms of reasoning\nthat made the science of the Middle Ages. But the reader is not called\nupon to make his mind unhappy with endeavours to seize all the points,\nsay, of a theory of the heavens that was most ingenious, but in no\npart true. The main thing is to observe how the mistaken reasoning\njoins each of the seven sciences to one of the seven heavens, and here\nas everywhere joins earth to heaven, and bids man lift his head and\nlook up, Godward, to the source of light. If spiritual truth could\nonly come from right and perfect knowledge, this would have been a\nworld of dead souls from the first till now; for future centuries, in\nlooking back at us, will wonder at the little faulty knowledge that we\nthink so much. But let the known be what it may, the true soul rises\nfrom it to a sense of the divine mysteries of Wisdom and of Love.\nDante's knowledge may be full of ignorance, and so is ours. But he\nfills it as he can with the Spirit of God. He is not content that men\nshould be as sheep, and look downward to earth for all the food they\nneed. He bids them to a Banquet of another kind, whose dishes are of\nknowledge for the mind and heavenward aspiration for the soul.\n\nDante's Convito--of which the name was, no doubt, suggested by the\nBanquets of Plato and Xenophon--was written at the close of his life,\nafter the Divine Comedy, and no trace has been found of more of its\nsongs than the three which may have been written and made known some\ntime before he began work on their Commentary. Death stayed his hand,\nand the completion passed into a song that joined the voice of Dante\nto the praise in heaven.\n\nH.M.\n\n_April_ 1887.\n\n\n\n\nTHE\n\nBANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nThe First Treatise.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\n\nAs the Philosopher says in the beginning of the first Philosophy, \"All\nmen naturally desire Knowledge.\" The reason of which may be, that each\nthing, impelled by the intuition of its own nature, tends towards its\nperfection, hence, forasmuch as Knowledge is the final perfection of\nour Soul, in which our ultimate happiness consists, we are all\nnaturally subject to the desire for it.\n\nVerily, many are deprived of this most noble perfection, by divers\ncauses within the man and without him, which remove him from the use\nof Knowledge.\n\nWithin the man there may be two defects or impediments, the one on the\npart of the Body, the other on the part of the Soul. On the part of\nthe Body it is, when the parts are unfitly disposed, so that it can\nreceive nothing as with the deaf and dumb, and their like. On the part\nof the Soul it is, when evil triumphs in it, so that it becomes the\nfollower of vicious pleasures, through which it is so much deceived,\nthat on account of them it holds everything in contempt.\n\nWithout the man, two causes may in like manner be understood, of which\none comes of necessity, the other of stagnation. The first is the\nmanagement of the family and conduct of civil affairs, which fitly\ndraws to itself the greater number of men, so that they cannot live in\nthe quietness of speculation. The other is the fault of the place\nwhere a person is born and reared, which will ofttimes be not only\nwithout any School whatever, but may be far distant from studious\npeople. The two first of these causes--the first of the hindrance from\nwithin, and the first of the hindrance from without--are not deserving\nof blame, but of excuse and pardon; the two others, although the one\nmore than the other, deserve blame and are to be detested.\n\nHence, he who reflects well, can manifestly see that they are few who\ncan attain to the enjoyment of Knowledge, though it is desired by all,\nand almost innumerable are the fettered ones who live for ever\nfamished of this food.\n\nOh, blessed are those few who sit at that table where the Bread of\nAngels is eaten, and wretched those who can feed only as the Sheep.\nBut because each man is naturally friendly to each man, and each\nfriend grieves for the fault of him whom he loves; they who are fed at\nthat high table are full of mercy towards those whom they see straying\nin one pasture with the creatures who eat grass and acorns.\n\nAnd forasmuch as Mercy is the Mother of Benevolence, those who know\nhow, do always liberally offer their good wealth to the true poor, and\nare like a living stream, whose water cools the before-named natural\nthirst. I, then, who sit not at the blessed table, but having fled\nfrom the pasture of the common herd, lie at the feet of those who sit\nthere and gather up what falls from them, by the sweetness which I\nfind in that which I collect little by little, I know the wretched\nlife of those whom I have left behind me; and moved mercifully for the\nunhappy ones, not forgetting myself, I have reserved something which I\nhave shown to their eyes long ago, and for this I have made them\ngreatly desirous. Wherefore, now wishing to prepare for them, I mean\nto make a common Banquet of this which I have shown to them, and of\nthat needed bread without which food such as this could not be eaten\nby them at their feast; bread fit for such meat, which I know, without\nit, would be furnished forth in vain. And therefore I desire that no\none should sit at this Banquet whose members are so unfitly disposed\nthat he has neither teeth, nor tongue, nor palate: nor any follower of\nvice; inasmuch as his stomach is full of venomous and hurtful humours,\nso that it will retain no food whatever. But let those come to us,\nwhosoever they be, who, pressed by the management of civil and\ndomestic life, have felt this human hunger, and at one table with\nothers who have been in like bondage, let them sit. But at their feet\nlet us place all those who have been the slaves of sloth, and who are\nnot worthy to sit higher: and then let these and those eat of my dish,\nwith the bread which I will cause them to taste and to digest.\n\nThe meat at this repast will be prepared in fourteen different ways,\nthat is, in fourteen Songs, some of whose themes will be of Love and\nsome of Virtue: which, without the present bread, might have some\nshadow of obscurity, so that to many they might be acceptable more on\naccount of their form than because of their spirit. But this bread is\nthe present Exposition. It will be the Light whereby each colour of\ntheir design will be made visible.\n\nAnd if in the present work, which is named \"Convito\"--the Banquet, the\nglad Life Together--I desire that the subject should be discussed more\nmaturely than in the Vita Nuova--the New Life--I do not therefore mean\nin any degree to undervalue that Fresh Life, but greatly to enhance\nit; seeing how reasonable it is for that age to be fervid and\npassionate, and for this to be mature and temperate. At one age it is\nfit to speak and work in one way, and at another age in another way;\nbecause certain manners are fit and praiseworthy at one age which are\nimproper and blameable at another, as will be demonstrated with\nsuitable argument in the fourth treatise of this Book. In that first\nBook (Vita Nuova) at the entrance into my youth I spoke; and in this\nlatter I speak after my youth has already passed away. And since my\ntrue meaning may be other than that which the aforesaid songs show\nforth, I mean by an allegoric exposition to explain these after the\nliteral argument shall have been reasoned out: so that the one\nargument with the other shall give a relish to those who are the\nguests invited to this Banquet. And of them all I pray that if the\nfeast be not so splendid as befits the proclamation thereof, let them\nimpute each defect, not to my will but to my means, since my will here\nis to a full and loving Liberality.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n\nIn preparing for every well-ordered Banquet the servants are wont to\ntake the proper bread, and see that it is clean from all blemish;\nwherefore I, who in the present writing stand in servant's place,\nintend firstly to remove two spots from this exposition which at my\nrepast stands in the place of bread.\n\nThe one is, that it appears to be unlawful for any one to speak of\nhimself; the other, that it seems to be unreasonable to speak too\ndeeply when giving explanations. Let the knife of my judgment pare\naway from the present treatise the unlawful and the unreasonable. One\ndoes not permit any Rhetorician to speak of himself without a\nnecessary cause. And from this is the man removed, because he can\nspeak of no one without praise or blame of those of whom he speaks;\nwhich two causes commonly induce a man to speak of himself. And in\norder to remove a doubt which here arises, I say that it is worse for\nany one to blame than to praise himself, although neither may have to\nbe done. The reason is, that anything which is essentially wrong is\nworse than that which is wrong through accident. For a man openly to\nbring contempt on himself is essentially wrong to his friend, because\na man owes it to take account of his fault secretly, and no one is\nmore friendly to himself than the man himself. In the chamber of his\nthoughts, therefore, he should reprove himself and weep over his\nfaults, and not before the world. Again, a man is but seldom blamed\nwhen he has not the power or the knowledge requisite to guide himself\naright: but he is always blamed when weak of will, because our good or\nevil dispositions are measured by the strength of will. Wherefore he\nwho blames himself proves that he knows his fault, while he reveals\nhis want of goodness; if, therefore, he know his fault, let him no\nmore speak evil of himself. If a man praise himself it is to avoid\nevil, as it were; inasmuch as it cannot be done except such\nself-laudation become in excess dishonour; it is praise in appearance,\nit is infamy in substance. For the words are spoken to prove that of\nwhich he has not inward assurance. Hence, he who lauds himself proves\nhis belief that he is not esteemed to be a good man, and this befalls\nhim not unless he have an evil conscience, which he reveals by\nself-praise, and in so revealing it he blames himself.\n\nAnd, again, self-praise and self-blame are to be shunned equally, for\nthis reason, that it is false witnessing. Because there is no man who\ncan be a true and just judge of himself, so much will self-love\ndeceive him. Hence it happens that every man has in his own judgment\nthe measures of the false merchant, who sells with the one, and buys\nwith the other. Every man weights the scales against his own\nwrong-doing, and adds weight to his good deeds; so that the number and\nthe quantity and the weight of the good deeds appear to him to be\ngreater than if they were tried in a just balance; and in like manner\nthe evil appears less. Wherefore speaking of himself with praise or\nwith blame, either he speaks falsely with regard to the thing of which\nhe speaks, or he speaks falsely by the fault of his judgment; and as\nthe one is untruth, so is the other. And therefore, since to acquiesce\nis to admit, he is wrong who praises or who blames before the face of\nany man; because the man thus appraised can neither acquiesce nor deny\nwithout falling into the error of either praising or blaming himself.\nReserve the way of due correction, which cannot be taken without\nreproof of error, and which corrects if understood. Reserve also the\nway of due honour and glory, which cannot be taken without mention of\nvirtuous works, or of dignities that have been worthily acquired.\n\nAnd in truth, returning to the main argument, I say, as before, that\nit is permitted to a man for requisite reasons to speak of himself.\nAnd amongst the several requisite reasons two are most evident: the\none is when a man cannot avoid great danger and infamy, unless he\ndiscourse of himself; and then it is conceded for the reason, that to\ntake the less objectionable of the only two paths, is to take as it\nwere a good one. And this necessity moved Boethius to speak of\nhimself, in order that under pretext of Consolation he might excuse\nthe perpetual shame of his imprisonment, by showing that imprisonment\nto be unjust; since no other man arose to justify him. And this reason\nmoved St. Augustine to speak of himself in his Confessions; that, by\nthe progress of his life, which was from bad to good, and from good to\nbetter, and from better to best, he might give example and\ninstruction, which, from truer testimony, no one could receive.\nTherefore, if either of these reasons excuse me, the bread of my\nmoulding is sufficiently cleared from its first impurity.\n\nThe fear of shame moves me; and I am moved by the desire to give\ninstruction which others truly are unable to give. I fear shame for\nhaving followed passion so ardently, as he may conceive who reads the\nafore-named Songs, and sees how greatly I was ruled by it; which shame\nceases entirely by the present speech of myself, which proves that not\npassion but virtue may have been the moving cause.\n\nI intend also to demonstrate the true meaning of those Poems, which\nsome could not perceive unless I relate it, because it is concealed\nunder the veil of Allegory; and this it not only will give pleasure to\nhear, but subtle instruction, both as to the diction and as to the\nintention of the other writings.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\n\nMuch fault is in that thing which is appointed to remove some grave\nevil, and yet encourages it; even as in the man who might be sent to\nquell a tumult, and, before he had quelled it, should begin another.\n\nAnd forasmuch as my bread is made clean on one side, it behoves me to\ncleanse it on the other, in order to shun this reproof: that my\nwriting, which one may term, as it were, a Commentary, is appointed to\nremove obscurity from the before-mentioned Songs, and is, in fact,\nitself at times a little hard to understand. This obscurity is here\nintended, in order to avoid a greater defect, and does not occur\nthrough ignorance. Alas! would that it might have pleased the\nDispenser of the Universe that the cause of my excuse might never have\nbeen; that others might neither have sinned against me, nor I have\nsuffered punishment unjustly; the punishment, I say, of exile and\npoverty! Since it was the pleasure of the citizens of the most\nbeautiful and the most famous daughter of Rome, Florence, to cast me\nout from her most sweet bosom (wherein I was born and nourished even\nto the height of my life, and in which, with her goodwill, I desire\nwith all my heart to repose my weary soul, and to end the time which\nis given to me), I have gone through almost all the land in which this\nlanguage lives--a pilgrim, almost a mendicant--showing forth against\nmy will the wound of Fortune, with which the ruined man is often\nunjustly reproached. Truly I have been a ship without a sail and\nwithout a rudder, borne to divers ports and lands and shores by the\ndry wind which blows from doleful poverty; and I have appeared vile in\nthe eyes of many, who perhaps through some report may have imaged me\nin other form. In the sight of whom not only my person became vile,\nbut each work already completed was held to be of less value than that\nmight again be which remained yet to be done.\n\nThe reason wherefore this happens (not only to me but to all), it now\npleases me here briefly to touch upon. And firstly, it is because\nrumour goes beyond the truth; and then, what is beyond the truth\nrestricts and strangles it. Good report is the first born of kindly\nthought in the mind of the friend; which the mind of the foe, although\nit may receive the seed, conceives not.\n\nThat mind which gives birth to it in the first place, so to make its\ngift more fair, as by the charity of friendship, keeps not within\nbounds of truth, but passes beyond them. When one does that to adorn a\ntale, he speaks against his conscience; when it is charity that causes\nhim to pass the bounds, he speaks not against conscience.\n\nThe second mind which receives this, not only is content with the\nexaggeration of the first mind, but its own report adds its own effect\nof endeavours to embellish, and so by this action, and by the\ndeception which it also receives from the goodwill generated in it,\ngood report is made more ample than it should be; either with the\nconsent or the dissent of the conscience; even as it was with the\nfirst mind. And the third receiving mind does this; and the fourth;\nand thus the exaggeration of good ever grows. And so, by turning the\naforesaid motives in the contrary direction, one can perceive why\nill-fame in like manner is made to grow. Wherefore Virgil says in the\nfourth of the \u00c6neid: \"Let Fame live to be fickle, and grow as she\ngoes.\" Clearly, then, he who is willing may perceive that the image\ngenerated by Fame alone is always larger, whatever it may be, than the\nthing imaged is, in its true state.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\n\nHaving previously shown the reason why Fame magnifies the good and the\nevil beyond due limit, it remains in this chapter to show forth those\nreasons which make evident why the Presence restricts in the opposite\nway, and having shown this I will return to the principal proposition.\nI say, then, that for three causes his Presence makes a person of less\nvalue than he is. The first is childishness, I do not say of age, but\nof mind; the second is envy; and these are in the judge: the third is\nhuman impurity; and this is in the person judged. The first, one can\nbriefly reason thus: the greater part of men live according to sense\nand not according to reason, after the manner of children, and the\nlike of these judge things simply from without; and the goodness which\nis ordained to a fit end they perceive not, because the eyes of\nReason, which they need in order to perceive it, are closed. Hence,\nthey soon see all that they can, and judge according to their sight.\n\nAnd forasmuch as any opinion they form on the good fame of others,\nfrom hearsay, with which, in the presence of the person judged, their\nimperfect judgment may dissent, they amend not according to reason,\nbecause they judge merely according to sense, they will deem that\nwhich they have first heard to be a lie as it were, and dispraise the\nperson who was previously praised. Hence, in such men, and such are\nalmost all, Presence restricts the one fame and the other. Such men as\nthese are inconstant and are soon cloyed; they are often gay and often\nsad from brief joys and sorrows; speedy friends and speedy foes; each\nthing they do like children, without the use of reason.\n\nThe second observation from these reasons is, that due comparison is\ncause for envy to the vicious; and envy is a cause of evil judgment,\nbecause it does not permit Reason to argue for that which is envied,\nand the judicial power is then like the judge who hears only one side.\nHence, when such men as these perceive a person to be famous, they are\nimmediately jealous, because they compare members and powers; and they\nfear, on account of the excellence of such an one, to be themselves\naccounted of less worth; and these passionate men, not only judge\nevilly, but, by defamation, they cause others to judge evilly.\nWherefore with such men their apprehension restricts the\nacknowledgment of good and evil in each person represented; and I say\nthis also of evil, because many who delight in evil deeds have envy\ntowards evil-doers.\n\nThe third observation is of human frailty, which one accepts on the\npart of him who is judged, and from which familiar conversation is not\naltogether free. In evidence of this, it is to be known that man is\nstained in many parts; and, as says St. Augustine, \"none is without\nspot.\" Now, the man is stained with some passion, which he cannot\nalways resist; now, he is blemished by some fault of limb; now, he is\nbruised by some blow from Fortune; now, he is soiled by the ill-fame\nof his parents, or of some near relation: things which Fame does not\nbear with her, but which hang to the man, so that he reveals them by\nhis conversation; and these spots cast some shadow upon the brightness\nof goodness, so that they cause it to appear less bright and less\nexcellent. And this is the reason why each prophet is less honoured in\nhis own country; and this is why the good man ought to give his\npresence to few, and his familiarity to still fewer, in order that his\nname may be received and not despised. And this third observation may\nbe the same for the evil as for the good, if we reverse the conditions\nof the argument. Wherefore it is clearly evident that by\nimperfections, from which no one is free, the seen Presence restricts\nright perception of the good and of the evil in every one, more than\ntruth desires. Hence, since, as has been said above, I myself have\nbeen, as it were, visibly present to all the Italians, by which I\nperhaps am made more vile than truth desires, not only to those to\nwhom my repute had already run, but also to others, whereby I am made\nthe lighter; it behoves me that with a more lofty style I may give to\nthe present work a little gravity, through which it may show greater\nauthority. Let this suffice to excuse the difficulty of my commentary.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\n\nSince this bread is now cleared of accidental spots, it remains to\nexcuse it from a substantial one, that is for being in my native\ntongue and not in Latin; which by similitude one may term, of\nbarley-meal and not of wheaten flour. And from this it is briefly\nexcused by three reasons which moved me to choose the one rather than\nthe other. One springs from the avoidance of inconvenient Unfitness:\nthe second from the readiness of well-adjusted Liberality; the third\nfrom the natural Love for one's own Native Tongue. And these things,\nwith the grounds for them, to the staying of all possible reproof, I\nmean in due order to reason out in this form.\n\nThat which most adorns and commends human actions, and which most\ndirectly leads them to a good result, is the use of dispositions best\nadapted to the end in view; as the end aimed at in knighthood is\ncourage of mind and strength of body. And thus he who is ordained to\nthe service of others, ought to have those dispositions which are\nsuited to that end; as submission, knowledge and obedience, without\nwhich any one is unfit to serve well. Because if he is not subject to\neach of these conditions, he proceeds in his service always with\nfatigue and trouble, and but seldom continues in it. If he is not\nobedient, he never serves except as in his wisdom he thinks fit, and\nwhen he wills; which is rather the service of a friend than of a\nservant. Hence, to escape this disorder, this commentary is fit, which\nis made as a servant to the under-written Songs, in order to be\nsubject to these, and to each separate command of theirs. It must be\nconscious of the wants of its lord, and obedient to him, which\ndispositions would be all wanting to it if it were a Latin servant,\nnot a native, since the songs are all in the language of our people.\nFor, in the first place, if it had been a Latin servant he would be\nnot a subject but a sovereign, in nobility, in virtue, and in beauty;\nin nobility, because the Latin is perpetual and incorruptible; the\nlanguage of the vulgar is unstable and corruptible. Hence we see in\nthe ancient writings of the Latin Comedies and Tragedies that they\ncannot change, being the same Latin that we now have; this happens not\nwith our native tongue, which, being home-made, changes at pleasure.\nHence we see in the cities of Italy, if we will look carefully back\nfifty years from the present time, many words to have become extinct,\nand to have been born, and to have been altered. But if a little time\ntransforms them thus, a longer time changes them more. So that I say\nthat, if those who departed from this life a thousand years ago should\ncome back to their cities, they would believe those cities to be\ninhabited by a strange people, who speak a tongue discordant from\ntheir own. On this subject I will speak elsewhere more completely in a\nbook which I intend to write, God willing, on the \"Language of the\nPeople.\"\n\nAgain, the Latin was not subject, but sovereign, through virtue. Each\nthing has virtue in its nature, which does that to which it is\nordained; and the better it does it so much the more virtue it has:\nhence we call that man virtuous who lives a life contemplative or\nactive, doing that for which he is best fitted; we ascribe his virtue\nto the horse that runs swiftly and much, to which end he is ordained:\nwe see virtue of a sword that cuts through hard things well, since it\nhas been made to do so. Thus speech, which is ordained to express\nhuman thought, has virtue when it does that; and most virtue is in the\nspeech which does it most. Hence, forasmuch as the Latin reveals many\nthings conceived in the mind which the vulgar tongue cannot express,\neven as those know who have the use of either language, its virtue is\nfar greater than that of the vulgar tongue.\n\nAgain, it was not subject, but sovereign, because of its beauty. That\nthing man calls beautiful whose parts are duly proportionate, because\nbeauty results from their harmony; hence, man appears to be beautiful\nwhen his limbs are duly proportioned; and we call a song beautiful\nwhen the voices in it, according to the rule of art, are in harmony\nwith each other. Hence, that language is most beautiful in which the\nwords most fitly correspond, and this they do more in the Latin than\nin the present Language of the People, since the beautiful vulgar\ntongue follows use, and the Latin, Art. Hence, one concedes it to be\nmore beautiful, more virtuous and more noble. And so one concludes, as\nfirst proposed; that is, that the Latin Commentary would have been the\nSovereign, not the Subject, of the Songs.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n\nHaving shown how the present Commentary could not have been the\nsubject of Songs written in our native tongue, if it had been in the\nLatin, it remains to show how it could not have been capable or\nobedient to those Songs; and then it will be shown how, to avoid\nunsuitable disorder, it was needful to speak in the native tongue.\n\nI say that Latin would not have been a capable servant for my Lord the\nVernacular, for this reason. The servant is required chiefly to know\ntwo things perfectly: the one is the nature of his lord, because there\nare lords of such an asinine nature that they command the opposite of\nthat which they desire; and there are others who, without speaking,\nwish to be understood and served; and there are others who will not\nlet the servant move to do that which is needful, unless they have\nordered it. And because these variations are in men, I do not intend\nin the present work to show, for the digression would be enlarged too\nmuch, except as I speak in general, that such men as these are beasts,\nas it were, to whom reason is of little worth. Wherefore, if the\nservant know not the nature of his lord, it is evident that he cannot\nserve him perfectly. The other thing is, that it is requisite for the\nservant to know also the friends of his lord; for otherwise he could\nnot honour them, nor serve them, and thus he would not serve his lord\nperfectly: forasmuch as the friends are the parts of a whole, as it\nwere, because their whole is one wish or its opposite. Neither would\nthe Latin Commentary have had such knowledge of those things as the\nvulgar tongue itself has. That the Latin cannot be acquainted with the\nVulgar Tongue and with its friends, is thus proved. He who knows\nanything in general knows not that thing perfectly; even as he who\nknows from afar off one animal, knows not that animal perfectly,\nbecause he knows not if it be a dog, a wolf, or a he-goat. The Latin\nknows the Vulgar tongue in general, but not separately; for if it\nshould know it separately it would know all the Vulgar Tongues,\nbecause it is not right that it should know one more than the other;\nand thus, what man soever might possess the complete knowledge of the\nLatin tongue, the use of that knowledge would show him all\ndistinctions of the Vulgar. But this is not so, for one used to the\nLatin does not distinguish, if he be a native of Italy, the vulgar\ntongue of Provence from the German, nor can the German distinguish the\nvulgar Italian tongue from that of Provence: hence, it is evident that\nthe Latin is not cognizant of the Vulgar. Again, it is not cognizant\nof its friends, because it is impossible to know the friends without\nknowing the principal; hence, if the Latin does not know the Vulgar,\nas it is proved above, it is impossible for it to know its friends.\nAgain, without conversation or familiarity, it is impossible to know\nmen; and the Latin has no conversation with so many in any language as\nthe Vulgar has, to which all are friends, and consequently cannot know\nthe friends of the Vulgar.\n\nAnd this, that it would be possible to say, is no contradiction; that\nthe Latin does converse with some friends of the Vulgar: but since it\nis not familiar with all, it is not perfectly acquainted with its\nfriends, whereas perfect knowledge is required, and not defective.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\n\nHaving proved that the Latin Commentary could not have been a capable\nservant, I will tell how it could not have been an obedient one. He is\nobedient who has the good disposition which is called obedience. True\nobedience must have three things, without which it cannot be: it\nshould be sweet, and not bitter; entirely under control, and not\nimpulsive; with due measure, and not excessive; which three things it\nwas impossible for the Latin Commentary to have; and, therefore, it\nwas impossible for it to be obedient. That to the Latin it would have\nbeen impossible, as is said, is evident by such an argument as this:\neach thing which proceeds by an inverse order is laborious, and\nconsequently is bitter, and not sweet; even as to sleep by day and to\nwake by night, and to go backwards and not forwards. For the subject\nto command the sovereign, is to proceed in the inverse order; because\nthe direct order is, for the sovereign to command the subject; and\nthus it is bitter, and not sweet; and because to the bitter command it\nis impossible to give sweet obedience, it is impossible, when the\nsubject commands, for the obedience of the sovereign to be sweet.\nHence if the Latin is the sovereign of the Vulgar Tongue, as is shown\nabove by many reasons, and the Songs, which are in place of\ncommanders, are in the Vulgar Tongue, it is impossible for the\nargument to be sweet. Then is obedience entirely commanded, and in no\nway spontaneous, when that which the obedient man does, he would not\nhave done of his own will, either in whole or in part, without\ncommandment. And, therefore, if it might be commanded to me to carry\ntwo long robes upon my back, and if without commandment I should carry\none, I say that my obedience is not entirely commanded, but is in part\nspontaneous; and such would have been that of the Latin Commentary,\nand consequently it would not have been obedience entirely commanded.\nWhat such might have been appears by this, that the Latin, without the\ncommand of this Lord, the Vernacular, would have expounded many parts\nof his argument (and it does expound, as he who searches well the\nbooks written in Latin may perceive), which the Vulgar Tongue does\nnowhere.\n\nAgain, obedience is within bounds, and not excessive, when it goes to\nthe limit of the command, and no further; as Individual Nature is\nobedient to Universal Nature when she makes thirty-two teeth in the\nman, and no more and no less; and when she makes five fingers on the\nhand, and no more and no less; and the man is obedient to Justice when\nhe does that which the Law commands, and no more and no less.\n\nNeither would the Latin have done this, but it would have sinned not\nonly in the defect, and not only in the excess, but in each one; and\nthus its obedience would not have been within due limit, but\nintemperate, and consequently it would not have been obedient. That\nthe Latin would not have been the executor of the commandment of his\nLord, and that neither would he have been a usurper, one can easily\nprove. This Lord, namely, these Songs, to which this Commentary is\nordained for their servant, commands and desires that they shall be\nexplained to all those whose mind is so far intelligent that when they\nhear speech they can understand, and when they speak they can be\nunderstood. And no one doubts, that if the Songs should command by\nword of mouth, this would be their commandment. But the Latin would\nnot have explained them, except to the learned men: and so that the\nrest could not have understood. Hence, forasmuch as the number of\nunlearned men who desire to understand those Songs may be far greater\nthan the learned, it follows that it could not have fulfilled its\ncommandment so well as the Native Tongue, which is understood both by\nthe Learned and the Unlearned. Again, the Latin would have explained\nthem to people of another language, as to the Germans, to the English,\nand to others; and here it would have exceeded their commandment. For\nagainst their will, speaking freely, I say, their meaning would be\nexplained there where they could not convey it in all their beauty.\n\nAnd, therefore, let each one know, that nothing which is harmonized by\nthe bond of the Muse can be translated from its own language into\nanother, without breaking all its sweetness and harmony. And this is\nthe reason why Homer was not translated from Greek into Latin, like\nthe other writings that we have of the Greeks. And this is the reason\nwhy the verses of the Psalms are without sweetness of music and\nharmony; for they were translated from Hebrew into Greek, and from\nGreek into Latin, and in the first translation all that sweetness\nvanished.\n\nAnd, thus is concluded that which was proposed in the beginning of the\nchapter immediately before this.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\n\nSince it is proved by sufficient reasons that, in order to avoid\nunsuitable confusion, it would be right that the above-named Songs be\nopened and explained by a Commentary in our Native Tongue and not in\nthe Latin, I intend to show again how a ready Liberality makes me\nselect this way and leave the other. It is possible, then, to perceive\na ready Liberality in three things, which go with this Native Tongue,\nand which would not have gone with the Latin. The first is to give to\nmany; the second is to give useful things; the third is to give the\ngift without being asked for it.\n\nFor to give to and to assist one person is good; but to give to and to\nassist many is ready goodness, inasmuch as it has a similitude to the\ngood gifts of God, who is the Benefactor of the Universe. And again,\nto give to many is impossible without giving to one, forasmuch as one\nis included in many. But to give to one may be good without giving to\nmany, because he who assists many does good to one and to the other;\nhe who assists one does good to one only: hence, we see the imposers\nof the laws, especially if they are for the common good, hold the eyes\nfixed whilst compiling these laws. Again, to give useless things to\nthe receiver is also a good, inasmuch as he who gives, shows himself\nat least to be a friend; but it is not a perfect good, and therefore\nit is not ready: as if a knight should give to a doctor a shield, and\nas if the doctor should give to a knight the written aphorisms of\nHippocrates, or rather the technics of Galen; because the wise men say\nthat \"the face of the gift ought to be similar to that of the\nreceiver,\" that is, that it be suitable to him, and that it be useful;\nand therein it is called ready liberality in him who thus\ndiscriminates in giving.\n\nBut forasmuch as moral discourses usually create a desire to see their\norigin, in this chapter I intend briefly to demonstrate four reasons\nwhy of necessity the gift (in order that it be ready liberality)\nshould be useful to him who receives. Firstly, because virtue must be\ncheerful and not sad in every action: hence, if the gift be not\ncheerful in the giving and in the receiving, in it there is not\nperfect nor ready virtue. And this joy can spring only from the\nutility, which resides in the giver through the giving, and which\ncomes to the receiver through the receiving. In the giver, then, there\nmust be the foresight, in doing this, that on his part there shall\nremain the benefit of an inherent virtue which is above all other\nadvantages; and that to the receiver come the benefit of the use of\nthe thing given. Thus the one and the other will be cheerful, and\nconsequently it will be a ready liberality, that is, a liberality both\nprompt and well considered.\n\nSecondly, because virtue ought always to move things forwards and\nupwards. For even as it would be a blameable action to make a spade of\na beautiful sword, or to make a fair basin of a lovely lute; so it is\nwrong to move anything from a place where it may be useful, and to\ncarry it into a place where it may be less useful. And since it is\nblameable to work in vain, it is wrong not merely to put the thing in\na place where it may be less useful, but even in a place where it may\nbe equally useful. Hence, in order that the changing of the place of a\nthing may be laudable, it must always be for the better, because it\nought to be especially praiseworthy; and this the gift cannot be, if\nby transformation it become not more precious. Nor can it become more\nprecious, if it be not more useful to the receiver than to the giver.\nWherefore, one concludes that the gift must be useful to him who\nreceives it, in order that it may be in itself ready liberality.\n\nThirdly, because the exercise of the virtue of itself ought to be the\nacquirer of friends. For our life has need of these, and the end of\nvirtue is to make life happy. But that the gift may make the receiver\na friend, it must be useful to him, because utility stamps on the\nmemory the image of the gift, which is the food of friendship, and the\nfirmer the impression, so much the greater is the utility; hence,\nMartino was wont to say, \"Never will fade from my mind the gift\nGiovanni made me.\" Wherefore, in order that in the gift there may be\nits virtue, which is Liberality, and that it may be ready, it must be\nuseful to him who receives it.\n\nFinally, since the act of virtue should be free, not forced, it is\nfree action, when a person goes willingly to any place; which is shown\nby his keeping the face turned thitherward; it is forced action, when\nhe goes against his will; which is shown by his not looking cheerfully\ntowards the place whither he goes: and thus the gift looks towards its\nappointed place when it addresses itself to the need of the receiver.\nAnd since it cannot address itself to that need except it be useful,\nit follows, in order that it may be with free action, that the virtue\nbe free, and that the gift go freely to its object, which is the\nreceiver; and consequently the gift must be to the utility of the\nreceiver, in order that there may be a prompt and reasonable\nLiberality therein.\n\nThe third respect in which one can observe a ready Liberality, is\ngiving unasked; because, to give what is asked, is, on one side, not\nvirtue, but traffic; for, the receiver buys, although the giver may\nnot sell; and so Seneca says \"that nothing is purchased more dearly\nthan that whereon prayers are expended.\" Hence, in order that in the\ngift there be ready Liberality, and that one may perceive that to be\nin it, there must be freedom from each act of traffic, and the gift\nmust be unasked. Wherefore that which is besought costs us so dear, I\ndo not mean to argue now, because it will be fully discussed in the\nlast treatise of this book.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\n\nA Latin Commentary would be wanting in all the three above-mentioned\nconditions, which must concur, in order that in the benefit conferred\nthere may be ready Liberality; and our Mother Tongue possesses all, as\nit is possible to show thus manifestly. The Latin would not have\nserved many; for if we recall to memory that which is discoursed of\nabove, the learned men, without the Italian tongue, could not have had\nthis service. And those who know Latin, if we wish to see clearly who\nthey are, we shall find that, out of a thousand one only would have\nbeen reasonably served by it, because they would not have received it,\nso prompt are they to avarice, which removes them from each nobility\nof soul that especially desires this food. And to the shame of them, I\nsay that they ought not to be called learned men: because they do not\nacquire knowledge for the use of it, but forasmuch as they gain money\nor dignity thereby; even as one ought not to call him a harper who\nkeeps a harp in his house to be lent out for a price, and not to use\nit for its music.\n\nReturning, then, to the principal proposition, I say that one can see\nclearly how the Latin would have given its good gift to few, but the\nMother Tongue will serve many. For the willingness of heart which\nawaits this service, is in those who, through misuse of the world,\nhave left Literature to men who have made of her a harlot; and these\nnobles are princes, barons, knights, and many other noble people, not\nonly men, but women, whose language is that of the people and\nunlearned. Again, the Latin would not have been giver of a useful\ngift, as the Mother Tongue will be; forasmuch as nothing is useful\nexcept inasmuch as it is used; nor is there a perfect existence with\ninactive goodness. Even so of gold, and pearls, and other treasures\nwhich are subterranean, those which are in the hand of the miser are\nin a lower place than is the earth wherein the treasure was concealed.\nThe gift truly of this Commentary is the explanation of the Songs, for\nwhose service it is made. It seeks especially to lead men to wisdom\nand to virtue, as will be seen by the process of this treatise. This\ndesign those only could have in use in whom true nobility is sown,\nafter the manner that will be described in the fourth treatise; and\nthese are almost all men of the people, as those are noble which in\nthis chapter are named above. And there is no contradiction, though\nsome learned man may be amongst them; for, as says my Master Aristotle\nin the first book of the Ethics, \"One swallow does not make the\nSpring.\" It is, then, evident that the Mother Tongue will give the\nuseful thing where Latin would not have given it. Again, the Mother\nTongue will give that gift unasked, which the Latin would not have\ngiven, because it will give itself in form of a Commentary which never\nwas asked for by any person. But this one cannot say of the Latin,\nwhich for Commentary and for Expositions to many writings has often\nbeen in request, as one can perceive clearly in the opening of many a\nbook.\n\nAnd thus it is evident that a ready Liberality moved me to use the\nMother Tongue rather than Latin.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\n\nHe greatly needs excuse who, at a feast so noble in its provisions,\nand so honourable in its guests, sets bread of barley, not of wheaten\nflour: and evident must be the reason which can make a man depart from\nthat which has long been the custom of others, as the use of Latin in\nwriting a Commentary. And, therefore, he would make the reason\nevident; for the end of new things is not certain, because experience\nof them has never been had before: hence, the ways used and observed\nare estimated both in process and in the end.\n\nReason, therefore, is moved to command that man should diligently look\nabout him when he enters a new path, saying, \"that, in deliberating\nabout new things, that reason must be clear which can make a man\ndepart from an old custom.\" Let no one marvel, then, if the digression\ntouching my apology be long; but, as is necessary, let him bear its\nlength with patience.\n\nContinuing it, I say that, since it has been shown how, in order to\navoid unsuitable confusion and from readiness of liberality, I fixed\non the Commentary in the Mother Tongue and left the Latin, the order\nof the entire apology requires that I now prove how I attached myself\nto that through the natural love for my native tongue, which is the\nthird and last reason which moved me to this. I say that natural love\nmoves the lover principally to three things: the one is to exalt the\nloved object, the second is to be jealous thereof, the third is to\ndefend it, as each one sees constantly to happen; and these three\nthings made me adopt it, that is, our Mother Tongue, which naturally\nand accidentally I love and have loved.\n\nI was moved in the first place to exalt it. And that I do exalt it may\nbe seen by this reason: it happens that it is possible to magnify\nthings in many conditions of greatness, and nothing makes so great as\nthe greatness of that goodness which is the mother and preserver of\nall other forms of greatness. And no greater goodness can a man have\nthan that of virtuous action, which is his own goodness, by which the\ngreatness of true dignity and of true honour, of true power, of true\nriches, of true friends, of true and pure renown, are acquired and\npreserved: and this greatness I give to this friend, inasmuch as that\nwhich he had of goodness in latent power and hidden, I cause him to\nhave in action and revealed in its own operation, which is to declare\nthought.\n\nSecondly, I was moved by jealousy of it. The jealousy of the friend\nmakes a man anxious to secure lasting provision; wherefore, thinking\nthat, from the desire to understand these Songs, some unlearned man\nwould have translated the Latin Commentary into the Mother Tongue; and\nfearing that the Mother Tongue might have been employed by some one\nwho would have made it seem ugly, as he did who translated the Latin\nof the \"Ethics,\" I endeavoured to employ it, trusting in myself more\nthan in any other. Again, I was moved to defend it from its numerous\naccusers, who depreciate it and commend others, especially the Langue\nd'Oc, saying, that the latter is more beautiful and better than this,\ntherein deviating from the truth. For by this Commentary the great\nexcellence of our common Lingua di Si will appear, since through it,\nmost lofty and most original ideas may be as fitly, sufficiently, and\neasily expressed as if it were by the Latin itself, which cannot show\nits virtue in things rhymed because of accidental ornaments which are\nconnected therewith--that is, the rhyme and the rhythm, or the\nregulated measure; as it is with the beauty of a lady when the\nsplendour of the jewels and of the garments excite more admiration\nthan she herself. He, therefore, who wishes to judge well of a lady\nlooks at her when she is alone and her natural beauty is with her,\nfree from all accidental ornament. So it will be with this Commentary,\nin which will be seen the facility of the syllables, the propriety of\nthe conditions, and the sweet orations which are made in our Mother\nTongue, which a good observer will perceive to be full of most sweet\nand most amiable beauty. But, since it is most determined in its\nintention to show the error and the malice of the accuser, I will\ntell, to the confusion of those who accuse the Italian language,\nwherefore they are moved to do this; and this I shall do in a special\nchapter, in order that their shame may be more notable.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\n\nTo the perpetual shame and abasement of the evil men of Italy who\ncommend the Mother Tongue of other nations and depreciate their own, I\nsay that their action proceeds from five abominable causes: the first\nis blindness of discretion; the second, mischievous self-justification;\nthe third, greed of vainglory; the fourth, an invention of envy; the\nfifth and last, vileness of mind, that is, cowardice. And each one of\nthese grave faults has a great following, for few are those who are\nfree from them.\n\nOf the first, one can reason thus. As the sensitive part of the soul\nhas its eyes, with which it learns the difference of things, inasmuch\nas they are coloured externally; so the rational part has its eye with\nwhich it learns the difference of things, inasmuch as each is ordained\nto some end; and this is discretion. And as he who is blind with the\neyes of sense goes always according to the guidance of others judging\nevil and good; so he who is blinded from the light of discretion,\nalways goes in his judgment according to the cry, right or wrong as it\nmay be. Hence, whenever the guide is blind, it must follow that what\nblind man soever leans on him must come to a bad end. Therefore it is\nwritten that, \"If the blind lead the blind, both fall into the ditch.\"\nThis cry has been long raised against our Mother Tongue, for the\nreasons which will be argued below.\n\nAfter this cry the blind men above mentioned, who are infinite, as it\nwere with one hand on the shoulder of these false witnesses, have\nfallen into the ditch of false opinion, from which they know not how\nto escape. From the use of the sight of discretion the mass of the\npeople are debarred, because each being occupied from the early years\nof his life with some trade, he so directs his mind to that, by force\nof necessity, that he understands nought else. And forasmuch as the\nhabit of virtue, moral as well as intellectual, cannot possibly be had\nall on a sudden, but it must be acquired through long custom, and as\nthese people place their custom in some art, and care not to discern\nother things, it is impossible to them to have discretion. Wherefore\nit happens that often they cry aloud: \"Long live Death!\" and \"Let Life\ndie!\" because some one begins the cry. And this is the most dangerous\ndefect in their blindness. For this reason Boethius judges glory of\nthe people vain, because he sees it to be without discernment. These\npersons are to be termed sheep and not men; for if a sheep should leap\nover a precipice of a thousand feet, all the others would follow after\nit; and if one sheep, for some cause or other, in crossing a road,\nleaps, all the others leap, even when they see nothing to leap over.\nAnd I once saw many leap into a well, because one had leapt into it,\nbelieving perhaps that it was leaping a wall; notwithstanding that the\nshepherd, weeping and shouting, with arms and breast set himself\nagainst them.\n\nThe second faction against our Mother Tongue springs from a malicious\nself-justification. There are many who would rather be thought masters\nthan be such; and to avoid the opposite--that is, to be held not to be\nsuch--they always cast blame on the material they work on, or upon the\ninstrument; as the clumsy smith blames the iron given to him, and the\nbad harpist blames the harp, thinking to cast the blame of the bad\nblade and of the bad music upon the iron and upon the harp, and to\nlift it from themselves. Thus there are some, and not a few, who\ndesire that a man may hold them to be orators; and to excuse\nthemselves for not speaking, or for speaking badly, they accuse or\nthrow blame on the material, that is, their own Mother Tongue, and\npraise that of other lands, which they are not required to employ. And\nhe who wishes to see wherefore this iron is to be blamed, let him look\nat the work which good artificers make of it, and he will understand\nthe malice of those who, in casting blame upon it, think thereby to\nexcuse themselves. Against such as these, Tullius exclaims in the\nbeginning of his book, which he names the book \"De Finibus,\" because\nin his time they blamed the Roman Latin and praised the Greek grammar.\nAnd thus I say, for like reasons, that these men vilify the Italian\ntongue, and glorify that of Provence.\n\nThe third faction against our Mother Tongue springs from greed of\nvainglory. There are many who, by describing certain things in some\nother language, and by praising that language, deem themselves to be\nmore worthy of admiration than if they described them in their own.\nAnd undoubtedly to learn well a foreign tongue is deserving of some\npraise for intellect; but it is a blameable thing to applaud that\nlanguage beyond truth, to glorify one's self for such an acquisition.\n\nThe fourth springs from an invention of envy. So that, as it is said\nabove, envy is always where there is equality. Amongst the men of one\nnation there is the equality of the native tongue; and because one\nknows not how to use it like the other, therefrom springs envy. The\nenvious man then argues, not blaming himself for not knowing how to\nspeak like him who does speak as he should, but he blames that which\nis the material of his work, in order to rob, by depreciating the work\non that side, him who does speak, of honour and fame; like him who\nshould find fault with the blade of a sword, not in order to throw\nblame on the sword, but on the whole work of the master.\n\nThe fifth and last faction springs from vileness of mind. The\nmagnanimous man always praises himself in his heart; and so the\npusillanimous man, on the contrary, always deems himself less than he\nis. And because to magnify and to diminish always have respect to\nsomething, by comparison with which the large-minded man makes himself\ngreat and the small-minded man makes himself small, it results\ntherefrom that the magnanimous man always makes others less than they\nare, and the pusillanimous makes others always greater. And therefore\nwith that measure wherewith a man measures himself, he measures his\nown things, which are as it were a part of himself. It results that to\nthe magnanimous man his own things always appear better than they are,\nand those of others less good; the pusillanimous man always believes\nhis things to be of little value, and those of others of much worth.\nWherefore many, on account of this vileness of mind, depreciate their\nnative tongue, and applaud that of others; and all such as these are\nthe abominable wicked men of Italy who hold this precious Mother\nTongue in vile contempt, which if it be vile in any case, is so only\ninasmuch as it sounds in the evil mouth of these adulterers, under\nwhose guidance go those blind men of whom I spoke in the first\nargument.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\n\nIf flames of fire should issue visibly through the windows of a house,\nand if any one should ask if there were fire within it, and if another\nshould answer \"Yes\" to him, one would not well know how to judge which\nof those might be mocking the most. Not otherwise would the question\nand the answer pass between me and that man who should ask me if love\nfor my own language is in me, and if I should answer \"Yes\" to him,\nafter the arguments propounded above.\n\nBut, nevertheless, it has to be proved that not only love, but the\nmost perfect love for it exists in me, and again its adversaries must\nbe blamed. Whilst demonstrating this to him who will understand well,\nI will tell how I became the friend of it, and then how my friendship\nis confirmed.\n\nI say that (as Tullius writes in his book on Friendship, not\ndissenting from the opinion of the Philosopher opened up in the eighth\nand in the ninth of the Ethics) Neighbourhood and Goodness are,\nnaturally, the causes of the birth of Love: Benevolence, Study, and\nCustom are the causes of the growth of Love. And there have been all\nthese causes to produce and to strengthen the love which I bear to my\nNative Language, as I shall briefly demonstrate. A thing is so much\nthe nearer in proportion as it is most nearly allied to all the other\nthings of its own kind; wherefore, of all men the son is nearest to\nthe father, and of all the Arts, Medicine is nearest to the Doctor,\nand Music to the Musician, because they are more allied to them than\nthe others. Of all parts of the earth the nearest is that whereon a\nman lives, because he is most united to it. And thus his own Native\nLanguage is nearest to him, inasmuch as he is most united to it; for\nit, and it alone, is first in the mind before any other. And not only\nof itself is it united, but by accident, inasmuch as it is united with\nthe persons nearest to him, as his parents, and his fellow-citizens,\nand his own people. And this is his own Mother Tongue, which is not\nonly nearest, but especially the nearest to each man. Therefore, if\nnear neighbourhood be the seed of friendship, as is said above, it is\nmanifest that it has been one of the causes of the love which I bear\nto my Native Language, which is nearer to me than the others. The\nabove-mentioned cause, whereby that alone which stands first in each\nmind is most bound to it, gave rise to the custom of the people, that\nthe first-born sons should succeed to the inheritance solely as being\nthe nearest relatives; and because the nearest relatives, therefore\nthe most beloved.\n\nAgain, Goodness made me a friend to it. And here it is to be known\nthat all goodness inherent in anything is loveable in that thing; as\nin manhood to be well bearded, and in womanhood to be all over the\nface quite free from hair; as in the setter to have good scent, and as\nin the greyhound to be swift. And in proportion as it is native, so\nmuch the more is it delightful. Hence, although each virtue is\nloveable in man, that is the most loveable in him which is most human:\nand this is Justice, which alone is in the rational part, or rather in\nthe intellectual, that is, in the Will. This is so loveable that as\nsays the Philosopher in the fifth book of the Ethics, its enemies love\nit, such as thieves and robbers; and, therefore, we see that its\nopposite, that is, Injustice, is especially hated; such as treachery,\ningratitude, falsehood, theft, rapine, deceit, and their like; the\nwhich are such inhuman sins, that, in order to excuse himself from the\ninfamy of such, it is granted through long custom that a man may speak\nof himself, as has been said above, and may say if he be faithful and\nloyal. Of this virtue I shall speak hereafter more fully in the\nfourteenth treatise; and here quitting it, I return to the\nproposition. Having proved, then, that the goodness of a thing is\nloved the more the more it is innate, the more it is to be loved and\ncommended for itself, it remains to see what that goodness is. And we\nsee that, in all speech, to express a thought well and clearly is the\nthing most to be admired and commended. This, then, is its first\ngoodness. And forasmuch as this is in our Mother Tongue, as is made\nevident in another chapter, it is manifest that it has been the cause\nof the love which I bear to it; since, as has been said, \"Goodness is\nthe producer of Love.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\n\nHaving said how in the Mother Tongue there are those two things which\nhave made me its friend, that is, nearness to me and its innate\ngoodness, I will tell how by kindness and union in study, and through\nthe benevolence of long use, the friendship is confirmed and grows.\nFirstly, I say that I for myself have received from it the greatest\nbenefits. And, therefore, it is to be known that, amongst all\nbenefits, that is the greatest which is most precious to him who\nreceives it; and nothing is so precious as that through which all\nother things are wished; and all the other things are wished for the\nperfection of him who wishes. Wherefore, inasmuch as a man may have\ntwo perfections, one first and one second (the first causes him to be,\nthe second causes him to be good), if the Native Language has been to\nme the cause of the one and of the other, I have received from it the\ngreatest benefit. And that it may have been the cause of this\ncondition in me can be shown briefly. The efficient cause for the\nexistence of things is not one only, but among many efficient causes\none is the chief of the others, hence the fire and the hammer are the\nefficient causes of the sword-blade, although the workman is\nespecially so. This my Mother Tongue was the bond of union between my\nforefathers, who spoke with it, even as the fire is the link between\nthe iron and the smith who makes the knife; therefore it is evident\nthat it co-operated in my birth, and so it was in some way the cause\nof my being. Again, this my Mother Tongue was my introducer into the\npath of knowledge, which is the ultimate perfection, inasmuch as with\nit I entered into the Latin Language, and with it I was taught; the\nwhich Latin was then the way of further advancement for me. And so it\nis evident and known by me that this my language has been my great\nbenefactor. Also it has been engaged with me in one self-same study,\nand this I can thus prove. Each thing naturally studies its\nself-preservation; hence, if the Mother Tongue could seek anything of\nitself, it would seek that; and that would be to secure for itself a\nposition of the greatest stability: but greater stability it could not\nsecure than by uniting itself with number and with rhyme.\n\nAnd this self-same study has been mine, as is so evident that it\nrequires no testimony; therefore its study and mine have been one and\nthe same, whereby the harmony of friendship is confirmed and\nincreased. Also between us there has been the benevolence of long use:\nfor from the beginning of my life I have had with it kind fellowship\nand conversation, and have used it, when deliberating, interpreting,\nand questioning; wherefore, if friendship increases through long use,\nas in all reason appears, it is manifest that in me it has increased\nespecially, for with this my Mother Tongue I have spent all my time.\nAnd thus one sees that to the shaping of this friendship there have\nco-operated all causes of birth and growth. Therefore, let it be\nconcluded that not only Love, but the most Perfect Love, is that which\nI have for it. So it is, and ought to be.\n\nThus, casting the eyes backwards and gathering up the afore-stated\nreasons, one can see that this Bread, with which the Meat of the\nunder-written Poems ought to be eaten, is made clear enough of\nblemishes, and of fault in the nature of its grain. Wherefore, it is\ntime to attend to and serve up the viands.\n\nThis will be that barley-bread with which a thousand will satisfy\nthemselves; and my full baskets shall overflow with it. This will be\nthat new Light, that new Sun, which shall rise when the sun of this\nour day shall set, and shall give light to those who are in darkness\nand in gloom because the sun of this our day gives light to them no\nmore.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nThe Second Treatise.\n\n\n    Ye who the third Heaven move, intent of thought,\n      Hear reasoning that is within my heart,\n      Thoughts that to none but you I can impart:\n    Heaven, that is moved by you, my life has brought\n      To where it stands, therefore I pray you heed\n      What I shall say about the life I lead.\n\n    To you I tell the heart's new cares: always\n      The sad Soul weeps within it, and there hears\n      Voice of a Spirit that condemns her tears,\n    A Spirit that descends in your star's rays.\n      Thought that once fed the grieving heart was sweet,\n      Thought that oft fled up to your Father's feet.\n\n    There it beheld a Lady glorified,\n      Of whom so sweetly it discoursed to me\n      That the Soul said, \"With her I long to be!\"\n    Now One appears that drives the thought aside,\n      And masters me with so effectual might\n      That my heart quivers to the outward sight.\n\n    This on a Lady fixes my regard\n      And says, \"Who seeks where his salvation lies\n      Must gaze intently in this Lady's eyes,\n    Nor dread the sighs of anguish!\" O, ill-starred!\n      Such opposite now breaks the humble dream\n      Of the crowned angel in the glory beam.\n\n    Still, therefore, the Soul weeps, \"The tender stir,\"\n      It says, \"of thought that once consoled me flies!\"\n      That troubled one asks, \"When into thine eyes\n    Looked she? Why doubted they my words of her?\"\n      I said, \"Her eyes bear death to such as I:\n      Yet, vainly warned, I gaze on her and die.\n\n    \"Thou art not dead, but in a vain dismay,\n      Dear Soul of ours so lost in thy distress,\"\n      Whispers a spirit voice of tenderness.\n    \"This Lady's beauty darkens all your day,\n      Vile fear possesses you; see, she is lowly\n      Pitiful, courteous, though so wise and holy.\n\n    \"Think thou to call her Mistress evermore:\n      Save thou delude thyself, then shall there shine\n      High miracles before thee, so divine\n    That thou shalt say, O Love, when I adore,\n      True Lord, behold the handmaid of the Lord,\n      Be it unto me according to thy Word!\"\n\n    My song, I do believe there will be few\n      Who toil to understand thy reasoning;\n      But if thou pass, perchance, to those who bring\n    No skill to give thee the attention due,\n      Then pray I, dear last-born, let them rejoice\n      To find at least a music in my voice.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\n\nSince I, the servant, with preliminary discourse in the preceding\nTreatise, have with all due care prepared my bread, the time now\nsummons, and requires my ship to leave the port: wherefore, having\ntrimmed the mizen-mast of reason to the wind of my desire, I enter the\nocean with the hope of an easy voyage, and a healthful happy haven to\nbe reached at the end of my supper. But in order that my food may be\nmore profitable, before the first dish comes on the table I wish to\nshow how it ought to be eaten. I say then, as is narrated in the first\nchapter, that this exposition must be Literal and Allegorical; and to\nmake this explicit one should know that it is possible to understand a\nbook in four different ways, and that it ought to be explained chiefly\nin this manner.\n\nThe one is termed Literal, and this is that which does not extend\nbeyond the text itself, such as is the fit narration of that thing\nwhereof you are discoursing, an appropriate example of which is the\nthird Song, which discourses of Nobility.\n\nAnother is termed Allegorical, and it is that which is concealed under\nthe veil of fables, and is a Truth concealed under a beautiful\nUntruth; as when Ovid says that Orpheus with his lute made the wild\nbeasts tame, and made the trees and the stones to follow him, which\nsignifies that the wise man with the instrument of his voice makes\ncruel hearts gentle and humble, and makes those follow his will who\nhave not the living force of knowledge and of art; who, having not the\nreasoning life of any knowledge whatever, are as the stones. And in\norder that this hidden thing should be discovered by the wise, it will\nbe demonstrated in the last Treatise. Verily the theologians take this\nmeaning otherwise than do the poets: but, because my intention here is\nto follow the way of the poets, I shall take the Allegorical sense\naccording as it is used by the poets.\n\nThe third sense is termed Moral; and this is that which the readers\nought intently to search for in books, for their own advantage and for\nthat of their descendants; as one can espy in the Gospel, when Christ\nascended the Mount for the Transfiguration, that, of the twelve\nApostles, He took with Him only three. From which one can understand\nin the Moral sense that in the most secret things we ought to have but\nlittle company.\n\nThe fourth sense is termed Mystical, that is, above sense,\nsupernatural; and this it is, when spiritually one expounds a writing\nwhich even in the Literal sense by the things signified bears express\nreference to the Divine things of Eternal Glory; as one can see in\nthat Song of the Prophet which says that by the exodus of the people\nof Israel from Egypt Jud\u00e6a is made holy and free. That this happens to\nbe true according to the letter is evident. Not less true is that\nwhich it means spiritually, that in the Soul's liberation from Sin (or\nin the exodus of the Soul from Sin) it is made holy and free in its\npowers.\n\nBut in demonstrating these, the Literal must always go first, as that\nin whose sense the others are included, and without which it would be\nimpossible and irrational to understand the others. Especially is it\nimpossible in the Allegorical, because, in each thing which has a\nwithin and a without, it is impossible to come to the within if you do\nnot first come to the without. Wherefore, since in books the Literal\nmeaning is always external, it is impossible to reach the others,\nespecially the Allegorical, without first coming to the Literal.\nAgain, it is impossible, because in each thing, natural and\nartificial, it is impossible to proceed to the form without having\nfirst laid down the matter upon which the form should be. Thus, it is\nimpossible for the form of the gold to come, if the matter, that is,\nits subject, is not first laid down and prepared; or for the form of\nthe ark to come, if the material, that is, the wood, be not first laid\ndown and prepared. Therefore, since the Literal meaning is always the\nsubject and the matter of the others, especially of the Allegorical,\nit is impossible to come first to the meaning of the others before\ncoming to it. Again, it is impossible, because in each thing, natural\nand artificial, it is impossible to proceed unless the foundation be\nfirst laid, as in the house, so also in the mind. Therefore, since\ndemonstration must be the building up of Knowledge, and Literal\ndemonstration must be the foundation of the other methods of\ninterpreting, especially of the Allegorical, it is impossible to come\nfirst to the others before coming to that. Again, if it were possible\nthat it could be so ordered, it would be irrational, that is, out of\norder; and, therefore, one would proceed with, much fatigue and with\nmuch error. Hence, as the Philosopher says in the first book of the\nPhysics, Nature desires that we proceed in due order in our search for\nknowledge, that is, by proceeding from that which we know well to that\nwhich we know not so well; so I say that Nature desires it, inasmuch\nas this way to knowledge is innate in us; and therefore, if the other\nmeanings, apart from the Literal, are less understood--which they are,\nas evidently appears--it would be irrational to demonstrate them if\nthe Literal had not first been demonstrated.\n\nI, then, for these reasons will discourse in due order of each Song,\nfirstly upon its Literal meaning, and after that I will discourse of\nits Allegory, that is, the hidden Truth, and sometimes I will touch\nincidentally on the other meanings as may be convenient to place and\ntime.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n\nBeginning, then, I say that the star of Venus had twice revolved in\nthat circle which causes the evening and the morning to appear,\naccording to the two varying seasons, since the death of that blessed\nBeatrice, who lives in Heaven with the Angels, and on Earth with my\nsoul; when that gentle Lady, of whom I made mention at the end of the\n\"Vita Nuova,\" first appeared before my eyes, accompanied by Love, and\nassumed a position in my mind. And, as has been stated by me in the\nlittle book referred to, more because of her gentle goodness than from\nchoice of mine, it befell that I consented to be her servant. For she\nappeared impassioned with such sorrow for my sad widowed life that the\nspirits of my eyes became especially friendly to her; and, so\ndisposed, they then depicted her to be such that my good-will was\ncontent to espouse itself to that image. But because Love is not born\nsuddenly, nor grows great nor comes to perfection in haste, but\ndesires time and food for thought, especially there where there are\nantagonistic thoughts which impede it, there must needs be, before\nthis new Love could be perfect, a great battle between the thought of\nits food and of that which was antagonistic to it, which still held\nthe fortress of my mind for that glorious Beatrice. For the one was\nsuccoured on one side continually by the ever-present vision, and the\nother on the opposite side by the memory of the past. And the help of\nthe ever-present sight increased each day, which memory could not do,\nin opposing that which to a certain degree prevented me from turning\nthe face towards the past. Wherefore it seemed to me so wonderful, and\nalso so hard to endure, that I could not support it, and with a loud\ncry (to excuse myself from the struggle, in which it seemed to me that\nI had failed in courage) I lifted up my voice towards that part whence\ncame the victory of the new thought, which was full of virtuous power,\neven the power of celestial virtue; and I began to say: \"You! who the\nthird Heaven move, intent of thought.\" For the intelligent\nunderstanding of which Song, one must first know its divisions well,\nso that it will then be easy to perceive its meaning.\n\nIn order that it may no longer be necessary to preface the\nexplanations of the others, I say that the order which will be taken\nin this Treatise I intend to keep through all the others. I say, then,\nthat the proposed Song is contained within three principal parts. The\nfirst is the first verse of that, in which certain Intelligences are\ninduced to listen to what I intend to say, or rather by a more usual\nform of speech we should call them Angels, who are in the revolution\nof the Heaven of Venus, as the movers thereof. The second is in the\nlines which follow after the first, in which is made manifest that\nwhich I felt spiritually amidst various thoughts. The third is in the\nlast lines, wherein the man begins to speak to the work itself, as if\nto comfort it, as it were, and all these three parts are in due order\nto be demonstrated, as has been said above.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\n\nThat we may more easily perceive the Literal meaning of the first\ndivision, to which we now attend, it is requisite to know who and what\nare those who are summoned to my audience, and what is that third\nHeaven which I say is moved by them. And firstly I will speak of the\nHeaven; then I will speak of those whom I address And although with\nregard to the truth concerning those things it is possible to know but\nlittle, yet so much as human reason can discern gives more delight\nthan the best known and most certain of the things judged by the\nsense; according to the opinion of the Philosopher in his book on\nAnimals.\n\nI say, then, that concerning the number of the Heavens and their site,\ndifferent opinions are held by many, although the truth at last may be\nfound. Aristotle believed, following merely the ancient foolishness of\nthe Astrologers, that there might be only eight Heavens, of which the\nlast one, and which contained all, might be that where the fixed stars\nare, that is, the eighth sphere, and that beyond it there could be no\nother. Again, he believed that the Heaven of the Sun might be\nimmediate with that of the Moon, that is, second to us. And this\nopinion of his, so erroneous, he who wishes can see in the second book\non Heaven and the World, which is in the second of the Books on\nNatural History. In fact, he excuses himself for this in the twelfth\nbook of the Metaphysics, where he clearly proves himself to have\nfollowed also another opinion where he was obliged to speak of\nAstrology. Ptolemy, then, perceiving that the eighth sphere is moved\nby many movements, seeing its circle to depart from the right circle,\nwhich turns from East to West, constrained by the principles of\nPhilosophy, which of necessity desires a Primum Mobile, a most simple\none, supposed another Heaven to be outside the Heaven of the fixed\nstars, which might make that revolution from East to West which I say\nis completed in twenty-four hours nearly, that is, in twenty-three\nhours, fourteen parts of the fifteen of another, counting roughly.\nTherefore, according to him, and according to that which is held in\nAstrology and in Philosophy since those movements were seen, there are\nnine moveable Heavens; the site of which is evident and determined,\naccording to an Art which is termed Perspective, Arithmetical and\nGeometrical, by which and by other sensible experiences it is visibly\nand reasonably seen, as in the eclipses of the Sun it appears\nsensibly, that the Moon is below the Sun; and as by the testimony of\nAristotle, who saw with his own eyes, according to what he says in the\nsecond book on Heaven and the World, the Moon, being new, to enter\nbelow Mars, on the side not shining, and Mars to remain concealed so\nlong that he re-appeared on the other bright side of the Moon, which\nwas towards the West.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\n\nAnd the order of the houses is this, that the first that they\nenumerate is that where the Moon is; the second is that where Mercury\nis; the third is that where Venus is; the fourth is that where the Sun\nis; the fifth is that where Mars is; the sixth is that where Jupiter\nis; the seventh is that where Saturn is; the eighth is that of the\nStars; the ninth is that which is not visible except by that movement\nwhich is mentioned above, which they designate the great Crystalline\nsphere, diaphanous, or rather all transparent. Truly, beyond all\nthese, the Catholics place the Empyrean Heaven, which is as much as to\nsay, the Heaven of Flame, or rather the Luminous Heaven; and they\nassign it to be immoveable, in order to have in itself, according to\neach part, that which its material desires. And this is why that first\nmoved--the Primum Mobile--has such extremely rapid motion. For,\nbecause of the most fervent appetite which each part of it has to be\nunited with each part of that most Divine Heaven of Peace, in which it\nrevolves with so much desire, its velocity is almost incomprehensible.\nAnd this quiet and peaceful Heaven is the place of that Supreme Deity\nwho from above beholds the whole. This is the place of the blessed\nSpirits, according as Holy Church teaches, which cannot speak falsely;\nand even Aristotle seems to feel this, to him who understands him\nwell, in the first book of Heaven and the World. This is the highest\nbound of the World, within which the whole World is included, and\nbeyond which there is nothing. And it is in no place, but was formed\nalone in the First Mind, which the Greeks term Protonoe. This is that\nmagnificence of which the Psalmist spoke when he sang to God: \"Thy\nglory is raised above the Heavens.\"\n\nSo, then, gathering together this which is discussed, it seems that\nthere may be ten Heavens, of which the Heaven of Venus may be the\nthird; whereof mention is made in that part which I intend to\ndemonstrate. And it is to be known that each Heaven below the\nCrystalline has two firm poles as to itself; and the ninth has them\nfirm and fixed, and not mutable in any respect. And each one, the\nninth even as the others, has a circle, which one may term the equator\nof its own Heaven; which equally, in each part of its revolution, is\nremote from one pole and from the other, as he who rolls an apple or\nany other round thing can sensibly perceive. And this circle has more\nswiftness in its movement than any other part of its Heaven, in each\nHeaven, as he may perceive who considers well. And each part, in\nproportion as it is nearer to it, moves so much the more swiftly; so\nmuch the slower in proportion as it is more remote and nearer to the\npole; since its revolution is less, and it must of necessity be in one\nself-same time with the greater. I say again, that in proportion as\nthe Heaven is nearer to the equatorial circle, so much the more noble\nis it in comparison to its poles; since it has more motion and more\nactuality and more life and more form and more touch from that which\nis above itself, and consequently has more virtue. Hence the stars in\nthe Heaven of the fixed stars are more full of power amongst\nthemselves in proportion as they are nearer to that circle.\n\nAnd upon the back of this circle in the Heaven of Venus, of which I\nnow speak, is a little sphere, which revolves by itself in this\nHeaven, the circle of which Astrologers call Epicycle; and as the\ngreat sphere revolves about two poles, so does this little sphere: and\nso has this little sphere the equatorial circle; and so much the more\nnoble it is in proportion as it is nearer to those: and in the arc, or\nrather back, of this circle is fixed the most brilliant star of Venus.\nAnd, although it may be said that there are ten Heavens according to\nstrict Truth, this number does not comprehend them all: for that of\nwhich mention is made, the Epicycle, in which the star is fixed, is a\nHeaven by itself, or rather sphere; and it has not one essence with\nthat which bears it, although it may be more like to it than to the\nothers, and with it is called one Heaven, and they name the one and\nthe other from the star. How the other Heavens and the other stars may\nbe is not for present discussion; let it suffice that the nature of\nthe third Heaven, with which I am at present concerned, has been told,\nand concerning which all that is at present needful has been shown.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\n\nSince it has been shown in the preceding chapter what this third\nHeaven is, and how it is ordered in itself, it remains to show who\nthose are who move it. It is then to be known, in the first place,\nthat the movers thereof are substances apart from material, that is,\nIntelligences, which the common people term Angels: and of these\ncreatures, as of the Heavens, different persons have had different\nideas, although the truth may be found. There were certain\nPhilosophers, of whom Aristotle appears to be one in his Metaphysics,\nalthough in the first book on Heaven and Earth incidentally he appears\nto think otherwise, who only believed these to be so many as there are\nrevolutions in the Heavens, and no more; saying, that the others would\nhave been eternally in vain, without operation, which was impossible,\ninasmuch as their being is their operation. There were others, like\nPlato, a most excellent man, who place not only so many Intelligences\nas there are movements in Heaven, but even as there are species of\nthings, that is, manners of things; as of one species are all mankind,\nand of another all the gold, and of another all the silver, and so\nwith all: and they are of opinion that as the Intelligences of the\nHeavens are generators of those movements each after his kind, so\nthese were generators of the other things, each one being a type of\nits species: and Plato calls them _Ideas_, which is as much as to\nsay, so many universal forms and natures.\n\nThe Gentiles called them Gods and Goddesses, although they could not\nunderstand those so philosophically as Plato did; and they adored\ntheir images, and built large temples to them, as to Juno, whom they\ncalled the Goddess of Power; as to Vulcan, whom they called the God of\nFire; as to Pallas, or rather Minerva, whom they called the Goddess of\nWisdom; and to Ceres, whom they called the Goddess of Corn. Opinions\nsuch as these the testimony of the Poets makes manifest, for they\ndescribe to a certain extent the mode of the Gentiles both in their\nsacrifices and in their faith; and it is testified also in many names,\nremains of antiquity, or in names of places and ancient buildings, as\nhe who will can easily find. And although these opinions above\nmentioned might be built upon a good foundation by human reason and by\nno slight knowledge, yet the Truth was not seen by them, either from\ndefect of reason or from defect of instruction. Yet even by reason it\nwas possible to see that very numerous were the creatures above\nmentioned who are not such as men can understand. And the one reason\nis this: no one doubts, neither Philosopher, nor Gentile, nor Jew, nor\nChristian, nor any one of any sect, that they are either the whole or\nthe greater part full of all Blessedness, and that those blessed ones\nare in a most perfect state. Therefore, since that which is here Human\nNature may have not only one Beatitude, but two Beatitudes, as that of\nthe Civil Life and that of the Contemplative, it would be irrational\nif we should see these Celestial Beings to have the Beatitude of the\nActive Life, that is, the Civil, in the government of the World, and\nnot to have that of the Contemplative, which is the most excellent and\nmost Divine.\n\nBut since that which has the Beatitude of the Civil government cannot\nhave the other, because their intellect is one and perpetual, there\nmust be others beyond this ministry, who live only in contemplation.\nAnd because this latter life is more Divine--and in proportion as the\nthing is more Divine so much the more is it in the image of God--it is\nevident that this life is more beloved of God: and if it be more\nbeloved, so much the more vast has its Beatitude been; and if it has\nbeen more vast, so much the more vivifying power has He given to it\nrather than to the other; therefore one concludes that there may De a\nmuch larger number of those creatures than the effects tend to show.\nAnd this is not opposed to that which Aristotle seems to state in the\ntenth book of the Ethics, that to the separate substances the\nContemplative Life must be requisite; as also the Active Life must be\nimperative to them. Nevertheless, in the contemplation of certain\ntruths the revolution of the Heaven follows, which is the government\nof the World; which is, as it were, a Civil government ordained and\ncomprehended in the contemplation of the movers, that is, the ruling\nIntelligences. The other reason is, that no effect is greater than the\ncause, because the cause cannot give that which it has not; wherefore,\nsince the Divine Intellect is the cause of all, especially of the\nHuman Intellect, it follows that the Human Intellect does not dominate\nthe Divine, but is dominated by it in proportion to the superior power\nof the Divine. Hence, if we, by the reason above stated, and by many\nothers, understand God to have been able to create Spiritual Creatures\nalmost innumerable, it is quite evident that He has made them in this\ngreat number. Many other reasons it were possible to see: but let\nthese suffice for the present. Nor let any one marvel if these and\nother reasons which we could adduce concerning this are not fully\ndemonstrated; since likewise we ought to wonder at their excellence,\nwhich overpowers the eyes of the Human Mind, as the Philosopher says\nin the second book of the Metaphysics, and he affirms their existence.\nThough we have not any perception of them from which our knowledge can\nbegin, yet some light from their most vivacious essence shines upon\nour intellect, inasmuch as we perceive the above-mentioned reasons and\nmany others, even as he who has the eyes closed affirms the air to be\nluminous, because of some little brightness or ray of light which\npasses through the pupils; as it is with the bat, for not otherwise\nare the eyes of the intellect closed, so long as the soul is bound and\nprisoned by the organs of our body.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n\nIt has been said that, through defective instruction, the ancients saw\nnot the Truth concerning the Spiritual Creatures, although the people\nof Israel were in part instructed by their Prophets, through whom by\nmany modes of speech and in many ways God had spoken to them, as the\nApostle says. But we are therein instructed by Him who came from God,\nby Him who made them, by Him who preserves them, that is, by the\nEmperor of the Universe, who is Christ the Son of the Supreme God, and\nthe Son of the Virgin Mary, a woman truly, and the daughter of Joseph\nand Anna--very Man, who was slain by us in order that He might bring\nus Life; who was the Light which enlightens us in the Darkness, even\nas John the Evangelist says; and He told us the Truth of those things\nwhich we could not have known without Him, nor seen truly. The first\nthing and the first secret which He showed us was one of the\nbefore-mentioned Beings or creatures. This was that one, His great\nLegate, the Angel Gabriel, who came to Mary, a young damsel of\nthirteen years, on the part of the Heavenly Saviour. This our Saviour,\nwith His own mouth, said, that the Father could give Him many Legions\nof Angels. This He denied not, when it was said to Him that the Father\nhad commanded His Angels that they should minister unto Him and should\nserve Him. Wherefore, it is evident to us that these creatures are in\na very great number; since His Spouse and Secretary, Holy Church, of\nwhom Solomon says: \"Who is this that cometh forth from the Desert,\nfull of those things which give delight, leaning upon her friend?\"\nsays, believes, and preaches these most noble creatures to be almost\ninnumerable; and She divides them into three Hierarchies, that is to\nsay, three holy, or rather Divine, Principalities: and each Hierarchy\nhas three orders, so that nine orders of spiritual creatures the\nChurch holds and affirms.\n\nThe first is that of the Angels, the second of the Archangels, the\nthird of the Thrones; and these three orders make the first\nHierarchy--not first as to nobility, nor as to creation, for the\nothers are more noble, and all were created together, but first in\ndegree, according to our perception of their exaltation.\n\nThen there are the Dominations; after them the Virtues; then the\nPrincipalities; and these make the second Hierarchy.\n\nAbove these are the Powers and the Cherubim, and above all are the\nSeraphim; and these make the third Hierarchy.\n\nAnd the most potent reason for their contemplation is the number in\nwhich the Hierarchies are, and that in which the orders are. For,\nsince the Divine Majesty is in Three Persons, which have one\nsubstance, it is possible to contemplate them triply. For it is\npossible to contemplate the Supreme Power of the Father, which the\nfirst Hierarchy gazes upon, namely, that which is first by nobility,\nand which we enumerate last. And it is possible to contemplate the\nSupreme Wisdom of the Son; and upon this the second Hierarchy gazes.\nAnd it is possible to contemplate the Supreme and most fervent Charity\nof the Holy Spirit; and upon this the third Hierarchy gazes, which,\nbeing nearest to us, gives of the gifts which it receives.\n\nAnd, since it is possible to regard each person in the Divine Trinity\ntriply, so in each Hierarchy there are three orders which contemplate\ndiversely. It is possible to consider the Father having regard to none\nbut Him; and this is the contemplation of the Seraphim, who see more\nof the First Cause than any other Angelic Nature. It is possible to\nconsider the Father according as He has relation to the Son, that is,\nhow He is apart from Him, and how united with Him; and this is the\ncontemplation of the Cherubim. It is possible again to consider the\nFather according as from Him proceeds the Holy Spirit, and how it is\napart from Him and how united with Him; and this is the contemplation\nof the Powers.\n\nAnd in like way it is possible to contemplate the Son and the Holy\nSpirit.\n\nWherefore, there must be nine orders of contemplative Spirits to gaze\ninto the Light, which alone beholds itself completely. And this is not\nthe place to be silent so much as one word. I say, that of all these\norders some were lost as soon as they were created, perhaps in number\nof the tenth part, to restore which Human Nature was created. The\nnumbers, the orders, the Hierarchies, declare the glory of the movable\nHeavens, which are nine; and the tenth announces this Unity and\nstability of God. And therefore the Psalmist says: \"The Heavens\ndeclare the glory of God, and the Firmament showeth His handiwork.\"\nWherefore it is reasonable to believe that the movers of the Heaven of\nthe Moon are of the order of the Angels, and those of Mercury may be\nthe Archangels, and those of Venus may be the Thrones, in whom the\nLove of the Holy Spirit being innate, they do their work conformably\nto it, which means that the revolution of that Heaven is full of Love.\nThe form of the said Heaven takes from this a virtue by whose glow\nsouls here below are kindled to love according to their disposition.\n\nAnd because the ancients perceived that Heaven to be here below the\ncause of Love, they said that Love was the son of Venus, as Virgil\ntestifies in the first book of the \u00c6neid, where Venus says to Love:\n\"Oh! son, my virtue, son of the great Father, who takest no heed of\nthe darts of Typhoeus.\" And Ovid so testifies in the fifth book of\nhis Metamorphoses, when he says that Venus said to Love: \"Son, my\narms, my power.\" And there are Thrones which are ordered to the\ngovernment of this Heaven in number not great, concerning which the\nPhilosophers and the Astrologers have thought differently, according\nas they held different opinions concerning its revolutions. But all\nmay be agreed, as many are, in this, as to how many movements it\nmakes. Of this, as abbreviated in the book of the Aggregation of the\nStars, you may find in the better demonstration of the Astrologers\nthat there are three: one, according as the star moves towards its\nEpicycle; the other, according as the Epicycle moves with its whole\nHeaven equally with that of the Sun; the third, according as the whole\nof that Heaven moves, following the movement of the starry sphere from\nWest to East in one hundred years one degree. So that to these Three\nMovements there are Three Movers. Again, if the whole of this Heaven\nmoves and turns with the Epicycle from East to West once in each\nnatural day, that movement, whether it be caused by some Intelligence\nor whether it be through the rapid movement of the Primum Mobile, God\nknows, for to me it seems presumptuous to judge. These Movers produce,\ncaring for that alone, the revolution proper to that sphere which each\none moves. The most noble form of the Heaven, which has in itself the\nprinciple of this passive Nature, revolves, touched by the Moving\nPower, which cares for this; and I say touched, not by a bodily touch,\nbut by a Power which directs itself to that operation. And these\nMovers are those to whom I begin to speak and to whom I put my\ninquiry.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\n\nAccording to that which is said above in the third chapter of this\ntreatise, in order to understand well the first part of the Song I\ncomment on, it is requisite to discourse of those Heavens, and of\ntheir Movers; and in the three preceding chapters this has been\ndiscussed. I say, then, to those whom I proved to be Movers of the\nHeaven of Venus: \"Ye who, with thought intent\" (_i.e._, with the\nintellect alone, as is said above), \"the third Heaven move, Hear\nreasoning that is within my heart;\" and I do not say \"Hear\" because\nthey hear any sound, for they have no sense of hearing; but I say\n\"Hear,\" meaning with that hearing which they have, which is of the\nunderstanding through the intellect. I say, \"Hear reasoning that is\nwithin my heart,\" within me, which as yet has not appeared externally.\nIt is to be known that throughout this Song, according to the one\nsense (the Literal), and the other sense (the Allegorical), the Heart\nis concerned with the secret within, and not any other special part of\nthe soul or body. When I have called them to hear that which I wish to\nsay, I assign two reasons why I ought fitly to speak to them. One is\nthe novelty of my condition, which, from not having been experienced\nby other men, would not be so understood by them as by those who\nsuperintend such effects in their operation. And this reason I touch\nupon when I say: \"To you alone its new thoughts I impart.\" The other\nreason is: when a man receives a benefit or injury, he ought first to\nrelate it to him who bestows or inflicts it, if he can, rather than to\nothers; in order that, if it be a benefit, he who receives it may show\nhimself grateful towards the benefactor, and, if it be an injury, let\nhim lead the doer thereof to gentle mercy with sweet words. And this\nreason I touch upon when I say: \"Heaven, that is moved by you, my life\nhas brought To where it stands;\" that is to say, your operation,\nnamely, your revolution, is that which has drawn me into the present\ncondition; therefore I conclude and say that my speech ought to be to\nthem, such as is said; and I say here: \"Therefore to you 'tis need\nThat I should speak about the life I lead.\" And after these reasons\nassigned, I beseech them to listen when I speak.\n\nBut, because in each manner of speech the speaker especially ought to\nlook to persuasion, that is, to the pleasing of the audience, as that\nwhich is the beginning of all other persuasions, as do the\nRhetoricians, and the most powerful persuasion to render the audience\nattentive is to promise to say new and wonderful things, I add to the\nprayer made for attention, this persuasion, or embellishment,\nannouncing to them my intention to speak of new things, that is, the\ndivision which is in my mind; and great things, namely, the power of\ntheir star; and I say this in those last words of this first part:\n\n    To you I'll tell the heart's new cares: always\n      The sad Soul weeps within it, and there hears\n      Voice of a Spirit that condemns her tears,\n    A Spirit that descends through your star's rays.\n\nAnd to the full understanding of these words, I say that this Spirit\nis no other than a frequent thought how to commend and beautify this\nnew Lady. And this Soul is no other than another thought, accompanied\nwith acquiescence, which, repudiating that Spirit, commends and\nbeautifies the memory of that glorious Beatrice. But, again, because\nthe last sentiment of the mind, acquiescence, is held by that thought\nwhich memory assisted, I call it the Soul, and the other the Spirit;\nas we are accustomed to call the City those who hold it, and not those\nwho fight it, although the one and the other may be citizens. I say\nalso, that this Spirit comes on the rays of the star, because one\ndesires to know that the rays of each Heaven are the way by which\ntheir virtue descends into things here below. And since the rays are\nno other than a light which comes from the source of Light through the\nair even to the thing illuminated, and the light has no source except\nthe star, because the other Heaven is transparent, I say not that this\nSpirit, this thought, comes from their Heaven entirely, but from their\nstar. And their star, through the nobility of its Movers, is of such\nvirtue that in our souls, and in other things, it has very great\npower, notwithstanding that it is so far from us, about one hundred\nand sixty-seven times farther than it is to the centre of the Earth,\nwhich is three thousand two hundred and fifty miles. And this is the\nLiteral exposition of the first part of the Song.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\n\nWhat I have said shows clearly enough the Literal meaning of the first\npart. In the second, there is to be understood how it makes manifest\nwhat I experienced from the struggle within me; and this part has two\ndivisions. In the first place it describes the quality of these\noppositions, according as their cause was within me. Then I narrate\nwhat the one and the other voice of opposition said; and upon that\nfirstly which described what was being lost, in the passage which is\nthe second of that part and the third of the Song. In evidence, then,\nof the meaning of the first division, it is to be known that things\nmust be named by that part of their form which is the noblest and\nbest, as Man by Reason, and not by Sense, nor by aught else which is\nless noble; therefore, when one speaks of the living man, one should\nunderstand the man using Reason, which is his especial Life, and is\nthe action of his noblest part. And, therefore, whoso departs from\nReason and uses only the Senses is not a living man, but a living\nbeast, as says that most excellent Boethius, \"Let the Ass live.\"\n\nRightly I speak, because thought is the right act of reason, wherefore\nthe beasts who have it not do not think; and I speak not only of the\nlesser beasts, but of those who have a human appearance with the\nspirit of a sheep or of some other abominable beast. I say then:\n\"Thought that once fed my grieving heart\"--thought, that is, of the\ninner life--\"was sweet\" (sweet, insomuch as it is persuasive, that is,\npleasing, or beautiful, gentle, delightful); this thought often sped\naway to the feet of the Father of those Spirits to whom I speak, that\nis, God; that is to say, that I in thought contemplated the realm of\nthe Blessed. \"Thought that once fled up to the Father's feet.\" And I\nname the final cause immediately, because I ascended there above in\nthought when I say, \"There I beheld a Lady glorified,\" to let you\nunderstand that I was certain, and am certain by its gracious\nrevelation, that she was in Heaven; wherefore I, thinking many times\nhow this was possible for me, went thither, rapt, as it were. Then\nsubsequently I speak of the effect of this thought, in order to let\nyou understand its sweetness, which was such that it made me desirous\nof Death, that I also might go where she was gone. And of this I speak\nthere: \"Of whom so sweetly it discoursed to me That the Soul said,\n'With her would I might be!'\" And this is the root of one of the\nstruggles which was in me. And it is to be known that here one terms\nThought, and not Soul, that which ascended to see that Blessed Spirit,\nbecause it was an especial thought sent on that mission; the Soul is\nunderstood, as is stated in the preceding chapter, as thought in\ngeneral, with acquiescence.\n\nThen, when I say, \"Now One appears that drives the thought aside,\" I\ntouch the root of the other struggle, saying how that previous thought\nwas wont to be the life of me, even as another appears, which makes\nthat one cease to be. I say, \"drives the thought aside,\" in order to\nshow that one to be antagonistic, for naturally the opposing one\ndrives aside the other, and that which is driven appears to yield\nthrough want of power. And I say that this thought, which newly\nappears, is powerful in taking hold of me and in subduing my Soul,\nsaying that it \"masters me with such effectual might\" that the heart,\nthat is, my inner life, trembles so much that my countenance shows it\nin some new appearance.\n\nSubsequently I show the power of this new thought by its effect,\nsaying that it makes me \"fix my regard\" on a Lady, and speaks to me\nwords of allurement, that is to say, it reasons before the eyes of my\nintelligent affection, in order the better to induce me, promising me\nthat the sight of her eyes is its salvation. And in order to make this\ncredible to the Soul experienced in love, it says that it is for no\none to gaze into the eyes of this woman who fears the anguish of\nlaboured sighs. And it is a beautiful mode of rhetoric when externally\nit appears that you disembellish a thing, and yet really embellish it\nwithin. This new thought of love could not induce my mind to consent,\nexcept by discoursing of the virtue of the eyes of this fair Lady so\nprofoundly.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\n\nNow that it is shown how and whereof Love is born, and the antagonist\nthat fought with me, I must proceed to open the meaning of that part\nin which different thoughts contend within me. I say that, firstly,\none must speak on the part of the Soul, that is, of the former\nthought, and then of the other; for this reason, that always that\nwhich the speaker intends most especially to say he ought to reserve\nin the background, because that which is said finally, remains most in\nthe mind of the hearer. Therefore, since I mean to speak further, and\nto discourse of that which performs the work of those to whom I speak,\nrather than of that which undoes this work, it was reasonable first to\nmention and to discourse of the condition of the part which was\nundone, and then of that which was generated by the other.\n\nBut here arises a doubt, which is not to be passed over without\nexplanation. It would be possible for any one to say: Since Love is\nthe effect of these Intelligences, to whom I speak, and that of the\nfirst Love might be the same as that of the new Love, why should their\nvirtue destroy the one, and produce the other? since it ought to\npreserve the first, for the reason that each cause loves its effect,\nand ought to protect what it loves. To this question one can easily\nreply, that the effect of those Spirits, as has been said, is Love:\nand since they could not save it except in those who are subject to\ntheir revolution, they transfer it from that part which is beyond\ntheir power to that which is within reach, from the soul departed out\nof this life, into that which is yet living; as human nature transfers\nin the human form its preservation of the father to the son, because\nit cannot in this father preserve perpetually its effect: I say effect\nin as far as soul and body are united, and not effect in as far as\nthat soul, which is divided from the body, lasts for ever, in a nature\nmore than human. And thus is the question solved.\n\nBut since the immortality of the Soul is here touched upon, I will\nmake a digression upon that; because to discourse of that will make a\nfit conclusion to the mention I have made of that living and blessed\nBeatrice, of whom I do not intend to speak further in this book.\n\nFor proposition I say that, amongst all the bestialities, that is the\nmost foolish, the most vile, and most damnable which believes no other\nlife to be after this life; wherefore, if we turn over all books,\nwhether of philosophers or of the other wise writers, all agree in\nthis, that in us there is some everlasting principle. And this\nespecially Aristotle seems to desire in that book on the Soul; this\nespecially each stoic seems to desire; this Tullius seems to desire,\nespecially in that book on Old Age. This each of the Poets who have\nspoken according to the faith of the Gentiles seems to desire; this\nthe law seems to desire, among Jews, Saracens, and Tartars, and all\nother people who live according to some civil law. And if all these\ncould be deceived, there would result an impossibility which even to\ndescribe would be horrible. Each man is certain that human nature is\nthe most perfect of all natures here below. This no one denies: and\nAristotle affirms it when he says, in the twelfth book On Animals,\nthat man is the most perfect of all the animals. Therefore, since many\nwho live are entirely mortal, as are the brute animals, and all may\nbe, whilst they live, without that hope of the other life; if our hope\nshould be in vain, our want would be greater than that of any other\nanimal. There have been many who have given this life for that: and\nthus it would follow that the most perfect animal, man, would be the\nmost imperfect, which is impossible; and that that part, namely,\nreason, which is his chief perfection, would be in him the cause of\nthe chief defect: which seems strange to say of the whole. And again\nit would follow that Nature, in contradiction to herself, could have\nput this hope in the human mind; since it is said that many have\nhastened to death of the body that they might live in the other life;\nand this also is impossible. Again, we have continual experience of\nour immortality in the divination of our dreams, which could not be if\nthere were no immortal part in us, since immortal must be the\nrevelation. This part may be either corporeal or incorporeal if one\nthink well and closely. I say corporeal or incorporeal, because of the\ndifferent opinions which I find concerning this. That which is moved,\nor rather informed, by an immediate informer, ought to have proportion\nto the informer; and between the mortal and the immortal there is no\nproportion. Again, we are assured of it by the most truthful doctrine\nof Christ, which is the Way, the Truth, and the Light: the Way,\nbecause by it without impediment we go to the happiness of that\nimmortality; the Truth, because it endures no error; the Light,\nbecause it enlightens us in the darkness of worldly ignorance. This\ndoctrine, I say, which above all other reasons makes us certain of it;\nfor it has been given to us by Him who sees and measures our\nimmortality, which we cannot perfectly see whilst our immortal is\nmingled with the mortal. But we see it by faith perfectly; and by\nreason we see it with the cloud of obscurity which grows from the\nmixture of the mortal with the immortal. This ought to be the most\npowerful argument that both are in us: and I thus believe, thus\naffirm; and I am equally certain, after this life, to pass to that\nother and better life--there where that glorious Lady lives, with whom\nmy soul was enamoured when it was struggling, as will be set forth in\nthe next chapter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\n\nReturning to the proposition, I say that in that verse which begins \"A\nfoe so strong I find him that he destroys,\" I intend to make manifest\nthat which was discoursing in my Soul, the ancient thought against the\nnew; and first briefly I show the cause of its lamentation, when I\nsay: \"This opposite now breaks the humble dream Of the crowned angel\nin the glory-beam.\" This one is that especial thought of which it is\nsaid above that it was wont to be the life of the sorrowing heart.\nThen when I say, \"Still, therefore, my Soul weeps,\" it is evident that\nmy Soul is still on its side, and speaks with sadness; and I say that\nit speaks words of lamentation, as if it might wonder at the sudden\ntransformation, saying: \"'The tender star,' It says, 'that once was my\nconsoler, flies.'\" It can well say consoler, for in the great loss\nwhich I sustained in the death of Beatrice this thought, which\nascended into Heaven, had given to my Soul much consolation.\n\nThen afterwards I say, that all my thought, my Soul, of which I say,\n\"That troubled one,\" turns in excuse of itself, and speaks against the\neyes; and this is made evident there: \"That troubled one asked, 'When\ninto thine eyes Looked she?'\" And I say that she speaks of them and\nagainst them three things: the first is, she blasphemes the hour when\nthis woman saw them. And here you must know, that although many things\nin one hour can come into the eyes, truly that which comes by a\nstraight line into the point of the pupil, that truly one sees, and\nthat only is sealed in the imaginative part. And this is, because the\nnerve by which the visible spirit runs is directed to that part, and\nthereupon truly one eye cannot look on the eye of another so that it\nis not seen by it; for as that which looks receives the form of the\npupil by a right line, so by that same line its form passes into that\neye which gazes. And many times in the direction of that line a shaft\nflies from the bow of Love, with whom each weapon is light. Therefore,\nwhen I ask, \"When first into mine eyes looked she?\" it is as much as\nto ask, \"When did her eyes and mine look into each other?\"\n\nThe second point is in that which reproves their disobedience, when it\nsays, \"Of her, why doubted they my words?\" Then it proceeds to the\nthird thing and says that it is not right to reprove them for\nprecaution, but for their disobedience; for it says that, sometimes,\nwhen speaking of this woman, it might be said, \"Her eyes bear death to\nsuch as I,\" if she could have opened the way of approach. And indeed\none ought to believe that my Soul knew of its own inclination ready to\nreceive the operation of this power, and therefore dreaded it; for the\nact of the agent takes full effect in the patient who has the\ninclination to receive it, as the Philosopher says in the second book\non the Soul. And, therefore, if wax could have the spirit of fear, it\nwould fear most to come into the rays of the Sun, which would not turn\nit into stone, since its disposition is to yield to that strong\noperation.\n\nLastly, the Soul reveals in its speech that their presumption had been\ndangerous when it says, \"Yet vainly warned, I gazed on her and die.\"\nAnd thus it closes its speech, to which the new thought replies, as\nwill be declared in the following chapter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\n\nThe meaning of that part in which the Soul speaks, that is, the old\nthought which is undone, has been shown. Now, in due order, the\nmeaning must be shown of the part in which the new antagonistic\nthought speaks; and this part is contained entirely in the verse or\nstanza which begins, \"Thou art not dead,\" which part, in order to\nunderstand it well, I will divide into two; that in the first part,\nwhich begins \"Thou art not dead,\" it then says, continuing its last\nwords, \"It is not true that thou art dead; but the cause wherefore\nthou to thyself seemest to be dead is a deadly dismay into which thou\nart vilely fallen because of this woman who has appeared to thee.\" And\nhere it is to be observed that, as Boethius says in his Consolation,\neach sudden change of things does not happen without some flurry of\nmind. And this is expressed in the reproof of that thought which is\ncalled \"the spirit voice of tenderness,\" when it gave me to understand\nthat my consent was inclining towards it; and thus, one can easily\ncomprehend this, and recognize its victory, when it already says,\n\"Dear Soul of ours,\" therein making itself familiar. Then, as is\nstated, it commands where it ought to rebuke that Soul, in order to\ninduce it to come to her; and therefore it says to her: \"See, she is\nlowly, Pitiful, courteous, though so wise and holy.\"\n\nThese are two things which are a fit remedy for the fear with which\nthe Soul appeared impassioned; for, firmly united, they cause the\nindividual to hope well, and especially Pity, which causes all other\ngoodness to shine forth by its light. Wherefore Virgil, speaking of\n\u00c6neas, in his greater praise calls him compassionate, pitiful; and\nthat is not pity such as the common people understand it, which is to\nlament over the misfortunes of others; nay, this is an especial effect\nwhich is called Mercy, Pity, Compassion; and it is a passion. But\ncompassion is not a passion; rather a noble disposition of mind,\nprepared to receive Love, Mercy, and other charitable passions. Then\nit says: \"See also how courteous, though so wise and holy.\"\n\nHere it says three things which, according as they can be acquired by\nus, make the person especially pleasing. It says Wise. Now, what is\nmore beautiful in a woman than knowledge? It says Courteous. Nothing\nin a woman can be more excellent than courtesy. And neither are the\nwretched common people deceived even in this word, for they believe\nthat courtesy is no other than liberality; for liberality is an\nespecial, and not a general courtesy. Courtesy is all one with\nhonesty, modesty, decency; and because the virtues and good manners\nwere the custom in Courts anciently, as now the opposite is the\ncustom, this word was taken from the Courts; which word, if it should\nnow be taken from the Courts, especially of Italy, would and could\nexpress no other than baseness. It says Holy. The greatness which is\nhere meant is especially well accompanied with the two afore-mentioned\nvirtues; because it is that light which reveals the good and the evil\nof the person clearly. And how much knowledge and how much virtuous\ncustom does there not seem to be wanting by this light! How much\nmadness and how much vice are seen to be by this light! Better would\nit be for the wretched madmen high in station, stupid and vicious, to\nbe of low estate, that neither in the world nor after this life they\nshould be so infamous. Truly for such Solomon says in Ecclesiastes:\n\"There is a sore evil that I have seen under the Sun; namely, riches\nkept for the owners thereof to their hurt.\"\n\nThen subsequently it lays a command on it, that is, on my Soul, that\nit should now call this one its Lady: \"Think thou to call her Mistress\nevermore,\" promising my Soul that it will be quite content with her\nwhen it shall have clear perception of all her wonderful\naccomplishments; and then this one says: \"Save thou delude thyself,\nthen shall there shine High miracles before thee;\" neither does it\nspeak otherwise even to the end of that stanza. And here ends the\nLiteral meaning of all that which I say in this Song, speaking to\nthese Celestial Intelligences.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\n\nFinally, according to that which the letter of this Commentary said\nabove, when I divided the principal parts of this Song, I turn back\nwith the face of my discourse to the same Song, and I speak to that.\nAnd in order that this part may be understood more fully, I say that\ngenerally in each Song there is what is called a Tornata, because the\nReciters, who originally were accustomed to compose it, so contrived\nthat when the song was sung, with a certain part of the song they\ncould return to it. But I have rarely done it with that intention;\nand, in order that others may perceive, this I have seldom placed it\nwith the sequence of the Song, so long as it is in the rhythm which is\nnecessary to the measure. But I have used it when it was requisite to\nexpress something independent of the meaning of the Song, and which\nwas needful for its embellishment, as it will be possible to perceive\nin this and in the other Songs.\n\nAnd, therefore, I say at present, that the goodness and the beauty of\neach discourse are parted and divided; for the goodness is in the\nmeaning, and the beauty in the ornament of the words. And the one and\nthe other are with delight, although the goodness is especially\ndelightful. Wherefore, since the goodness of this Song might be\ndifficult to perceive, because of the various persons who are led to\nspeak in it, where so many distinctions are required; and the beauty\nwould be easy to see, it seemed to me, of the nature of the Song that\nby some men more attention might be paid to the beauty of the words\nthan to the goodness of matter. And this is what I say in that part.\n\nBut, because it often happens that to admonish seems presumptuous in\ncertain conditions, it is usual for the Rhetorician to speak\nindirectly to others, directing his words, not to him for whom he\nspeaks, but towards another. And truly this method is maintained here;\nfor to the Song the words go, and to the men the meaning of them. I\nsay then: \"My Song, I do believe there will be few Who toil to\nunderstand thy reasoning.\" And I state the cause, which is double.\nFirst, because thou speakest with fatigue--with fatigue, I say, for\nthe reason which is stated; and then because thou speakest with\ndifficulty--with difficulty, I say, as to the novelty of the meaning.\nNow afterwards I admonish it, and say:\n\n      But if thou pass perchance by those who bring\n    No skill to give thee the attention due,\n      Then pray I, dear last-born, let them rejoice\n      At least to find a music in my voice.\n\nFor in this I desire to say no other according to what is said above,\nexcept \"Oh, men, you who cannot see the meaning of this Song, do not\ntherefore refuse it; but pay attention to its beauty, which is great,\nboth for construction, which belongs to the Grammarians; and for the\norder of the discourse, which belongs to the Rhetoricians; as well as\nfor the rhythm of its parts, which belongs to the Musicians.\" For\nwhich things he who looks well can see that there may be beauty in it.\nAnd this is the entire Literal meaning of the first Song which is\nprepared for the first dish in my Banquet.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\n\nSince the Literal meaning has been sufficiently explained, we must now\nproceed to the Allegorical and true exposition. And, therefore,\nbeginning again from the first head, I say that when I had lost the\nchief delight of my Soul in former time, I was left so stung with\nsadness that no consolation whatever availed me. Nevertheless, after\nsome time, my mind, reasoning with itself to heal itself, took heed,\nsince neither my own nor that of another availed to comfort it, to\nturn to the method which a certain disconsolate one had adopted when\nhe looked for Consolation. And I set myself to read that book of\nBoethius, not known to many, in which, when a captive exile, he had\nconsoled himself. And, again, hearing that Tullius had written another\nbook, in which, treating of Friendship, he had spoken words for the\nconsolation of L\u00e6lius, a most excellent man, on the death of his\nfriend Scipio, I set myself to read it. And although at first it was\ndifficult to me to enter into their meaning, yet, finally, I entered\ninto it so much as the knowledge of grammar that I possessed, together\nwith some slight power of intellect, enabled me to do: by which power\nof intellect I formerly beheld many things almost like a person in a\ndream, as may be seen in the Vita Nuova. And as it is wont to be that\na man goes seeking for silver, and beyond his purpose he finds gold,\nwhose hidden cause appears not perhaps without the Divine Will; I, who\nsought to console myself, found not only a remedy for my tears, but\nwords of authors and of sciences and of books; reflecting on which I\njudged well that Philosophy, who was the Lady of these authors, of\nthese sciences, and of these books, might be a supreme thing. And I\nimagined her in the form of a gentle Lady; and I could imagine her in\nno other attitude than a compassionate one, because if willingly the\nsense of Truth beheld her, hardly could it turn away from her. And\nwith this imagination I began to go where she is demonstrated\ntruthfully, that is, to the Schools of the Religious, and to the\ndisputations of the Philosophers; so that in a short time, perhaps of\nthirty months, I began to feel her sweetness so much that my love for\nher chased away and destroyed all other thought. Wherefore I, feeling\nmyself to rise from the thought of the first Love to the virtue of\nthis new one, as if wondering at myself, opened my mouth in the speech\nof the proposed Song, showing my condition under the figure of other\nthings: for of the Lady with whom I was enamoured, no rhyme of any\nVernacular was worthy to speak openly, neither were the hearers so\nwell prepared that they could have easily understood the words without\nfigure: neither would faith have been given by them to the true\nmeaning, as to the figurative; since if the truth of the whole was\nbelieved, that I was inclined to that love, it would not be believed\nof this. I then begin to speak: \"Ye who, intent of thought, the third\nHeaven move.\"\n\nAnd because, as has been said, this Lady was the daughter of God, the\nQueen of all, the most noble and most beautiful Philosophy, it remains\nto be seen who these Movers were, and what this third Heaven. And\nfirstly of the third Heaven, according to the order which has been\ngone through. And here it is not needful to proceed to division, and\nto explanation of the letter, for, having turned the fictitious speech\naway from that which it utters to that which it means, by the\nexposition just gone through, this meaning is sufficiently made\nevident.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\n\nIn order to see what is meant by the \"third Heaven,\" one has in the\nfirst place to perceive what I desire to express by this word Heaven\nalone: and then one will see how and why this third Heaven was needful\nto us. I say that by Heaven I mean Science, and by the Heavens \"the\nSciences,\" from three resemblances which the Heavens have with the\nSciences, especially by the order and number in which they must\nappear; as will be seen by discussing that word Third. The first\nsimilitude is the revolution of the one and the other round one fixed\ncentre. For each movable Heaven revolves round its centre, which, on\naccount of its movement, moves not; and thus each Science moves round\nits subject, which itself moves not; for no Science demonstrates its\nown foundation, but presupposes that. The second similitude is the\nillumination of the one and the other. For each Heaven illuminates\nvisible things; and thus each Science illuminates the things\nintelligible. And the third similitude is the inducing of perfection\nin the things so inclined. Of which induction, as to the first\nperfection, that is, of the substantial generation, all the\nphilosophers agree that the Heavens are the cause, although they\nattribute this in different ways: some from the Movers, as Plato,\nAvicenna, and Algazel; some from the stars themselves, especially the\nhuman souls, as Socrates, and also Plato and Dionysius the\nAcademician; and some from celestial virtue which is in the natural\nheat of the seed, as Aristotle and the other Peripatetics. Thus the\nSciences are the cause in us of the induction of the second\nperfection; by the use of which we can speculate concerning the Truth,\nwhich is our ultimate perfection, as the Philosopher says in the sixth\nbook of the Ethics, when he says that Truth is the good of the\nintellect. Because of these and many other resemblances, it is\npossible to call Science, Heaven.\n\nNow it remains to see why it is called the third Heaven. Here it is\nrequisite to reflect somewhat with regard to a comparison which exists\nbetween the order of the Heavens and that of the Sciences Wherefore,\nas has been previously described, the Seven Heavens next to us are\nthose of the Planets; then there are two Heavens above these, the\nMobile, and one above all, Quiet. To the Seven first correspond the\nSeven Sciences of the _Trivium_ and of the _Quadrivium_,\nnamely, Grammar, Logic, Rhetoric, Arithmetic, Music, Geometry, and\nAstrology. To the eighth Sphere, i.e., to the starry, correspond\nNatural Science, which is termed Physics, and the first Science, which\nis termed Metaphysics. To the ninth Sphere corresponds Moral Science;\nand to the Quiet Heaven corresponds Divine Science, which is\ndesignated Theology.\n\nAnd the reason why this is, remains briefly to be seen. I say that the\nHeaven of the Moon is likened unto Grammar because it is possible to\nfind a comparison to it. For if you look at the Moon well, two things\nare seen to be proper to it which are not seen in the other stars: the\none is the shadow which is in it, which is no other than the rarity of\nits body, in which the rays of the Sun can find no end wherefrom to\nstrike back again as in the other parts; the other is the variation of\nits brightness, which now shines on one side, and now on the other,\naccording as the Sun sees it. And these two properties Grammar has:\nfor, because of its infinity, the rays of reason can find no end in it\nin parts, especially of the words; and it shines now on this side, now\non that, inasmuch as certain words, certain declensions, certain\nconstructions, are in use which were not formerly, and many formerly\nwere which again will be; as Horace says in the beginning of his book\non the art of Poetry, when he says: \"Many words will spring up again\nwhich have now fallen out of use.\"\n\nAnd the Heaven of Mercury may be compared to Logic because of two\nproperties: that Mercury is the smallest star in Heaven, that the\namount of its diameter is no more than two hundred and thirty-two\nmiles, according as Alfergano puts it, who says that it is one\ntwenty-eighth part of the diameter of the Earth, which is six thousand\nfive hundred miles; the other property is, that it is more concealed\nby the rays of the Sun than any other star. And these two properties\nare in Logic: for Logic is less in substance than any other Science,\nfor it is perfectly compiled and terminated in so much text as is\nfound in the old Art and the new; and it is more concealed than any\nother Science, inasmuch as it proceeds with more sophistical and\nprobable arguments than any other.\n\nAnd the Heaven of Venus may be compared to Rhetoric because of two\nproperties: the one is the brightness of its aspect, which is most\nsweet to behold, far more than any other star; the other is its\nappearance, now in the morning, now in the evening. And these two\nproperties are in Rhetoric: for Rhetoric is the sweetest of all\nSciences, since it principally aims at sweetness. It appears in the\nmorning, when the Rhetorician speaks before the face of the hearer; it\nappears in the evening, that is, afterwards, when it speaks by Letters\nin distant parts.\n\nAnd the Heaven of the Sun may be compared to Arithmetic because of two\nproperties: the one is, that with his light all the other stars are\ninformed; the other is that the eye cannot gaze at it. And these two\nproperties are in Arithmetic, which with its light illuminates all its\nSciences: for their subjects are all considered under some Number, and\nwith Number one always proceeds in the consideration of these; as in\nNatural Science the movable body is the subject, which movable body\nhas in itself three reasons of continuity, and this has in itself\nreason of infinite number. And of Natural Science its first and\nchiefest consideration is to consider the principles of natural\nobjects, which are three, that is, matter, privation, and form; in\nwhich this Number is seen, and not only in all together, but again in\neach one, as he who considers subtly may perceive. Wherefore,\nPythagoras, according to what Aristotle says in the first book of the\nPhysics, established as the principles of natural things, the equal\nand the unequal; considering all things to be Number. The other\nproperty of the Sun is again seen in Number, of which Number is the\nScience of Arithmetic, that the eye of the intellect cannot gaze at\nit. For Number, inasmuch as it is considered in itself, is infinite;\nand this we cannot, understand.\n\nAnd the Heaven of Mars may be compared to Music because of two\nproperties. One is its most beautiful relative position; for, when\nenumerating the movable Heavens, from which one soever you may begin,\neither from the lowest or from the highest, this Heaven of Mars is the\nfifth; it is the central one of all, that is, of the first, of the\nsecond, of the third, and of the fourth. The other is, that this Mars\ndries up and burns things, because his heat is like to that of fire;\nand this is why it appears flaming in colour, sometimes more and\nsometimes less, according to the density and rarity of the vapours\nwhich follow it, which of themselves are often kindled, as is\ndetermined in the first book on Meteors. And, therefore, Albumassar\nsays that the kindling of these vapours signifies the death of Kings\nand the change of Kingdoms; for they are the effects of the dominion\nof Mars. And, therefore, Seneca says that, on the death of Augustus,\nhe beheld on high a ball of fire. And in Florence, at the beginning of\nits destruction, there was seen in the air, in the form of a cross, a\ngreat quantity of these vapours following the planet Mars. And these\ntwo properties are in Music, which is all relative, as is seen in\nharmonized words and in songs, from which the sweeter harmony results\nin proportion as the relation is more beautiful, which in this Science\nis especially beautiful, because there is in it a special harmony.\nAgain, Music attracts to itself human spirits, which are as it were\nchiefly vapours from the heart, so that they almost cease from all\nlabour; so is the whole soul when it hears it, and the power of all\nthose spirits flies as it were to the spirit of sense, which receives\nthe sound.\n\nAnd the Heaven of Jupiter can be compared to Geometry because of two\nproperties. The one is, that it moves between two Heavens, repugnant\nto its good tempering, namely, that of Mars and that of Saturn. Hence\nPtolemy says, in the book alluded to, that Jupiter is a star of a\ntemperate complexion, midway between the cold of Saturn and the heat\nof Mars. The other is, that amongst all the stars it appears white, as\nif silvered. And these things are in the Science of Geometry. Geometry\nmoves between two things antagonistic to it; as between the point and\nthe circle, and I term circle freely anything that is round, either a\nbody or superfices; for, as Euclid says, the point is the beginning of\nGeometry, and, according to what he says, the circle is the most\nperfect figure in it, which must therefore have reason for its end; so\nthat between the point and the circle, as between the beginning and\nthe end, Geometry moves. And these two are antagonistic to its\ncertainty; for the point by its indivisibility is immeasurable, and\nthe circle, on account of its arc, it is impossible to square\nperfectly, and therefore it is impossible to measure precisely. And\nagain, Geometry is most white, inasmuch as it is without spot of\nerror, and it is most certain in itself, and by its handmaid, called\nPerspective.\n\nAnd the Heaven of Saturn has two properties because of which it can be\ncompared to Astrology. One is the slowness of its movement through the\ntwelve signs; for twenty-nine years and more, according to the\nwritings of the Astrologers, is the time that it requires in its\norbit. The other is, that above all the other planets it is highest.\nAnd these two properties are in Astrology, for in completing its\ncircle, as in the acquirement of this Science, the greatest space of\ntime is revolved, because its demonstrations are more than any other\nof the aforementioned Sciences, and long experience is requisite to\nthose who would acquire good judgment in it. And again, it is the\nhighest of all the others, because, as Aristotle says in the\ncommencement of his book on the Soul, the Science is high, because of\nits nobility, and because of the nobleness of its subject and its\ncertainty. And this Science more than any other of those mentioned\nabove is noble and high, for noble and high is its subject, which is\nthe movement of the Heavens; and high and noble, because of its\ncertainty, which is without any defect, even as that which springs\nfrom the most perfect and most regular principle. And if any one\nbelieve that there is defect in it, it is not on the part of the\nScience, but, as Ptolemy says, it is through our negligence, and to\nthat it must be imputed.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\n\nAfter the comparisons which I have made of the seven first Heavens, we\nmust now proceed to the others, which are three, as has been often\nstated.\n\nI say that the Starry Heaven may be compared to Physics because of\nthree properties, and to Metaphysics because of three others. For it\nshows us of itself two visible things, such as the multitude of stars\nand such as the Galaxy, that white circle which the common people call\nthe Path of St. James. It shows to us also one of the poles, and keeps\nthe other hidden from us. And it shows to us one movement alone from\nEast to West; and another, which it makes from West to East, it keeps\nalmost, as it were, hidden from us. Therefore, in due order are to be\nseen, first the comparison with the Physical and then that with the\nMetaphysical.\n\nI say that the Starry Heaven shows us many stars; for, according to\nwhat the wise men of Egypt have seen, even to the last star which\nappeared to them in the Meridian, they place there twenty-two thousand\nbodies of stars, of which I speak. And in this it has the greatest\nsimilitude with Physics, if these three numbers, namely, Two, and\nTwenty, and Thousand, are regarded well and subtly. For by the two is\nmeant the local movement, which is of necessity from one point to\nanother; and by the twenty is signified the movement of the\nalteration, for, since from the ten upwards one advances not except by\naltering this ten with the other nine and with itself; and the most\nbeautiful alteration which it receives is its own with itself, and the\nfirst which it receives is the twenty; reasonably by this number the\nsaid movement is signified. And by the thousand is signified the\nmovement of increase, which in name, that is, this thousand, is the\ngreater number, and to increase still more is not possible except by\nmultiplying this. And these three movements alone are observed in\nPhysics, as it is demonstrated in the fifth chapter of his first book.\n\nAnd because of the Milky Way, this Heaven has a great similitude with\nMetaphysics. Wherefore, it is to be known that concerning this Galaxy\nthe Philosophers have had different opinions. For the followers of\nPythagoras said that the Sun at some time or other went astray from\nhis path, and, passing through other parts not suitable to his fervent\nheat, he burnt the place through which he passed, and there remained\nthat appearance of the conflagration. And I believe that they were\nmoved by the fable of Phaeton, which Ovid relates in the beginning of\nthe second part of his Metamorphoses. Others said, such as Anaxagoras\nand Democritus, that it was the light of the Sun reflected into that\npart. And these opinions, with demonstrative reasons, they proved over\nand over again. What Aristotle may have said of this is not so easy to\nlearn, because his opinion is not found to be the same in one\ntranslation as in the other; and I believe that it might be due to the\nerror of the translators, for in the new one he seems to say that the\nGalaxy is a collection of vapours under the stars of that part which\nalways attract them; and this does not seem to be the true reason. In\nthe old translation he says that the Galaxy is no other than a\nmultitude of fixed stars in that part, so small that we cannot\ndistinguish them from here below, but that they cause the whiteness\nwhich we call the Milky Way. And it may be that the Heaven in that\npart is more dense, and therefore retains and represents that light;\nand this opinion Avicenna and Ptolemy seem to share with Aristotle.\nTherefore, since the Galaxy is an effect of those stars which we\ncannot see, if we understand those things by their effect alone, and\nMetaphysics treats of the first substances, which we cannot similarly\nunderstand except by their effects, it is evident that the Starry\nHeaven has a great similitude to Metaphysics.\n\nAgain, by the pole which we see is signified the things known to our\nsenses, concerning which, taking them universally, the Science of\nPhysics treats; and by the pole which we do not see is signified the\nthings which are without matter, which are not sensible, concerning\nwhich Metaphysics treats; and therefore the said Heaven has a great\nsimilitude with the one Science and with the other.\n\nAgain, by the two movements it signifies these two Sciences: for by\nthe movement in which every day revolves, and makes a new revolution\nfrom point to point, it signifies things natural and corruptible which\ndaily complete their path, and their material is changed from form to\nform; and of this the Science of Physics treats. And by the almost\ninsensible movement which it makes from West to East by one degree in\na hundred years, it signifies things incorruptible, which received\nfrom God the beginning of their creation, and will have no end; but of\nthese Metaphysics treats. Therefore I say that this movement signifies\nthose things, for it began this revolution which will have no end; the\nend of the revolution being to return to one self-same point, to which\nthis Heaven will not return by this movement, which has revolved a\nlittle more than the sixth part from the commencement of the world;\nand we are now in the last age of the world, and verily we wait the\nconsummation of the celestial movement. Thus it is evident that the\nStarry Heaven, on account of many properties, may be compared to the\nScience of Physics and Metaphysics.\n\nThe Crystalline Heaven, which, as the Primum Mobile, has been\npreviously counted, has a sufficiently evident comparison to Moral\nPhilosophy; for Moral Philosophy, according to what Tommaso says upon\nthe second book of the Ethics, teaches us method in the other\nSciences.\n\nFor as the Philosopher says in the fifth book of the Ethics, legal\nJustice requires the Sciences to be learnt, and commands, in order\nthat they may not be abandoned, that they be learnt and taught: thus,\nthe said Heaven rules with its movement the daily revolution of all\nthe others; from which revolution every day all those receive and send\nbelow the virtues of their several parts. For, if the revolution of\nthis Heaven could not rule over that, but little of their power would\ndescend below, and little of their aspect. Wherefore we hold that, if\nit could be possible for this ninth Heaven not to move, the third part\nof the Heaven would not again be seen in any part from the Earth:\nSaturn would be for fourteen years and a half concealed from any place\non the Earth, Jupiter would be hidden for six years, and Mars for\nalmost a whole year, and the Sun for one hundred and eighty-two days\nand fourteen hours (I say days, meaning so much time as so many days\nmeasure); and Venus and Mercury, almost like the Sun, would be hidden\nand would reappear, and the Moon for the space of fourteen days and a\nhalf would be hidden from all people. Verily, here below there would\nbe neither generation, nor the life of animals, nor of plants; there\nwould be no night, nor day, nor week, nor month, nor year; but the\nwhole Universe would be disordered, and the movement of the stars\nwould be in vain. Not otherwise, should Moral Philosophy cease to be,\nwould the other Sciences be hidden for some time, and there would be\nno generation nor life of happiness, and all books would be in vain,\nand all discoveries of old. Therefore it is sufficiently evident that\nthere is a comparison between this Heaven and Moral Philosophy.\n\nAgain, the Empyrean Heaven, because of its Peace, bears a similitude\nto the Divine Science, which is full of all Peace; which endures no\nconflict of opinion or of sophistical arguments, on account of the\nmost excellent certainty of its subject, which is God. And of this He\nHimself speaks to His disciples: \"My peace I give to you: My peace I\nleave unto you,\" giving and leaving to them His doctrine, which is\nthis Science whereof I speak.\n\nSolomon says of this Science: \"Sixty are the queens, and eighty the\nfriendly concubines; and youthful virgins without number; but one is\nmy dove and my perfect one.\" All the Sciences he terms queens, and\nfriends, and virgins; and he calls this one dove, because it is\nwithout blemish of strife; and he calls this one perfect, because it\ncauses us to see perfectly the Truth in which our Soul finds Peace.\n\nAnd therefore the comparison of the Heavens to the Sciences having\nbeen thus reasoned out, it is easy to see that by the Third Heaven I\nmean Rhetoric, which has been likened unto the Third Heaven, as\nappears above.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\n\nBy the similitudes spoken of it is possible to see who these Movers\nare to whom I speak; what are the Movers of that Heaven; even as\nBoethius and Tullius, who by the sweetness of their speech sent me, as\nhas before been stated, to the Love, which is the study of that most\ngentle Lady, Philosophy, by the rays of their star, which is the\nwritten word of that fair one. Therefore in each Science the written\nword is a star full of light, which that Science reveals And, this\nbeing made manifest, it is easy to see the true meaning of the first\nverse of the purposed Poem by means of the exposition, Figurative and\nLiteral. And by means of this self-same exposition one can\nsufficiently understand the second verse, even to that part where it\nsays, This Spirit made me look on a fair Lady: where it should be\nknown that this Lady is Philosophy; which truly is a Lady full of\nsweetness, adorned with modesty, wonderful for wisdom, the glory of\nfreedom, as in the Third Treatise, where her Nobility will be\ndescribed, it is made manifest. And then where it says: \"Who seeks\nwhere his Salvation lies, Must gaze intently in this Lady's eyes;\" the\neyes of this Lady are her demonstrations, which look straight into the\neyes of the intellect, enamour the Soul, and set it free from the\ntrammels of circumstance. Oh, most sweet and ineffable forms, swift\nstealers of the human mind, which appear in these demonstrations, that\nis, in the eyes of Philosophy, when she discourses to her faithful\nfriends! Verily in you is Salvation, whereby he is made blessed who\nlooks at you, and is saved from the death of Ignorance and Vice. Where\nit says, \"Nor dread the sighs of anguish, joys debarred,\" the wish is\nto signify, if he fear not the labour of study and the strife of\nconflicting opinions, which flow forth ever multiplying from the\nliving Spring in the eyes of this Lady, and then her light still\ncontinuing, they fall away, almost like little morning clouds before\nthe Sun. And now the intellect, become her friend, remains free and\nfull of certain Truth, even as the atmosphere is rendered pure and\nbright by the shining of the midday Sun.\n\nThe third passage again is explained by the Literal exposition as far\nas to where it says, \"Still therefore the Soul weeps.\" Here it is\ndesirable to attend to a certain moral sense which may be observed in\nthese words: that a man ought not for the sake of the greater friend\nto forget the service received from the lesser; but if one must follow\nthe one and leave the other, the greater is to be followed, with\nhonest lamentation for desertion of the other, whereby he gives\noccasion to the one whom he follows to bestow more love on him. Then\nthere where it says, \"Of my eyes,\" has no other meaning except that\nbitter was the hour when the first demonstration of this Lady entered\ninto the eyes of my intellect, which was the cause of this most close\nattachment. And there where it says, \"My peers,\" it means the Souls\nset free from miserable and vile pleasures, and from vulgar habits,\nendowed with understanding and memory. And then it says, \"Her eyes\nbear death,\" and then it says, \"I gazed on her and die,\" which appears\ncontrary to that which is said above of Salvation by this Lady. And\ntherefore it is to be known that one Spirit speaks here on one side\nand the other speaks there on the other; which two dispute\ncontrariwise, according to that which is made evident above. Wherefore\nit is no wonder if here the one Spirit says Yes, and there the other\nSpirit says No. Then in the stanza where it says, \"A sweet voice of\ntenderness,\" a thought is meant which was born of my deep\ncontemplation; wherefore it is to be known that by Love, in this\nAllegory, is always meant that deep contemplation which is the earnest\napplication of the enamoured mind to that object wherewith it is\nenamoured. Then when it says, \"There shall shine High miracles before\nthee,\" it announces that through her the adornments of the miracles\nwill be seen; and it speaks truly, that the adornment of the miracles\nis to see the cause of the same, which she demonstrates; as in the\nbeginning of the book on Metaphysics the Philosopher seems to feel,\nsaying that, through the contemplation of these adornments, men began\nto be enamoured with this Lady. And concerning this word, i.e.,\nmiracle, in the following treatise I shall speak more fully. What then\nfollows of this Song is sufficiently explained by the other\nexposition.\n\nAnd thus at the end of this Second Treatise, I say and affirm that the\nLady with whom I became enamoured after the first Love was the most\nbeautiful and most excellent daughter of the Ruler of the Universe, to\nwhich daughter Pythagoras gave the name of Philosophy. And here ends\nthe Second Treatise, which is brought in for the first dish at my\nBanquet.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nThe Third Treatise.\n\n\n    Love, reasoning of my Lady in my mind\n      With constant pleasure, oft of her will say\n      Things over which the intellect may stray;\n    His words make music of so sweet a kind\n      That the Soul hears and feels, and cries, Ah, me,\n      That I want power to tell what thus I see!\n\n    If I would tell of her what thus I hear,\n      First, all that Reason cannot make its own\n      I needs must leave; and of what may be known\n    Leave part, for want of words to make it clear.\n      If my Song fail, blame wit and words, whose force\n      Fails to tell all I hear in Love's discourse.\n\n    The Sun sees not in travel round the earth,\n      Till it reach her abode, so fair a thing\n      As she of whom Love causes me to sing.\n    All minds of Heaven wonder at her worth;\n      Mortals, enamoured, find her in their thought\n      When Love his peace into their minds has brought.\n\n    Her Maker saw that she was good, and poured,\n      Beyond our Nature, fulness of His Power\n      On her pure soul, whence shone this holy dower\n    Through all her frame, with beauty so adored\n      That from the eyes she touches heralds fly\n      Heartward with longings, heavenward with a sigh.\n\n    On her fair frame Virtue Divine descends\n      As on the angel that beholds His face.\n      Fair one who doubt, go with her, mark the grace\n    In all her acts. Downward from Heaven bends\n      An angel when the speaks, who can attest\n      A power in her by none of us possessed.\n\n    The graceful acts that she shows forth to all\n      Rival in calls to love that love must hear;\n      Fair in all like her, fairest she'll appear\n    Who is most like her. We, content to call\n      Her face a Miracle, have Faith made sure:\n      For that, He made her ever to endure.\n\n    Her aspect shows delights of Paradise,\n      Seen in her eyes and in her smiling face;\n      Love brought them there as to his dwelling-place.\n    They dazzle reason, as the Sun the eyes;\n      And since I cannot fix on them my gaze\n      Words must suffice that little speak their praise.\n\n    Rain from her beauty little flames of fire,\n      Made living with a spirit to create\n      Good thoughts, and crush the vices that innate\n    Make others vile. Fair one, who may desire\n      Escape from blame as one not calm or meek,\n      From her, who is God's thought, thy teaching seek.\n\n    My Song, it seems you speak this to oppose\n      The saying of a sister Song of mine:\n      This lowly Lady whom you call divine,\n    Your sister called disdainful and morose.\n      Though Heaven, you know, is ever bright and pure,\n      Eyes may have cause to find a star obscure.\n\n    So when your sister called this Lady proud\n      She judged not truly, by what seemed; but fear\n      Possessed her soul; and still, when I come near\n    Her glance, there's dread. Be such excuse allowed,\n      My Song, and when thou canst, approach her, say;\n      My Lady, take all homage I can pay.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\n\nIn the preceding treatise is described how my second Love took its\nrise from the compassionate countenance of a Lady; which Love, finding\nmy Soul inclined to its ardour, after the manner of fire, was kindled\nfrom a slight spark into a great flame; so that not only during my\nwaking hours, but during sleep, its light threw many a vision into my\nmind. And how great the desire which Love excited to behold this Lady,\nit would be impossible either to tell or to make understood. And not\nonly of her was I thus desirous, but of all those persons who had any\nnearness to her, either as acquaintances or as relations. Oh! how many\nwere the nights, when the eyes of other persons were closed in sleep,\nthat mine, wide open, gazed fixedly upon the tabernacle of my Love.\n\nAnd as the rapidly increasing fire must of necessity be seen, it being\nimpossible for fire to remain hidden, the desire seized me to speak of\nthe Love that I could no longer restrain within me. And although I\ncould receive but little help from my own counsel, yet, inasmuch as,\neither from the will of Love or from my own promptness, I drew nigh to\nit many times, I deliberated, and I saw that, in speaking of Love,\nthere could be no more beautiful nor more profitable speech than that\nwhich commends the beloved person. And in this deliberation three\nreasons assisted me. One of them was self-love, which is the source of\nall the rest, as every one sees. For there is no more lawful nor more\ncourteous way of doing honour to one's self than by doing honour to\none's friend; and, since friendship cannot exist between the unlike,\nwherever one sees friendship, likeness is understood; and wherever\nlikeness is understood, thither runs public praise or blame. And from\nthis reason two great lessons may be learnt: the one is, never to wish\nthat any vicious man should seem your friend, for in that case a bad\nopinion is formed of him who has made the evil man his friend; the\nother is, that no one ought to blame his friend publicly, because, if\nyou consider well the aforesaid reason, he but points to himself with\nhis finger in his eye.\n\nThe second reason was the desire for the duration of this friendship;\nwherefore it is to be known, as the Philosopher says in the ninth book\nof the Ethics, in the friendship of persons of unequal position it is\nrequisite, for the preservation of that friendship, for a certain\nproportion to exist between them, which may reduce the dissimilarity\nto a similarity, as between the master and the servant. For, although\nthe servant cannot render the same benefit to the master that is\nconferred on him, yet he ought to render the best that he can, with so\nmuch solicitude and freewill that that which is dissimilar in itself\nmay become similar through the evidence of good-will, which proves the\nfriendship, confirms and preserves it. Wherefore I, considering myself\nlower than that Lady, and perceiving myself benefited by her,\nendeavoured to praise her according to my ability. And, if it be not\nsimilar of itself, my prompt freewill proves at least that if I could\nI would do more, and thus it makes its friendship similar to that of\nthis gentle Lady.\n\nThe third reason was an argument of prudence; for, as Boethius says,\n\"It is not sufficient to look only at that which is before the eyes,\nthat is, at the Present; and, therefore, Prudence, Foresight, is given\nto us, which looks beyond to that which may happen.\" I say that I\nthought that for a long time I might be reproached by many with levity\nof mind, on hearing that I had turned from my first Love. Wherefore,\nto remove this reproach, there was no better argument than to state\nwho the Lady was who had thus changed me; that, by her manifest\nexcellence, they might gain some perception of her virtue; and that,\nby the comprehension of her most exalted virtue, they might be able to\nsee that all stability of mind could be in that mutability: and,\ntherefore, they should not judge me light and unstable. I then began\nto praise this Lady, and if not in the most suitable manner, at least\nas well as I could at first; and I began to say: \"Love, reasoning of\nmy Lady in my mind.\" This Song chiefly has three parts. The first is\nthe whole of the first two stanzas, in which I speak in a preliminary\nmanner. The second is the whole of the six following stanzas, in which\nis described that which is intended, i.e., the praise of that gentle\nLady; the first of which begins: \"The Sun sees not in travel round the\nearth.\" The third part is in the last two stanzas, in which,\naddressing myself to the Song, I purify it from all doubtful\ninterpretation. And these three parts remain to be discussed now in\ndue order.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n\nTurning, then, to the First Part, which was composed as a Proem or\nPreface to the Song or Poem, I say that it is fitly divided into three\nparts. In the first place, it alludes to the ineffable condition of\nthis theme; secondly, it describes my insufficiency to speak of it in\na perfect manner; and this second part begins: \"If I would tell of her\nwhat thus I hear.\" Finally, I excuse myself for my insufficiency, for\nwhich they ought not to lay blame to my charge; and I commence this\npart when I say: \"If my Song fail.\"\n\nI begin, then: \"Love, reasoning of my Lady in my mind,\" where in the\nfirst place it is to be seen who this speaker is, and what this place\nis in which I say that he is speaking. Love, taking him in his true\nsense, and considering him subtly, is no other than the spiritual\nunion of the Soul with the beloved object; into which union, of its\nown nature, the Soul hastens sooner or later, according as it is free\nor impeded. And the reason for that natural disposition may be this:\neach substantial form proceeds from its First Cause, which is God, as\nis written in the book of Causes; and they receive not diversity from\nthat First Cause, which is the most simple, but from the secondary\ncauses, and from the material into which it descends. Wherefore, in\nthe same book it is written, when treating of the infusion of the\nDivine Goodness: \"The bounties and good gifts make diverse things,\nthrough the concurrence of that which receives them.\" Wherefore, since\neach effect retains somewhat of the nature of its cause, as Alfarabio\nsays when he affirms that that which has been the first cause of a\nround body has in some way an essentially round form, so each form in\nsome way has the essence of the Divine Nature in itself; not that the\nDivine Nature can be divided and communicated to these, but\nparticipated in by these, almost in the same way that the other stars\nparticipate in the nature of the Sun. And the nobler the form, the\nmore does it retain of that Divine Nature.\n\nWherefore the human Soul, which is the noblest form of all those which\nare generated under Heaven, receives more from the Divine Nature than\nany other. And since it is most natural to wish to be in God, for as\nin the book quoted above one reads, the first thing is to exist, and\nbefore that there is nothing, the human Soul desires to exist\nnaturally with all possible desire. And since its existence depends\nupon God, and is preserved by Him, it naturally desires and longs to\nbe united to God, and so add strength to its own being. And since, in\nthe goodness of Human Nature, Reason gives us proof of the Divine, it\nfollows that, naturally, the Human Soul is united therewith by the\npath of the spirit so much the sooner, and so much the more firmly, in\nproportion as those good qualities appear more perfect; which\nappearance of perfection is achieved according as the power of the\nSoul to produce a good impression is strong and clear, or is\ntrammelled and obscure. And this union is that which we call Love,\nwhereby it is possible to know that which is within the Soul, by\nlooking at those whom it loves in the world without. This Love, which\nis the union of my Soul with that gentle Lady in whom so much of the\nDivine Light was revealed to me, is that speaker of whom I speak;\nsince from him continuous thoughts were born, whilst gazing at and\nconsidering the wondrous power of this Lady who was spiritually made\none with my Soul.\n\nThe place in which I say that he thus speaks is the Mind. But in\nsaying that it is the Mind, one does not attach more meaning to this\nthan before; and therefore it is to be seen what this Mind properly\nsignifies. I say, then, that the Philosopher, in the second book on\nthe Soul, when speaking of its powers, says that the Soul principally\nhas three powers, which are, to Live, to Feel, and to Reason: and he\nsays also to Move, but it is possible to make this one with feeling,\nsince every Soul moves that feels, either with all the senses or with\none alone; for the power to move is conjoined with feeling. And\naccording to that which he says, it is most evident that these powers\nare so entwined that the one is a foundation of the other; and that\nwhich is the foundation can of itself be divided; but the other, which\nis built upon it, cannot be apart from its foundation. Therefore, the\nVegetative power, whereby one lives, is the foundation upon which one\nfeels, that is, sees, hears, tastes, smells, and touches; and this\nvegetative power of itself can be the Soul, vegetative, as we see in\nall the plants. The Sensitive cannot exist without that. We find\nnothing that feels, and does not live. And this Sensitive power is the\nfoundation of the Intellectual, that is, of the Reason; so that, in\nanimate mortals, the Reasoning power is not found without the\nSensitive. But the Sensitive is found without Reason, as in the\nbeasts, and in the birds, and in the fishes, and in any brute animal,\nas we see. And that Soul which contains all these powers is the most\nperfect of all. And the Human Soul possessing the nobility of the\nhighest power, which is Reason, participates in the Divine Nature,\nafter the manner of an eternal Intelligence: for the Soul is ennobled\nand denuded of matter by that Sovereign Power in proportion as the\nDivine Light of Truth shines into it, as into an Angel; and Man is\ntherefore called by the Philosophers the Divine Animal.\n\nIn this most noble part of the Soul are many virtues, as the\nPhilosopher says, especially in the third chapter of the Soul, where\nhe says that there is in it a virtue which is called Scientific, and\none which is called Ratiocinative, or rather deliberative; and with\nthis there are certain virtues, as Aristotle says in that same place,\nsuch as the Inventive and the Judging. And all these most noble\nvirtues, and the others which are in that excellent power, are\ndesignated by that one word, which we sought to understand, that is,\nMind. Wherefore it is evident that by Mind is meant the highest,\nnoblest part of a man's Soul.\n\nAnd it is seen to be so, for only of man and of the Divine substances\nis this Mind predicated, as can plainly be seen in Boethius, who first\npredicates it of men, where he says to Philosophy: \"Thou, and God who\nplaced thee in the mind of men;\" then he predicates it of God, when he\nsays: \"Thou dost produce everything from the Divine Model, Thou most\nbeautiful One, bearing the beautiful World in Thy mind.\" Neither was\nit ever predicated of brute animals; nay, of many men who appear\ndefective in the most perfect part, it does not seem that it ought to\nbe, or that it could be, predicated; and therefore such as these are\ntermed in the Latin Tongue _amenti_ and _dementi_, that is,\nwithout mind. Hence one can now perceive that it is Mind which is the\nperfect and most precious part of the Soul in which is God.\n\nAnd that is the place where I say that Love discourses to me of my\nLady.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\n\nNot without cause do I say that this Love was at work in my mind; but\nit is said reasonably, in order to explain what this Love is, by the\nplace in which it works. Wherefore, it is to be known that each thing,\nas is said above, for the reason shown above, has its especial Love,\nas the simple bodies have Love, innate, each in its proper place.\nTherefore the Earth always descends to the centre, the fire to the\ncircumference above near the Heaven of the Moon, and always ascends\ntowards that. The bodies first composed, such as are the minerals,\nhave love for the place where their generation is ordained, and in\nwhich they increase, and from which they have vigour and power.\nWherefore, we see the loadstone always receive power from the place of\nits generation. Each of the plants which are first animated, that is,\nfirst animated with a vegetative soul has most evident love for a\nparticular place, according as its nature may require; and therefore\nwe see certain plants almost always grow by the side of the streams,\nand certain others upon the mountain tops, and certain others grow by\nthe sea-shore, or at the foot of hills, which, if they are\ntransplanted, either die entirely or live a sad life, as it were, like\na being separated from his friend. The brute beasts have a most\nevident love, not only for places, but we see also their love towards\neach other. Men have their own love for things perfect and excellent;\nand since Man, although his Soul is one substance alone, because of\nhis nobility, partakes of the nature of each of these things, he can\npossess all these affections, and he does possess them all. By his\npart in the nature of the simple body, as earth, naturally it tends\ndownwards; therefore, when he moves his body upwards, he becomes more\nweary.\n\nBecause of the second nature, of the mixed body, it loves the place of\nits generation, and even the time; and therefore each one naturally is\nof more power in his own place and in his own time than in any other.\nWherefore, one reads in the History of Hercules, and in the greater\nOvid, and in Lucan, and in other Poets, that when fighting with the\nGiant who was named Ant\u00e6us, every time that the Giant was weary, and\nlaid his body down on the earth at full length, either by the will or\nstrength of Hercules, new strength and vigour then surged up in him,\ndrawn wholly from the Earth, in which and from which he was produced;\nHercules, perceiving this, at last seized him, and having compressed\nand raised him above the Earth, he held him so tightly, without\nallowing him to touch the Earth again, that he conquered Ant\u00e6us by\nexcess of strength, and killed him. According to the testimony of the\nbooks, this battle took place in Africa.\n\nAnd because of the third nature, that is, of the plants, Man has a\nlove for a certain food, not inasmuch as it affects the senses, but in\nso much as it is nutritious; and that particular food does the work of\nthat most perfect Nature, while certain other food, dissimilar, acts\nbut imperfectly. And therefore we see that certain food will make men\nhandsome, and strong-limbed, and very brightly coloured, and certain\nother food will do the opposite of this.\n\nAnd by the fourth nature, of the animals, that is, the sensitive, Man\nhas the other love, by which he loves according to the sensible\nappearance, like the beasts; and this love in Man especially has need\nof control, because of its excessive operation in the delights given,\nespecially through sight and touch.\n\nAnd because of the fifth and last nature, which is the true Human\nNature, and, to use a better phrase, the Angelic, namely, the\nRational, Man has by it the Love of Truth and Virtue; and from this\nLove is born true and perfect friendship from the honest intercourse\nof which the Philosopher speaks in the eighth book of the Ethics, when\nhe treats of Friendship.\n\nWherefore, since this nature is termed Mind, as is proved above, I\nspoke of Love as discoursing in my Mind in order to explain that this\nLove was the Friendship which is born of that most noble nature, that\nis, of Truth and Virtue, and to exclude each false opinion, by which\nmy Love might be suspected to spring from pleasure of the Senses.\n\nI then say, \"With constant pleasure,\" to make people understand its\ncontinuance and its fervour. And I say that it often whispers \"Things\nover which the intellect may stray.\" And I speak truth, because my\nthoughts, when reasoning of her, often sought to draw conclusions of\nher, which I could not comprehend, and I was alarmed, so that I seemed\nalmost like one dazed, even as he who, looking with the eye along a\ndirect line, sees first the nearest things clearly; then, proceeding,\nit sees them less clearly; then, further on, doubtfully; then,\nproceeding an immense way, the sight is divided from the object, and\nsees nothing. And this is one unspeakable thing of that which I have\ntaken for a theme; and consequently I relate the other when I say:\n\n    His words make music of so sweet a kind\n      That the Soul hears and feels, and cries, Ah, me,\n      That I want power to tell what thus I see!\n\nAnd because I know not how to tell it, I say that my soul laments,\nsaying, \"Ah, me, that I want power.\" And this is the other unspeakable\nthing, that the tongue is not a complete and perfect follower of all\nthat the intellect sees. And I say, \"That the Soul hears and feels;\"\nhearing, as to the words, and feeling, as to the sweetness of the\nsound.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\n\nNow that the two ineffable parts of this matter have been discussed,\nwe must proceed to discuss words that describe my insufficiency.\n\nI say, then, that my insufficiency arises from a double cause, even as\nin a twofold manner the exalted nature of my Lady surpasses all, in\nthe way which has been told. For I am compelled, by the poverty of my\nintellect, to omit much of the truth concerning her which shone into\nmy mind like rays of light, but which my mind receives like a\ntransparent body, unable to gather up the ends thereof and reflect\nthem back. And this I express in that following part: \"First, all that\nReason cannot make its own I needs must leave.\" Then, when I say, \"And\nof what can be known,\" I say that not even to that which I do\nunderstand am I sufficient, because my tongue is not so eloquent that\nit could tell that which is discoursed in my thoughts concerning her.\nIt may be seen, therefore, that, with respect to the Truth, it is very\nlittle that I shall say; and this redounds to her great praise, if\nwell considered, in that which was the main intention. And it is\npossible to say that this form of speech came indeed from the workshop\nof Rhetoric, which on every side lays its hand upon the main\nintention. Then, when it says, \"If my Song fail,\" I excuse myself for\nmy fault, which ought not, then, to be blamed when others see that my\nwords are far below the dignity of this Lady. And I say that, if the\ndefect is in my rhymes, that is, in my words, which are appointed to\ndiscourse of her, for this are to be blamed the weakness of the\nintellect and the abruptness of our speech: \"blame wit and words,\"\nwhich are overpowered by the thought, so that they cannot follow it\nentirely, especially there where the thought is born of love, because\nthere the Soul searches more deeply than elsewhere. It would be quite\npossible for any one to say: Thou dost excuse and accuse thyself all\nin one breath, which is a reason for blame, not for escape from blame,\ninasmuch as the blame, which is mine, is cast on the intellect and on\nthe speech; for, if it be good, I ought to be praised for it in so\nmuch as it is so; and if it be defective, I ought to be blamed. To\nthis it is possible to reply, briefly, that I do not accuse myself,\nbut that I excuse myself in truth. And therefore it is to be known,\naccording to the opinion of the Philosopher in the third book of the\nEthics, that man is worthy of praise or of blame only in those things\nwhich it is in his power to do or not to do; but in those things over\nwhich he has no power he deserves neither blame nor praise, since\neither the praise or blame is to be attributed to some other, although\nthe things may be parts of the man himself. Therefore, we ought not to\nblame the man because his body, from his birth, may be ugly, since it\nwas not in his power to make it beautiful; but our blame should fall\non the evil disposition of the matter whereof he is made, whose source\nwas a defect of Nature. And even so we ought not to praise the man for\nthe beauty of form which he may have from his birth, for he was not\nthe maker of it; but we ought to praise the artificer, that is, Human\nNature, who shapes her material into so much beauty when she is not\nimpeded. And therefore the priest said well to the Emperor who laughed\nand scoffed at the ugliness of his body: \"The Lord, He is God: It is\nHe that hath made us, and not we ourselves;\" and these are the words\nof the Prophet in a verse of the Psalms, written neither more nor less\nthan according to the reply of the Priest.\n\nAnd therefore let the wicked evil-born ones perceive that, if they put\ntheir chief care in the adornment of their persons, it must be with\nall modesty; for to do that is no other than to adorn the work of\nanother, that is, Nature, and to abandon their own proper work.\n\nReturning, then, to the proposition, I say that our intellect, through\ndefect of the power through which it sees organic power, that is, the\nimagination, is not able to ascend to certain things, because the\nimagination cannot help it and has not the wherewithal, such as are\nthe substances apart from matter, which (if we can have any knowledge\nof them) we cannot fully comprehend.\n\nAnd the man is not to blame for this, because he was not the maker of\nthis defect; nay, Universal Nature did this, which is God, who wills\nthat in this life we be without this light. And because He was the\ncause, it would be presumptuous to argue concerning it. So that if my\nearnest thought transported me into a place where my imagination\nfailed my intellect, I was not to blame if I could not possibly\nunderstand.\n\nAgain, a bound is set to our understanding in each operation thereof;\nbut not by us, but by Universal Nature; and therefore it is to be\nknown that the bounds of the understanding are wider in thought than\nin speech, and wider in speech than in signs. Hence, if our thought,\nnot only that which fails in a perfect intellect, but also that which\nin a perfect intellect attains its end, is the conqueror of speech, we\nare not to blame, because we are not the makers of it. And therefore I\nprove that I do truthfully excuse myself when I say: \"Blame wit and\nwords, whose force Fails to tell all that I hear Love discourse;\" for,\nsufficiently clear ought to appear the good-will, which alone we\nshould regard in respect to merits that are human.\n\nAnd thus is now explained the first principal part of this Song which\nflows from my hand.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\n\nDiscourse on the first part of the Song has now made its meaning open\nand clear, and it is needful to proceed to the second; for the clearer\nperception of which, three divisions are desirable, according as it is\ncontained in three sections. For in the first part I praise that Lady\nentirely and generally, as in the Soul so in the body; in the second\npart I descend to especial commendation of the Soul; and in the third,\nto especial praise of the body. The first part begins: \"The Sun sees\nnot in travel round the earth;\" the second begins: \"Her Maker saw that\nshe was good;\" the third begins: \"Rain from her beauty little flames\nof fire,\" and these parts or divisions in due order are to be\ndiscussed.\n\nI say then: \"The Sun sees not in travel round the earth;\" where it is\nto be known, in order to have perfect understanding thereof, how the\nEarth is circled round by the Sun. In the first place, I say that by\nthe Earth I do not here mean the whole body of the Universe, but only\nthat part of the sea and land, following the common speech, which is\nthus wont to designate it, whereupon some one exclaims, \"This man has\nseen all the World,\" meaning \"this part of the sea and land.\" This\nWorld Pythagoras and his followers asserted to be one of the stars,\nand they also said that there was another opposite to it, similar to\nit: and they called that one Antictona; and he said that both were in\none sphere which revolved from East to West, and by this revolution\nthe Sun was circled round us, and now he was seen, and now he was not\nseen. And he said that the fire was in the centre of these,\nconsidering the fire to be a more noble body than the water and than\nthe Earth, and giving the noblest centre to the four simple bodies; he\nsaid that the fire, when it appeared to ascend, according to strict\ntruth descended to the centre. Then Plato was of another opinion, and\nhe wrote in a book of his, which he called Tim\u00e6us, that the Earth with\nthe sea was indeed the centre of all, but that its whole sphere\nrevolved round its centre, following the first movement of the\nHeavens, but much slower on account of its gross material, and because\nof the immense distance from that first moved. These opinions are\nconfuted in the second chapter, Of Heaven and the World, by that\nglorious Philosopher, to whom Nature opened her secrets most freely;\nand by him it is therein proved that this World, the Earth, is of\nitself stable and fixed to all eternity. And his reasons, which\nAristotle states in order to break those other opinions and to affirm\nthe truth, it is not my intention here to narrate; therefore, let it\nbe enough for those to whom I speak, to know, upon his great\nauthority, that this Earth is fixed, and does not revolve, and that\nit, with the sea, is the centre of the Heavens. These Heavens revolve\nround this centre continuously, even as we see; in which revolution\nthere must of necessity be two fixed Poles, and a circle equally\ndistant from these round which all especially revolves. Of these two\nPoles, the one is visible to almost all the discovered Earth, that is,\nthe Northern Pole; the other is hidden from almost all the discovered\nEarth, that is, the Southern Pole. The circle spread from them is that\npart of Heaven under which the Sun revolves when it is in Aries and\nLibra. Wherefore, it is to be known that if a stone could fall from\nthis Pole of ours, it would fall there beyond into the sea precisely\nupon that surface of the sea, where, if a man could be, he would\nalways have the Sun above the middle of his head; and I believe that\nfrom Rome to that place, going in a straight line to the North, the\ndistance may be almost two thousand seven hundred miles, or a little\nmore or less. Imagining, then, in order to understand better what I\nsay, that there is in that place a city, and that its name may be\nMaria, I say again that if from the other Pole, that is, the Southern,\na stone could fall, that it would fall upon that part of the ocean\nwhich is precisely on this ball opposite to Maria; and I believe that\nfrom Rome to where this second stone would fall, going in a direct\nline to the South, the distance may be seven thousand five hundred\nmiles, a little more or less. And here let us imagine another city,\nwhich may have the name of Lucia; and the distance, from whatever part\none draws the line, is ten thousand two hundred miles between the one\nand the other, that is, half the circumference of this ball, so that\nthe citizens of Maria hold the soles of the feet opposite the soles of\nthe feet of the citizens of Lucia. Let us imagine also a circle upon\nthis ball which is in every part equi-distant from Maria as from\nLucia. I believe that this circle, according to what I understand by\nthe assertions of the Astrologers, and by that of Albertus Magnus in\nhis book On the Nature of Places and on the Properties of the\nElements, and also by the testimony of Lucan in his ninth book, would\ndivide this Earth uncovered by the sea in the Meridian, almost through\nall the extreme end of the first climate, where there are amongst the\nother people the Garamanti, who are almost always naked; to whom came\nCato with the people of Rome when flying from the dominion of C\u00e6sar.\nHaving marked out these three places upon this ball, one can easily\nsee how the Sun circles round it.\n\nI say, then, that the Heaven of the Sun revolves from West to East,\nnot directly against the diurnal movement, that is, of the day and\nnight, but obliquely against that, so that its mid-circle, which is\nequally between its Poles, in which is the body of the Sun, cuts into\ntwo opposite parts the circle of the two first Poles, in the beginning\nof Aries and in the beginning of Libra; and it is divided by two arcs\nfrom it, one towards the North and one towards the South; the points\nof these two said arcs are equi-distant from the first circle in every\npart by twenty-three degrees and one point more, and the one point is\nthe tropic of Cancer, and the other is the tropic of Capricorn;\ntherefore it must be that Maria in the sign of Aries can see, when the\nSun sinks below the mid-circle of the first Poles, this Sun to revolve\nround the Earth below, or rather the sea, like a millstone, of which\nonly one half of its body appears, and can see this come rising up\nafter the manner of the screw of a vine-press, so much so that it\ncompletes ninety-one rotations, or a little more. When these rotations\nare completed, its ascension is to Maria almost as much in proportion\nas it ascends to us in the half-third, that is, of the equal day and\nnight; and if a man could stand in Maria, with his face always turned\nto the Sun, he would see that Sun pass by on the right. Then by the\nsame way it seems to descend another ninety-one rotations, or a little\nmore, so much so that it circles round below the Earth, or rather sea,\nnot showing the whole of itself; and then it is hidden, and Lucia\nbegins to see it, which, the same as Maria, then sees it to ascend and\nto descend around itself with the same number of rotations. And if a\nman could stand in Lucia, with his face always turned towards the Sun,\nhe would see it pass to the left. Therefore, it is possible to see\nthat these places have in the year one day of six months' duration,\nand one night of the same length of time; and when one has the day the\nother has the night.\n\nIt must be also that the circle where the Garamanti are, as has been\nsaid above, upon this ball, can see the Sun revolve precisely above\nthem, not after the fashion of a mill-stone, but of a wheel, which\ncannot in any part be seen except the centre, when it goes under\nAries. And then it is seen to depart from its place immediately above\nand go towards Maria ninety-one days, or a little more, and by so many\nto return to its position; and then, when it has turned back, it goes\nbefore Libra, and even so departs and goes towards Lucia ninety-one\ndays, or a little more, and in so many returns to its position. And\nthis place always has the day equal with the night, either on this\nside or on that, as the Sun goes, and twice a year it has the summer\nof intense heat, and two little winters. It must also be that the two\ndistances, which are midway from the two imaginary Cities and the\nmid-circle, see the Sun variously, according as they are remote from,\nand near to, these places.\n\nNow, by what has been said, this can be seen by him who has good\nunderstanding, to which it is well to give a little fatigue. He can\nnow perceive that, by the Divine Providence, the World is so ordained\nthat the sphere of the Sun, being revolved and turned round to one\npoint, this ball whereon we are in every part receives an equal share\nof light and darkness. Oh, ineffable Wisdom, Thou which didst thus\nordain! Oh, how poor and feeble is our mind when seeking to comprehend\nThee! And you, O men, for whose benefit and pleasure I write, in what\nfearful blindness do you live if you never raise your eyes upwards to\nthese things, but keep them fixed in the mud of your foolishness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n\nIn the preceding chapter is shown after what manner the Sun travels\nround the Earth; so that now one can proceed to demonstrate the\nmeaning of the part to which this thought belongs. I say, then, that\nin that first part I begin to praise that Lady by comparison with\nother things. And I say that the Sun, circling round the Earth, sees\nnothing so gentle as that Lady; wherefore it follows that she is,\naccording to the letter, the most gentle of all things that the sun\nshines upon. And it says: \"Till the hour;\" wherefore it is to be known\nthat \"hour\" is understood in two ways by the Astrologers. The one is,\nthat of the day and of the night they make twenty-four hours--twelve\nof the day, twelve of the night, however long or short the day may be.\nAnd these hours are short and long in the day and night according as\nthe day and night increase and diminish. And these hours the Church\nuses when it says, Prima, Tertia, Sexta, and Nona--first, third,\nsixth, and ninth; and these are termed hours temporal. The other mode\nis, that, making of the day and of the night twenty-four hours, the\nday sometimes has fifteen hours and the night nine; and sometimes the\nnight has sixteen and the day eight, according as the day and night\nincrease and diminish; and they term these hours equal at the\nEquinox, and those that are termed temporal are always the same,\nbecause, the day being equal to the night, it must happen thus.\n\nThen when I say, \"All Minds of Heaven wonder at her worth,\" I praise\nher, not having respect to any other thing. And I say that the\nIntelligences of Heaven behold her, and that the people here below\nthink of that gentle Lady when they have more of that peace which\ndelights them. And here it is to be known that each Mind or Intellect\nin Heaven above, according to that which is written in the book Of\nCauses, knows that which is above itself and that which is below\nitself; therefore it knows God as its Cause; therefore it knows that\nwhich is below itself as its effect.\n\nAnd since God is the most universal cause of everything, to know Him\nis to know all, according to the degree of the Intelligence; wherefore\nall the Intelligences know the human form in as far as it is by\nintention fixed or determined in the Divine Mind. The moving\nIntelligences especially know it; since they are the most especial\ncauses of it, and of every kind of form; and they know the most\nperfect, as far as they can know it, as their rule and pattern.\n\nAnd if this human form, copied and individualized, is not perfect, it\nis not the fault of the said copy or image, but of the matter from\nwhich the individual is formed. Therefore when I say, \"All Minds in\nHeaven wonder at her worth,\" I wish to express no other than that she\nis thus made, even as the express image of the human form in the\nDivine Mind. And each Mind there above beholds her by virtue of that\nquality which exists especially in those angelic Minds which build up\nand shape, with Heaven, things that exist below. And to confirm this,\nI subjoin when I say, \"Mortals, enamoured, find her in their thought\nWhen Love his peace into their minds has brought,\" where it is to be\nknown that each thing especially desires its perfection, and in that\nits every desire finds peace and calm, and for that peace each thing\nis desired.\n\nAnd this is that desire which always makes every pleasure appear\nincomplete, for there is no joy or pleasure so great in this life that\nit can quench the thirst in our Soul, for always the desire for that\nperfection remains in the Mind. And since this Lady is truly that\nperfection, I say that people here below receive great delight when\nthey have most peace; for she abides then in their thoughts. For this\nLady, I say, is perfect in as high a degree as it is possible for\nHuman Nature to be.\n\nThen when I say, \"Her Maker saw that she was good,\" I prove that not\nonly this Lady is the most perfect in the human race, but more than\nthe most perfect, inasmuch as she receives from the Divine Goodness\nmore than human dues. Wherefore one can reasonably believe that as\neach Master loves most his best work far more than the other work, so\nGod loves the good human being far above the rest. And forasmuch as\nHis Bounty is of necessity not restricted by any limit, His love has\nno regard to the amount due to him who receives, but it overflows in\ngifts, and in the blessings of power and grace. Wherefore I say here,\nthat this God, who gave life or being to this Lady, through love or\ncharity for her perfection pours into her of His Bounty beyond the\nlimits of the amount due to our nature.\n\nThen when I say, \"On her pure soul,\" I prove this that has been said\nwith reasonable testimony, which gives us to know that, as the\nPhilosopher says in the second chapter, On the Soul, the Soul is the\nact of the Body; and if it be its act, it is its Cause; and as it is\nwritten in the book before, quoted, On Causes, each Cause infuses into\nits effect some of the goodness which it receives from its own Cause,\nwhich is \"God.\" Wherefore, since in her are seen wonderful things, so\nmuch so on the part of the body that they make each beholder desirous\nto see those things, it is evident that her form, which is her Soul,\nguides it as its proper Cause and receives miraculously the gracious\ngoodness of God.\n\nAnd thus is proved, by that appearance, which exceeds the due\nappointment of our nature, which in her is most perfect, as has been\nsaid above, that this Lady is by God endowed with good gifts and made\na noble thing. And this is the whole Literal meaning of the first\nsection of the second principal part.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\n\nHaving commended this Lady generally, both according to the Soul and\naccording to the Body, I proceed to praise her specially according to\nthe Soul.\n\nAnd first I praise her Soul for its goodness, that is great in itself;\nthen I commend it for a goodness that is great in others, and useful\nto the World. And that second part begins when I say, firstly, \"On her\nfair frame Virtue Divine descends;\" where it is to be known that the\nDivine Goodness descends into all things, and otherwise they could not\nexist; but, although this goodness springs from the First Cause, it is\nreceived diversely, according to the more or less of virtue in the\nrecipients. Wherefore it is written in the book Of Causes: \"The First\nGoodness sends His good gifts forth upon things in one stream. Verily\neach thing receives from this stream according to the manner of its\nvirtue and its being.\" And we can have a sensible, living example of\nthis in the Sun. We see the light of the Sun, which is one thing,\nderived from one fountain, to be variously received by material\nsubstances; as Albertus Magnus says in his book On the Intellect, that\ncertain bodies, through having mixed in themselves an excess of\ntransparent brightness, so soon as the Sun sees them they become so\nbright that, by the multiplication of light within them, their aspect\nis hardly discernible, and from themselves they render back to others\ngreat splendour or brilliancy, such as is gold and any gem. Sure I am\nthat by being entirely transparent, not only do they receive the\nlight, but that they do not intercept it; nay, they pass it on, like\nstained glass, coloured with their own colour, to other things. And\nthere are certain other bodies so overpowering in the purity of the\ntransparency that they become so radiant as to overpower the\nadjustments of the eye, and you cannot look at them without fatigue of\nsight; such as are the mirrors. Certain others are so free from\ntransparency, that but little light can they receive; as is the Earth.\nThus the Goodness of God is received in sundrywise by the sundry\nsubstances, that is, in one way by the Angels, who are without\ngrossness of matter, as if transparent through their purity of form;\nand otherwise by the human Soul, which although on one side it may be\nfree from matter, on another side it is impeded: even as the man who\nis all in the water but his head, of whom one cannot say that he is\nentirely in the water, or entirely out of it. Again otherwise it is\nreceived by the animals, whose soul is wholly comprised in matter; but\nI say that the soul of animals receives of the Goodness of God in\nproportion as it is ennobled. Again otherwise is it received by the\nminerals; and otherwise by the Earth, than by the others, because the\nEarth is most material, and therefore most remote, and most out of all\nproportion to the First most simple and most high Cause, which is\nalone Intellectual, that is to say, God.\n\nAnd although here below there may be placed general degrees of\nexcellence, nevertheless, singular degrees of excellence may also be\nplaced; that is to say, that amongst human Souls one Soul may receive\nmore bountifully than another. And since in the intellectual order of\nthe Universe one ascends and descends by degrees almost continuous\nfrom the lowest form to the highest, and from the highest to the\nlowest, as we see in the visible order of things; and between the\nAngelic Nature, which is intellectual, and the Human Soul there may be\nno step, but the one rise to the other as it were continuously through\nthe height of the degrees; and from the Human Soul and the most\nperfect soul of the brute animals, again, there may not be any break\nin the descent. For as we see many men so vile and of such low\ncondition that it seems almost that it can be no other than bestial,\nso it is to be asserted and firmly believed that there may be some men\nso noble and of a condition so exalted that it can be no other than\nthat of the Angel. Otherwise the human species could not be continued\non every side, which cannot be. Such as these Aristotle calls, in the\nseventh book of the Ethics, Divine; and such a one I say that this\nLady is, so that the Divine Virtue, after the manner that it descends\ninto the Angel, descends into her.\n\nThen when I say, \"Fair one who doubt,\" I prove this by the experience\nthat it is possible to have of it in those operations which are proper\nto the rational Soul, wherein the Divine Light shines forth more\nquickly, that is, in the speech and in the actions, which are wont to\nbe termed conduct and deportment. Wherefore it is to be known that\nonly man amongst the animals speaks, and has conduct and acts which\nare called rational, because he alone has Reason in himself. And if\nany one might wish to say, in contradiction, that a certain bird can\nspeak, as appears true, especially of the magpie and of the parrot;\nand that some beast performs acts, or rather things, by rule, as\nappears in the ape and in some other; I reply that it is not true that\nthey speak, nor that they have rules, because they have not Reason,\nfrom which these things must proceed; neither is there in them the\nprinciple of these operations; neither do they know what that is;\nneither do they understand that by those acts something is intended;\nbut that only which they see and hear they represent, even as the\nimage of somebody may be reflected in a glass. Wherefore, as in the\nmirror the corporal image which the mirror shows is not true, so the\nimage of Reason, in the acts and the speech which the brute soul\nrepresents, or rather shows, is not true. I say that what gentle Lady\nsoever doubts should \"go with her, mark the grace In all her acts.\" I\ndo not say man, because one can derive experience more modestly from\nthe woman than from the man; and I say she will find that \"Downward\nfrom Heaven bends An angel when she speaks.\" For her speech, because\nof its exalted character and because of its sweetness, kindles in the\nmind of him who hears it a thought of Love, which I call a celestial\nSpirit; since from Heaven is the source and from Heaven the intention\nthereof, as has been already narrated. From which thought I pass to a\nfirm opinion that this Lady is of miraculous power, that there is \"A\npower in her by none of us possessed.\" Her actions, by their suavity\nand by their moderation, \"Rival in calls to Love that Love must hear.\"\nThey cause Love to awaken and again to hear whenever he is sown by the\npower of bountiful Nature. Which natural seed acts as in the next\ntreatise is shown.\n\nThen when I say, \"Fair in all like her, fairest she'll appear Who is\nmost like her,\" I intend to narrate how the goodness and the power of\nher soul are good and useful to others; and, firstly, how useful it is\nto other women, saying that she is \"Fair in all like her,\" where I\npresent a clear or bright example to the women, from gazing at which\nthey can make their beauty seem gentle in following the same.\nSecondly, I relate how useful she is to all people, saying that her\naspect assists our faith, which is more useful to the whole Human Race\nthan all other things beside; for it is that by which we escape from\nEternal Death and acquire Eternal Life; and she assists our Faith, for\nthe first foundation of our Faith is on the miracles performed by Him\nwho was crucified, who created our Reason, and willed that it should\nbe less than His power. He performed these miracles, then, in His own\nname for His saints; and many men are so obstinate that they are in\ndoubt of those miracles if there be the least mist or cloud around\nthem; and they cannot believe any miracle unless they have visible\nexperience of the same; and this Lady is a thing visibly miraculous,\nof which the eyes of men daily can have experience, and which can make\nthe other miracles appear possible to us. Wherefore it is manifest\nthat this Lady, with her marvellous aspect, assists our Faith. And,\ntherefore, finally I say:\n\n                           We, content to call\n    Her face a Miracle, have Faith made sure:\n    For that God made her ever to endure.\n\nAnd thus ends the second section of the second principal part of the\nSong according to its Literal meaning.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\n\nAmongst the Works of Divine Wisdom, Man is the most wonderful,\nconsidering how in one form the Divine Power joined three natures; and\nin such a form how subtly harmonized his body must be. It is organized\nfor all his distinct powers; wherefore, because of the great concord\nthere must be, among so many organs, to secure their perfect response\nto each other, in all the multitude of men but few are perfect. And if\nthis Creature is so wonderful, certainly it is a dread thing to\ndiscourse of his conditions, not only in words, but even in thought.\nSo that to this apply those words of Ecclesiastes: \"I beheld all the\nWork of God, that a Man cannot find out the Work that is done under\nthe Sun.\" And those other words there, where he says: \"Let not thine\nheart be hasty to utter anything before God: for God is in Heaven, and\nthou upon Earth: therefore let thy words be few.\" I, then, who in this\nthird section intend to speak of a certain condition of such a\ncreature, inasmuch as, through the goodness of the Soul, visible\nbeauty appears in his body, I begin timorously uncertain, intending,\nif not fully, at least partially, to untie such a knot as this. I say,\nthen, that since the meaning of that section is clear, wherein this\nLady is praised on the part of the Soul, we are now to proceed and to\nsee how it is when I say: \"Her aspect shows delights of Paradise.\" I\npraise her on the part of the body, and I say that in her aspect\nbright gleams appear which show us pleasant things, and amongst others\nthose of Paradise.\n\nThe most noble state of all, and that which is the crown of every\ngood, is to be at peace within one's self; and this is to be happy.\nAnd this content is truly (although in another manner) in her aspect;\nso that, by looking at her, the people find peace, so sweetly does her\nBeauty feed the eyes of the beholders; but in another way, for the\nPeace that is perpetual in Paradise is not attainable by any man.\n\nAnd since some one might ask where this wonderful content appears in\nthis Lady, I distinguish in her person two parts, in which human\npleasure and displeasure most appear. Wherefore it is to be known that\nin whatever part the Soul most fulfils its office, it strives most\nearnestly to adorn that part, and there it does its work most subtly.\nWherefore we see that in the Face of Man, where it fulfils its office\nmore than in any other outward part, it works so subtly that, by\nmaking itself subtle therein as much as its material permits, it\ncauses that no face is like another, because its utmost power over\nmatter, which is dissimilar in almost all, is there brought into\naction; and because in the face the Soul works especially in two\nplaces, as if in those two places all the three Natures of the Soul\nhad jurisdiction, that is, in the Eyes and in the Mouth, these it\nchiefly adorns, and there it spends its care to make all beautiful if\nit can. And in these two places I say that those pleasures of content\nappear, saying: \"Seen in her eyes and in her smiling face;\" the which\ntwo places, by means of a beautiful comparison, may be designated the\nbalconies of the woman who dwells in the house of the body, she being\nthe Soul; because there, although veiled, as it were, the Soul often\nshows itself. The Soul shows itself so evidently in the eyes that it\nis possible to know its present passion if you look attentively.\n\nSix passions are proper to the human Soul of which the Philosopher\nmakes mention in his Rhetoric, namely, Grace, Zeal, Mercy, Envy, Love,\nand Shame; and with whichever of these the Soul is impassioned, there\ncomes into the window of the Eyes the semblance of it, unless it be\nrepressed within, and shut from view by great power of will. Wherefore\nsome one formerly plucked out his eyes that an inward shame should not\nappear without, as Statius the Poet says of the Theban Oedipus when he\nsays that with eternal night he loosed his damn\u00e8d shame.\n\nIt reveals itself in the Mouth, like colour behind glass as it were.\nAnd what is a smile or a laugh except a coruscation of the Soul's\ndelight, a light shot outwardly from that which shines within? And\ntherefore it is right for a man to reveal his Soul by a well-tempered\ncheerfulness, smiling moderately with a due restraint, and with slight\nmovement of the limbs; so that the Lady, that is, the Soul, which\nthen, as has been said, shows herself, may appear modest, and not\ndissolute. Therefore the book on the Four Cardinal Virtues commands us\nthus: \"Let thy smile be without loud laughter, that is, without\ncackling like a hen.\"\n\nAh, the sweet wonder of my Lady's smile, which is never seen but in\nthe eyes!\n\nAnd I say of these delights seen in her eyes and smile: \"Love brought\nthem there as to his dwelling place;\" where it is possible to consider\nLove in a twofold form. First, the Love of the Soul, peculiar or\nproper to these places; secondly, universal Love, which inclines\nthings to love and to be loved, which ordains the Soul to rule these\nparts.\n\nThen, when I say, \"They dazzle Reason,\" I excuse myself for this, that\nit appears of such exceeding beauty that I can tell but little, owing\nto its overpowering force; and I say that I can say but little\nconcerning it for two reasons. The one is, that those things which\nappear in her aspect overpower our intellect; and I tell how this\nconquest is made: that \"They dazzle Reason, as sunbeams our eyes,\"\nwhen the Sun overpowers our feeble sight, if not also the healthy and\nthe strong. The other is, that the man cannot look fixedly at it,\nbecause the Soul becomes inebriate therein; so that incontinently,\nafter gazing thereat, it fails in all its operations.\n\nThen, when I say, \"Rain from her beauty little flames of fire,\" I\nrecur to discourse of its effect, since to discourse entirely of it is\nnot possible. Wherefore it is to be known that all those things which\nsubdue our intellect, so that it is unable to see what they are, are\nmost suitably to be discussed in their effects; wherefore of God, and\nof His separate substances, and of the first matter we can thus have\nsome knowledge. And therefore I say that the beauty of that Lady rains\nlittle flames of fire, meaning the ardour of Love and of Charity,\n\"Made living with a spirit,\" that is, Love informed by a gentle\nspirit, which is direct desire, through which and from which \"to\ncreate Good thoughts;\" and it not only does this, but it crushes and\ndestroys its opposite, the innate vices which are especially the foes\nof all good thoughts.\n\nAnd here it is to be known that there are certain vices in the Man to\nwhich he is naturally disposed; as certain men of a choleric\ncomplexion are disposed to anger: and such vices as these are innate,\nthat is, natural. Others are the vices of habit, for which not the\ncomplexion, but habit, or custom, is to blame; such as intemperance,\nand especially intemperance in wine. But these vices are subdued and\nput to flight by good habits, and the man is made virtuous thereby\nwithout finding fatigue in his moderation, as the Philosopher says in\nthe second book of the Ethics. Truly there is this difference between\nthe natural passions and the habitual, that through use of good morals\nthe habitual entirely vanish, because their origin, the evil habit, is\ndestroyed by its opposite; but the natural, the source of which is in\nthe complexion of the passionate man, although they may be made much\nlighter by good morals, yet they do not entirely disappear as far as\nregards the first cause, but they almost wholly disappear in act,\nbecause custom is not equal to nature, which is the source of such a\npassion. And therefore the man is more praiseworthy who guides himself\nand rules himself when he is of an evil disposition by nature, in\nopposition to natural impulse, than he who, being gifted with a good\ndisposition by nature, carries himself naturally well; as it is more\npraiseworthy to control a bad horse than one that is not troublesome.\nI say, then, that those little flames which rain down from her beauty\ndestroy the innate, or the natural, vices, to make men understand that\nher beauty has power to renew Nature in those who behold it, which is\na miraculous thing. And this confirms that which is observed above in\nthe other chapter when I say that she is the helper of our Faith.\n\nFinally, when I say, \"Lady, who may desire Escape from blame,\" I\ninfer, under pretext of admonishing another, the end for which so much\nbeauty was made. And I say that what lady believes her beauty to be\nopen to blame through some defect, let her look on this most perfect\nexample; where it is understood that it is designed not only to\nimprove and raise the good, but also to convert evil to good. And,\nfinally, it is subjoined that she is \"God's thought,\" that is, from\nthe Mind of God. And this to make men understand that, by design of\nthe Creator, Nature is made to produce such an effect.\n\nAnd thus ends the whole of the second chief part of the Song.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\n\nThe order of the present treatise requires, after these two parts of\nthe Song have been discussed, according to my intention, that we now\nproceed to the third, in which I intend to purify the Song from a\nreproof which might be unfavourable to it.\n\nAnd it is this, that before I composed it, this Lady seeming to me to\nbe somewhat fierce and haughty against me, I made a little ballad, in\nwhich I called her proud and angry, which appears to be contrary to\nthat which is here reasoned; and therefore I turn to the Song, and,\nunder colour of teaching it how it is proper that it should excuse\nitself, I make an excuse for that which came before. And this, when\none addresses inanimate things, is a figure which is called by\nrhetoricians, Prosopopoeia, and the Poets often use it. \"My Song, it\nseems you speak this to oppose,\" The intention of which address, to\nmake it more easy of understanding, it behoves me to divide into three\nsections: first, one affirms wherefore excuse is necessary; then, one\nproceeds with the excuse, when I say, \"Though Heaven, you know;\"\nfinally, I speak to the Song as to a person well skilled in that which\nit is right to do when I say, \"Be such excuse allowed.\"\n\nI say, then, in the first place: \"My Song, it seems you speak this to\noppose The saying of a sister Song of mine.\" For the sake of\nsimilitude, I say sister; for as that woman is called a sister who is\nborn of the same father, so may a man call that work a sister which is\nwrought by the same worker; for our work is in some degree a thing\nbegotten. And I say why it seems opposed or contrary to that sister\nSong, saying: \"This lovely Lady whom you count divine, Your sister\ncalled disdainful and morose.\" This accusation being affirmed, I\nproceed to the excuse, by quoting an example, wherein the Truth is\nquite opposite to the appearance of Truth, and it is quite possible to\ntake the false semblance of Truth for Truth itself, regarding Truth\nitself as Falsehood. I say: \"Though Heaven, you know, is ever high and\npure, Men's eyes may fail, and find a star obscure;\" where it is shown\nthat it is the property of colour and light to be visible, as\nAristotle affirms in the second book Of the Soul and in the book on\nSense and Sensation. Other things, indeed, are visible, but it is not\ntheir property to be so, nor to be tangible, as in form, height,\nnumber, motion, and rest, which are said to be subject to the Common\nSense, and which we comprehend by union of many senses; but of colour\nand light it is the property to be visible, because with the sight\nonly we comprehend them. These visible things, both those of which it\nis the property and those subject to the Common Sense, inasmuch as\nthey are visible, come within the eye; I do not say the things, but\ntheir form; through the transparent medium, not really, but by\nintention, as it were through transparent glass. And in the humour\nwhich is in the pupil of the eye this current which makes the form\nvisible is completed, because that humour is closed behind like a\nmirror which has its glass backed with lead; so that it cannot pass\nfarther on, but strikes there, after the manner of a ball, and stops;\nso that the form which does not appear in the transparent medium,\nhaving reached the disc behind, shines brightly thereon; and this is\nthe reason why the image appears only in the glass which has lead at\nthe back.\n\nFrom this pupil the visual spirit, which is continued from it to the\npart of the Brain, the anterior, where the sensitive power is,\nsuddenly, without loss of time, depicts it as in the clear spring of a\nfountain; and thus we see. Wherefore, in order that its vision be\ntruthful, that is, such as the visible thing is in itself, the medium\nthrough which the form comes to the eye must be without any colour,\nand so also the humour of the pupil; otherwise the visible form would\nbe stained of the colour of the medium and of that of the pupil. And\nthis is the reason why they who wish to make things appear of a\ncertain colour in a mirror interpose that colour between the glass and\nthe lead, the glass being pressed over it.\n\nPlato and other Philosophers said, indeed, that our sight was not\nbecause the visible came into the eye, but because the visual virtue\nwent out to the visible form. And this opinion is confuted by the\nPhilosopher in that book of his on Sense and Sensation. Having thus\nconsidered this law of vision, one can easily perceive how, although\nthe star is always in one way bright, clear, and resplendent, and\nreceives no change whatever except that of local movement, as is\nproved in that book on Heaven and the World, yet from many causes it\nmay appear dim and obscure; since it may appear thus on account of the\nmedium, the atmosphere, that changes continually. This medium changes\nfrom light to darkness, according to the presence or absence of the\nSun; and during the presence of the Sun the medium, which is\ntransparent, is so full of light that it overpowers the star, and\ntherefore it no longer appears brilliant. This medium also changes\nfrom rare to dense, from dry to moist, because of the vapours of the\nEarth which rise continually. The medium, thus changed, changes by its\ndensity the image of the star, which passes through it, makes it\nappear dim, and by its moisture or dryness changes it in colour. In\nlike manner it may thus appear through the visual organ, that is, the\neye, which on account of some infirmity, or because of fatigue, is\nchanged into some degree of dimness or into some degree of weakness.\nSo it happens very often, owing to the membrane of the pupil becoming\nsuffused with blood, on account of some corruption produced by\nweakness, that things all appear of a red colour; and therefore the\nstar appears so coloured. And owing to the sight being weakened, there\nresults in it some dispersion of the spirit, so that things do not\nappear united, but scattered, almost in the same way as our writing\ndoes on a wet piece of paper. And this is the reason why many persons,\nwhen they wish to read, remove the paper to some distance from the\neyes, in order that the image thereof may come within the eye more\neasily and more subtly, and thereby the lettering is left impressed on\nthe sight more distinctly and connectedly. For like reason the star\nalso may appear blurred; and I had experience of this in the same year\nin which this Song was born, for, by trying the eyes very much in the\nlabour of reading, the visual spirits were so weakened that the stars\nall appeared to me to be blurred by some white mist: and by means of\nlong repose in shady and cool places, and by cooling the ball of the\neye with spring water, I re-united the scattered powers, which I\nrestored to their former good condition.\n\nAnd thus, for the reasons mentioned above, there are many visible\ncauses why the star can appear to us different to what it really is.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\n\nLeaving this digression, which has been needful for seeing the Truth,\nI return to the proposition, and I say that, as our eyes call, that\nis, judge, the star other than it really is as to its true condition,\nso this little ballad judged this Lady according to appearance, other\nthan the Truth, through infirmity of the Soul, which was impassioned\nwith too much desire. And this I make evident when I say that \"fear\npossessed her soul.\" For this which I saw in her presence appeared\nfierce or proud to me. Where it is to be known that in proportion as\nthe agent is more closely united to the patient, so much the more\npowerful is the passion, as may be understood from the opinion of the\nPhilosopher in his book On Generation. Wherefore in proportion as the\ndesired thing draws nigh to the person who desires it, so much the\ngreater is the desire; and the Soul, more impassioned, unites itself\nmore closely to the carnal part, and abandons reason more and more; so\nthat the individual no longer judges like a man, but almost like some\nother animal, even according to appearance, not discerning the Truth.\nAnd this is the reason why the countenance, modest according to the\ntruth, appears disdainful and proud in her.\n\nAnd that little ballad spoke, according to that judgment, as sensual\nand irrational at once. And herein it is sufficiently understood that\nthis Song judges this Lady according to Truth, by the disagreement\nwhich it has with that other Song of harmony between it and that\nballad. And not without reason I say, \"When I come near to her\nglance,\" and not when she comes within mine. But in this I wish to\nexpress the great power which her eyes had over me; for, as if I had\nbeen transparent, through every part their light shone through me. And\nhere it would be possible to assign reasons natural and supernatural,\nbut let it suffice here to have said as much as I have; elsewhere I\nwill discourse of it more suitably. Then when I say, \"Be such excuse\nallowed,\" I impose on the Song instruction how, by the assigned\nreasons, it may excuse itself there where that is needful, namely,\nwhere there may be any suspicion of this opposition; for there is no\nmore to say, except that whoever may feel doubtful as to the matter\nwherein this Song differs from the other, let him look at the reason\nwhich has been here stated. And such a figure as this is quite\nlaudable in Rhetoric, and even necessary when the words are to one\nperson and the intention is to another; because it is always\npraiseworthy to admonish and necessary also; but it is not always\nsuitable in the mouth of every one. Wherefore, when the son is aware\nof the vice of the father, and when the subject is aware of the vice\nof the lord, and when the friend knows that the shame of his friend\nwould be increased to him by admonition from him, when he knows that\nit would detract from his honour, or when he knows that his friend\nwould not be patient, but enraged at the admonition, this figure is\nmost beautiful and most useful. You may term it dissimulation; it is\nsimilar to the work of that wise warrior who attacked the castle on\none side in order to draw off the defence from the other, for the\nattack and the design of the commander are not aimed at one and the\nsame part.\n\nAlso, I lay a command on this Song, that it ask permission of this\nLady to speak of her; whereby one may infer that a man ought not to be\npresumptuous in praising another, ought not to take it for granted in\nhis own mind that it is pleasing to the person praised, because often,\nwhen some one believes he is bestowing praise, it is taken as blame,\neither through defect of the speaker or through defect of him who\nhears. Wherefore it is requisite to have much discretion in this\nmatter; which discretion is tantamount to asking permission, in the\nway in which I say that this Song or Poem should ask for it.\n\nAnd thus ends the whole Literal meaning of this treatise; wherefore\nthe order of the work now requires the Allegorical exposition,\nfollowing the Truth, to be proceeded with.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\n\nReturning now, as the order requires, to the beginning of the Song, I\nsay that this Lady is that Lady of the Intellect who is called\nPhilosophy. But naturally praise excites a desire to know the person\npraised; and to know the thing may be to know what it is considered to\nbe in itself, and in all that pertains to it, as the Philosopher says\nin the beginning of the book On Physics; and the name may reveal this\nwhen it bears some meaning, as he says in the fourth chapter of the\nMetaphysics, where it is said that the definition is that reason which\nthe name signifies. Here, therefore, it is necessary, before\nproceeding farther with her praises, to prove and to say what this is\nthat is called Philosophy, what this name signifies; and when this has\nbeen demonstrated, the present Allegory will be more efficaciously\ndiscussed. And first of all I will state who first gave this name;\nthen I shall proceed to its signification.\n\nI say, then, that anciently in Italy, almost from the beginning of the\nfoundation of Rome, which was seven hundred and fifty years, a little\nmore or less, before the advent of the Saviour, according as Paul\nOrosius writes, about the time of Numa Pompilius, second king of the\nRomans, there lived a most noble Philosopher, who was named\nPythagoras. And that he might be living about that time appears from\nsomething to which Titus Livius alludes incidentally in the first part\nof his History. And before him they were called the followers of\nScience, not Philosophers but Wise Men such as were those Seven most\nancient Wise Men, who still live in popular fame. The first of them\nhad the name of Solon, the second Chilon, the third Periander, the\nfourth Talus, the fifth Cleobulus, the sixth Bias, the seventh\nPittacus. Pythagoras, being asked if he were considered to be a Wise\nMan, rejected this name, and stated himself to be not a Wise Man, but\na Lover of Wisdom. And from this circumstance it subsequently arose\nthat any man studious to acquire knowledge, was called a Lover of\nWisdom, that is, a Philosopher; for inasmuch as \"Philo\" in Greek is\nequivalent to \"Love\" and \"sophia\" is equivalent to Wisdom, therefore,\n\"Philo and sophia\" mean the same as Love of Wisdom. Wherefore it is\npossible to see that those two words make that name Philosopher, which\nis as much as to say Lover of Wisdom. Therefore it may be observed\nthat it is not a term of arrogance, but of humility.\n\nFrom this sprang naturally the word philosophy, as from the word\nfriend springs naturally the word friendship. Wherefore it is possible\nto see, considering the signification of the first and second word,\nthat philosophy is no other than friendship to wisdom, or rather to\nknowledge; wherefore to a certain degree it is possible to call every\nman a philosopher, according to the natural love which generates a\ndesire for knowledge in each individual.\n\nBut since the natural passions are common to all men, we do not\nspecify those passions by some distinctive word, applied to some\nindividual who shares our common nature, as when we say, John is the\nfriend of Martin, we do not mean to signify merely the natural love\nwhich all men bear to all men, but we mean the friendship founded upon\nthe natural love which is distinct and peculiar to certain\nindividuals. Thus we do not term any one a philosopher because of the\nlove common to us all. It is the intention or meaning of Aristotle, in\nthe eighth book of the Ethics, that that man may be called a friend\nwhose friendship is not concealed from the person beloved, and to whom\nalso the beloved person is a friend, so that the attachment is mutual;\nand this must be so either for mutual benefit, or for pleasure, or for\ncredit's sake. And thus, in order that a man may be a philosopher, it\nmust be love to Wisdom which makes one of the sides friendly; it must\nbe study and care which make the other side also friendly, so that\nfamiliarity and manifestation of benevolence may spring up between\nthem; because without love and without study one cannot be called a\nphilosopher, but there must be both the one and the other.\n\nAnd as friendship for the sake of pleasure given or for profit is not\ntrue friendship, but accidental, as the Ethics demonstrate, so\nphilosophy for delight or profit is not true philosophy, but\naccidental. Wherefore one ought not to call him a true philosopher who\nfor some pleasure or other may be a friend of Wisdom in some degree;\neven as there are many who take delight in repeating songs and in\nstudying the same, and who delight in studying Rhetoric and Music, and\nwho avoid and abandon the other Sciences, which are all members of\nWisdom's body. One ought not to call him a true philosopher who is the\nfriend of Wisdom for the sake of profit; such as are the Lawyers,\nDoctors, and almost all the Religious Men, who do not study for the\nsake of knowledge, but to acquire money or dignity; and if any one\nwould give them that which they seek to acquire, they would not\ncontinue to study. And as amongst the various kinds of friendship,\nthat which is for profit may be called the meanest friendship, so such\nmen as these have less share in the name of Philosopher than any other\npeople.\n\nWherefore as the friendship conceived through honest affection is true\nand perfect and perpetual, so is that philosophy true and perfect\nwhich is generated by upright desire for knowledge, without regard to\naught else, and by the goodness of the friendly soul; which is as much\nas to say, by right appetite and right reason. And it is possible to\nsay here that as true friendship amongst men is, that each love each\nentirely, so the true Philosopher loves each part of Wisdom, and\nWisdom each part of the Philosopher, so as to draw him wholly to\nherself, and to allow no thought of his to stray away to other things.\nWherefore Wisdom herself says in the Proverbs of Solomon, \"I love\nthose who love me.\" And as true friendship of the mind, considered in\nitself alone, has for its subject the knowledge of good effects, and\nfor its form the desire for the same, even so Philosophy considered in\nitself alone, apart from the Soul, has understanding for its subject,\nand for its form an almost divine love to intellect.\n\nAnd as the efficient cause of true friendship is Virtue, so the\nefficient cause of Philosophy is Truth. And as the end of true\nfriendship is true affection, which proceeds from the intercourse\nproper to Humanity, that is, according to the dictates of Reason, as\nAristotle seems to think in the ninth book of the Ethics, so the end\nof Philosophy is that most excellent affection which suffers no\nintermission or defect, that is, the true happiness which is acquired\nby the contemplation of Truth.\n\nAnd thus it is now possible to see who this my Lady is, in all her\ncauses and in her whole reason, and why she is called Philosophy; and\nwho is a true Philosopher, and who is one by accident.\n\nBut in some fervour or heat of mind the one and the other end of the\nacts and of the passions are called by the word for the act itself or\nthe passion; as Virgil does in the second book of the \u00c6neid, where he\ncalls Hector, \"Oh, light\" (which was the act) \"and hope\" (which is the\npassion) \"of the Trojans:\" for he was neither the light nor the hope,\nbut he was the end whence came to them their light in council, and he\nwas the end in which was reposed their hope of safety; as Statius\nwrites in the fifth book of the Thebaid, when Hypsipyle says to\nArchemorus, \"Oh, consolation of things and of the lost country! oh,\nhonour of my servitude!\" even as we say daily, showing the friend,\n\"See my friendship;\" and the father says to the son, \"My love;\" and so\nit is that, through long custom, the Sciences, in which most fervently\nPhilosophy finds the end to which she looks, are called by her name,\nsuch as the Natural Science, the Moral Science, and the Metaphysical\nScience, which last, because most necessarily she looks to her end in\nthat chiefly and most fervently, is called the First Philosophy.\n\nNow, therefore, since it has been seen what the true Philosophy is in\nits essence; which is that Lady of whom I speak; how her noble name\nthrough custom is communicated to the Sciences, and the first science\nis called the First Philosophy, I may proceed further with her praise.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\n\nIn the first chapter of this treatise the reason which moved me to\nthis Song is so fully discussed that it is no longer necessary to\ndiscuss it further, for one can easily enough recall to mind what has\nbeen said in this exposition: and therefore, following the divisions\nmade for the Literal meaning, I shall run through the Song, turning\nback to the sense of the letter where it may be needful. I say, \"Love,\nreasoning of my Lady in my mind.\" By Love I mean the labour and pains\nI took to acquire the love of this Lady. If one wishes to know what\nlabour, it can be here considered in two ways. There is one study\nwhich leads the man to the daily use of Art and Science; there is\nanother study which he will employ in the acquired use. The first is\nthat which I call Love, which fills my mind continually with new and\nmost exalted ideas of this Lady: even as the anxious pains which one\ntakes to acquire a friendship are wont to do; for, when desiring that\nfriendship, a man is wont to take anxious thought concerning it. This\nis that study and that affection which usually precedes in men the\nbegetting of the friendship, when already on one side Love is born,\nand desires and strives that it may be on the other; for, as is said\nabove, Philosophy is born when the Soul and Wisdom have become\nfriends, so that the one is loved by the other.\n\nNeither is it again needful to discuss that first stanza in the\npresent explanation, which was reasoned out as the Proem in the\nLiteral exposition; since, from the first argument thereof, it is easy\nenough to make out the meaning in this the second one.\n\nWe may proceed, then, to the second part, which begins the treatise,\nand to that place where I say, \"The Sun sees not in travel round the\nEarth.\" Here it is to be known that as, when discoursing of a sensible\nthing, one handles it suitably by means of an insensible thing, so of\nan intelligible thing, one fitly argues by means of an unintelligible.\nIn the Literal sense one speaks of the Sun as a substantial and\nsensible body; so now it is fit, by image of the Sun, to discourse of\nthe Spiritual and Unintelligible, that is, God.\n\nThere is no visible thing in all the world more worthy to serve as a\ntype of God than the Sun, which illuminates with visible light itself\nfirst, and then all the celestial and elemental bodies. Thus, God\nilluminates Himself first with intellectual light, and then the\ncelestial and other intelligible beings. The Sun vivifies all things\nwith his heat, and if anything is destroyed thereby, it is not by the\nintention of the cause, but it is an accidental effect: thus God\nvivifies all things in His Goodness, and, if any suffer evil, it is\nnot by the Divine intention, but the effect is accidental. For, if God\nmade the Angels good and evil, He did not make both by intention, but\nHe made the good only; there followed afterwards, beyond His\nintention, the wickedness of the evil ones; but not so far beyond His\nintention that God could not foreknow in Himself their wickedness; but\nso great was the loving desire to produce the Spiritual creature that\nthe foreknowledge that some would come to a bad end neither could nor\nshould prevent God from continuing the production; as it would not be\nto the praise of Nature if, knowing of herself that the flowers of a\ntree in a certain part must perish, she should refuse to produce\nflowers on that tree, and should abandon the production of\nfruit-bearing trees as vain and useless. I say, then, that God, who\nencircles and understands all, in His encircling and His understanding\nsees nothing so gentle, so noble, as He sees when He shines on this\nPhilosophy. For, although God Himself, beholding, may see all things\ntogether, inasmuch as the distinction of things is in Him in the same\nway as the effect is in the cause, yet He sees those things also apart\nand distinct. He sees, then, this Lady the most noble of all\nabsolutely, inasmuch as most perfectly He sees her in Himself and in\nher essence. If what has been said above be recalled to mind,\nPhilosophy is a loving use of Wisdom; which especially is in God,\nbecause in Him is Supreme Wisdom, and Supreme Love, and Supreme\nAction; which cannot be elsewhere except inasmuch as it proceeds from\nHim. It is, then, the Divine Philosophy of the Divine Being, since in\nHim nothing can be that is not part of His Essence; and it is most\nnoble, because the Divine Essence is most noble, and it is in Him in a\nmanner perfect and true, as if by eternal wedlock; it is in the other\nIntelligences in a less degree, as if platonic, as if a virgin love\nfrom whom no lover receives full and complete joy, but contents\nhimself by gazing on the beauty of her countenance. Wherefore it is\npossible to say that God sees not, that He does not intently regard,\nanything so noble as this Lady; I say anything, inasmuch as He sees\nand distinguishes the other things, as has been said, seeing Himself\nto be the cause of all. Oh, most noble and most excellent heart, which\nis at peace in the bride of the Ruler of Heaven; and not bride only,\nbut sister, and the daughter beloved above all others.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\n\nHaving seen in the beginning of the praises of this Lady how subtly it\nis said that she is of the Divine Substance, as was first to be\nconsidered, we proceed now to consider her as she is in the\nIntelligences that proceed thence. \"All minds of Heaven wonder at her\nworth,\" where it is to be known that I say, \"minds of Heaven,\" making\nthat allusion to God which has been mentioned above; and from this one\nexcludes the Intelligences who are exiled from the eternal country,\nwho can never study Philosophy, because love in them is entirely\nextinct, and for the study of Philosophy, as has been already said,\nLove is necessary. One sees, therefore, that the spirits of Hell are\ndeprived of the sight of this most beautiful Lady; and, since she is\nthe blessing of the intellect, the deprivation of her is most bitter\nand full of every sadness.\n\nThen, when I say, \"Mortals, enamoured, find her in their thought,\" I\ndescend to show how she also may come into the Human Intelligence in a\nsecondary degree; with which Human Philosophy I then proceed through\nthe treatise, praising it. I say, then, that the mortals who \"find her\nin their thought\" in this life do not always find her there, but only\n\"When Love his peace into their hearts has brought;\" wherein there are\nto be seen three points which are alluded to in this text.\n\nThe first is when one says, \"Mortals, enamoured,\" because it seems to\nmake a distinction in the human race, and of necessity it must be\nmade; for, according to what manifestly appears, and which in the\nfollowing treatise will be specially reasoned out, the greatest part\nof men live more according to the Sense than according to Reason; and\nthose who live according to the Sense can never be enamoured of this\nLady, since of her they can have no apprehension whatever.\n\nThe second point is when it says, \"When Love his peace into their\nminds has brought,\" where it appears to make a distinction of time.\nAnd that is necessary; for, although the separate Intelligences gaze\nat this Lady continually, the Human Intelligence cannot do so; since\nHuman Nature, besides that which gives delight to the Intellect and\nthe Reason, has need of many things requisite for its support which\ncontemplation cannot furnish forth. Therefore our Wisdom is sometimes\nhabitual only, and not actual; and this does not happen to the other\nIntelligences, which alone are perfect in their intellectual nature.\nAnd so, when our soul is not in the act of contemplation, one cannot\ntruly say that it is in Philosophy, except inasmuch as it has the\nhabit of it, and the power of being able to arouse it; sometimes,\ntherefore, she is with the people who are enamoured of her here below,\nand sometimes not.\n\nThe third point is, when it speaks of the time when those people are\nwith her, namely, when Love has brought into their minds his peace;\nwhich means no other than when the man is in the act of contemplation,\nsince he does not strive to feel the peace of that Lady except in the\nact of contemplation.\n\nAnd thus one sees how this Lady is firstly in the Mind of God,\nsecondly in the other separate Intelligences through continual\ncontemplation, and afterwards in the human intellect through\ninterpreted contemplation. But the man who has her for his Lady is\never to be termed a Philosopher, notwithstanding that he may not be\nalways in the final act of Philosophy, for it is usual to name other\nmen after their habits. Wherefore we call any man virtuous, not merely\nwhen performing virtuous actions, but from having the habit or custom\nof virtue. And we call a man eloquent, even when he is not speaking,\nfrom his habit of eloquence, that is, of speaking well.\n\nAnd of this Philosophy, in which Human Intelligence has part, there\nwill now be the following encomiums to prove how great a part of her\ngood gifts is bestowed on Human Nature. I say, then, afterwards:\n\n    Her Maker saw that she was good, and poured,\n      Beyond our Nature, fulness of His Power\n      On her pure Soul, whence shone this holy dower\n    Through all her frame.\n\nFor the capacity of our Nature is subdued by it, which it makes\nbeautiful and virtuous. Wherefore, although into the habit of that\nLady one may somewhat come, it is not possible to say that any one who\nenters thereinto properly has that habit; since the first study, that\nwhereby the habit is begotten, cannot perfectly acquire that\nphilosophy. And here one sees her lowly praise; for, perfect or\nimperfect, she never loses the name of perfection. And because of this\nher surpassing excellence, it says that the Soul of Philosophy \"shone\nThrough all her frame,\" that is, that God ever imparts to her of His\nLight.\n\nHere we may recall to mind what is said above, that Love is a form of\nPhilosophy, and therefore here is called her Soul; which Love is\nmanifest in the use of Wisdom, and such use brings with it a wonderful\nbeauty, that is to say, contentment under any condition of the time,\nand contempt for those things which other men make their masters.\n\nWherefore it happens that those other unhappy ones who gaze thereon,\nand think over their own defects from the desire for perfection, fall\ninto the weariness of sighs; and this is meant where it says: \"That\nfrom the eyes she touches heralds fly Heartward with longings,\nheavenward with a sigh.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\n\nAs in the Literal exposition, after the general praises one descends\nto the especial, firstly on the part of the Soul, then on the part of\nthe body, so now the text proceeds after the general encomium to\ndescend to the especial commendation. As it is said above, Philosophy\nhere has Wisdom for its material subject and Love for its form, and\nthe habit of contemplation for the union of the two. Wherefore in this\npassage which subsequently begins, \"On her fair form Virtue Divine\ndescends,\" I mean to praise Love, which is part of Philosophy. Here it\nis to be known that for a virtue to descend from one thing into\nanother there is no other way than to reduce that thing into its own\nsimilitude; as we see evidently in the natural agents, for their\nvirtue descending into the things that are the patients, they bring\nthose things into their similitude as far as they are able to attain\nit.\n\nWe see that the Sun, pouring his rays down on this Earth, reduces the\nthings thereon to his own similitude of light in proportion as they by\ntheir own disposition are able to receive light of his light. Thus, I\nsay that God reduces this Love to His own Similitude as much as it is\npossible for it to bear likeness to Him. And it alludes to the nature\nof the creative act, saying, \"As on the Angel that beholds His face.\"\nWhere again it is to be known that the first Agent, who is God, paints\nHis Virtue on some things by means of direct radiance, and on some\nthings by means of reflected splendour; wherefore into the separate\nIntelligences the Divine Light shines without any interposing medium;\ninto the others it is reflected from those Intelligences which were\nfirst illumined.\n\nBut since mention is here made of Light and Splendour, for the more\nperfect understanding thereof I will show the difference between those\nwords, according to the opinion of Avicenna. I say that it is the\ncustom of Philosophers to speak of Heaven as Light, inasmuch as Light\nis there in its primeval Spring, or its first origin. They speak of it\nas a ray of Light while it passes through the medium from its source\ninto the first body in which it has its end; they call it Splendour\nwhere it is reflected back from some part that has received\nillumination. I say, then, that the Divine Virtue or Power draws this\nLove into Its Own Similitude without any interposing medium.\n\nAnd it is possible to make this evident, especially in this, that as\nthe Divine Love is Eternal, so must its object of necessity be\neternal, so that those things are eternal which He loves. And thus it\nmakes this Love to love, for the Wisdom into which this Love strikes\nis eternal. Wherefore it is written of her: \"From the beginning,\nbefore Time was created, I am: and in the Time to come I shall not\nfail.\" And in the Proverbs of Solomon this Wisdom says: \"I am\nestablished for ever.\" And in the beginning of the Gospel of John, her\neternity is openly alluded to, as it is possible to observe. And\ntherefore it results that there, where this Love shines, all the other\nLoves become obscure and almost extinct, since its eternal object\nsubdues and overpowers all other objects in a manner beyond all\ncomparison; and therefore the most excellent Philosophers in their\nactions openly demonstrate it, whereby we know that they have treated\nall other things with indifference except Wisdom. Wherefore\nDemocritus, neglecting all care of his own person, trimmed neither his\nbeard, nor the hair of his head, nor his nails. Plato, indifferent to\nthe riches of this world, despised the royal dignity, for he was the\nson of a king. Aristotle, caring for no other friend, combated with\nhis own best friend, even with the above-named Plato, his dearest\nfriend after Philosophy. And why do we speak of these, when we find\nothers who, for these thoughts, held their life in contempt, such as\nZeno, Socrates, Seneca, and many more? It is evident, therefore, that\nin this Love the Divine Power, after the manner of an Angel, descends\ninto men; and to give proof of this, the text presently exclaims:\n\"Fair one who doubt, go with her, mark the grace In all her acts.\" By\n\"Fair one\" is meant the noble soul of judgment, free in its own power,\nwhich is Reason; hence the other souls cannot be called Ladies, but\nhandmaids, since they are not for themselves, but for others; and the\nPhilosopher says, in the first book of Metaphysics, that that thing is\nfree which is a cause of itself and not for others. It says, \"go with\nher, mark the grace In all her acts,\" that is, make thyself the\ncompanion of this Love, and look at that which will be found within\nit; and in part it alludes to this, saying, \"Downward from Heaven\nbends An Angel when she speaks,\" meaning that where Philosophy is in\naction a celestial thought stoops down, in which this being reasons or\ndiscourses beyond the power of Human Nature.\n\nThe Song says \"from Heaven,\" to give people to understand that not\nonly Philosophy, but the thoughts friendly to it, are abstracted from\nall low and earthly things. Then afterwards it says how she\nstrengthens and kindles love wherever she appears with the sweet\npersuasions of her actions, which are in all her aspects modest,\ngentle, and without any domineering assumption. And subsequently, by\nstill greater persuasion to induce a desire for her company, it says:\n\"Fair in all like her, fairest she'll appear Who is most like her.\"\nAgain it adds: \"We, content to call Her face a Miracle,\" find help in\nit, where it is to be known that the regard of this Lady was freely\nordained to arouse a desire in us for its acquisition, not only in her\ncountenance, which she reveals to sight, but also in the things which\nshe keeps hidden. Wherefore as, through her, much of that which is\nhidden is seen by means of Reason (and consequently to see by Reason\nwithout her seems a miracle), so, through her, one believes each\nmiracle in the action of a higher intellectual Power to have reason,\nand therefore to be possible. From whence true Faith has its origin,\nfrom which comes the Hope to desire the Future, and from that are born\nthe works of Charity, by which three Virtues we mount to become\nPhilosophers in that celestial Athens where Stoics, Peripatetics, and\nEpicureans, by the practice of Eternal Truth, concur harmoniously in\none desire.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\n\nIn the preceding chapter this glorious Lady is praised according to\none of her component parts, that is, Love. In this chapter I intend to\nexplain that passage which begins, \"Her aspect shows delights of\nParadise,\" and here it is requisite to discuss and praise her other\npart, Wisdom.\n\nThe text then says that in the face of this Lady things appear which\nshow us joys of Paradise; and it distinguishes the place where this\nappears, namely, in the eyes and the smile. And here it must be known\nthat the eyes of Wisdom are her demonstrations, whereby one sees the\nTruth most certainly; but her persuasions are in her smile, in which\npersuasions the inner Light of Wisdom reveals itself without any veil\nor concealment. And in these two is felt that most exalted joy which\nis the supreme good in Paradise. This joy cannot be in any other thing\nhere below, except in gazing into these eyes and upon that smile. And\nthe reason is this, that since each thing naturally desires its\nperfection, without which it cannot be at peace, to have that is to be\nblessed. For although it might possess all other things, yet, being\nwithout that, there would remain in it desire, which cannot consist\nwith perfect happiness, since perfect happiness is a perfect thing,\nand desire is a defective thing. For one desires not that which he\nhas, but that which he has not, and here is a manifest defect. And in\nthis form solely can human perfection be acquired, as the perfection\nof Reason, on which, as on its principal part, our essential being all\ndepends. All our other actions, as to feel or hear, to take food, and\nthe rest, are through this one alone; and this is for itself, and not\nfor others. So that, if that be perfect, it is so perfect that the\nman, inasmuch as he is a man, sees each desire fulfilled, and thus he\nis happy. And therefore it is said in the Book of Wisdom: \"Whoso\ncasteth away Wisdom and Knowledge is unhappy,\" that is to say, he\nsuffers the privation of happiness. From the habit of Wisdom it\nfollows that a man learns to be happy and content, according to the\nopinion of the Philosopher. One sees, then, how in the aspect of this\nLady joys of Paradise appear, and therefore one reads in the Book of\nWisdom quoted above, when speaking of her, \"She is a shining whiteness\nof the Eternal Light; a Mirror without blemish, of the Majesty of\nGod.\" Then when it says, \"Things over which the intellect may stray,\"\nI excuse myself, saying that I can say but little concerning these, on\naccount of their overpowering influence. Where it is to be known that\nin any way these things dazzle our intellect, inasmuch as they affirm\ncertain things to be, which our intellect is unable to comprehend,\nthat is, God and Eternity, and the first Matter which most certainly\nthey do not see, and with all faith they believe to be. And even what\nthey are we cannot understand; and so, by not denying things, it is\npossible to draw near to some knowledge of them, but not otherwise.\n\nTruly here it is possible to have some very strong doubt how it is\nthat Wisdom can make the man completely happy without being able to\nshow him certain things perfectly; since the natural desire for\nknowledge is in the man, and without fulfilment of the desire he\ncannot be fully happy. To this it is possible to reply clearly, that\nthe natural desire in each thing is in proportion to the possibility\nof reaching to the thing desired; otherwise it would pass into\nopposition to itself, which is impossible; and Nature would have\nworked in vain, which also is impossible.\n\nIt would pass into opposition, for, desiring its perfection, it would\ndesire its imperfection, since he would desire always to desire, and\nnever fulfil his desire. And into this error the cursed miser falls,\nand does not perceive that he desires always to desire, going\nbackwards to reach to an impossible amount.\n\nNature also would have worked in vain, since it would not be ordained\nto any end; and, in fact, human desire is proportioned in this life to\nthat knowledge which it is possible to have here. One cannot pass that\npoint except through error, which is outside the natural intention.\nAnd thus it is proportioned in the Angelic, and it is limited in Human\nNature, and it finds its end in that Wisdom in proportion as the\nnature of each can apprehend it.\n\nAnd this is the reason why the Saints have no envy amongst themselves,\nsince each one attains the end of his desire, and the desire of each\nis in due proportion to the nature of his goodness. Wherefore, since\nto know God and certain other things, as Eternity and the first\nMatter, is not possible to our Nature, naturally we have no desire for\nthat knowledge, and hereby is this doubtful question solved.\n\nThen when I say, \"Rain from her beauty little flames of fire,\" I\nproceed to another joy of Paradise, that is, from the secondary\nfelicity, happiness, to this first one, which proceeds from her\nbeauty, where it is to be known that Morality is the beauty of\nPhilosophy. For as the beauty of the body is the result of its members\nin proportion as they are fitly ordered, so the beauty of Wisdom,\nwhich is the body of Philosophy, as has been said, results from the\norder of the Moral Virtues which visibly make that joy. And therefore\nI say that her beauty, which is Morality, rains down little flames of\nfire, meaning direct desire, which is begotten in the pleasure of the\nMoral Doctrine; which desire removes it again from the natural vices,\nand not only from the others. And thence springs that happiness which\nAristotle defined in the first book of Ethics, saying, that it is Work\naccording to Virtue in the Perfect Life.\n\nAnd when it says, \"Fair one, who may desire Escape from blame,\" it\nproceeds in praise of Philosophy. I cry aloud to the people that they\nshould follow her, telling them of her good gifts, that is to say,\nthat by following her each one may become good. Therefore it says to\neach Soul, that feels its beauty is to blame because it does not\nappear what it ought to appear, let her look at this example. Where it\nis to be known that the Morals are the beauty of the Soul, that is to\nsay, the most excellent virtues, which sometimes through vanity or\nthrough pride are made less beautiful or less agreeable, as in the\nlast treatise it was possible to perceive. And therefore I say that,\nin order to shun this, one looks at that Lady, Philosophy, there where\nshe is the example of Humility, namely, in that part of herself which\nis called Moral Philosophy. And I subjoin that by gazing at her (I\nsay, at Wisdom) in that part, every vicious man will become upright\nand good. And therefore I say she has \"a spirit to create Good\nthoughts, and crush the vices.\" She turns gently back him who has gone\nastray from the right course.\n\nFinally, in highest praise of Wisdom, I say of her that she is the\nMother of every good Principle, saying that she is \"God's thought,\"\nwho began the World, and especially the movement of the Heaven by\nwhich all things are generated, and wherein each movement has its\norigin, that is to say, that the Divine Thought is Wisdom. She was,\nwhen God made the World; whence it follows that she could make it, and\ntherefore Solomon said in the Book of Proverbs, in the person of\nWisdom: \"When He prepared the Heavens, I was there: when He set a\ncompass upon the face of the depth; when He established the clouds\nabove; when He strengthened the fountains of the deep; when He gave to\nthe sea His decree, that the waters should not pass His commandment;\nwhen He appointed the foundations of the Earth: then I was by Him, as\none brought up with Him, and I was daily His delight, rejoicing always\nbefore Him.\" O, ye Men, worse than dead, who fly from the friendship\nof Wisdom, open your eyes, and see that before you were she was the\nLover of you, preparing and ordaining the process of your being! Since\nyou were made she came that she might guide you, came to you in your\nown likeness; and, if all of you cannot come into her presence, honour\nher in her friends, and follow their counsels, as of them who announce\nto you the will of this eternal Empress! Close not your ears to\nSolomon, who tells you \"the path of the Just is as a shining Light,\nwhich goeth forth and increaseth even to the day of salvation.\" Follow\nafter them, behold their works, which ought to be to you as a beacon\nof light for guidance in the path of this most brief life.\n\nAnd here we may close the Commentary on the true meaning of the\npresent Song. The last stanza, which is intended for a refrain, can be\nexplained easily enough by the Literal exposition, except inasmuch as\nit says that I there called this Lady \"disdainful and morose.\" Where\nit is to be known that at the beginning this Philosophy appeared to me\non the part of her body, which is Wisdom, morose, for she smiled not\non me, insomuch that as yet I did not understand her persuasions; and\nshe seemed to me disdainful, for she turned not her glance to me, that\nis to say, I could not see her demonstrations. But the defect was\naltogether on my side. From this, and from that which is given in the\nexplanation of the Literal meaning of the Song, the Allegory of the\nrefrain is evident. It is time, therefore, that we proceed farther,\nand this treatise end.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nThe Fourth Treatise\n\n\n      Soft rhymes of love I used to find\n        Within my thought, I now must leave,\n    Not without hope to turn to them again;\n      But signs of a disdainful mind\n        That in my Lady I perceive\n    Have closed the way to my accustomed strain.\n\n      And since time suits me now to wait,\n        I put away the softer style\n    Proper to love; rhyme subtle and severe\n      Shall tell how Nobleman's estate\n        Is won by worth, hold false and vile\n    The judgment that from wealth derives a Peer.\n\n        First calling on that Lord\n          Who dwells within her eyes,\n        Containing whom, my Lady learnt\n          Herself to love and prize.\n\n        One raised to Empire held,\n          As far as he could see,\n        Descent of wealth, and generous ways,\n          To make Nobility.\n\n        Another, lightly wise,\n          That saying turned aside,\n        Perchance for want of generous ways\n          The second source denied.\n\n        And followers of him\n          Are all the men who rate\n        Those noble in whose families\n          The wealth has long been great.\n\n        And so long among us\n          The falsehood has had sway,\n        That men call him a Nobleman,\n          Though worthless, who can say.\n\n        I nephew am, or son,\n          Of one worth such a sum;\n        But he who sees the Truth may know\n          How vile he has become\n\n        To whom the Truth was shown,\n          Who from the Truth has fled,\n        And though he walks upon the earth\n          Is counted with the dead:\n\n        Whoever shall define\n          The man a living tree\n        Will speak untruth and less than truth,\n          Though more he may not see.\n\n        The Emperor so erred;\n          First set the false in view,\n        Proceeding, on the other side,\n          To what was less than true.\n\n        For riches make not worth\n          Although they can defile:\n        Nor can their want take worth away:\n          They are by nature vile.\n\n        No painter gives a form\n          That is not of his knowing;\n        No tower leans above a stream\n          That far away is flowing.\n\n        How vile and incomplete\n          Wealth is, let this declare\n        However great the heap may be\n          It brings no peace, but care.\n\n        And hence the upright mind,\n          To its own purpose true,\n        Stands firm although the flood of wealth\n          Sweep onward out of view\n\n        They will not have the vile\n          Turn noble, nor descent\n        From parent vile produce a race\n          For ever eminent.\n\n        Yet this, they say, can be,\n          Their reason halts behind,\n        Since time they suit to noble birth\n          By course of time defined.\n\n        It follows then from this\n          That all are high or base,\n        Or that in Time there never was\n          Beginning to our race.\n\n        But that I cannot hold,\n          Nor yet, if Christians, they;\n        Sound intellect reproves their words\n          As false, and turns away.\n\n        And now I seek to tell,\n          As it appears to me,\n        What is, whence comes, what signs attest\n          A true Nobility.\n\n        I say that from one root\n          Each Virtue firstly springs,\n        Virtue, I mean, that Happiness\n          To man, by action, brings.\n\n        This, as the Ethics teach,\n          Is habit of right choice\n        That holds the means between extremes,\n          So spake that noble voice.\n\n        Nobility by right\n          No other sense has had\n        Than to import its subject's good,\n          As vileness makes him bad.\n\n        Such virtue shows its good\n          To others' intellect,\n        For when two things agree in one,\n          Producing one effect.\n\n        One must from other come,\n          Or each one from a third,\n        If each be as each, and more, then one\n          From the other is inferred.\n\n        Where Virtue is, there is\n          A Nobleman, although\n        Not where there is a Nobleman\n          Must Virtue be also.\n\n        So likewise that is Heaven\n          Wherein a star is hung,\n        But Heaven may be starless; so\n          In women and the young\n\n        A modesty is seen,\n          Not virtue, noble yet;\n        Comes virtue from what's noble, as\n          From black comes violet;\n\n        Or from the parent root\n          It springs, as said before,\n        And so let no one vaunt that him.\n          A noble mother bore.\n\n        They are as Gods whom Grace\n          Has placed beyond all sin:\n        God only gives it to the Soul\n          That He finds pure within.\n\n        That seed of Happiness\n          Falls in the hearts of few,\n        Planted by God within the Souls\n          Spread to receive His dew.\n\n        Souls whom this Grace adorns\n          Declare it in each breath,\n        From birth that joins the flesh and soul\n          They show it until death.\n\n        In Childhood they obey,\n          Are gentle, modest, heed\n        To furnish Virtue's person with\n          The graces it may need.\n\n        Are temperate in Youth,\n          And resolutely strong,\n        Love much, win praise for courtesy,\n          Are loyal, hating wrong.\n\n        Are prudent in their Age,\n          And generous and just,\n        And glad at heart to hear and speak\n          When good to man's discussed.\n\n        The fourth part of their life\n          Weds them again to God,\n        They wait, and contemplate the end,\n          And bless the paths they trod.\n\n      How many are deceived! My Song,\n        Against the strayers: when you reach\n    Our Lady, hide not from her that your end\n      Is labour that would lessen wrong,\n        And tell her too, in trusty speech,\n    I travel ever talking of your Friend.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I.\n\n\nLove, according to the unanimous opinion of the wise men who discourse\nof him, and as by experience we see continually, is that which brings\ntogether and unites the lover with the beloved; wherefore Pythagoras\nsays, \"In friendship many become one.\"\n\nAnd the things which are united naturally communicate their qualities\nto each other, insomuch that sometimes it happens that one is wholly\nchanged into the nature of the other, the result being that the\npassions of the beloved person enter into the person of the lover, so\nthat the love of the one is communicated to the other, and so likewise\nhatred, desire, and every other passion; wherefore the friends of the\none are beloved by the other, and the enemies hated; and so in the\nGreek proverb it is said: \"With friends all things ought to be in\ncommon.\"\n\nWherefore I, having made a friend of this Lady, mentioned above in the\ntruthful exposition, began to love and to hate according to her love\nand her hatred. I then began to love the followers of Truth, and to\nhate the followers of Error and Falsehood, even as she does. But since\neach thing is to be loved for itself and none are to be hated except\nfor excess of evil, it is reasonable and upright to hate not the\nthings, but the evil in the things, and to endeavour to distinguish\nbetween these. And if any person has this intention, my most excellent\nLady understands especially how to distinguish the evil in anything,\nwhich is the cause of hate; since in her is all Reason, and in her is\nthe fountain-head of all uprightness.\n\nI, following her as much as I could in her work as in her love,\nabominated and despised the errors of the people with infamy or\nreproach, not cast on those lost in error, but on the errors\nthemselves; by blaming which, I thought to create displeasure and to\nseparate the displeased ones from those faults in them which were\nhated by me. Amongst which errors one especially I reproved, which,\nbecause it is hurtful and dangerous not only to those who remain in\nit, but also to others who reprove it, I separate it from them and\ncondemn.\n\nThis is the error concerning Human Goodness, which, inasmuch as it is\nsown in us by Nature, ought to be termed Nobility; which error was so\nstrongly entrenched by evil custom and by weak intellect that the\nopinion of almost all people was falsified or deceived by it; and from\nthe false opinion sprang false judgments, and from false judgments\nsprang unjust reverence and unjust contempt; wherefore the good were\nheld in vile disdain, and the evil were honoured and exalted. This was\nthe worst confusion in the world; even as he can see who looks subtly\nat that which may result from it. And though it seemed that this my\nLady had somewhat changed her sweet countenance towards me, especially\nwhere I gazed and sought to discover whether the first Matter of the\nElements was created by God, for which reason I strengthened myself to\nfrequent her presence a little, as if remaining there with her assent,\nI began to consider in my mind the fault of man concerning the said\nerror. And to shun sloth, which is an especial enemy of this Lady, and\nto describe or state this error very clearly, this error which robs\nher of so many friends, I proposed to cry aloud to the people who are\nwalking in the path of evil, in order that they might direct their\nsteps to the right road; and I began a Song, in the beginning of which\nI said, \"Soft rhymes of love I used to find,\" wherein I intend to lead\nthe people back into the right path, the path of right knowledge\nconcerning true Nobility, as by the knowledge of its text, to the\nexplanation of which I now turn my attention, any one will be able to\nperceive.\n\nAnd since the intention of this Song is directed to a remedy so\nrequisite, it was not well to speak under any figure of speech; but it\nwas needful to prepare this medicine speedily, that speedy might be\nthe restoration to health, which, being so corrupted, hastened to a\nhideous death. It will not, then, be requisite in the exposition of\nthis Song to unveil any allegory, but simply to discuss its meaning\naccording to the letter. By my Lady I always mean her who is spoken of\nin the preceding Song, that is to say, that Light of supreme virtue,\nPhilosophy, whose rays cause the flowers of true Nobility to blossom\nforth in mankind and to bear fruit in the sons of men; concerning\nwhich true Nobility the proposed Song fully intends to treat.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II.\n\n\nIn the beginning of the explanation now undertaken, in order to render\nthe meaning of the proposed Song more clear and distinct, it is\nrequisite to divide that first part into two parts, for in the first\npart one speaks in the manner of a Proem or Preface; in the second,\nthe subject under discussion is continued; and the second part begins\nin the commencement of the stanza, where it says:\n\n    One raised to Empire held,\n      As far as he could see,\n    Descent of wealth, and generous ways,\n      To make Nobility.\n\nThe first part, again, can be comprehended in three divisions or\nmembers. In the first it states why I depart from my usual mode of\nspeech; in the second, I say of what it is my intention to discourse;\nin the third, I call upon that Helper who most can aid me to establish\nTruth. The second member, clause, or division begins: \"And since time\nsuits me now.\" The third begins: \"First calling on that Lord.\" I say\nthen that I was compelled to abandon the soft rhymes of Love which I\nwas accustomed to search for in my thoughts, and I assign the reason\nor cause; wherefore I say that it is not because I have given up all\nintention of making rhymes of Love, but because new aspects have\nappeared in my Lady which have deprived me of material for present\nspeech of Love. Where it is to be known that it does not here say that\nthe gestures of this Lady are disdainful and angry according to\nappearance only, as may be seen in the tenth chapter of the preceding\ntreatise; for at another time I say that the appearance is contrary to\nthe Truth; and how this can be, how one self-same thing can be sweet\nand appear bitter, or rather be clear and appear obscure, may there be\nseen clearly enough.\n\nAfterwards when I say, \"And since time suits,\" I say, even as has been\nsaid, what that is whereof I intend to discourse. And that which it\nsays in the words \"time suits\" is not here to be passed over with a\ndry foot, because there is a most powerful reason for my action; but\nit is to be seen how reasonably time must wait on all our acts, and\nespecially on speech.\n\nTime, according to what Aristotle says in the fourth chapter of\nPhysics, is the number of movement, first, second, and onwards; and\nthe number of the celestial movement, which prepares the things here\nbelow to receive in various ways any informing power. For the Earth is\nprepared in one way in the beginning of Spring to receive into itself\nthe informing power of the herbs and flowers, and the Winter\notherwise; and in one manner is one season prepared to receive the\nseed, differing from another. And even so our Mind, inasmuch as it is\nfounded upon the temper of the body, which has to follow the\nrevolution of the Heaven, at one time is disposed in one way, at\nanother time in another way; wherefore words, which are, as it were,\nthe seeds of actions, ought very discreetly to be withheld or uttered;\nthey should be spoken with such sound judgment that they may be well\nreceived, and good fruit follow from them; not withheld or spent so\nsparingly that barrenness is the result of their defective utterance.\nAnd therefore a suitable time should be chosen, both for him who\nspeaks and for him who must hear: for if the speaker is badly\nprepared, very often his words are injurious or hurtful; and if the\nhearer is ill-disposed, those words which are good are ill received.\nAnd therefore Solomon says in Ecclesiastes: \"There is a time to speak,\nand a time to be silent.\" Wherefore I, feeling within myself that my\ndisposition to speak of Love was disturbed, for the cause which has\nbeen mentioned in the preceding chapter, it seemed to me that the time\nmight suit me now, time which bears with it the fulfilment of every\ndesire, and appears in the guise of a generous giver to those who\ngrudge not to await him patiently. Wherefore St. James says in his\nEpistle, in the fifth chapter: \"Behold, the husbandman waiteth for the\nprecious fruit of the Earth, and hath long patience for it, until he\nreceive the early and the latter rain.\" For all our sorrows, or cares,\nor vexations, if we inquire diligently into their origin, proceed, as\nit were, from not knowing the use of time. I say, \"since the time\nsuits,\" I will leave my pen alone, that is to say, the sweet or gentle\nstyle I used when I sang of Love; and I say that I will speak of that\nworth whereby a man is truly noble.\n\nAnd as it is possible to understand worth in many ways, here I intend\nto assume worth to be a power of Nature, or rather a goodness bestowed\nby her, as will be seen in what follows; and I promise to discourse on\nthis subject with a \"rhyme subtle and severe.\"\n\nWherefore it is requisite to know that rhyme may be considered in a\ndouble sense, that is to say, in a wide and in a narrow sense. In the\nnarrow sense, it is understood as that concordance which in the last\nand in the penultimate syllable it is usual to make. In the wide\nsense, it is understood for all that language which, with numbers and\nregulated time, falls into rhymed consonance; and thus it is desired\nthat it should be taken and understood in this Proem. And therefore it\nsays \"severe,\" with reference to the sound of the style, which to such\na subject must not be sweet and pleasing; and it says \"subtle,\" with\nregard to the meaning of the words, which proceed with subtle argument\nand disputation.\n\nAnd I subjoin: \"hold false and vile The judgment;\" where again it is\npromised to confute the judgment of the people full of error: false,\nthat is, removed from the Truth; and vile, that is to say, affirmed\nand fortified by vileness of mind. And it is to be observed that in\nthis Proem I promise, firstly, to treat of the Truth, and then to\nconfute the False; and in the treatise the opposite is done, for, in\nthe first place, I confute the False, and then treat of the Truth,\nwhich does not appear rightly according to the promise. And therefore\nit is to be known that, although the intention is to speak of both,\nthe principal intention is to handle the Truth; and the intention is\nto reprove the False or Untrue, in so far as by so doing I make the\nTruth appear more excellent.\n\nAnd here, in the first place, the promise is to speak of the Truth\naccording to the chief intention, which creates in the minds of the\nhearers a desire to hear; for in the first treatise I reprove the\nFalse of Untrue in order that, the false opinions being chased away,\nthe Truth may be received more freely. And this method was adopted by\nthe master of human argument, Aristotle, who always in the first place\nfought with the adversaries of Truth, and then, having vanquished\nthem, revealed or demonstrated Truth itself.\n\nFinally, when I say, \"First calling on that Lord,\" I appeal to Truth\nto be with me, Truth being that Lord who dwells in the eyes of\nPhilosophy, that is to say, in her demonstrations. And indeed Truth is\nthat Lord; for the Soul espoused to Truth is the bride of Truth, and\notherwise it is a slave or servant deprived of all liberty.\n\nAnd it says, \"my Lady learnt Herself to love and prize,\" because this\nPhilosophy, which has been said in the preceding treatise to be a\nloving use of Wisdom, beholds herself when the beauty of her eyes\nappears to her. And what else is there to be said, except that the\nPhilosophic Soul not only contemplates this Truth, but again\ncontemplates her own contemplation and the beauty of that, again\nrevolving upon herself, and being enamoured with herself on account of\nthe beauty of her first glance?\n\nAnd thus ends this which, as a Proem or Preface in three divisions,\nheads the present treatise.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III.\n\n\nHaving seen the meaning of the Proem, we must now follow the treatise,\nand, to demonstrate it clearly, it must be divided into its chief\nparts, which are three.\n\nIn the first, one treats of Nobility according to the opinion of other\nmen; in the second, one treats of it according to the true opinion; in\nthe third, one addresses speech to the Song by way of ornament to that\nwhich has been said. The second part begins: \"I say that from one root\nEach Virtue firstly springs.\" The third begins: \"How many are\ndeceived! My Song, Against the strayers.\" And after these general\nparts, it will be right to make other divisions, in order to make the\nmeaning of the demonstration clear. Therefore, let no one marvel if it\nproceed with many divisions, since a great and high work is now on my\nhands, and one that is but little entered upon by authors; the\ntreatise must be long and subtle into which the reader now enters with\nme, if I am to unfold perfectly the text according to the meaning\nwhich it bears.\n\nI say, then, that this first part is now divided into two: for in the\nfirst, the opinions of others are placed; in the second, those\nopinions are confuted; and this second part begins: \"Whoever shall\ndefine The man a living tree.\" Again, the first part which remains has\ntwo clauses: the first is the variation of the opinion of the Emperor;\nthe second is the variation of the opinion of the Common People, which\nis naked or void of all reason; and this second clause or division\nbegins: \"Another, lightly wise.\" I say then, \"One raised to Empire,\"\nthat is to say, such an one made use of the Imperial Office. Where it\nis to be known that Frederick of Suabia, the last Emperor of the\nRomans (I say last with respect to the present time, notwithstanding\nthat Rudolf, and Adolphus, and Albert were elected after his death and\nfrom his descendants), being asked what Nobility might be, replied\nthat \"it was ancient wealth, and good manners.\"\n\nAnd I say that there was another of less wisdom, who, pondering and\nrevolving this definition in every part, removed the last particle,\nthat is, the good manners, and held to the first, that is, to the\nancient riches. And as he seems to have doubted the text, perhaps\nthrough not having good manners, and not wishing to lose the title of\nNobility, he defined it according to that which made himself noble,\nnamely, possession of ancient wealth.\n\nAnd I say that this opinion is that of almost all, saying that after\nit go all the people who make those men noble who have a long\npedigree, and who have been rich through many generations; since in\nthis cry do almost all men bark.\n\nThese two opinions (although one, as has been said, is of no\nconsequence whatever) seem to have two very grave arguments in support\nof them. The first is, that the Philosopher says that whatever appears\ntrue to the greatest number cannot be entirely false. The second is,\nthe authority of the definition by an Emperor. And that one may the\nbetter see the power of the Truth, which conquers all other authority,\nI intend to argue with the one reason as with the other, to which it\nis a strong helper and powerful aid.\n\nAnd, firstly, one cannot understand Imperial authority until the roots\nof it are found. It is our intention to treat or discourse of them in\nan especial chapter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV.\n\n\nThe radical foundation of Imperial Majesty, according to the Truth, is\nthe necessity of Human Civilization, which is ordained to one end,\nthat is, to a Happy Life. Nothing is of itself sufficient to attain\nthis without some external help, since man has need of many things\nwhich one person alone is unable to obtain. And therefore the\nPhilosopher says that man is naturally a companionable animal. And as\na man requires for his sufficient comfort the domestic companionship\nof a family, so a house requires for its sufficient comfort a\nneighbourhood; otherwise there would be many wants to endure which\nwould be an obstacle to happiness. And since a neighbourhood cannot\nsatisfy all requirements, there must for the satisfaction of men be\nthe City. Again, the City requires for its Arts and Manufactures to\nhave an environment, as also for its defence, and to have brotherly\nintercourse with the circumjacent or adjacent Cities, and thence the\nKingdom.\n\nBut since the human mind in restricted possession of the Earth finds\nno peace, but always desires to acquire Glory, as we see by\nexperience, discords and wars must arise between realm and realm.\nThese are the tribulation of Cities; and through the Cities, of the\nneighbourhoods; and through the neighbourhoods, of the houses; and\nthrough the houses, of men; and thus is the happiness of man prevented\nor obstructed. Wherefore, in order to prevent these wars, and to\nremove the causes of them through all the Earth, so far as it is given\nto the Human Race to possess it, there must of necessity be Monarchy,\nthat is to say, one sole principality; and there must be one Prince,\nwho, possessing all, and not being able to desire more, holds the\nKings content within the limits of the kingdoms, so that peace may be\nbetween them, wherein the Cities may repose, and in this rest the\nneighbouring hamlets may dwell together in mutual love; in this love\nthe houses obtain all they need, which, being obtained, men can live\nhappily, which is that end for which man was born. And to these\nreasons might be applied the words of the Philosopher, for he says, in\nthe book On Politics, that when many things are ordained to one end,\none of those must be the ruling power, and all the others must be\ngoverned by that. Even as we see in a ship that the different offices\nand the different means to different ends in that ship are ordained to\none end alone, that is to say, to reach the desired port by a safe\nvoyage, where as each officer orders his own work to the proper end,\neven so there is one who considers all these ends, and ordains those\nto the final one; and this is the Pilot, whose voice all must obey.\n\nWe see this also in the religious bodies and in the military bodies,\nin all those things which are ordained to one end, as has been said.\nWherefore it can plainly be seen that to attain the perfection of the\nUniversal Union of the Human Race there must be one Pilot, as it were,\nwho, considering the different conditions of the World, and ordaining\nthe different and needful offices, may hold or possess over the whole\nthe universal and incontestable office of Command. And this office is\nwell designated Empire, without any addition, because it is of all\nother governments the government; and so he who is appointed to this\noffice is designated Emperor, because of all Governors he is the\nGovernor, and what he says is Law to all, and ought by all to be\nobeyed; and every other government derives vigour and authority from\nthe government of this man. And thus it is evident that the Imperial\nMajesty and Authority is the most exalted in the Human Family.\n\nNo doubt it would be possible for some one to cavil, saying, that\nalthough the office of Empire may be required in the World, that does\nnot make the authority of the Roman Prince rationally supreme, which\nit is the intention of the treatise to prove; since the Roman Power\nwas acquired, not by Reason nor by decree of Universal Election, but\nby Force, which seems to be opposed to Reason. To this one can easily\nreply, that the election of this Supreme Official must primarily\nproceed from that Council which foresees all things, that is, God;\notherwise the election would not have been of equal benefit for all\nthe people, since, before the pre-ordained Official, there was none\nwho had the good of all at heart.\n\nAnd since a gentler nature in ruling, and a stronger in maintaining,\nand a more subtle in acquiring never was and never will be than that\nof the Latin People, as one can see by experience, and especially that\nof the Holy People, in whom was blended the noble Trojan blood; to\nthat office it was elected by God. Wherefore, since, to obtain it, not\nwithout very great power could it be approached, and to employ it a\nmost exalted and most humane benignity was required, this was the\npeople which was most fitly prepared for it. Hence not by Force was it\nassumed in the first place by the Roman People but by Divine\nOrdinance, which is above all Reason. And Virgil is in harmony with\nthis in the first book of the \u00c6neid, when he says, speaking in the\nperson of God: \"On these [that is, on the Romans] I impose no limits\nto their possessions, nor to their duration; to them I have given\nboundless Empire.\" Force, then, was not the moving cause, as he\nbelieved who was cavilling; but there was an instrumental cause even\nas the blows of the hammer are the cause of the knife, and the soul of\nthe workman is the moving and the efficient cause; and thus, not\nforce, but a cause, even a Divine Cause, has been the origin of the\nRoman Empire.\n\nAnd that this is so it is possible to see by two most evident reasons,\nwhich prove that City to be the Empress, and to have from God an\nespecial birth, and to have from God an especial success. But since in\nthis chapter without too great length it would not be possible to\ndiscuss this subject, and long chapters are the enemies of Memory, I\nwill again make a digression in another chapter in order to prove the\nreasons here alluded to, which are not without and may give great\npleasure.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V.\n\n\nIt is no cause for wonder if the Divine Providence, which surpasses\nbeyond measure all angelic and human foresight, often appears to us to\nproceed mysteriously, since many times human actions conceal their\nmotives from men. But there is great cause for wonder when the\nexecution of the Eternal Counsel proceeds so evidently that our reason\ncan discern it. And therefore in the beginning of this chapter I can\nspeak with the mouth of Solomon, who, in the person of Wisdom, says in\nhis Proverbs: \"Hear, for I will speak of excellent things!\"\n\nThe Divine Goodness unmeasureable, desiring to conform again to Itself\nthe Human Creature, which, through the sin of the prevarication of the\nfirst Man, was separated from God and deformed thereby, it was\ndecided, in that most exalted and most united Divine Consistory of the\nTrinity, that the Son of God should descend to the Earth to accomplish\nthis union. And since at His advent into the world, not only Heaven,\nbut Earth, must be in the best disposition; and the best disposition\nof the Earth is when it is a Monarchy, that is to say, all subject to\none Prince, as has been said above, by Divine Providence it was\nordained what people and what city should fulfil this, and that people\nwas the Roman nation, and that city was glorious Rome. And since the\nInn also wherein the Heavenly King must enter must of necessity be\nmost cleanly and most pure, there was ordained a most Holy Race, from\nwhich, after many excellent or just ancestors, there should be born a\nWoman more perfect than all others, who should be the abode of the Son\nof God. And this race was the Race of David, from which was born the\nglory and honour of the Human Race, that is to say, Mary. And\ntherefore it is written in Isaiah: \"A virgin shall be born of the stem\nof Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots.\" And Jesse was the\nfather of the aforesaid David. And it happened at one period of time\nthat when David was born, Rome was born, that is to say, \u00c6neas then\ncame from Troy to Italy, which was the origin of the most noble Roman\nCity, even as the written word bears witness. Evident enough,\ntherefore, is the Divine election of the Roman Empire by the birth of\nthe Holy City, which was contemporaneous with the root of the race\nfrom which Mary sprang.\n\nAnd incidentally it is to be mentioned that, since this Heaven began\nto revolve, it never was in a better disposition than when He\ndescended from on high, He who had made it and who is its Ruler, even\nas again by virtue of their arts the Mathematicians may be able to\ndiscover. The World never was nor ever will be so perfectly prepared\nas then, when it was governed by the voice of one man alone, Prince\nand Commander of the Roman people, even as Luke the Evangelist bears\nwitness. And therefore there was Universal Peace, which never was\nagain nor ever will be, for the Ship of the Human Family rightly by a\nsweet pathway was hastening to its rightful haven. Oh, ineffable and\nincomprehensible Wisdom of God, which in Heaven above didst prepare,\nso long beforehand, for Thy advent into Syria and here in Italy at the\nsame time! And oh, most foolish and vile beasts who pasture in the\nguise of men--you who presume to speak against our Faith, and profess\nto know, as ye spin and dig, what God has ordained with so much\nforethought--curses be on you and your presumption, and on him who\nbelieves in you!\n\nAnd, as has been said above, at the end of the preceding chapter, the\nRoman People had from God not only an especial birth, but an especial\nsuccess; for, briefly, from Romulus, who was the first father of Rome,\neven to its most perfect era, that is, to the time of its predicted\nEmperor, its success was achieved not only by human, but by Divine\nmeans. For if we consider the Seven Kings who first governed\nit--Romulus, Numa, Tullus, Ancus Martius, Servius Tullius, and the\nTarquins, who were, as it were, the nurses and tutors of its\nChildhood--we shall be able to find, by the written word of Roman\nHistory, especially by Titus Livius, those to have been of different\nnatures, according to the opportunity of the advancing tract of time.\nIf we consider, then, its Adolescence, when it was emancipated from\nthe regal tutorship by Brutus, the first Consul, even to C\u00e6sar, its\nfirst supreme Prince, we shall find it exalted, not with human, but\nwith Divine citizens, into whom, not human, but Divine love was\ninspired in loving Rome; and this neither could be nor ought to be,\nexcept for an especial end intended by God through such infusion of a\nheavenly spirit. And who will say that there was no Divine inspiration\nin Fabricius when he rejected an almost infinite amount of gold\nbecause he was unwilling to abandon his country? or in Curius, whom\nthe Samnites attempted to corrupt, who said, when refusing a very\nlarge quantity of gold for love of his country, that the Roman\ncitizens did not desire to possess gold, but the possessors of the\ngold? Who will say there was no Divine inspiration in Mutius burning\nhis own hand because it had failed in the blow wherewith he had\nthought to deliver Rome? Who will say of Torquatus, who sentenced his\nown son to death from love to the Public Good, that he could have\nendured this without a Divine Helper? Who will say this of the Brutus\nbefore mentioned? Who will say it of the Decii and of the Drusi, who\nlaid down their lives for their country? Who will say of the captive\nRegulus of Carthage, sent to Rome to exchange the Carthaginian\nprisoners for Roman prisoners of war, who, after having explained the\nobject of his embassy, gave counsel against himself; through pure love\nto Rome, that he was moved to do this by the impulse of Human Nature\nalone? Who will say it of Quinctius Cincinnatus, who, taken from the\nplough and made dictator, after the time of office had expired,\nspontaneously refusing its continuance, followed his plough again? Who\nwill say of Camillus, banished and chased into exile, who, having come\nto deliver Rome from her enemies, and having accomplished her\nliberation, spontaneously returned into exile in order not to offend\nagainst the authority of the Senate, that he was without Divine\ninspiration? O, most sacred heart of Cato, who shall presume to speak\nof thee? Truly, to speak freely of thee is not possible; it were\nbetter to be silent and to follow Jerome, when, in the Preface of the\nBible where he alludes to Paul, he says that it were better to be\nsilent than say little. Certainly it must be evident, remembering the\nlives of these men and of the other Divine citizens, that such wonders\ncould not have been without some light of the Divine Goodness, added\nto their own goodness of nature. And it must be evident that these\nmost excellent men were instruments with which Divine Providence\nworked in the building up of the Roman Empire, wherein many times the\narm of God appeared to be present. And did not God put His own hand to\nthe battle wherein the Albans fought with the Romans in the beginning\nfor the chief dominion, when one Roman alone held in his hands the\nliberty of Rome? And did not God interfere with His own hands when the\nFranks, having taken all Rome, attacked by stealth the Capitol by\nnight, and the voice alone of a goose caused this to be known? And did\nnot God interfere with His own hands when, in the war with Hannibal,\nhaving lost so many citizens that three bushels of rings were carried\ninto Africa, the Romans wished to abandon the land, if the blessed\nScipio the younger had not undertaken his expedition into Africa for\nthe recovery of freedom? And did not God interfere with His own hands\nwhen a new citizen of humble station, Tullius, defended, against such\na citizen as Catiline, the Roman liberty? Yes, surely. Wherefore one\nshould not need to inquire further to see that an especial birth and\nan especial success were in the Mind of God decreed to that holy City.\nAnd certainly I am of a firm opinion that the stones which remain in\nher walls are worthy of reverence; and it is asserted and proved that\nthe ground whereon she stands is worthy beyond all other that is\noccupied by man.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI.\n\n\nAbove, in the third chapter of this treatise, a promise was made to\ndiscourse of the supremacy of the Imperial Authority and of the\nPhilosophic Authority. And since the Imperial Authority has been\ndiscussed, my digression must now proceed further in order to consider\nthat of the Philosopher, according to the promise made.\n\nAnd here we must first see what is the meaning of this word; since\nhere there is a greater necessity to understand it than there was\nabove in the argument on the Imperial Authority, which, on account of\nits Majesty, does not seem to be doubted. It is then to be known that\nAuthority is no other than the act of the Author.\n\nThis word, that is to say, Auctore, without this third letter,\n_c_, can be derived from two roots. One is from a verb, whose use\nin grammar is much abandoned, which signifies to bind or to tie words\ntogether, that is, A U I E O; and whoso looks well at it in its first\nvowel or syllable will clearly perceive that it demonstrates it\nitself, for it is constituted solely of a tie of words, that is, of\nfive vowels alone, which are the soul and bond of every word, and\ncomposed of them in a twisted way, to figure the image of a ligature;\nfor beginning with the A, then it twists round into the U, and comes\nstraight through the I into the E, then it revolves and turns round\ninto the O: so that truly this figure represents A, E, I, O, U, which\nis the figure or form of a tie; and how much _Autore_ (Author)\nderives its origin from this word, one learns from the poets alone,\nwho have bound their words together with the art of harmony; but on\nthis signification we do not at present dwell. The other root from\nwhich the word \"Autore\" (Author) is derived, as Uguccione testifies in\nthe beginning of his Derivations, is a Greek word, \"Autentim,\" which\nin Latin means \"worthy of faith and obedience.\" And thus \"Autore\"\n(Author), derived from this, is taken for any person worthy to be\nbelieved and obeyed; and thence comes this word, of which one treats\nat the present moment, that is to say, Authority. Wherefore one can\nsee that Authority is equivalent to an act worthy of faith and\nobedience.\n\n[Here is a small break in the original, containing some such words\nas--Worthy, nay, most worthy, of obedience and of faith is Aristotle:]\nhence it is evident that his words are a supreme and chief Authority.\nThat Aristotle is most worthy of faith and obedience, one can thus\nprove. Amongst workmen and artificers of different Arts and\nManufactures, which are all directed to one final work of Art, or to\none building, the Artificer or Designer of that work must be\ncompletely believed in, and implicitly obeyed by all, as the man who\nalone beholds the ultimate end of all the other ends. Hence the\nsword-cutler must believe in the knight, so must the bridle-maker and\nsaddle-maker and the shield-maker, and all those trades which are\nappointed to the profession of knighthood. And since all human actions\nrequire an aim, which is that of human life, to which man is appointed\ninasmuch as he is man, the master and artificer who considers that aim\nand demonstrates it ought especially to be believed in and obeyed; and\nhe is Aristotle; wherefore he is most worthy of faith and obedience.\nAnd in order to see how Aristotle is the master and leader of Human\nReason in so far as it aims at its final operation, it is requisite to\nknow that this our aim of life, which each one naturally desires, in\nmost ancient times was searched for by the Wise Men; and since those\nwho desire this end are so numerous, and their desires are as it were\nall singularly different, although they exist in us universally, it\nwas nevertheless very difficult to discern that end whereon rightly\neach human appetite or desire might repose.\n\nThere were then many ancient philosophers, the first and the chief of\nwhom was Zeno, who saw and believed this end of human life to be\nsolely a rigid honesty, that is to say, rigid without regard to any\none in following Truth and Justice, to show no sorrow, to show no joy,\nto have no sense of any passion whatever. And they defined thus this\nhonest uprightness, as that which, without bearing fruit, is to be\npraised for reason of itself. And these men and their sect were called\nStoics; and that glorious Cato was one of them, of whom in the\nprevious chapter I had not courage enough to speak.\n\nOther philosophers there were who saw and believed otherwise; and of\nthese the first and chief was a philosopher, who was named Epicurus,\nwho, seeing that each animal as soon as it is born is as it were\ndirected by Nature to its right end, which shuns pain and seeks for\npleasure, said that this end or aim of ours was enjoyment. I do not\nsay greedy enjoyment, voluntade, but I write it with a _p_,\nvoluptate, that is, delight or pleasure free from pain; and therefore\nbetween pleasure and pain no mean was placed. He said that pleasure\nwas no other than no pain; as Tullius seems to say in the first\nchapter De Finibus. And of these, who from Epicurus are named\nEpicureans, was Torquatus, a noble Roman, descended from the blood of\nthe glorious Torquatus mention of whom I made above. There were\nothers, and they had their rise from Socrates, and then from his\nsuccessor, Plato, who, looking more subtly, and seeing that in our\nactions it was possible to sin, and that one sinned in too much and in\ntoo little, said that our action, without excess and without defect,\nmeasured to the due mean of our own choice, is virtue, and virtue is\nthe aim of man; and they called it action with virtue. And these were\ncalled Academicians, as was Plato and Speusippus, his nephew; they\nwere thus called from the place where Plato taught, that is, the\nAcademy; neither from Socrates did they take or assume any word,\nbecause in his Philosophy nothing was affirmed. Truly Aristotle, who\nhad his surname from Stagira, and Xenocrates of Chalcedon, his\ncompanion, through the genius, almost Divine, which Nature had put\ninto Aristotle, knowing this end by means of the Socratic method, with\nthe Academic file, as it were, reduced Moral Philosophy to perfection,\nand especially Aristotle. And since Aristotle began to reason while\nwalking hither and thither, they were called, he, I say, and his\ncompanions, Peripatetics, which means the same as walkers about. And\nsince the perfection of this Morality by Aristotle was attained, the\nname of Academician became extinct, and all those who attached\nthemselves to this sect are called Peripatetics, and these people hold\nthe doctrine of the government of the World through all its parts: and\nit may be termed a catholic opinion, as it were. Wherefore it is\npossible to see that Aristotle was the Indicator and the Leader of the\npeople to this mark. And this is what I wished to prove.\n\nWherefore, collecting all together, the principal intention is\nmanifest, that is to say, that the authority of him whom we understand\nto be the supreme Philosopher is full of complete vigour, and in no\nway repugnant to Imperial Authority. But the Imperial without the\nPhilosopher is dangerous; and this without that is weak, not of\nitself, but through the disorder of the people: but when one is united\nwith the other they are together most useful and full of all vigour;\nand therefore it is written in that Book of Wisdom: \"Love the Light of\nWisdom, all you who are before the people,\" that is to say, unite\nPhilosophic Authority with the Imperial, in order to rule well and\nperfectly. O, you miserable ones, who rule at the present time! and O,\nmost miserable ones, you who are ruled! For no Philosophic Authority\nis united with your governments, neither through suitable study nor by\ncounsel; so that to all it is possible to repeat those words from\nEcclesiastes: \"Woe to thee, O land, when thy King is a child, and thy\nPrinces eat in the morning;\" and to no land is it possible to say that\nwhich follows: \"Blessed art thou, O land, when thy King is the son of\nnobles, and thy Princes eat in due season, for strength and not for\ndrunkenness.\"\n\nYe enemies of God, look to your flanks, ye who have seized the\nsceptres of the kingdoms of Italy. And I say to you, Charles, and to\nyou, Frederick, Kings, and to you, ye other Princes and Tyrants, see\nwho sits by the side of you in council, and count how many times a day\nthis aim of human life is indicated to you by your councillors. Better\nwould it be for you, like swallows, to fly low down than, like kites,\nto make lofty circles over carrion.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII.\n\n\nSince it is seen how much the Imperial Authority and the Philosophic\nare to be revered, which must support the opinions propounded, it is\nnow for us to return into the straight path to the intended goal. I\nsay, then, that this last opinion of the Common People has continued\nso long that without other cause, without inquiry into any reason,\nevery man is termed Noble who may be the son or nephew of any brave\nman, although he himself is nothing. And this is what the Song says:\n\n    And so long among us\n      This falsehood has had sway,\n    That men call him a Nobleman,\n      Though worthless, who can say,\n\n    I nephew am, or son,\n      Of one worth such a sum.\n\nWherefore it is to be observed that it is most dangerous negligence to\nallow this evil opinion to take root; for even as weeds multiply in\nthe uncultivated field, and surmount and cover the ear of the corn, so\nthat, looking at it from a distance, the wheat appears not, and\nfinally the corn is lost; so the evil opinion in the mind, neither\nchastised nor corrected, increases and multiplies, so that the ear of\nReason, that is, the true opinion, is concealed and buried as it were,\nand so it is lost. O, how great is my undertaking in this Song, for I\nwish now to weed the field so full of wild and woody plants as is this\nfield of the common opinion so long bereft of tillage! Certainly I do\nnot intend to cleanse all, but only those parts where the ears of\nReason are not entirely overcome; that is, I intend to lift up again\nthose in whom some little light of Reason still lives through the\ngoodness of their nature; the others need only as much care as the\nbrute beasts: wherefore it seems to me that it would not be a less\nmiracle to lead back to Reason him in whom it is entirely extinct than\nto bring back to Life him who has been four days in the grave.\n\nThen the evil quality of this popular opinion is narrated suddenly, as\nif it were a horrible thing; it strikes at that, springing forth from\nthe order of the confutation, saying, \"But he who sees the Truth will\nknow How vile he has become,\" in order to make people understand its\nintolerable wickedness, saying, that those men lie especially, for not\nonly is the man vile, that is, not Noble, who, although descended from\ngood people, is himself wicked, but also he is most vile; and I quote\nthe example of the right path being indicated, where, to prove this,\nit is fit for me to propound a question, and to reply to that question\nin this way.\n\nThere is a plain with certain paths, a field with hedges, with\nditches, with rocks, with tanglewood, with all kinds of obstacles;\nwith the exception of its two straight paths. And it has snowed so\nmuch that the snow covers everything, and presents one smooth\nappearance on every side, so that no trace of any path is to be seen.\nHere comes a man from one part of the country, and he wishes to go to\na house which is on the other side; and by his industry, that is,\nthrough prudent foresight and through the goodness of genius, guided\nsolely by himself, he goes through the right path whither he meant to\ngo, leaving the prints of his footsteps behind him. Another comes\nafter this man, and he wishes to go to that mansion, and to him it is\nonly needful to follow the footprints left there; but through his own\nfault this man strays from the path, which the first man without a\nguide has known how to keep; this man, though it is pointed out to\nhim, loses his way through the brambles and the rocks, and he goes not\nto the place whither he is bound.\n\nWhich of these men ought to be termed excellent, brave, or worthy? I\nreply: He who went first. How would you designate that other man? I\nreply: \"As most vile.\" Why is he not called unworthy or cowardly, that\nis to say, vile? I reply: Because unworthy, that is, vile, he should\nbe called who, having no guide, might have failed to walk\nstraightforward; but since this man had a guide, his error and his\nfault can rise higher; and therefore he is to be called, not vile, but\nmost vile. And likewise he who, by his father or by some elder of his\nrace is ennobled, and does not continue in a noble course, not only is\nhe vile, but he is most vile, and deserving of as much contempt and\ninfamy as any other villain, if not of more. And because a man may\npreserve himself from this vile baseness, Solomon lays this command on\nhim who has had a brave and excellent ancestor, in the twenty-second\nchapter of Proverbs: \"Remove not the ancient landmark, which thy\nfathers have set,\" And previously he says, in the fourth chapter of\nthe said book: \"The path of the Just,\" that is, of the worthy men, \"is\nas the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day;\nthe way of the wicked is as darkness, and they know not at what they\nstumble.\"\n\nFinally, when it says, \"And though he walks upon the earth Is counted\nwith the dead,\" to his greater disgrace I say that this most\nworthless man is dead, seeming still alive. Where it is to be known\nthat the wicked man may be truly said to be dead, and especially he\nwho goes astray from the path trodden by his good ancestor. And this\nit is possible to prove thus: as Aristotle says in the second book On\nthe Soul, to live is to be with the living; and since there are many\nways of living--as in the plants to vegetate; in the animals to\nvegetate and to feel and to move; in men to vegetate, to feel, to\nmove, and to reason, or rather to understand; and since things ought\nto be denominated by the noblest part, it is evident that in animals\nto live is to feel--in the brute animals, I say; in man, to live is to\nuse reason. Wherefore, if to live is the life or existence of man, and\nif thus to depart from the use of Reason, which is his life, is to\ndepart from life or existence, even thus is that man dead.\n\nAnd does he not depart from the use of Reason who does not reason or\nthink concerning the aim of his life? And does he not depart from the\nuse of Reason who does not reason or think concerning the path which\nhe ought to take? Certainly he does so depart; and this is evident\nespecially in him who has the footprints before him, and looks not at\nthem; and therefore Solomon says in the fifth chapter of Proverbs: \"He\nshall die without instruction; and in the greatness of his folly he\nshall go astray,\" that is to say, he is dead who becomes a disciple,\nand who does not follow his master; and such an one is most vile.\n\nAnd of him it would be possible for some one to say: How is he dead\nand yet he walks? I reply, that as a man he is dead, but as a beast he\nhas remained alive; for as the Philosopher says in the second book On\nthe Soul, the powers of the Soul stand upon itself, as the figure of\nthe quadrangle stands upon the triangle, and the pentagon stands upon\nthe quadrangle; so the sensitive stands upon the vegetative, and the\nintellectual stands upon the sensitive. Wherefore, as, by removing the\nlast side of the pentagon, the quadrangle remains, so by removing the\nlast power of the Soul, that is, Reason, the man no longer remains,\nbut a thing with a sensitive soul only, that is, the brute animal.\n\nAnd this is the meaning or intention of the second part of the devised\nSong, in which are placed the opinions of others.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII.\n\n\nThe most beautiful branch which grows up from the root of Reason is\nDiscretion. For as St. Thomas says thereupon in the prologue to the\nbook of Ethics, to know the order of one thing to another is the\nproper act of Reason; and this is Discretion. One of the most\nbeautiful and sweetest fruits of this branch is the reverence which\nthe lesser owes to the greater. Wherefore Tullius, in the first\nchapter of the Offices, when speaking of the beauty which shines forth\nin Uprightness, says that reverence is part of that beauty; and thus\nas this reverence is the beauty of Uprightness, so its opposite is\nbaseness and want of uprightness; which opposite quality it is\npossible to term irreverence, or rather as impudent boldness, in our\nVulgar Tongue.\n\nAnd therefore this Tullius in the same place says: \"To treat with\ncontemptuous indifference that which others think of one, not only is\nthe act of an arrogant, but also of a dissolute person,\" which means\nno other except that arrogance and dissolute conduct show want of\nself-knowledge, which is the beginning of the capacity for all\nreverence. Wherefore I, desiring (and bearing meanwhile all reverence\nboth to the Prince and to the Philosopher) to remove the infirmity\nfrom the minds of some men, in order afterwards to build up thereupon\nthe light of truth, before I proceed to confute the opinions\npropounded, will show how, whilst confuting those opinions, I argue\nwith irreverence neither against the Imperial Majesty nor against the\nPhilosopher. For if in any part of this entire book I should appear\nirreverent, it would not be so bad as in this treatise; in which,\nwhilst treating of Nobility, I ought to appear Noble, and not vile.\n\nAnd firstly I will prove that I do not presume against the authority\nof the Philosopher; then I will prove that I do not presume against\nImperial Majesty.\n\nI say, then, that when the Philosopher says, \"that which appears to\nthe most is impossible to be entirely false,\" I do not mean to speak\nof the external appearance, that is, the sensual, but of that which\nappears within, the rational; since the sensual appearance, according\nto most people, is many times most false, especially in the common\nthings appreciable by the senses, wherein the sense is often deceived.\nThus we know that to most people the Sun appears of the width of a\nfoot in diameter; and this is most false, for, according to the\ninquiry and the discovery which human reason has made with its skill,\nthe diameter of the body of the Sun is five times as much as that of\nthe Earth and also one-half time more, since the Earth in its diameter\nis six thousand five hundred miles, the diameter of the Sun, which to\nthe sense of sight presents the appearance of the width of one foot,\nis thirty-five thousand seven hundred and fifty miles. Wherefore it is\nevident that Aristotle did not understand or judge it by the\nappearance which it presents to the sense of sight. And therefore, if\nI intend only to oppose false trust in appearance according to the\nsenses, that is not done against the intention of the Philosopher, and\ntherefore I do not offend against the reverence which is due to him.\n\nAnd that I intend to confute the appearance according to the sense is\nmanifest; for those people who judge thus, judge only by what they\nfeel or think of those things which fortune can give and take away.\nFor, because they see great alliances made and high marriages to take\nplace, and the wonderful palaces, the large possessions, great\nlordships, they believe that all those things are the causes of\nNobility--nay, they believe them to be Nobility itself. For if they\ncould judge with any appearance of reason, they would say the\ncontrary, that is, that Nobility is the cause of these things, as will\nbe seen in the sequel of this treatise. And even as it may be seen\nthat I speak not against the reverence due to the Philosopher whilst\nconfuting this error, so I speak not against the reverence due to the\nEmpire; and the reason I intend to show. But when he reasons or argues\nbefore the adversary, the Rhetorician ought to use much caution in his\nspeech, in order that the adversary may not derive thence material\nwherewith to disturb the Truth. I, who speak in this treatise in the\npresence of so many adversaries, cannot speak briefly; wherefore, if\nmy digressions should be long, let no one marvel.\n\nI say, then, that, in order to prove that I am not irreverent to the\nMajesty of the Empire, it is requisite, in the first place, to see\nwhat reverence is. I say that reverence is no other than a confession\nof due submission by an evident sign; and, having seen this, it\nremains to distinguish between them. Irreverent expresses privation,\nnot reverent expresses negation; and, therefore, irreverence is to\ndisavow the due submission by a manifest sign. The want of reverence\nis to refuse submission as not due. A man can deny or refuse a thing\nin a double sense. In one way, the man can deny offending against the\nTruth when he abstains from the due confession, and this properly is\nto disavow. In another way, the man can deny offending against the\nTruth when he does not confess that which is not, and this is proper\nnegation; even as for the man to deny that he is entirely mortal is to\ndeny properly speaking. Wherefore, if I deny or refuse reverence due\nto the Imperial Authority, I am not irreverent, but I am not reverent;\nwhich is not against reverence, forasmuch as it offends not that\nImperial Authority; even as not to live does not offend Life, but\nDeath, which is privation of that Life, offends; wherefore, to die is\none thing and not to live is another thing, for not to live is in the\nstones. And since Death expresses privation, which cannot be except in\ndecease of the subject, and the stones are not the subject of Life,\nthey should not be called dead, but not living. In like manner, I, who\nin this case ought not to have reverence to the Imperial Authority, am\nnot irreverent if I deny or refuse it, but I am not reverent, which is\nneither boldness, nor presumption, nor a thing to be blamed. But it\nwould be presumption to be reverent, if it could be called reverence,\nsince it would fall into greater and more true irreverence, that is,\ninto irreverence of Nature and of Truth, as will be seen in the\nsequel. Against this error that Master of Philosophers, Aristotle,\nguards, in the beginning of the book of Ethics, when he says: \"If the\nfriends are two, and one is the Truth, their one mind is the Truth's.\"\nIf I have said that I am not reverent, that is, to deny reverence, or\nby a manifest sign to deny or refuse a submission not due. It is to be\nseen how this is to deny and not to disavow, that is to say, it\nremains to be seen how, in this case, I am not rightfully subject to\nthe Imperial Majesty. It must be a long argument wherewith I intend to\nprove this in the chapter next following.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX.\n\n\nTo see how in this case, that is, in approving or in not approving the\nopinion of the Emperor, I am not held in subjection to him, it is\nnecessary to recall to mind that which has been argued previously\nconcerning the Imperial Office, in the fourth chapter of this\ntreatise, namely, that to promote the perfection of human Life,\nImperial Authority was designed; and that it is the director and ruler\nof all our operations, and justly so, for however far our operations\nextend themselves, so far the Imperial Majesty has jurisdiction, and\nbeyond those limits it does not reach. But as each Art and Office of\nmankind is restricted by the Imperial Office within certain limits, so\nthis Imperial Office is confined by God within certain bounds. And it\nis not to be wondered at, for the Office and the Arts of Nature in all\nher operations we see to be limited. For if we wish to take Universal\nNature, it has jurisdiction as far as the whole World, I say as far as\nHeaven and Earth extend; and this within a certain limit, as is proved\nby the third chapter of the book on Physics, and by the first chapter,\nof Heaven and the World. Then the jurisdiction of Universal Nature is\nlimited within a certain boundary, and consequently the individual; of\nwhich also He is the Limiter who is limited by nothing, that is, the\nFirst Goodness, that is, God, who alone with infinite capacity\ncomprehends the Infinite. And, that we may see the limits of our\noperations, it is to be known that those alone are our operations\nwhich are subject to Reason and to Will; for, if in us there is the\ndigestive operation, that is not human, but natural. And it is to be\nknown that our Reason is ordained to four operations, separately to be\nconsidered; for those are operations which Reason only considers and\ndoes not produce, neither can produce, any one of them, such as are\nthe Natural facts and the Supernatural and the Mathematics. And those\nare operations which it considers and does in its own proper act which\nare called rational, such as are the arts of speech. And those are\noperations which it considers and does in material beyond itself, such\nas are the Mechanical Arts. And all these operations, although the\nconsidering them is subject to our will, they in their essential form\nare not subject to our will; for although we might will that heavy\nthings should mount upwards naturally, they would not be able to\nascend; and although we might will that the syllogism with false\npremisses should conclude with demonstration of the Truth, it could\nnot so conclude; and although we might will that the house should\nstand as firmly when leaning forward as when upright, it could not be;\nsince of those operations we are not properly the factors, we are\ntheir discoverers; Another ordained them and made them, the great\nMaker, who alone can Will and Do All--God.\n\nThere also are operations which our Reason considers and which lie in\nthe act of the Will, such as to offend and to rejoice; such as to\nstand firm in the battle and to fly from it; such as to be chaste and\nto be lewd; these are entirely subject to our will, and therefore we\nare called from them good and evil, because such acts are entirely our\nown; for so far as our will can obtain power, so far do our operations\nextend. And since in all these voluntary operations there is some\nequity to preserve and some iniquity to shun--which equity may be lost\nthrough two causes, either through not knowing what it is, or through\nnot wishing to follow it--the written Reason, the Law, was invented,\nboth to point it out to us and to command its observance. Wherefore\nAugustine says: \"If men could know this, that is, Equity, and knowing\nit would obey it, the written Reason, the Law, would not be needful.\"\nAnd therefore it is written in the beginning of the old Digests or\nBooks of the Civil Law: \"The written Reason is the Art of Goodness and\nof Equity.\" To write this, to show forth and to enforce this, is the\nbusiness of that Official Post of which one speaks, that of the\nEmperor, to whom, as has been said, in so far as our own operations\nextend, we are subject, and no farther. For this reason in each Art\nand in each trade the artificers and the scholars are and ought to be\nsubject to the chief and to the master of their trades and Art: beyond\ntheir callings the subjection ceases, because the superiority ceases.\nSo that it is possible to speak of the Emperor in this manner, if we\nwill represent his office figuratively, and say that he may be the\nrider of the Human Will, of which horse how it goes without its rider\nthrough the field is evident enough, and especially in miserable\nItaly, left without any means for its right government. And it is to\nbe considered that in proportion as a thing is more fit for the\nMaster's art, so much the greater is the subjection; for the cause\nbeing multiplied, so is the effect multiplied. Wherefore it is to be\nknown that there are things which are such pure or simple Arts that\nNature is their instrument; even as rowing with an oar, where the Art\nmakes its instrument by impulsion, which is a natural movement; as in\nthe threshing of the corn, where the Art makes its instrument, which\nis a natural quality. And in this especially a man ought to be subject\nto the chief and master of the Art. And there are things in which Art\nis the instrument of Nature, and these are lesser Arts; and in these\nthe artificers are less subject to their chief, as in giving the seed\nto the Earth, where one must await the will of Nature; as to sail out\nof the harbour or port, where one must await the natural disposition\nof the weather; and therefore we often see in these things contention\namongst the artificers, and the greater to ask counsel of the lesser.\nAnd there are other things which are not Arts, but appear to have some\nrelationship with them; and therefore men are often deceived; and in\nthese the scholars are not subject to a master, neither are they bound\nto believe in him so far as regards the Art. Thus, to fish seems to\nhave some relationship with navigation; and to know the virtue of the\nherb or grass seems to have some relationship with agriculture; for\nthese Arts have no general rule, since fishing may be below the Art of\nhunting, and beneath its command; to know the virtue of the herb may\nbe below the science of medicine, or rather below its most noble\nteaching.\n\nThose things which have been argued concerning the other Arts in like\nmanner may be seen in the Imperial Art, for there are rules in those\nArts which are pure or simple Arts, as are the laws of marriage, of\nservants, of armies, of successors in offices of dignity; and in all\nthese we may be entirely subject to the Emperor without doubt and\nwithout any suspicion whatever. There are other laws which are the\nfollowers of Nature, such as to constitute a man of sufficient age to\nfill some office in the administration; and to such a law as this we\nare entirely subject; there are many others which appear to have some\nrelationship with the Imperial Art; and here he was and is deceived\nwho believes that the Imperial judgment in this part may be authentic,\nas of youth, whose nature is laid down by no Imperial judgment, as it\nwere, of the Emperor. Render, therefore, unto God that which is God's.\nWherefore it is not to be believed, nor to be allowed, because it was\nsaid by Nero the Emperor that youth is beauty and strength of body;\nbut credit would be given to the philosopher who should say that youth\nis the crown or summit of the natural life. And therefore it is\nevident that to define Nobility is not the function of the Art\nImperial; and if it is not in the nature of the Art, when we are\ntreating of Nobility we are not subject to it; and if we are not\nsubject, we are not bound to yield reverence therein; and this is the\nconclusion we have sought.\n\nNow, therefore, with all freedom, with all liberty of mind, it remains\nto strike to the heart the vicious opinions, thereby causing them to\nfall to earth, in order that the Truth by means of this my victory may\nhold the field in the mind of him for whom it is good that this Light\nshould shine clear.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X.\n\n\nSince the opinions of others concerning Nobility have now been brought\nforward, and since it has been shown that it is lawful for me to\nconfute those opinions, I shall now proceed to discourse concerning\nthat part of the Song which confutes those opinions, beginning, as has\nbeen said above: \"Whoever shall define The man a living tree.\" And\ntherefore it is to be known that in the opinion of the Emperor,\nalthough it states it defectively in one part, that is, where he spoke\nof \"generous ways,\" he alluded to the manners of the Nobility; and\ntherefore the Song does not intend to reprove that part: the other\npart, which is entirely opposed to the nature of Nobility, it does\nintend to confute, which cites two things when it says: \"Descent of\nwealth,\" \"The wealth has long been great,\" that is, time and riches,\nwhich are entirely apart from Nobility, as has been said, and as will\nbe shown farther on; and, therefore, in this confutation two divisions\nare made: in the first we deny the Nobility of riches, then confute\nthe idea that time can cause Nobility. The second part begins: \"They\nwill not have the vile Turn noble.\"\n\nIt is to be known that, riches being reproved, not only is the opinion\nof the Emperor reproved in that part which alludes to the riches, but\nalso entirely that opinion of the common people, which was founded\nsolely upon riches. The first part is divided into two: in the first\nit says in a general way that the Emperor was erroneous in his\ndefinition of Nobility; secondly, it shows the reason why or how that\nis; and this begins that second part, \"For riches make no Nobleman.\"\n\nI say, then, \"Whoever shall define The man a living tree,\" that,\nfirstly, he will speak untruth, inasmuch as he says \"tree,\" and \"less\nthan truth,\" inasmuch as he says \"living,\" and does not say rational,\nwhich is the difference whereby Man is distinguished from the Beast.\nThen I say that in this way he was erroneous in his definition, he who\nheld Imperial Office, not saying Emperor, but \"one raised to Empire,\"\nto indicate, as has been said above, that this question is beyond the\nbounds of the Imperial Office. In like manner I say that he errs who\nplaces a false subject under Nobility, that is, \"descent of wealth,\"\nand then proceeds to a defective form, or rather difference, that is,\n\"generous ways,\" which do not contain any essential part of Nobility,\nbut only a small part, as will appear below. And it is not to be\nomitted, although the text may be silent, that my Lord the Emperor in\nthis part did not err in the parts of the definition, but only in the\nmode of the definition, although, according to what fame reports of\nhim, he was a logician and a great scholar; that is to say, the\ndefinition of Nobility can be made more sufficiently by the effects\nthan by the principles or premisses, since it appears to have the\nplace of a first principle or premiss, which it is not possible to\nnotify by first things, but by subsequent things. Then, when I say,\n\"For riches make not worth,\" I show how they cannot possibly be the\ncause of Nobility, because they are vile. And I prove that they have\nnot the power to take it away, because they are disjoined so much from\nNobility. And I prove these to be vile by an especial and most evident\ndefect; and I do this when I say, \"How vile and incomplete.\" Finally,\nI conclude, by virtue of that which is said above:\n\n    And hence the upright mind,\n      To its own purpose true,\n    Stands firm although the flood of wealth\n      Sweep onward out of view;\n\nwhich proves that which is said above, that those riches are disunited\nfrom Nobility by not following the effect of union with it. Where it\nis to be known that, as the Philosopher expresses it, all the things\nwhich make anything must first exist perfectly within the being of the\nthing out of which that other thing is made. Wherefore he says in the\nseventh chapter of the Metaphysics: \"When one thing is generated from\nanother, it is generated of that thing by being in that Being.\"\n\nAgain, it is to be known that each thing which becomes corrupt is thus\ncorrupted by some change or alteration, and each thing which is\nchanged or altered must be conjoined with the cause of the change,\neven as the Philosopher expresses it in the seventh chapter of the\nbook on Physics and in the first chapter on Generation. These things\nbeing propounded, I proceed thus, and I say that riches, as another\nman believed, cannot possibly bestow Nobility, and to prove how great\nis the difference between them I say that they are unable to take\nNobility away from him who possesses it. To bestow it they have not\nthe power, since by nature they are vile, and because of their\nvileness they are opposed to Nobility. And here by vileness one means\nbaseness, through degeneracy, which is directly opposite to Nobility:\nfor the one opposite thing cannot be the maker of the other, neither\nis it possible to be, for the reason given above, which is briefly\nadded to the text, saying, \"No painter gives a form That is not of his\nknowing.\" Wherefore no painter would be able to depict any figure or\nform if he could not first design what such figure or form ought to\nbe.\n\nAgain, riches cannot take it away, because they are so far from\nNobility; and, for the reason previously narrated, that which alters\nor corrupts anything must be conjoined with that thing, and therefore\nit is subjoined: \"No tower leans above a stream That far away is\nflowing,\" which means nothing more than to accord with that which has\nbeen previously said, that riches cannot take Nobility away, saying\nthat Nobility is, as it were, an upright tower and riches a river\nflowing swiftly in the distance.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI.\n\n\nIt now remains only to prove how vile riches are, and how disjoined\nand far apart they are from Nobility; and this is proved in two little\nparts of the text, to which at present it is requisite to pay\nattention, and then, those being explained, what I have said will be\nevident, namely, that riches are vile and far apart from Nobility, and\nhereby the reasons stated above against riches will be perfectly\nproved.\n\nI say then, \"How vile and incomplete Wealth is,\" and to make evident\nwhat I intend to say it is to be known that the vileness or baseness\nof each thing is derived from the imperfection of that thing, and\nNobility from its perfection: wherefore in proportion as a thing is\nperfect, it is noble in its nature; in proportion as it is imperfect,\nit is vile. And therefore, if riches are imperfect, it is evident that\nthey are vile or base. And that they are imperfect, the text briefly\nproves when it says: \"However great the heap may be, It brings no\npeace, but care;\" in which it is evident, not only that they are\nimperfect, but most imperfect, and therefore they are most vile; and\nLucan bears witness to this when he says, speaking of those same\nriches: \"Without strife or contention or opposition, the Laws would\nperish, and you, Riches, the basest part of things, you move or are\nthe cause of Battles.\" It is possible briefly to see their\nimperfection in three things quite clearly: firstly, in the\nindiscriminate manner in which they fall to a person's lot; secondly,\nin their dangerous increase; thirdly, in their hurtful possession.\n\nAnd, firstly, that which I demonstrate concerning this is to clear up\na doubt which seems to arise, for, since gold, pearls, and lands, may\nhave in their essential being perfect form and act, it does not seem\ntrue to say that they are imperfect. And therefore one must\ndistinguish that inasmuch as by themselves, of them it is considered,\nthey are perfect things, and they are not riches, but gold and pearls;\nbut inasmuch as they are appointed to the possession of man they are\nriches, and in this way they are full of imperfection; which is not an\nunbecoming or impossible thing, considered from different points of\nview, to be perfect and imperfect. I say that their imperfection\nfirstly may be observed in the indiscretion, or unwisdom, or folly, of\ntheir arrival, in which no distributive Justice shines forth, but\ncomplete iniquity almost always; which iniquity is the proper effect\nof imperfection. For if the methods or ways by which they come are\nconsidered, all may be gathered together in three methods, or kinds of\nways: for, either they come by simple chance, as when without\nintention or hope they come upon some discovery not thought of; or\nthey come by fortune which is aided by law or right, as by will, or\ntestament, or succession; or they come by fortune, the helper of the\nLaw, as by lawful or unlawful provision; lawful, I say, when by art,\nor skill, or by trade, or deserved kindness; unlawful, I say, when\neither by theft or rapine. And in each one of these three ways, one\nsees that inequitable character of which I speak, for more often to\nthe wicked than to the good the hidden treasures which are discovered\npresent themselves; and this is so evident, that it has no need of\nproof. I saw the place in the side of a hill, or mountain, in Tuscany,\nwhich is called Falterona, where the most vile peasant of all the\ncountry, whilst digging, found more than a bushel of the finest\nSant\u00e8lena silver, which had awaited him perhaps for more than a\nthousand years. And in order to see this iniquity, Aristotle said that\nin proportion as the Man is subject to the Intellect, so much the less\nis he the slave of Fortune. And I say that oftener to the wicked than\nto the good befall legal inheritance and property by succession; and\nconcerning this I do not wish to bring forward any proof, but let each\none turn his eyes round his own immediate neighbourhood, and he will\nsee that concerning which I am silent that I may not offend or bring\nshame to some one. Would to God that might be which was demanded by\nthe Man of Provence, namely, that the man who is not the heir of\ngoodness should lose the inheritance of wealth. And I say that many\ntimes to the wicked more than to the good comes rich provision, for\nthe unlawful never comes to the good, because they refuse it; and what\ngood man ever would endeavour to enrich himself by force or fraud?\nThat would be impossible, for by the mere choice of the enterprise he\nwould no more be good. And the lawful gains of wealth but rarely fall\nto the lot of the good, because, since much anxiety or anxious care is\nrequired therein, and the solicitude of the good is directed to\ngreater things, the good man is rarely solicitous enough to seek them.\nWherefore it is evident that in each way these riches fall unjustly or\ninequitably; and therefore our Lord called them wicked or unrighteous\nwhen He said, \"Make to yourselves friends of the Mammon of\nunrighteousness,\" inviting and encouraging men to be liberal with good\ngifts, which are the begetters of friends. And what a beautiful\nexchange he makes who gives freely of these most imperfect things in\norder to have and to acquire perfect things, such as are the hearts of\ngood and worthy men! This exchange it is possible to make every day.\nCertainly this is a new commerce, different from the others, which,\nthinking to win one man by generosity, has won thereby thousands and\nthousands. Who lives not again in the heart of Alexander because of\nhis royal beneficence? Who lives not again in the good King of\nCastile, or Saladin, or the good Marquis of Monferrat, or the good\nCount of Toulouse, or Beltramo dal Bornio, or Galasso da Montefeltro,\nwhen mention is made of their noble acts of courtesy and liberality?\nCertainly not only those who would do the same willingly, had they the\npower, but those even who would die before they would do it, bear love\nto the memory of these good men.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII.\n\n\nAs has been said, it is possible to see the imperfection of riches not\nonly in their indiscriminate advent, but also in their dangerous\nincrease; and that in this we may perceive their defect more clearly,\nthe text makes mention of it, saying of those riches, \"However great\nthe heap may be It brings no peace, but care;\" they create more thirst\nand render increase more defective and insufficient. And here it is\nrequisite to know that defective things may fail in such a way that on\nthe surface they appear complete, but, under pretext of perfection,\nthe shortcoming is concealed. But they may have those defects so\nentirely revealed that the imperfection is seen openly on the surface.\nAnd those things which do not reveal their defects in the first place\nare the most dangerous, since very often it is not possible to be on\nguard against them; even as we see in the traitor who, before our\nface, shows himself friendly, so that he causes us to have faith in\nhim, and under pretext of friendship, hides the defect of his\nhostility. And in this way riches, in their increase, are dangerously\nimperfect, for, submitting to our eyes this that they promise, they\nbring just the contrary. The treacherous gains always promise that, if\ncollected up to a certain amount, they will make the collector full of\nevery satisfaction; and with this promise they lead the Human Will\ninto the vice of Avarice. And, for this reason, Boethius calls them,\nin his book of Consolations, dangerous, saying, \"Oh, alas! who was\nthat first man who dug up the precious stones that wished to hide\nthemselves, and who dug out the loads of gold once covered by the\nhills, dangerous treasures?\"\n\nThe treacherous ones promise, if we will but look, to remove every\nwant, to quench all thirst, to bring satisfaction and sufficiency; and\nthis they do to every man in the beginning, confirming promise to a\ncertain point in their increase, and then, as soon as their pile\nrises, in place of contentment and refreshment they bring on an\nintolerable fever-thirst; and beyond sufficiency, they extend their\nlimit, create a desire to amass more, and, with this, fear and anxiety\nfar in excess of the new gain.\n\nThen, truly, they bring no peace, but more care, more trouble, than a\nman had in the first place when he was without them. And therefore\nTullius says, in that book on Paradoxes, when execrating riches: \"I at\nno time firmly believed the money of those men, or magnificent\nmansions, or riches, or lordships, or voluptuous joys, with which\nespecially they are shackled, to be amongst things good or desirable,\nsince I saw certain men in the abundance of them especially desire\nthose wherein they abounded; because at no time is the thirst of\ncupidity quenched; not only are they tormented by the desire for the\nincrease of those things which they possess, but also they have\ntorment in the fear of losing them.\" And all these are the words of\nTullius, and even thus they stand in that book which has been\nmentioned.\n\nAnd, as a stronger witness to this imperfection, hear Boethius,\nspeaking in his book of Consolation: \"If the Goddess of Riches were to\nexpand and multiply riches till they were as numerous as the sands\nthrown up by the sea when tost by the tempest, or countless as the\nstars that shine, still Man would weep.\"\n\nAnd because still further testimony is needful to reduce this to a\nproof, note how much Solomon and his father David exclaim against\nthem, how much against them is Seneca, especially when writing to\nLucilius, how much Horace, how much Juvenal, and, briefly, how much\nevery writer, every poet, and how much Divine Scripture. All Truthful\ncries aloud against these false enticers to sin, full of all defect.\nCall to mind also, in aid of faith, what your own eyes have seen, what\nis the life of those men who follow after riches, how far they live\nsecurely when they have piled them up, what their contentment is, how\npeacefully they rest.\n\nWhat else daily endangers and destroys cities, countries, individual\npersons, so much as the fresh heaping up of wealth in the possession\nof some man? His accumulation wakens new desires, to the fulfilment of\nwhich it is not possible to attain without injury to some one.\n\nAnd what else does the Law, both Canonical and Civil, intend to\nrectify except cupidity or avarice, which grows with its heaps of\nriches, and which the Law seeks to resist or prevent. Truly, the\nCanonical and the Civil Law make it sufficiently clear, if the first\nsections of their written word are read. How evident it is, nay, I say\nit is most evident, that these riches are, in their increase, entirely\nimperfect; when, being amassed, naught else but imperfection can\npossibly spring forth from them. And this is what the text says.\n\nBut here arises a doubtful question, which is not to be passed over\nwithout being put and answered. Some calumniator of the Truth might be\nable to say that if, by increasing desire in their acquisition, riches\nare imperfect and therefore vile, for this reason science or knowledge\nis imperfect and vile, in the acquisition of which the desire steadily\nincreases, wherefore Seneca says, \"If I should have one foot in the\ngrave, I should still wish to learn.\"\n\nBut it is not true that knowledge is vile through imperfection. By\ndistinction of the consequences, increase of desire is not in\nknowledge the cause of vileness. That it is perfect is evident, for\nthe Philosopher, in the sixth book of the Ethics, says that science or\nknowledge is the perfect reason of certain things. To this question\none has to reply briefly; but in the first place it is to be seen\nwhether in the acquisition of Knowledge the desire for it is enlarged\nin the way suggested by the question, and whether the argument be\nrational. Wherefore I say that not only in the acquisition of\nknowledge and riches, but in each and every acquisition, human desire\nexpands, although in different ways; and the reason is this: that the\nsupreme desire of each thing bestowed by Nature in the first place is\nto return to its first source. And since God is the First Cause of our\nSouls, and the Maker of them after His Own Image, as it is written,\n\"Let us make Man in Our Image, after Our likeness,\" the Soul\nespecially desires to return to that First Cause. As a pilgrim, who\ngoes along a path where he never journeyed before, may believe every\nhouse that he sees in the distance to be his inn, and, not finding it\nto be so, may direct his belief to the next, and so travel on from\nhouse to house until he reach the inn, even so our Soul, as soon as it\nenters the untrodden path of this life, directs its eyes to its\nsupreme good, the sum of its day's travel to good; and therefore\nwhatever thing it sees which seems to have in itself some goodness, it\nthinks to be the supreme good. And because its knowledge at first is\nimperfect, owing to want of experience and want of instruction, good\nthings that are but little appear great to it; and therefore in the\nfirst place it begins to desire those. So we see little children\ndesire above all things an apple; and then, growing older, they desire\na little bird; and then, being older, desire a beautiful garment; and\nthen a horse, and then a wife, and then moderate wealth, and then\ngreater wealth, and then still more. And this happens because in none\nof these things that is found for which search is made, and as we live\non we seek further. Wherefore it is possible to see that one desirable\nthing stands under the other in the eyes of our Soul in a way almost\npyramidal, for the least first covers the whole, and is as it were the\npoint of the desirable good, which is God, at the basis of all; so\nthat the farther it proceeds from the point towards the basis, so much\nthe greater do the desirable good things appear; and this is the\nreason why, by acquisition, human desires become broader the one after\nthe other.\n\nBut, thus this pathway is lost through error, even as in the roads of\nthe earth; for as from one city to another there is of necessity an\nexcellent direct road, and often another which branches from that, the\nbranch road goes into another part, and of many others some do not go\nall the way, and some go farther round; so in Human Life there are\ndifferent roads, of which one is the truest, and another the most\nmisleading, and some are less right, and some less wrong. And as we\nsee that the straightest road to the city satisfies desire and gives\nrest after toil, and that which goes in the opposite direction never\nsatisfies and never can give rest, so it happens in our Life. The man\nwho follows the right path attains his end, and gains his rest. The\nman who follows the wrong path never attains it, but with much fatigue\nof mind and greedy eyes looks always before him.\n\nWherefore, although this argument does not entirely reply to the\nquestion asked above, at least it opens the way to the reply, which\ncauses us to see that each desire of ours does not proceed in its\nexpansion in one way alone. But because this chapter is somewhat\nprolonged, we will reply in a new chapter to the question, wherein may\nbe ended the whole disputation which it is our intention to make\nagainst riches.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII.\n\n\nIn reply to the question, I say that it is not possible to affirm\nproperly that the desire for knowledge does increase, although, as has\nbeen said, it does expand in a certain way. For that which properly\nincreases is always one; the desire for knowledge is not always one,\nbut is many; and one desire fulfilled, another comes; so that,\nproperly speaking, its expansion is not its increase, but it is\nadvance of a succession of smaller things into great things. For if I\ndesire to know the principles of natural things, as soon as I know\nthese, that desire is satisfied and there is an end of it. If I then\ndesire to know the why and the wherefore of each one of these\nprinciples, this is a new desire altogether. Nor by the advent of that\nnew desire am I deprived of the perfection to which the other might\nlead me. Such an expansion as that is not the cause of imperfection,\nbut of new perfection. That expansion of riches, however, is properly\nincreased which is always one, so that no succession is seen therein,\nand therefore no end and no perfection.\n\nAnd if the adversary would say, that if the desire to know the first\nprinciples of natural things is one thing, and the desire to know what\nthey are is another, so is the desire for a hundred marks one thing,\nand the desire for a thousand marks is another, I reply that it is not\ntrue; for the hundred is part of the thousand and is related to it, as\npart of a line to the whole of the line along which one proceeds by\none impulse alone; and there is no succession there, nor completion of\nmotion in any part. But to know what the principles of natural things\nare is not the same as to know what each one of them is; the one is\nnot part of the other, and they are related to each other as diverging\nlines along which one does not proceed by one impulse, but the\ncompleted movement of the one succeeds the completed movement of the\nother. And thus it appears that, because of the desire for knowledge,\nknowledge is not to be called imperfect in the same way as riches are\nto be called imperfect, on account of the desire for them, as the\nquestion put it; for in the desire for knowledge the desires terminate\nsuccessively with the attainment of their aims; and in the desire for\nriches, NO; so that the question is solved.\n\nAgain, the adversary may calumniate, saying that, although many\ndesires are fulfilled in the acquisition of knowledge, the last is\nnever attained, which is the imperfection of that one desire, which\ndoes not gain its end; and that will be both one and imperfect.\n\nAgain one here replies that it is not a truth which is brought forward\nin opposition, that is, that the last desire is never attained; for\nour natural desires, as is proved in the third treatise of this book,\nare all tending to a certain end; and the desire for knowledge is\nnatural, so that this desire compasses a certain end, although but\nfew, since they walk in the wrong path, accomplish the day's journey.\nAnd he who understands the Commentator in the third chapter, On the\nSoul, learns this of him; and therefore Aristotle says, in the tenth\nchapter of the Ethics, against Simonides the Poet, that man ought to\ndraw near to Divine things as much as is possible; wherein he shows\nthat our power tends towards a certain end. And in the first book of\nthe Ethics he says that the disciplined Mind demands certainty in its\nknowledge of things in proportion as their nature received certainty,\nin which he proves that not only on the side of the man desiring\nknowledge, but on the side of the desired object of knowledge,\nattention ought to be given; and therefore St. Paul says: \"Not much\nknowledge, but right knowledge in moderation.\" So that in whatever way\nthe desire for knowledge is considered, either generally or\nparticularly, it comes to perfection.\n\nAnd since knowledge is a noble perfection, and through the desire for\nit its perfection is not lost, as is the case with the accursed\nriches, we must note briefly how injurious they are when possessed,\nand this is the third notice of their imperfection. It is possible to\nsee that the possession of them is injurious for two reasons: one,\nthat it is the cause of evil; the other, that it is the privation of\ngood. It is the cause of evil, which makes the timid possessor\nwakeful, watchful, and suspicious or hateful.\n\nHow great is the fear of that man who knows he carries wealth about\nhim, when walking abroad, when dwelling at home, when not only wakeful\nor watching, but when sleeping, not only the fear that he may lose his\nproperty, but fear for his life because he possesses these riches!\nWell do the miserable merchants know, who travel through the World,\nthat the leaves which the wind stirs on the trees cause them to\ntremble when they are bearing their wealth with them; and when they\nare without it, full of confidence they go singing and talking, and\nthus make their journey shorter! Therefore the Wise Man says: \"If the\ntraveller enters on his road empty, he can sing in the presence of\nthieves.\" And this Lucan desires to express in the fifth book, when he\npraises the safety of poverty: \"O, the safe and secure liberty of the\npoor Life! O, narrow dwelling-places and thrift! O, not again deem\nriches to be of the Gods! In what temples and within what palace walls\ncould this be, that is to have no fear, in some tumult or other, of\nstriking the hand of C\u00e6sar?\"\n\nAnd Lucan says this when he depicts how C\u00e6sar came by night to the\nlittle house of the fisher Amyclas to cross the Adriatic Sea. And how\ngreat is the hatred that each man bears to the possessor of riches,\neither through envy, or from the desire to take possession of his\nwealth! So true it is, that often and often, contrary to due filial\npiety, the son meditates the death of the father; and most great and\nmost evident experience of this the Italians can have, both on the\nbanks of the Po and on the banks of the Tiber. And therefore Boethius\nin the second chapter of his Consolations says: \"Certainly Avarice\nmakes men hateful.\"\n\nNay, their possession is privation of good, for, possessing those\nriches, a man does not give freely with generosity, which is a virtue,\nwhich is a perfect good, and which makes men magnificent and beloved;\nwhich does not lie in possession of those riches, but in ceasing to\npossess them. Wherefore Boethius in the same book says: \"Then money is\ngood when, bartered for other things, by the use of generosity one no\nlonger possesses it.\" Wherefore the baseness of riches is sufficiently\nproved by all these remarks of his; and therefore the man with an\nupright desire and true knowledge never loves them; and, not loving\nthem, he does not unite himself to them, but always desires them to be\nfar from himself, except inasmuch as they are appointed to some\nnecessary service; and it is a reasonable thing, since the perfect\ncannot be united with the imperfect. So we see that the curved line\nnever joins the straight line, and if there be any conjunction, it is\nnot of line to line, but of point to point. And thus it follows that\nthe Mind which is upright in desire, and truthful in knowledge, is not\ndisheartened at the loss of wealth: as the text asserts at the end of\nthat part. And by this the text intends to prove that riches are as a\nriver flowing in the distance past the upright tower of Reason, or\nrather of Nobility; and that these riches cannot take Nobility away\nfrom him who has it. And in this manner in the present Song it is\nargued against riches.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV.\n\n\nHaving confuted the error of other men in that part wherein it was\nadvanced in support of riches, it remains now to confute it in that\npart where Time is said to be a cause of Nobility, saying, \"Descent of\nwealth;\" and this reproof or confutation is made in that part which\nbegins: \"They will not have the vile Turn noble.\" And in the first\nplace one confutes this by means of an argument taken from those men\nthemselves who err in this way; then, to their greater confusion, this\ntheir argument is also destroyed; and it does this when it says, \"It\nfollows then from this.\" Finally it concludes, their error being\nevident, and it being therefore time to attend to the Truth; and it\ndoes this when it says, \"Sound intellect reproves.\"\n\nI say, then, \"They will not have the vile Turn noble.\" Where it is to\nbe known that the opinion of these erroneous persons is, that a man\nwho is a peasant in the first place can never possibly be called a\nNobleman; and the man who is the son of a peasant in like manner can\nnever be Noble; and this breaks or destroys their own argument when\nthey say that Time is requisite to Nobility, adding that word\n\"descent.\" For it is impossible by process of Time to come to the\ngeneration of Nobility in this way of theirs, which declares it to be\nimpossible for the humble peasant to become Noble by any work that he\nmay do, or through any accident; and declares the mutation of a\npeasant father into a Noble son to be impossible. For if the son of\nthe peasant is also a peasant, and his son again is also a peasant,\nand so always, it will never be possible to discover the place where\nNobility can begin to be established by process of Time.\n\nAnd if the adversary, wishing to defend himself, should say that\nNobility will begin at that period of Time when the low estate of the\nancestors will be forgotten, I reply that this goes against\nthemselves, for even of necessity there will be a transmutation of\npeasant into Noble, from one man into another, or from father to son,\nwhich is against that which they propound.\n\nAnd if the adversary should defend himself pertinaciously, saying that\nindeed they do desire that it should be possible for this\ntransmutation to take place when the low estate of the ancestors\npasses into oblivion, although the text takes no notice of this, it is\nright that the Commentary should reply to it. And therefore I reply\nthus: that from this which they say there follow four very great\ndifficulties, so that it cannot possibly be a good argument. One is,\nthat in proportion as Human Nature might become better, the slower\nwould be the generation of Nobility, which is a very great\ninconvenience; since in proportion as a thing is honoured for its\nexcellence, so much the more is it the cause of goodness; and Nobility\nis reckoned amongst the good. What this means is shown thus: If\nNobility, which I understand as a good thing, should be generated by\noblivion, Nobility would be generated in proportion to the speediness\nwith which men might be forgotten, for so much the sooner would\noblivion descend upon all. Hence, in proportion as men might be\nforgotten, so much the sooner would they be Noble; and, on the\ncontrary, in proportion to the length of time during which they were\nheld in remembrance, so much the longer it would be before they could\nbe ennobled.\n\nThe second difficulty is, that in nothing apart from men would it be\npossible to make this distinction, that is to say, Noble or Vile,\nwhich is very inconvenient; since, in each species of things we see\nthe image of Nobility or of Baseness, wherefore we often call one\nhorse noble and one vile; and one falcon noble and one vile; and one\npearl noble and one vile. And that it would not be possible to make\nthis distinction is thus proved; if the oblivion of the humble\nancestors is the cause of Nobility, or rather the baseness of the\nancestors never was, it is not possible for oblivion of them to be,\nsince oblivion is a destruction of remembrance, and in those other\nanimals, and in plants, and in minerals, lowness and loftiness are not\nobserved, since in one they are natural or innate and in an equal\nstate, and Nobility cannot possibly be in their generation, and\nlikewise neither can vileness nor baseness; since one regards the one\nand the other as habit and privation, which are possible to occur in\nthe same subject; and therefore in them it would not be possible for a\ndistinction to exist between the one and the other.\n\nAnd if the adversary should wish to say, that in other things Nobility\nis represented by the goodness of the thing, but in a man it is\nunderstood because there is no remembrance of his humble or base\ncondition, one would wish to reply not with words, but with the sword,\nto such bestiality as it would be to give to other things goodness as\na cause for Nobility, and to found the Nobility of men upon\nforgetfulness or oblivion as a first cause.\n\nThe third difficulty is, that often the person or thing generated\nwould come before the generator, which is quite impossible; and it is\npossible to prove this thus: Let us suppose that Gherardo da Cammino\nmight have been the grandson of the most vile peasant who ever drank\nof the Sile or of the Cagnano, and that oblivion had not yet overtaken\nhis grandfather; who will be bold enough to say that Gherardo da\nCammino was a vile man? and who will not agree with me in saying that\nhe was Noble? Certainly no one, however presumptuous he may wish to\nbe, for he was so, and his memory will always be treasured. If\noblivion had not yet overtaken his ancestor, as is proposed in\nopposition, so that he might be great through Nobility, and the\nNobility in him might be seen so clearly, even as one does see it,\nthen it would have been first in him before the founder of his\nNobility could have existed; and this is impossible in the extreme.\n\nThe fourth difficulty is, that such a man, the supposed grandfather,\nwould have been held Noble after he was dead who was not Noble whilst\nalive; and a more inconvenient thing could not be. One proves it thus:\nLet us suppose that in the age of Dardanus there might be a\nremembrance of his low ancestors, and let us suppose that in the age\nof Laomedon this memory might have passed away, and that oblivion had\novertaken it. According to the adverse opinion, Laomedon was Noble and\nDardanus was vile, each in his lifetime. We, to whom the remembrance\nof the ancestors of Dardanus has not come, shall we say that Dardanus\nliving was vile, and dead a Noble? And is not this contrary to the\nlegend which says that Dardanus was the son of Jupiter (for such is\nthe fable, which one ought not to regard whilst disputing\nphilosophically); and yet if the adversary might wish to find support\nin the fable, certainly that which the fable veils destroys his\narguments. And thus it is proved that the argument, which asserted\nthat oblivion is the cause of Nobility, is false.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV.\n\n\nSince, by their own argument, the Song has confuted them, and proved\nthat Time is not requisite to Nobility, it proceeds immediately to\nconfound their premisses, since of their false arguments no rust\nremains in the mind which is disposed towards Truth; and this it does\nwhen it says, \"It follows then from this.\" Where it is to be known\nthat if it is not possible for a peasant to become a Noble, or for a\nNoble son to be born of a humble father, as is advanced in their\nopinion, of two difficulties one must follow.\n\nThe first is, that there can be no Nobility; the other is, that the\nWorld may have been always full of men, so that from one alone the\nHuman Race cannot be descended; and this it is possible to prove.\n\nIf Nobility is not generated afresh, and it has been stated many times\nthat such is the basis of their opinion, the peasant man not being\nable to beget it in himself, or the humble father to pass it on to his\nson, the man always is the same as he was born; and such as the father\nwas born, so is the son born; and so this process from one condition\nonwards is reached even by the first parent; for such as was the first\nfather, that is, Adam, so must the whole Human Race be, because from\nhim to the modern nations it will not be possible to find, according\nto that argument, any change whatever. Then, if Adam himself was\nNoble, we are all Noble; if he was vile, we are all vile or base;\nwhich is no other than to remove the distinction between these\nconditions, and thus it is to remove the conditions.\n\nAnd the Song states this, which follows from what is advanced, saying,\n\"That all are high or base.\" And if this is not so, then any nation is\nto be called Noble, and any is to be called vile, of necessity.\nTransmutation from vileness into Nobility being thus taken away, the\nHuman Race must be descended from different ancestors, that is, some\nfrom Nobles and some from vile persons, and so the Song says, \"Or that\nin Time there never was Beginning to our race,\" that is to say, one\nbeginning; it does not say beginnings. And this is most false\naccording to the Philosopher, according to our Faith, which cannot\nlie, according to the Law and ancient belief of the Gentiles. For\nalthough the Philosopher does not assert the succession from one first\nman, yet he would have one essential being to be in all men, which\ncannot possibly have different origins. And Plato would have that all\nmen depend upon one idea alone, and not on more or many, which is to\ngive them only one beginning. And undoubtedly Aristotle would laugh\nvery loudly if he heard of two species to be made out of the Human\nRace, as of horses and asses; and (may Aristotle forgive me) one might\ncall those men asses who think in this way. For according to our Faith\n(which is to be preserved in its entirety) it is most false, as\nSolomon makes evident where he draws a distinction between men and the\nbrute animals, for he calls men \"all the sons of Adam,\" and this he\ndoes when he says: \"Who knows if the spirits of the sons of Adam mount\nupwards, and if those of the beasts go downwards?\" And that it is\nfalse according to the Gentiles, let the testimony of Ovid in the\nfirst chapter of his Metamorphoses prove, where he treats of the\nconstitution of the World according to the Pagan belief, or rather\nbelief of the Gentiles, saying: \"Man is born \"--he did not say \"Men;\"\nhe said, \"Man is born,\" or rather, \"that the Artificer of all things\nmade him from Divine seed, or that the new earth, but lately parted\nfrom the noble ether, retained seeds of the kindred Heaven, which,\nmingled with the water of the river, formed the son of Japhet into an\nimage of the Gods, who govern all.\" Where evidently he asserts the\nfirst man to have been one alone; and therefore the Song says, \"But\nthat I cannot hold,\" that is, to the opinion that man had not one\nbeginning; and the Song subjoins, \"Nor yet if Christians they.\" And it\nsays Christians, not Philosophers, or rather Gentiles, whose opinion\nalso is adverse, because the Christian opinion is of greater force,\nand is the destroyer of all calumny, thanks to the supreme light of\nHeaven, which illuminates it.\n\nThen when I say, \"Sound intellect reproves their words As false, and\nturns away,\" I conclude this error to be confuted, and I say that it\nis time to open the eyes to the Truth; and this is expressed when I\nsay, \"And now I seek to tell, As it appears to me.\" It is now evident\nto sound minds that the words of those men are vain, that is, without\na crumb or particle of Truth; and I say sound not without cause. Our\nintellect may be said to be sound or unsound. And I say intellect for\nthe noble part of our Soul, which it is possible to designate by the\ncommon word \"Mind.\" It may be called sound or healthy, when it is not\nobstructed in its action by sickness of mind or body, which is to know\nwhat things are, as Aristotle expresses it in the third chapter on the\nSoul.\n\nFor, owing to the sickness of the Soul, I have seen three horrible\ninfirmities in the minds of men.\n\nOne is caused by natural vanity, for many men are so presumptuous that\nthey believe they know everything, and, owing to this, they assert\nthings to be facts which are not facts. Tullius especially execrates\nthis vice in the first chapter of the Offices, and St. Thomas in his\nbook against the Gentiles, saying: \"There are many men, so\npresumptuous in their conceit, who believe that they can compass all\nthings with their intellect, deeming all that appears to them to be\ntrue, and count as false that which does not appear to them.\" Hence it\narises that they never attain to any knowledge; believing themselves\nto be sufficiently learned, they never inquire, they never listen;\nthey desire to be inquired of, and when a question is put, bad enough\nis their reply. Of those men Solomon speaks in Proverbs: \"Seest thou a\nman that is hasty in his words? there is more hope of a fool than of\nhim.\"\n\nAnother infirmity of mind is caused by natural weakness or smallness,\nfor many men are so vilely obstinate or stubborn that they cannot\nbelieve that it is possible either for them or for others to know\nthings; and such men as these never of themselves seek knowledge, nor\never reason; for what other men say, they care not at all. And against\nthese men Aristotle speaks in the first book of the Ethics, declaring\nthose men to be insufficient or unsatisfactory hearers of Moral\nPhilosophy. Those men always live, like beasts, a life of grossness,\nthe despair of all learning.\n\nThe third infirmity of mind is caused by the levity of nature; for\nmany men are of such light fancy that in all their arguments they go\nastray, and even when they make a syllogism and have concluded, from\nthat conclusion they fly off into another, and it seems to them most\nsubtle argument. They start not from any true beginning, and truly\nthey see nothing true in their imagination. Of those men the\nPhilosopher says that it is not right to trouble about them, or to\nhave business with them, saying, in the first book of Physics, that\nagainst him who denies the first postulate it is not right to dispute.\nAnd of such men as these are many idiots, who may not know their A B\nC, and who would wish to dispute in Geometry, in Astrology, and in the\nScience of Physics.\n\nAlso through sickness or defect of body, it is possible for the Mind\nto be unsound or sick; even as through some primal defect at birth, as\nwith those who are born fools, or through alteration in the brain, as\nwith the madmen. And of this mental infirmity the Law speaks when it\nsays: \"In him who makes a Will or Testament, at the time when he makes\nthe Will or Testament, health of mind, not health of body, is\nrequired.\"\n\nBut to those intellects which from sickness of mind or body are not\ninfirm, but are free, diligent, and whole in the light of Truth, I say\nit must be evident that the opinion of the people, which has been\nstated above, is vain, that is, without any value whatever, worthless.\n\nAfterwards the Song subjoins that I thus judge them to be false and\nvain; and this it does when it says, \"Sound intellect reproves their\nwords As false, and turns away.\" And afterwards I say that it is time\nto demonstrate or prove the Truth; and I say that it is now right to\nstate what kind of thing true Nobility is, and how it is possible to\nknow the man in whom it exists; and I speak of this where I say:\n\n    And now I seek to tell\n      As it appears to me,\n    What is, whence comes, what signs attest\n      A true Nobility.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI.\n\n\n\"The King shall rejoice in God, and all those shall be praised who\nswear by him, for closed is the mouth of those who speak wicked\nthings.\" These words I can here propound in all truth; because each\ntrue King ought especially to love the Truth. Wherefore it is written\nin the Book of Wisdom, \"Love the Light of Wisdom, you, who stand\nbefore, the people,\" and the Light of Wisdom is this same Truth. I\nsay, then, every King shall rejoice that the most false and most\ninjurious opinion of the wicked and deceitful men who have up to this\ntime spoken iniquitously of Nobility is confuted.\n\nIt is now requisite to proceed to the discussion of the Truth\naccording to the division made above, in the third chapter of the\npresent treatise. This second part, then, which begins, \"I say that\nfrom one root Each Virtue firstly springs,\" intends to describe this\nNobility according to the Truth, and this part is divided into two:\nfor in the first the intention is to prove what this Nobility is; and\nin the second how it is possible to recognize him in whom it dwells,\nand this second part begins, \"Such virtue shows its good.\" The first\npart, again, has two parts; for in the first certain things are sought\nfor which are needful in order to perceive the definition of Nobility;\nin the second, one looks for its definition, and this second part\nbegins, \"Where virtue is, there is A Nobleman.\"\n\nThat we may enter perfectly into the treatise, two things are to be\nconsidered in the first place. The one is, what is meant by this word\nNobility, taken alone, in its simple meaning; the other is, in what\npath it is needful to walk in order to search out the before-named\ndefinition. I say, then, that, if we will pay attention to the common\nuse of speech, by this word Nobility is understood the perfection of\nits own nature in each thing; wherefore it is predicated not only of\nthe man, but also of all things; for the man calls a stone noble, a\nplant or tree noble, a horse noble, a falcon noble, whatever is seen\nto be perfect in its nature. And therefore Solomon says in\nEcclesiastes, \"Blessed is the land whose King is Noble;\" which is no\nother than saying, whose King is perfect according to the perfection\nof the mind and body; and he thus makes this evident by that which he\nsays previously, when he writes, \"Woe unto the land whose King is a\nchild.\" For that is not a perfect man, and a man is a child, if not by\nage, yet by his disordered manners and by the evil or defect of his\nlife, as the Philosopher teaches in the first book of the Ethics.\n\nThere are some foolish people who believe that by this word Noble is\nmeant that which is to be named and known by many men; and they say\nthat it comes from a verb which stands for _to know_, that is,\n_nosco_. But this is most false, for, if this could be, those\nthings which were most named and best known in their species would in\ntheir species be the most noble. Thus the obelisk of St. Peter would\nbe the most noble stone in the world; and Asdente, the shoemaker of\nParma, would be more Noble than any one of his fellow-citizens; and\nAlbuino della Scala would be more Noble than Guido da Castello di\nReggio. Each one of those things is most false, and therefore it is\nmost false that _nobile_ (noble) can come from _cognoscere_,\nto know. It comes from _non vile_ (not vile); wherefore\n_nobile_ (noble) is as it were _non vile_ (not vile).\n\nThis perfection the Philosopher means in the seventh chapter of\nPhysics, when he says: \"Each thing is especially perfect when it\ntouches and joins its own proper or relative virtue; and then it is\nespecially perfect according to its nature. It is, then, possible to\ncall the circle perfect when it is truly a circle, that is, when it is\njoined with its own proper or relative virtue, it is then complete in\nits nature, and it may then be called a noble circle.\" This is when\nthere is a point in it which is equally distant from the\ncircumference. That circle which has the figure of an egg loses its\nvirtue and it is not Noble, nor that circle which has the form of an\nalmost full moon, because in that its nature is not perfect. And thus\nevidently it is possible to see that commonly, or in a general sense,\nthis word Nobility, expresses in all things perfection of their\nnature, and this is that for which one seeks primarily in order to\nenter more clearly into the discussion of that part which it is\nintended to explain.\n\nSecondly, it remains to be seen how one must proceed in order to find\nthe definition of Human Nobility to which the present argument leads.\nI say, then, that since in those things which are of one species, as\nare all men, it is not possible by essential first principles to\ndefine their highest perfection, it is necessary to know and to define\nthat by their effects. Therefore one reads in the Gospel of St.\nMatthew, when Christ speaks, \"Beware of false prophets: by their\nfruits ye shall know them.\" And in a direct way the definition we seek\nis to be seen by the fruits, which are the moral and intellectual\nvirtues of which this Nobility is the seed, as in its definition will\nbe fully evident.\n\nAnd these are those two things we must see before one can proceed to\nthe others, as is said in the previous part of this chapter.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII.\n\n\nSince those two things which it seemed needful to understand before\nthe text could be proceeded with have been seen and understood, it now\nremains to proceed with the text and to explain it, and the text then\nbegins:\n\n    I say that from one root\n      Each Virtue firstly springs,\n    Virtue, I mean, that Happiness\n      To man, by action, brings\n\nAnd I subjoin:\n\n    This, as the Ethics teach,\n      Is habit of right choice;\n\nplacing the whole definition of the Moral Virtues as it is defined by\nthe Philosopher in the second book of Ethics, in which two things\nprincipally are understood. One is, that each Virtue comes from one\nfirst principle or original cause; the other is, that by \"Each Virtue\"\nI mean the Moral Virtues, and this is evident from the words, \"This,\nas the Ethics teach\"\n\nHence it is to be known that our most right and proper fruits are the\nMoral Virtues, since on every side they are in our power; and these\nare differently distinguished and enumerated by different\nphilosophers. But it seems to me right to omit the opinion of other\nmen in that part where the divine opinion of Aristotle is stated by\nword of mouth, and therefore, wishing to describe what those Moral\nVirtues are, I will pass on, briefly discoursing of them according to\nhis opinion.\n\nThere are eleven Virtues named by the said Philosopher. The first is\ncalled Courage, which is sword and bridle to moderate our boldness and\ntimidity in things which are the ruin of our life. The second is\nTemperance, which is the law and bridle of our gluttony and of our\nundue abstinence in those things requisite for the preservation of our\nlife. The third is Liberality, which is the moderator of our giving\nand of our receiving things temporal. The fourth is Magnificence,\nwhich is the moderator of great expenditures, making and supporting\nthose within certain limits. The fifth is Magnanimity, which is the\nmoderator and acquirer of great honours and fame. The sixth is the\nLove of Honour, which is the moderator and regulator to us of the\nhonours of this World. The seventh is Mildness, which moderates our\nanger and our excessive or undue patience against our external\nmisfortunes. The eighth is Affability, which makes us live on good\nterms with other men. The ninth is called Truth, which makes us\nmoderate in boasting ourselves over and above what we are, and in\ndepreciating ourselves below what we are in our speech. The tenth is\ncalled Eutrapelia, pleasantness of intercourse, which makes us\nmoderate in joys or pleasures, causing us to use them in due measure.\nThe eleventh is Justice, which teaches us to love and to act with\nuprightness in all things.\n\nAnd each of these Virtues has two collateral enemies, that is to say,\nvices; one in excess and one in defect. And these Moral Virtues are\nthe centres or middle stations between them, and those Virtues all\nspring from one root or principle, that is to say, from the habit of\nour own good choice. Wherefore, in a general sense, it is possible to\nsay of all, that they are a habit of choice standing firm in due\nmoderation; and these are those which make a man happy in their active\noperation, as the Philosopher says in the first book of the Ethics\nwhen he defines Happiness, saying that Happiness is virtuous action in\na perfect life.\n\nBy many, Prudence, that is, good, judgment or wisdom, is well asserted\nto be a Moral Virtue. But Aristotle numbers that amongst the\nIntellectual Virtues, although it is the guide of the moral, and\npoints out the way by which they are formed, and without it they could\nnot be. Verily, it is to be known that we can have in this life two\nhappinesses or felicities by following two different roads, both good\nand excellent, which lead us to them: the one is the Active Life and\nthe other is the Contemplative Life, which (although by the Active\nLife one may attain, as has been said, to a good state of Happiness)\nleads us to supreme Happiness, even as the Philosopher proves in the\ntenth book of the Ethics; and Christ affirms it with His own Lips in\nthe Gospel of Luke, speaking to Martha, when replying to her: \"Martha,\nMartha, thou art anxious and troubled about many things: verily, one\nthing alone is needful,\" meaning, that which thou hast in hand; and He\nadds: \"Mary has chosen the better part, which shall not be taken away\nfrom her.\" And Mary, according to that which is previously written in\nthe Gospel, sitting at the feet of Christ, showed no care for the\nservice of the house, but listened only to the words of the Saviour.\n\nFor if we will explain this in the moral sense, our Lord wished to\nshow thereby that the Contemplative Life was supremely good, although\nthe Active Life might be good; this is evident to him who will give\nhis mind to the words of the Gospel.\n\nIt would be possible, however, for any one to say, in argument against\nme: Since the happiness of the Contemplative Life is more excellent\nthan that of the Active Life, and both may be, and are, the fruit and\nend of Nobility, why not rather have proceeded in the argument along\nthe line of the Intellectual Virtues than of the Moral? To this it is\npossible to reply briefly, that in all instruction it is desirable to\nhave regard to the capability of the learner, and to lead him by that\npath which is easiest to him. Wherefore, since the Moral Virtues\nappear to be, and are, more general and more required than the others,\nand are more seen in outward appearances, it was more convenient and\nmore useful to proceed along that path than by the other; for thus\nindeed we shall attain to the knowledge of the bees by arguing of\nprofit from the wax, as well as by arguing of profit from the honey,\nfor both the one and the other proceed from them.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII.\n\n\nIn the preceding chapter has been determined how each Moral Virtue\ncomes from one root, or first principle, that is, a good habit of\nchoice; and the present text bears upon that, until the part which\nbegins: \"Nobility by right.\" In this part, then, it proceeds, by a way\nthat is allowable, to teach that each Virtue mentioned above, taken\nsingly, or otherwise generally, proceeds from Nobility as an effect\nfrom its cause, and it is founded upon a philosophical proposition,\nwhich says that, when two things are found to meet in one, both these\nthings must be reduced to a third, or one to the other, as an effect\nto a cause: because one thing having stood first and of itself, it\ncannot exist except it be from one; and if those two could not be both\nthe effect of a third, or else one the effect of the other, each would\nhave had a separate first cause, which is impossible. It says, then,\nthat\n\n    Such virtue shows its good\n      To others' intellect,\n    For when two things agree in one,\n      Producing one effect,\n\n    One must from other come,\n      Or each one from a third,\n    If each be as each, and more, then one\n      From the other is inferred.\n\nWhere it is to be known that here one does not proceed by an evident\ndemonstration; as it would be to say that the cold is the generative\nprinciple of water, when we see the clouds; but certainly by a\nbeautiful and suitable induction. For if there are many laudable\nthings in us, and one is the principle or first cause of them all,\nreason requires each to be reduced to that first cause, which\ncomprehends more things; and this ought more reasonably to be called\nthe principle of those things than that which comprehends in itself\nless of their principle. For as the trunk of a tree, which contains or\nencloses all the other branches, ought to be called the first\nbeginning and cause of those branches, and not those branches the\ncause of the trunk, so Nobility, which comprehends each and every\nVirtue (as the cause contains the effect) and many other actions or\noperations of ours which are praiseworthy, it ought to be held for\nsuch; that the Virtue may be reduced to it, rather than to the other\nthird which is in us. Finally it says that the position taken (namely,\nthat each Moral Virtue comes from one root, and that such Virtue and\nNobility unite in one thing, as is stated above, and that therefore it\nis requisite to reduce the one to the other, or both to a third; and\nthat if the one contains the value of the other and more, from that it\nproceeds rather than from the other third) may be considered as a rule\nestablished and set forth, as was before intended.\n\nAnd thus ends this passage and this present part.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX.\n\n\nSince in the preceding part are discussed three certain definite\nthings which were necessary to be seen before we define, if possible,\nthis good thing of which we speak, it is right to proceed to the\nfollowing part, which begins: \"Where Virtue is, there is A Nobleman.\"\nAnd it is desirable to reduce this into two parts. In the first a\ncertain thing is proved, which before has been touched upon and left\nunproved; in the second, concluding, the definition sought is found;\nand this second part begins; \"Comes virtue from what's noble, as From\nblack comes violet.\"\n\nIn evidence of the first part, it is to be recalled to mind that it\nsays previously that, if Nobility is worth more and extends farther\nthan Virtue, Virtue rather will proceed from it, which this part now\nproves, namely, that Nobility extends farther, and produces a copy of\nHeaven, saying that wherever there is Virtue there is Nobility. And\nhere it is to be known that (as it is written in the Books of the Law,\nand is held as a Rule of the Law) in those things which of themselves\nare evident there is no need of proof; and nothing is more evident\nthan that Nobility exists wherever there is Virtue, and each thing,\ncommonly speaking, that we see perfect according to its nature is\nworthy to be called Noble. It says then: \"So likewise that is Heaven\nWherein a star is hung, But Heaven may be starless.\" So there is\nNobility wherever there is Virtue, and not Virtue wherever there is\nNobility. And with a beautiful and suitable example; for truly it is a\nHeaven in which many and various stars shine. In this Nobility there\nshine the Moral and the Intellectual Virtues: there shine in it the\ngood dispositions bestowed by nature, piety, and religion; the\npraiseworthy passions, as Modesty and Mercy and many others; there\nshine in it the good gifts of the body, that is to say, beauty,\nstrength, and almost perpetual health; and so many are the stars which\nstud its Heaven that certainly it is not to be wondered at if they\nproduce many and divers effects in Human Nobility; such are the\nnatures and the powers of those stars, assembled and contained within\none simple substance, through the medium of which stars, as through\ndifferent branches, it bears fruit in various ways. Certainly, with\nall earnestness, I make bold to say that Human Nobility, so far as\nmany of its fruits are considered, excels that of the Angel, although\nthe Angelic may be more Divine in its unity.\n\nOf this Nobility of ours, which fructifies into such fruits and so\nnumerous, the Psalmist had perception when he composed that Psalm\nwhich begins: \"O Lord our God, how admirable is Thy Name through all\nthe Earth!\" where he praises man, as if wondering at the Divine\naffection for this Human Creature, saying: \"What is man, that Thou,\nGod, dost visit him? Thou hast made him a little lower than the\nAngels; Thou hast crowned him with glory and honour, and placed him\nover the works of Thy hands.\" Then, truly, it was a beautiful and\nsuitable comparison to compare Heaven with Human Nobility.\n\nThen, when the Song says, \"In women and the young A modesty is seen,\nNot virtue, noble yet,\" it proves that Nobility extends into parts\nwhere Virtue is not; and it says, \"noble yet,\" alluding to Nobility as\nindeed a true safeguard, being where there is shame or modesty, that\nis to say, fear of dishonour, as it is in maidens and youths, where\nshame or modesty is good and praiseworthy; which shame or modesty is\nnot virtue, but a certain good passion. And it says, \"In women and the\nyoung,\" that is to say, in youths; because, as the Philosopher\nexpresses it in the fourth book of the Ethics, shame, bashfulness,\nmodesty, is not praiseworthy nor good in the old nor in men of\nstudious habits, because to them it is fit that they beware of those\nthings which would lead them to shame. In youths and maidens such\ncaution is not so much required, and therefore in them the fear of\nreceiving dishonour through some fault is praiseworthy. It springs\nfrom Nobility, and it is possible to account their timid bashfulness\nto be Nobility. Baseness and ignoble ways produce impudence: wherefore\nit is a good and excellent sign of Nobility in children and persons of\ntender years when, after some fault, their shame is painted in their\nface, which blush of shame is then the fruit of true Nobility.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX.\n\n\nWhen it proceeds to say, \"Comes virtue from what's noble, as From\nblack comes violet,\" the text advances to the desired definition of\nNobility, by which one may see what this Nobility is of which so many\npeople speak erroneously. It says then, drawing a conclusion from that\nwhich has been said before, that each Virtue, or rather its generator,\nthat is to say, the habit of right choice, which stands firm in due\nmoderation, will spring forth from this, that is, Nobility. And it\ngives an example in the colours, saying, as from the black the violet,\nso this Virtue springs from Nobility. The violet is a mixed colour of\npurple and black, but the black prevails, and the colour is named from\nit. And thus the Virtue is a mixed thing of Nobility and Passion; but,\nbecause Nobility prevails, the Virtue takes its name from it, and is\ncalled Goodness. Then afterwards it argues, by that which has been\nsaid, that no man ought to say boastfully, \"I am of such and such a\nrace or family;\" nor ought he to believe that he is of this Nobility\nunless the fruits of it are in him. And immediately it renders a\nreason, saying that those who have this Grace, that is to say, this\nDivine thing, are almost Gods as it were, without spot of vice, and no\none has the power to bestow this except God alone, with whom there is\nno respect of persons, even as Divine Scripture makes manifest. And it\ndoes not appear too extravagant when it says, \"They are as Gods,\" for\nas it is argued previously in the seventh chapter of the third\ntreatise, even as there are men most vile and bestial so are men most\nNoble and Divine. And this Aristotle proves in the seventh chapter of\nEthics by the text of Homer the poet; therefore, let not those men who\nare of the Uberti of Florence, nor those of the Visconti of Milan,\nsay, \"Because I am of such a family or race, I am Noble,\" for the\nDivine seed falls not into a race of men, that is, into a family; but\nit falls into individual persons, and, as will be proved below, the\nfamily does not make individual persons Noble, but the individual\npersons make the family Noble.\n\nThen when it says, \"God only gives it to the Soul,\" the argument is of\nthe susceptive, that is, of the subject whereon this Divine gift\ndescends, which is indeed a Divine gift, according to the word of the\nApostle: \"Every good gift and every perfect gift comes from above,\nproceeding from the Father of Light.\" It says then that God alone\nimparts this Grace to the Soul that He sees pure, within the Soul of\nthat man whom He sees to be perfectly prepared and fit to receive in\nhis own proper person this Divine action; for, according as the\nPhilosopher says in the second chapter Of the Soul, things must be\nprepared for their agents and qualified to receive their acts;\nwherefore if the Soul is imperfectly prepared, it is not qualified to\nreceive this blessed and Divine infusion, even as a precious stone, if\nit is badly cut or prepared, wherever it is imperfect, cannot receive\nthe celestial virtue; even as that noble Guido Guinizzelli said, in a\nSong of his which begins: \"To gentle hearts Love ever will repair.\" It\nis possible for the Soul to be unqualified through some defect of\ntemper, or perhaps through some sinister circumstances of the time in\nwhich the person lives, and into a Soul so unhappy as this the Divine\nradiance never shines. And it may be said of such men as these, whose\nSouls are deprived of this Light, that they are as deep valleys turned\ntowards the North, or rather subterranean caves wherein the light of\nthe Sun never enters unless it be reflected from another part which\nhas caught its rays.\n\nFinally, it deduces, from that which has been previously said, that\nthe Virtues are the fruit of Nobility, and that God places that\nNobility in the Soul which has a good foundation. For to some, that\nis, to those who have intellect, who are but few, it is evident that\nhuman Nobility is no other than the seed of Happiness\n\n    That seed of Happiness\n      Falls in the hearts of few,\n    Planted by God within the Souls\n      Spread to receive His dew;\n\nthat is to say, whose body is in every part perfectly prepared,\nordered, or qualified.\n\nFor if the Virtues are the fruit of Nobility, and Happiness is\npleasure or sweetness acquired through or by them, it is evident that\nthis Nobility is the seed of Happiness, as has been said. And if one\nconsiders well, this definition comprehends all the four arguments,\nthat is to say, the material, the formal, the efficient, and the\nfinal: material, inasmuch as it says, \"to the Soul spread to receive,\"\nwhich is the material and subject of Nobility; formal, inasmuch as it\nsays, \"That seed;\" efficient, inasmuch as it says, \"Planted by God\nwithin the Soul;\" final, inasmuch as it says, \"of Happiness,\" Heaven's\nblessing. And thus is defined this our good gift, which descends into\nus in like manner from the Supreme and Spiritual Power, as virtue into\na precious stone from a most noble celestial body.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXI.\n\n\nThat we may have more perfect knowledge of Human Goodness, as it is\nthe original cause in us of all good that can be called Nobility, it\nis requisite to explain clearly in this especial chapter how this\nGoodness descends into us.\n\nIn the first place, it comes by the Natural way, and then by the\nTheological way, that is to say, the Divine and Spiritual. In the\nfirst place, it is to be known that man is composed of Soul and body;\nbut that Goodness or Nobility is of the Soul, as has been said, and is\nafter the manner of seed from the Divine Virtue. By different\nphilosophers it has been differently argued concerning the difference\nin our Souls; for Avicenna and Algazel were of opinion that Souls of\nthemselves and from their beginning were Noble or Base. Plato and some\nothers were of opinion that they proceeded by the stars, and were\nNoble more or less according to the nobility of the star. Pythagoras\nwas of opinion that all were of one nobility, not only human Souls,\nbut with human Souls those of the brute animals and of the trees and\nthe forms of minerals; and he said that all the difference in the\nbodies is form. If each one were to defend his opinion, it might be\nthat Truth would be seen to be in all. But since on the surface they\nseem somewhat distant from the Truth, one must not proceed according\nto those opinions, but according to the opinion of Aristotle and of\nthe Peripatetics. And therefore I say that when the human seed falls\ninto its receptacle, that is, into the matrix, it bears with it the\nvirtue or power of the generative Soul, and the virtue or power of\nHeaven, and the virtue or power of the aliments united or bound\ntogether, that is the involution or complex nature of the seed. It\nmatures and prepares the material for the formative power or virtue\nwhich the generating Soul bestows; and the formative power or virtue\nprepares the organs for the celestial virtue or power, which produces,\nfrom the power of the seed, the Soul in life; which, as soon as\nproduced, receives from the power of the Mover of the Heaven the\npassive intellect or mind, which potentially brings together in itself\nall the universal forms according as they are in its producer, and so\nmuch the less in proportion as it is farther removed from the first\nIntelligence.\n\nLet no one marvel if I speak what seems difficult to understand; for\nto myself it seems a miracle how it is possible even to arrive at a\nconclusion concerning it, and to perceive it with the intellect. It is\nnot a thing to reveal in language, especially the language of the\nVulgar Tongue; wherefore I will say, even as did the Apostle: \"Oh,\ngreat is the depth of the riches of Wisdom of God: how incomprehensible\nare Thy judgments, and Thy ways past finding out!\" And since the\ncomplex nature of the seed may be better and less good, and the\ndisposition of the receiver of the seed may be better and less good,\nand the disposition of the dominant Heaven to this effect may be good\nand better and best, which varies in the constellations, which are\ncontinually transformed; it befalls that from the human seed and from\nthese virtues or powers the Soul is produced more or less pure; and\naccording to its purity there descends into it the virtue or power of\nthe possible or passive intellect, as it is called, and as it has been\nspoken of. And if it happen that through the purity of the receptive\nSoul the intellectual power is indeed separate and absolute, free from\nall corporeal shadow, the Divine Goodness multiplies in it, as in a\nthing sufficient to receive that good gift; and then it multiplies in\nthe Soul of this intelligent being, according as it can receive it;\nand this is that seed of Happiness of which we speak at present. And\nthis is in harmony with the opinion of Tullius in that book on Old Age\nwhen, speaking personally of Cato, he says: \"For this reason a\ncelestial spirit descended into us from the highest habitation, having\ncome into a place which is adverse to the Divine Nature and to\nEternity.\" And in such a Soul as this there is its own individual\npower, and the intellectual power, and the Divine power; that is to\nsay, that influence which has been mentioned. Therefore it is written\nin the book On Causes: \"Each Noble Soul has three operations, that is\nto say, the animal, the intellectual, and the Divine.\" And there are\nsome men who hold such opinions that they say, if all the preceding\npowers were to unite in the production of a Soul in their best\ndisposition, arrangement, order, that into that Soul would descend so\nmuch of the Deity that it would be as it were another God Incarnate;\nand this is almost all that it is possible to say concerning the\nNatural way.\n\nBy the Theological way it is possible to say that, when the Supreme\nDeity, that is, God, sees His creature prepared to receive His good\ngift, so freely He imparts it to His creature in proportion as it is\nprepared or qualified to receive it. And because these gifts proceed\nfrom ineffable Love, and the Divine Love is appropriate to the Holy\nSpirit, therefore it is that they are called the gifts of the Holy\nSpirit, which, even as the Prophet Isaiah distinguishes them, are\nseven, namely, Wisdom, Intelligence, Counsel, Courage, Knowledge,\nPity, and the Fear of God. O, good green blades, and good and\nwonderful the seed!\n\nAnd O, admirable and benign Sower of the seed, who dost only wait for\nhuman nature to prepare the ground for Thee wherein to sow! O, blessed\nare those who till the land to fit it to receive such seed!\n\nHere it is to be known that the first noble shoot which germinates\nfrom this seed that it may be fruitful, is the desire or appetite of\nthe mind, which in Greek is called \"hormen;\" and if this is not well\ncultivated and held upright by good habits, the seed is of little\nworth, and it would be better if it had not been sown.\n\nAnd therefore St. Augustine urges, and Aristotle also in the second\nbook of Ethics, that man should accustom himself to do good, and to\nbridle in his passions, in order that this shoot which has been\nmentioned may grow strong through good habits, and be confirmed in its\nuprightness, so that it may fructify, and from its fruit may issue the\nsweetness of Human Happiness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXII.\n\n\nIt is the commandment of the Moral Philosophers that, of the good\ngifts whereof they have spoken, Man ought to put his thought and his\nanxious care into the effort to make them as useful as possible to the\nreceiver. Wherefore I, wishing to be obedient to such a mandate,\nintend to render this my BANQUET [Convito] as useful as possible in\neach one of its parts. And because in this part it occurs to me to be\nable to reason somewhat concerning the sweetness of Human Happiness, I\nconsider that there could not be a more useful discourse, especially\nto those who know it not; for as the Philosopher says in the first\nbook of Ethics, and Tullius in that book Of the Ends of Good and Evil,\nhe shoots badly at the mark who sees it not. Even thus a man can but\nill advance towards this sweet joy who does not begin with a\nperception of it. Wherefore, since it is our final rest for which we\nlive and labour as we can, most useful and most necessary it is to see\nthis mark in order to aim at it the bow of this our work. And it is\nmost essential to make it inviting to those who do not see the mark\nwhen simply pointed out. Leaving alone, then, the opinion which\nEpicurus the philosopher had concerning it, and that which Zeno\nlikewise had, I intend to come summarily to the true opinion of\nAristotle and of the other Peripatetics. As it is said above, of the\nDivine Goodness sown and infused in us, from the original cause of our\nproduction, there springs up a shoot, which the Greeks term \"hormen,\"\nthat is to say, the natural appetite of the soul.\n\nAnd as it is with the blades of corn which, when they first shoot\nforth, have in the beginning one similar appearance, being in the\ngrass-like stage, and then, by process of time, they become unlike, so\nthis Natural appetite, which springs from the Divine Grace, in the\nbeginning appears as it were not unlike that which comes nakedly from\nNature; but with it, even as the herbage born of various grains of\ncorn, it has the same appearance, as it were: and not only in the\nblades of corn, but in men and in beasts there is the same similitude.\nAnd it appears that every animal, as soon as it is born, both rational\nand brute beast, loves itself, and fears and flies from those things\nwhich are adverse to it, and hates them, then proceeding as has been\nsaid. And there begins a difference between them in the progress of\nthis Natural appetite, for the one keeps to one road, and the other to\nanother; even as the Apostle says: \"Many run to the goal, but there is\nbut one who reaches it.\" Even thus these Human appetites from the\nbeginning run through different paths, and there is one path alone\nwhich leads us to our peace; and therefore, leaving all the others\nalone, it is for the treatise to follow the course of that one who\nbegins well.\n\nI say, then, that from the beginning a man loves himself, although\nindistinctly; then comes the distinguishing of those things which to\nhim are more or less; to be more or less loved or hated; and he\nfollows after and flies from either more or less according as the\nright habit distinguishes, not only in the other things which he loves\nin a secondary manner, for he even distinguishes in himself which\nthing he loves principally; and perceiving in himself divers parts,\nthose which are the noblest in him he loves most. But, since the\nnoblest part of man is the Mind, he loves that more than the Body; and\nthus, loving himself principally, and through himself other things,\nand of himself loving the better part most, it is evident that he\nloves the Mind more than the Body or any other thing; and the Mind it\nis that, naturally, more than any other thing he ought to love.\n\nThen, if the Mind always delights in the use of the beloved thing,\nwhich is the fruit of love, the use of that thing which is especially\nbeloved is especially delightful: the use of our Mind is especially\ndelightful to us, and that which is especially delightful to us\nbecomes our Happiness and our Beatitude, beyond which there is no\ngreater delight or pleasure, nor any equal to it, as may be seen by\nhim who looks well at the preceding argument.\n\nAnd no one ought to say that every appetite is Mind; for here one\nunderstands Mind solely as that which belongs to the Rational part,\nthat is, the Will and the Intellect; so that if any one should wish to\ncall Mind the appetite of the Senses, here it has no place, nor can it\nhave any abiding; for no one doubts that the Rational appetite is more\nnoble than the Sensual, and therefore more to be loved; and so is this\nof which we are now speaking.\n\nThe use of our Mind is double, that is to say, Practical and\nSpeculative (it is Practical insomuch as it has the power of acting);\nboth the one and the other are delightful in their use, but that of\nContemplation is the most pleasing, as has been said above. The use of\nthe Practical is to act in or through us virtuously, that is to say,\nhonestly or uprightly, with Prudence, with Temperance, with Courage,\nand with Justice. The use of the Speculative is not to work or act\nthrough us, but to consider the works of God and of Nature. This and\nthe other form our Beatitude and Supreme Happiness, which is the\nsweetness of the before-mentioned seed, as now clearly appears. To\nthis often such seed does not attain, through being ill cultivated, or\nthrough its tender growing shoots being perverted. In like manner it\nis quite possible, by much correction and cultivation of him into whom\nthis seed does not fall primarily, to induce it by the process of\nsteady endeavour after goodness, so that it may attain to the power of\nbearing this fruit. And it is, as it were, a method of grafting the\nnature of another upon a different stock.\n\nNo man, therefore, can hold himself excused; for if from his natural\nroot the man does not produce sweet fruit, it is possible for him to\nhave it by the process of grafting; and in fact there would be as many\nwho should be grafted as those are who, sprung from a good root, allow\nthemselves to grow degenerate.\n\nOf the two ways of goodness, one is more full of bliss than the other,\nas is the Speculative, which is the use of our noblest part without\nany alloy, and which, for the root, Love, as has been said, is\nespecially to be loved as the intellect. And in this life it is not\npossible to have the use of this part perfectly, which is to see God,\nwho is the Supreme Being to be comprehended by the Mind, except\ninasmuch as the intellect considers Him and beholds Him through His\neffects, His Works. And that we may seek this Beatitude as the\nsupreme, and not the other, that is, that of the Active Life, the\nGospel of St. Mark teaches us, if we will look at it well.\n\nMark says that Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Mary\nSalome went to find the Saviour in the Tomb, and they found Him not,\nbut they found a youth clothed in white, who said to them: \"You seek\nthe Saviour, and I tell you that He is not here; and therefore be not\naffrighted, but go and tell His disciples and Peter that He goeth\nbefore you into Galilee; and there ye shall see Him, as He said unto\nyou.\" By these three women may be understood the three sects of the\nActive Life, that is to say, the Epicureans, the Stoics, and the\nPeripatetics, who go to the Tomb, that is to say, to the present\nWorld, which is the receptacle of corruptible things, and seek for the\nSaviour, that is, Beatitude, and they find it not; but they find a\nyouth in white garments, who, according to the testimony of Matthew,\nand also of the other Evangelists, was an Angel of God. And therefore\nMatthew said: \"The Angel of the Lord descended from Heaven, and came\nand rolled back the stone from the door, and sat upon it. His\ncountenance was like lightning, and his raiment white as snow.\" The\nAngel is this Nobility of ours which comes from God, as it has been\nsaid, of which our argument speaks, and says to each one of these\nsects, that is, to whoever seeks perfect Happiness in the Active Life,\nthat it is not here; but go and tell the disciples and Peter, that is,\ntell those who seek for it and those who are gone astray like Peter,\nwho had denied Him, that He will go before them into Galilee; meaning\nthat the Beatitude or Happiness will go before us into Galilee, that\nis, into Contemplation; Galilee is as much as to say, Whiteness.\nWhiteness is a colour full of material light, more so than any other;\nand thus, Contemplation is more full of Spiritual light than any other\nthing which is below.\n\nAnd it says, \"He will go before you,\" but it does not say, \"He will be\nwith you,\" to make us understand that in our contemplation God always\ngoes before. Nor is it ever possible to us to attain to Him here, to\nHim, our Supreme Bliss. And it says, \"There shall ye see Him, as He\nsaid unto you;\" that is to say, there you will receive of His\nSweetness, that is, of the Happiness as it is promised to you here, as\nit is established that you may receive it.\n\nAnd thus it appears that our Beatitude, this Happiness of which we\nspeak, first we are able to find imperfect in the Active Life, that\nis, in the operations of the Moral Virtues, and then almost perfect in\nthe operations of the Intellectual Virtues; which two operations are\nspeedy and most direct ways to lead to the Supreme Bliss, which it is\nnot possible to have here below, even as appears by that which has\nbeen said.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIII.\n\n\nSince the definition of Nobility is sufficiently demonstrated, and\nsince in all its parts it has been made as explicit as possible, so\nthat we can now see who is the Nobleman, it seems right to proceed to\nthe part of the text which begins, \"Souls whom this Grace adorns,\" in\nwhom appear the signs by which it is possible to know the Noble Man.\n\nThis part is divided into two. In the first it affirms that this\nNobility is resplendent, and that it shines forth manifestly during\nthe whole life of the Noble Man; in the second it appears specifically\nin its glory, and this second part begins, \"In Childhood they obey.\"\nWith regard to the first part, it is to be known that this Divine\nseed, which has been previously spoken of, germinates immediately in\nour Soul, combining with and changing its form with each form of the\nSoul, according to the exigency of that power. It germinates, then, as\nthe Vegetative, as the Sensitive, and as the Rational, and it branches\nout through the virtues or powers of all of them, guiding all those to\ntheir perfection, and sustaining itself in them always, even to the\npoint when, with that part of our Soul which never dies, it returns to\nthe highest and the most glorious Sower of the seed in Heaven; and it\nexpresses this in that first part which has been mentioned. Then when\nit says, \"In Childhood they obey, Are gentle, modest,\" it shows how we\ncan recognize the Noble Man by the apparent signs, which are the\nDivine operation of this goodness. And this part is divided into four,\nas it is made to represent four different ages, such as Adolescence,\nYouth, Old Age, and Extreme Old Age. The second part begins, \"Are\ntemperate in Youth;\" the third begins, \"Are prudent in their Age;\" the\nfourth begins, \"The fourth part of their life.\" Herein is contained\nthe purpose of this part in general, with regard to which it is\ndesirable to know that each effect, inasmuch as it is an effect,\nreceives the likeness of its cause in proportion as it is capable of\nretaining it.\n\nWherefore, since our life, as has been said, and also the life of\nevery living creature here below, is caused by Heaven, Heaven is\nrevealed in all such effects as these, not, indeed, with the complete\ncircle, but with part of it, in them. Thus its movement must be not\nonly with them, but beyond them, and as one arch of life retains (and\nI say retains, not only of men, but also of other living creatures)\nalmost all the lives, ascending and descending, they must be, as it\nwere, similar in appearance to the form of the arch. Returning, then,\nto our course of life which at present we are seeking to understand, I\nsay that it proceeds after the manner of this arch, ascending and\ndescending. And it is to be known that the ascent of this arch should\nbe equal to its descent, if the material of the seed from which we\nspring, so complex in its nature, did not impede the law of Human\nNature. But since the humid root is of better quality more or less,\nand stronger to endure in one effect more than in another, being\nsubject to the nutriment of the heat, which is our life, it happens\nthat the arch of the life of one man is of less or of greater extent\nthan that of another, life being shortened by a violent death or by\nsome accidental injury; but that which is called natural by the people\nis that span of which it is said by the Psalmist, \"Thou settest up a\nboundary which it is not possible to pass.\" And since the Master among\nthose here living, Aristotle, had perception of this arch of which we\nnow speak, and seems to be of opinion that our life should be no other\nthan one ascent and one descent, therefore he says, in that chapter\nwhere he treats of Youth and of Old Age, that Youth is no other than\nan increase of life. Where the top of this arch may be, it is\ndifficult to know, on account of the inequality which has been spoken\nof above, but for the most part I believe between the thirtieth and\nthe fortieth year, and I believe that in the perfectly natural man it\nis at the thirty-fifth year. And this reason has weight with me: that\nour Saviour Jesus Christ was a perfect natural man, who chose to die\nin the thirty-fourth year of His age; for it was not suitable for the\nDeity to have place in the descending segment; neither is it to be\nbelieved that He would not wish to dwell in this life of ours even to\nthe summit of it, since He had been in the lower part even from\nchildhood. And the hour of the day of His death makes this evident,\nfor He willed that to conform with His life; wherefore Luke says that\nit was about the sixth hour when He died, that is to say, the height\nor supreme point of the day; wherefore it is possible to comprehend by\nthat, as it were, that at the thirty-fifth year of Christ was the\nheight or supreme point of His age. Truly this arch is not half\ndistinguished in the Scriptures, but if we follow the four connecting\nlinks of the differing qualities which are in our composition, to each\none of which appears to be appropriated one part of our age, it is\ndivided into four parts, and they are called the four ages. The first\nis Adolescence, which is appropriated to the hot and moist; the second\nis Youth, which is appropriated to the hot and dry; the third is Old\nAge, which is appropriated to the cold and dry; the fourth is Extreme\nOld Age, which is appropriated to the cold and moist, as Albertus\nMagnus writes in the fourth chapter of the Metaura. And these parts or\ndivisions are made in a similar manner in the year--in Spring, in\nSummer, in Autumn, and in Winter. And it is the same in the day even\nto the third hour, and then even to the ninth, leaving the sixth in\nthe middle of this part, or division, for the reason which is\nunderstood, and then even to vespers, and from vespers onwards. And\ntherefore the Gentiles said that the chariot of the Sun had four\nhorses; they called the first Eoo, the second Piroi, the third Eton,\nthe fourth Phlegon, even as Ovid writes in the second book of the\nMetamorphoses concerning the parts or divisions of the day.\n\nAnd, briefly, it is to be known that, as it has been said above in the\nsixth chapter of the third treatise, the Church makes use of the hours\ntemporal in the division of the day, which hours are twelve in each\nday, long or short according to the amount of sunlight; and because\nthe sixth hour, that is, the midday, is the most noble of the whole\nday, and has in it the most virtue, the Offices of the Church are\napproximated thereto in each side, that is, from the prime, and thence\nonwards as much as possible; and therefore the Office of prime, that\nis, the tertius, is said at the end of that part, and that of the\nthird part and of the fourth is said at the beginning; and therefore,\nbefore the clock strikes in a division of the day, it is termed\nhalf-third or mid-tertius; or mid-nones, when in that division the\nclock has struck, and thus mid-vespers.\n\nAnd, therefore, let each one know that the right and lawful nones\nought always to strike or sound at the beginning of the seventh hour\nof the day, and let this suffice to the present digression.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIV.\n\n\nReturning to the proposition, I say that Human Life is divided into\nfour ages or stages. The first is called Adolescence, that is, the\ngrowth or increase of life; the second is called Youth, that is, the\nage which can give perfection, and for this reason one understands\nthis Youth to be perfect, because no man can give except of that which\nhe has; the third is called Old Age; the fourth is called Senility,\nExtreme Old Age, as has been said above.\n\nOf the first no one doubts, but each wise man agrees that it lasts\neven to the twenty-fifth year; and up to that time our Soul waits for\nthe increase and the embellishment of the body. While there are many\nand very great changes in the person, the rational part cannot possess\nperfectly the power of discretion; wherefore, the Civil Law wills\nthat, previous to that age, a man cannot do certain things without a\nguardian of perfect age.\n\nOf the second, which is the height of our life, the time is variously\ntaken by many. But leaving that which philosophers and medical men\nwrite concerning it, and returning to the proper argument, we may say\nthat, in most men in whom one can and ought to be guided by natural\njudgment, that age lasts for twenty years. And the reason which leads\nme to this conclusion is, that the height or supreme point of our arc\nor bow is in the thirty-fifth year; just so much as this age has of\nascent, so much it ought to have of descent; and this ascent passes\ninto descent, as it were, at the point, the centre, where one would\nhold the bow in the hand, at which place a slight flexion may be\ndiscerned. We are of opinion, then, that Youth is completed in the\nforty-fifth year.\n\nAnd as Adolescence is in the twenty-five years which proceed mounting\nupwards to Youth: so the descent, that is, Old Age, is an equal amount\nof time which succeeds to Youth; and thus Old Age terminates in the\nseventieth year.\n\nBut because Adolescence does not begin at the beginning of\nlife--taking it in the way which has been said--but about eight months\nfrom birth; and because our life strives to ascend, and curbs itself\nin the descent; because the natural heat is lessened and can do\nlittle, and the moist humour is increased, not in quantity, but in\nquality, so that it is less able to evaporate and be consumed; it\nhappens that beyond Old Age there remains of our life an amount,\nperhaps, of about ten years, a little more or a little less; and this\ntime of life is termed Extreme Old Age, or Senility. Wherefore we know\nof Plato (of whom one may well say that he was a son of Nature, both\nbecause of his perfection and because of his countenance, which caused\nSocrates to love him when first he saw him), that he lived eighty and\none years, according to the testimony of Tullius in that book On Old\nAge. And I believe that if Christ had not been crucified, and if He\nmight have lived the length of time which His life according to nature\ncould have passed over, at eighty and one years He would have been\ntransformed from the mortal body into the eternal.\n\nTruly, as has been said above, these ages may be longer or shorter\naccording to our complexion or temper and our constitution or\ncomposition; but, as they are, it seems to me that I observe this\nproportion in all men, as has been said, that is to say, that in such\nmen the ages may be made longer or shorter according to the integrity\nof the whole term of the natural life.\n\nThroughout all these ages this Nobility of which we speak manifests\nits effects in different ways in the ennobled Soul; and it is that\nwhich this part of the Song, concerning which we write at present,\nintends to demonstrate. Where it is to be known that our good and\nupright nature makes forward progress in us in the reasoning powers,\nas we see the nature of the plants make forward progress; and\ntherefore it is that different manners and different deportment are to\nbe held reasonable at one age rather than at another. The ennobled\nSoul proceeds in due order along a single path, employing each of its\npowers in its time and season, or even as they are all ordained to the\nfinal production of the perfect fruit. And Tullius is in harmony with\nthis in his book On Old Age. And putting aside the figurative sense\nwhich Virgil holds in the \u00c6neid concerning this different progress of\nthe ages, and letting that be which Egidius the hermit mentions in the\nfirst part On the Government of Princes, and letting that be to which\nTullius alludes in his book Of Offices, and following that alone which\nReason can see of herself, I say that this first age is the door and\nthe path through which and along which we enter into our good life,\nAnd this entrance must of necessity have certain things which the good\nNature, which fails not in things necessary, gives to us; as we see\nthat she gives to the vine the leaves for the protection of the fruit,\nand the little tendrils which enable it to twine round its supports,\nand thus bind up its weakness, so that it can sustain the weight of\nits fruit. Beneficent Nature gives, then, to this age four things\nnecessary to the entrance into the City of the Good Life. The first is\nObedience, the second Suavity, the third Modesty, the fourth Beauty of\nthe Body, even as the Song says in the first section of this part. It\nis, then, to be known that like one who has never been in a city, who\nwould not know how to find his way about the streets without\ninstruction from one who is accustomed to them, even so the adolescent\nwho enters into the Wood of Error of this life would not know how to\nkeep to the good path if it were not pointed out to him by his elders.\nNeither would the instruction avail if he were not obedient to their\ncommands, and therefore at this age obedience is necessary. Here it\nmight be possible for some one to speak thus: Then, is that man to be\ncalled obedient who shall follow evil guidance as well as he who shall\nbelieve the good? I reply that this would not be obedience, but\ntransgression. For if the King should issue a command in one way and\nthe servant give forth the command in another, it would not be right\nto obey the servant, for that would be to disobey the King; and thus\nit would be transgression. And therefore Solomon says, when he intends\nto correct his son, and this is his first commandment: \"Listen, my\nson, to the instruction of thy father.\" And then he seeks to remove\nhim immediately from the counsel and teaching of the wicked man,\nsaying, \"My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not.\"\n\nWherefore, as soon as he is born, the son clings to the breast of the\nmother; even so soon as some light of the Mind appears in him, he\nought to turn to the correction of the father, and the father to\ninstruction. And let the father take heed that he himself does not set\nhim an example in work or action that is contrary to the words of the\ncorrection; for naturally we see each son look more to the footprints\nof the paternal feet than to those of other men. And therefore the\nLaw, which provides for this, says and commands that the life of the\nfather should appear to his sons always honourable and upright. Thus\nit appears that obedience was necessary in this age; and therefore\nSolomon writes in the Book of Proverbs, that he who humbly and\nobediently sustains his just reproofs from the corrector shall be\nglorious. And he says \"shall be,\" to cause men to understand that he\nspeaks to the adolescent, who cannot be so in his present age. And if\nany one should reflect on me because I have said obedience is due to\nthe father and not to other men, I say that to the father all other\nobedience ought to be referred; wherefore the Apostle says to the\nColossians: \"Sons, obey your fathers in all things, for such is the\nwill of God.\" And if the father be not in this life, the son ought to\nrefer to that which is said by the father in his last Will as a\nfather; and if the father die intestate, the son ought to refer to him\nto whom the Law commits his authority; and then ought the masters and\nelders to be obeyed, for this appears to be a reasonable charge laid\nupon the son by the father, or by him who stands in the father's\nplace.\n\nBut because this present chapter has been long, on account of the\nuseful digressions which it contains, in another chapter other things\nshall be discussed.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXV.\n\n\nNot only this Soul, naturally good in Adolescence, is obedient, but\nalso gentle; which is the other thing necessary in this age to make a\ngood entrance through the portal of Youth.\n\nIt is necessary, since we cannot have a perfect life without friends,\nas Aristotle expresses it in the eighth book of Ethics; and the seed\nof the greater number of friendships seems to be sown in the first age\nof life, because in it a man begins to be gracious or the contrary.\nSuch graciousness is acquired by gentle rules of conduct, as are sweet\nand courteous speech, gentle service courteously rendered, and actions\nkindly done or performed. And therefore Solomon says to the adolescent\nson: \"Surely God scorneth the scorners; but He giveth grace unto the\nlowly.\" And elsewhere he says: \"Put away from thee a forward mouth,\nand perverse lips put far from thee.\" Wherefore it appears that, as\nhas been said, this suavity or affability is necessary.\n\nLikewise to this age the passion of modesty is necessary; and\ntherefore the nature which is good and noble shows it in this age,\neven as the Song says. And since modesty is the clearest sign, in\nAdolescence, of Nobility, because there it is especially necessary to\nthe good foundation of our life, at which the noble nature aims, it is\nright to speak of it somewhat. By modesty I mean three passions or\nstrong feelings necessary to the foundation of our good life: the one\nis wonder, the next is modesty, the third is shame, although the\ncommon people do not discern this distinction. And all three of these\nare necessary to this life, for this reason: at this age it is\nrequisite to be reverent and desirous for knowledge; at this age it is\nnecessary or requisite to be self-controlled, so as not to transgress\nor pass beyond due bounds; at this age it is necessary to be penitent\nfor a fault, so as not to grow accustomed to doing wrong. And all\nthese things the aforesaid passions or strong feelings do, which\nvulgarly are called shame; for wonder is an amazement of the mind at\nbeholding great and wonderful things, at hearing them, or feeling them\nin some way or other; for, inasmuch as they appear great, they excite\nreverence in him who sees them; inasmuch as they appear wonderful,\nthey make him who perceives them desirous of knowledge concerning\nthem. And therefore the ancient Kings in their palaces or habitations\nset up magnificent works in gold and in marble and works of art, in\norder that those who should see them should become astonished, and\ntherefore reverent inquirers into the honourable conditions of the\nKing. Therefore Statius, the sweet Poet, in the first part of the\nTheban History, says that, when Adrastus, King of the Argives, saw\nPolynices covered with the skin of a lion, and saw Tydeus covered with\nthe hide of a wild boar, and recalled to mind the reply that Apollo\nhad given concerning his daughters, he became amazed, and therefore\nmore reverent and more desirous for knowledge. Modesty is a shrinking,\na drawing-back of the mind from unseemly things, with the fear of\nfalling into them; even as we see in virgins and in good women, and in\nadolescent or young men, who are so modest that not only when they are\ntempted to do wrong, and urged to do so, but even when some fancied\njoy flashes across the mind, the feeling is depicted in the face,\nwhich either grows pale with fear, or flushes rosy-red. Wherefore the\nbefore-mentioned poet, in the first book of the Thebaid already\nquoted, says that when Acesta the nurse of Argia and Deiphile, the\ndaughters of King Adrastus, led them before the eyes of their holy\nfather into the presence of the two pilgrims, that is to say,\nPolynices and Tydeus, the virgins grew pale and blushed rosy-red, and\ntheir eyes shunned the glance of any other person, and they kept them\nfixed on the paternal face alone, as if there were safety. This\nmodesty--how many errors does it bridle in, or repress? On how many\nimmodest questions and impure things does it impose silence! How much\ndishonest greed does it repress! In the chaste woman, against how many\nevil temptations does it rouse mistrust, not only in her, but also in\nhim who watches over her! How many unseemly words does it restrain!\nfor, as Tullius says in the first chapter of the Offices: \"No action\nis unseemly which is not unseemly in the naming.\" And furthermore, the\nModest and Noble Man never could speak in such a manner that to a\nwoman his words would not be decent and such as she could hear. Alas,\nhow great is the evil in every man who seeks for honour, to mention\nthings which would be deemed evil in the mouth of any woman!\n\nShame is a fear of dishonour through fault committed, and from this\nfear there springs up a penitence for the fault, which has in itself a\nbitter sorrow or grief, which is a chastisement and preservative\nagainst future wrong-doing. Wherefore this same poet says, in that\nsame part, that when Polynices was questioned by King Adrastus\nconcerning his life, he hesitated at first through shame to speak of\nthe crime which he had committed against his father, and also for the\nsins of Oedipus, his father, which appeared to remain in the shame of\nthe son; therefore he named not his father, but his ancestors, and his\ncountry, and his mother; and therefore it does indeed appear that\nshame is necessary to that age. And the noble nature reveals in this\nage, not only obedience, gentleness, affability, and modesty, but it\nshows beauty and agility of body, even as the Song expresses: \"To\nfurnish Virtue's person with The graces it may need.\" Here it is to be\nknown that this work of beneficent Nature is also necessary to our\ngood life, for our Soul must work in the greater part of all its\noperations with a bodily organ; and then it works well when the body\nthrough all its parts is well proportioned and appointed. And when it\nis well proportioned and appointed, then it is beautiful throughout\nand in all its parts; for the due ordering or proportion of our limbs\nproduces a pleasing impression of I know not what of wonderful\nharmony; and the good disposition, that is to say, the health of mind\nand body, throws over all a colouring sweet to behold. And thus to say\nthat the noble nature takes heed for the graces of the body, and makes\nit fair and harmonious, is tantamount to saying that it prepares it\nand renders it fit to attain the perfection ordained for it: and those\nother things which have been discussed seem to be requisite to\nAdolescence, which the noble Mind, that is to say, the noble Nature,\nfurnishes forth to it in the first years of life, as growth of the\nseed sown therein by the Divine Providence.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVI.\n\n\nSince the first section of this part, which shows how we can recognize\nthe Noble Man by apparent signs, is reasoned out, it is right to\nproceed to the second section, which begins: \"Are temperate in Youth,\nAnd resolutely strong.\"\n\nIt says, then, that as the noble Nature in Adolescence or the\nSpring-time of Youth appears obedient, gentle, and modest, the\nbeautifier of its person, so in Youth it is temperate, strong, and\nloving, courteous and loyal; which five things appear to be, and are,\nnecessary to our perfection, inasmuch as we have respect unto\nourselves. And with regard to this it is desirable to know that just\nas the noble Nature prepares in the first age, it is prepared and\nordained by the care or foresight of Universal Nature, which ordains\nand appoints the particular Nature where-ever existing, to attain its\nperfection.\n\nThis perfection of ours may be considered in a double sense. It is\npossible to consider it as it has respect to ourselves, and we ought\nto possess this in our Youth, which is the culminating point of our\nlife. It is possible to consider it as it has respect to others, and\nsince in the first place it is necessary to be perfect, and then to\ncommunicate the perfection to others, it is requisite to possess this\nsecondary perfection after this age, that is to say, in Old Age, as\nwill be said subsequently. Here, then, it is needful to recall to mind\nthat which was argued in the twenty-second chapter of this treatise\nconcerning the appetite or impulse which is born in us. This appetite\nor impulse never does aught else but to pursue and to flee, and\nwhenever it pursues that which is to be pursued, and as far as is\nright, and flies from that which is to be fled from, and as much as is\nright, then is the man within the limits of his perfection. Truly,\nthis appetite or natural impulse must have Reason for its rider; for\nas a horse at liberty, however noble it may be by nature, by itself\nwithout the good rider does not conduct itself well, even thus this\nappetite, however noble it may be, must obey Reason, which guides it\nwith the bridle and spur, as the good knight uses the bridle when he\nhunts. And that bridle is termed Temperance, which marks the limit up\nto which it is lawful to pursue; he uses the spur in flight to turn\nthe horse away from the place from which he would flee away; and this\nspur is called Courage, or rather Magnanimity, a Virtue that points\nout the place at which it is right to stop, and to resist evil even to\nmortal combat. And thus Virgil, our greatest Poet, represents \u00c6neas as\nunder the influence of powerful self control in that part of the \u00c6neid\nwherein this age is typified, which part comprehends the fourth and\nthe fifth and the sixth books of the \u00c6neid. And what self-restraint\nwas that when, having received from Dido so much pleasure, as will be\nspoken of in the seventh treatise, and enjoying so much delectation\nwith her, he departed, in order to follow the upright and praiseworthy\npath fruitful of good works, even as it is written in the fourth book\nof the \u00c6neid! What impetus was that when \u00c6neas had the fortitude alone\nwith Sybilla to enter into Hades, to search for the Soul of his father\nAnchises, in the face of so many dangers, as it is shown in the sixth\nbook of the \u00c6neid. Wherefore it appears that in our Youth, in order to\nbe in our perfection, we must be Temperate and Brave. The good\ndisposition secures this for us, even as the Song expressly states.\n\nAgain, at this age it is necessary to its perfection to be Loving;\nbecause at this age it is requisite to look behind and before, as\nbeing midway over the arch. The youth ought to love his elders, from\nwhom he has received his being, and his nutriment, and his\ninstruction, so that he may not appear ungrateful. He ought to love\nhis juniors, since, in loving them, he gives them of his good gifts,\nfor which in after-years, when the younger friends are prospering, he\nmay be supported and honoured by them. And the poet named above, in\nthe fifth book before-mentioned, makes it evident that \u00c6neas possessed\nthis loving disposition, when he left the aged Trojans in Sicily,\nrecommended to Acestes, and set them free from the fatigues of the\nvoyage; and when he instructed, in the same place, Ascanius his son,\nwith the other young men, in jousting or in feats of arms; wherefore\nit appears that to this age Love is necessary, even as the Song says.\n\nAgain, to this age Courtesy is necessary, for, although to every age\nit is right or beautiful to be possessed of courteous manners, to this\nage it is especially necessary, because, on the contrary, Old Age,\nwith its gravity and its severity, cannot possess courtesy, if it has\nbeen wanting in this youthful period of life; and with Extreme Old Age\nit is the same in a greater degree. And that most noble poet, in the\nsixth book before-mentioned, proves that \u00c6neas possessed this\ncourtesy, when he says that \u00c6neas, then King, in order to pay honour\nto the dead body of Misenus, who had been the trumpeter of Hector, and\nafterwards accompanied \u00c6neas, made himself ready and took the axe to\nassist in cutting the logs for the fire which must burn the dead body,\nas was their custom. Wherefore this courtesy does indeed appear to be\nnecessary to Youth; and therefore the noble Soul reveals it in that\nage, as has been said.\n\nAgain, it is necessary to this age to be Loyal. Loyalty is to follow\nand to put in operation that which the Laws command, and this\nespecially is necessary in the young man; because the adolescent, as\nit has been said, on account of his minority, merits ready pardon; the\nold man, on account of greater experience, ought to be just, but not a\nfollower of the Law except inasmuch as his upright judgment and the\nLaw are at one as it were; and almost without any Law he ought to be\nable to follow the dictates of his own just mind. The young man is not\nable to do this, and it is sufficient that he should obey the Law, and\ntake delight in that obedience; even as the before-said poet says, in\nthe fifth book previously mentioned, that \u00c6neas did when he instituted\nthe games in Sicily on the anniversary of his father's death, for what\nhe promised for the victories he loyally gave to each victor,\naccording to their ancient custom, which was their Law.\n\nWherefore, it is evident that, to this age, Loyalty, Courtesy, Love,\nCourage, and Temperance are necessary, even as the Song says, which at\npresent I have reasoned out; and therefore the noble Soul reveals them\nall.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVII.\n\n\nThat section which the text puts forward having been reasoned out and\nmade sufficiently clear, showing the qualities of uprightness which\nthe noble Soul puts into Youth, we go on to pay attention to the third\npart, which begins, \"Are prudent in their Age,\" in which the Song\nintends to show those qualities which the noble Nature reveals and\nought to possess in the third age, that is to say, Old Age. And it\nsays that the noble Soul in Old Age is prudent, is just, is liberal\nand cheerful, willing to speak kindly and for the good of others, and\nready to listen for the same reason, that is to say, that it is\naffable. And truly these four Virtues are most suitable to this age.\nAnd, in order to perceive this, it is to be known that, as Tullius\nsays in his book On Old Age, \"Our life has a certain course, and one\nsimple path, that of natural moral goodness; and to each part of our\nage there is given a season for certain things.\" Wherefore, as to\nAdolescence is given, as has been said above, that by means of which\nit may attain perfection and maturity, so to youth is given perfection\nand maturity in order that the sweetness of its perfect fruit may be\nprofitable to the man himself and to others; for, as Aristotle says,\nman is a civil or polite animal, because it is required of him to be\nuseful, not only to himself, but to others as well. Wherefore one\nreads of Cato, that he believed himself to be born not only to\nhimself, but to his country and to all the world. Then after our own\nperfection, which is acquired in Youth, there must follow that which\nmay give light not only to one's self, but to others as well; and a\nman ought to open and broaden like a rose as it were, which can no\nlonger remain closed, and spread abroad the sweet odour which is bred\nwithin; and this ought to be the case in that third age which we have\nnow in hand.\n\nThen it must be Prudent, that is to say, Wise. And, in order to be\nthis, a good memory of the things which have been seen is requisite,\nand a good knowledge of present things, and good foresight for things\nof the future. And, as the Philosopher says in the sixth book of\nEthics, it is impossible for the man who is not good to be wise; and\ntherefore he is not to be called a wise man who acts with cunning and\nwith deception, but he is to be called an astute man. As no one would\ncall him a wise man who might indeed know how to draw with the point\nof a knife in the pupil of the eye, even so he is not to be called a\nwise man who knows how to do a bad thing well, in the doing of which\nhe must always first injure some other person. If we consider well,\ngood counsel springs from Prudence, which leads or guides a man, and\nother men, to a good end in human affairs. And this is that gift which\nSolomon, perceiving himself to be placed as ruler over the people,\nasked of God, even as it is written in the Third Book of Kings; nor\ndoes the prudent man wait for counsel to be asked of him; but of\nhimself, foreseeing the need for it, unasked he gives counsel or\nadvice; like the rose, which not only to him who goes to her for her\nsweet odour freely gives it, but also to any one who passes near.\n\nHere it would be possible for any doctor or lawyer to say: Then shall\nI carry my counsel or advice, and shall I give it even before it be\nasked of me, and shall I not reap fruit from my art or skill? I reply\nin the words of our Saviour: \"Freely ye have received, freely give.\" I\nsay, then, Master Lawyer, that those counsels which have no respect to\nthine art, and which proceed alone from that good sense or wisdom\nwhich God gave thee (which is the prudence of which we speak), thou\noughtest not to sell to the sons or children of Him who has given it\nto thee. But those counsels which belong to the art which thou hast\npurchased, thou mayst sell; but not in such a way but that at any time\nthe tenth part of them may be fitly set apart and given unto God, that\nis, to those unhappy ones to whom the Divine protection is all that is\nleft.\n\nLikewise at this age it is right to be Just, in order that the\njudgments and the authority of the man may be a light and a law to\nother men. And because this particular Virtue, that is to say,\nJustice, was seen by the ancient philosophers to appear perfect in men\nof this age, they entrusted the government of the cities to those men\nwho had attained that age; and therefore the college of Rectors was\ncalled the Senate. Oh, my unhappy, unhappy country! how my heart is\nwrung with pity for thee whenever I read, whenever I write, anything\nwhich may have reference to Civil Government! But since in the last\ntreatise of this book Justice will be discussed, to the present let\nthis slight notice of it suffice.\n\nAlso at this age a man ought to be liberal, because a thing is then\nmost suitable when it gives most satisfaction to the due requirements\nof its nature: nor to the due requirements of Liberality is it ever\npossible to give more satisfaction than at this age. For if we will\nlook well at the argument of Aristotle in the fourth book of Ethics,\nand at that of Tullius in his book Of Offices, Liberality desires to\nbe seasonable in place and time; so that the liberal man may not\ninjure himself nor other men; which thing it is not possible to have\nwithout Prudence and without Justice, Virtues that previous to this\nage it is impossible to have or possess in perfection in the Natural\nway.\n\nAlas! ye base-born ones, born under evil stars, ye who rob the widows\nand orphans, who ravish or despoil those who possess least, who steal\nfrom and occupy or usurp the homes of other men, and with that spoil\nyou furnish forth feasts, women, horses, arms, robes, money; you wear\nwonderful garments, you build marvellous palaces; and you believe that\nyou do deeds of great liberality: and this is no other than to take\nthe cloth from the altar and to cover therewith the thief and his\ntable! Not otherwise one ought to laugh, O tyrants, at your bounteous\nliberality than at the thief who should lead the invited guests into\nhis house to his feast, and place upon his table the cloth stolen from\nthe altar, with the ecclesiastical signs inwoven, and should not\nbelieve that other men might perceive the sacrilege. Hear, O ye\nobstinate men, what Tullius says against you in the book Of Offices:\n\"Certainly there are many, desirous of being great and glorious, who\nrob some that they may give to others, believing themselves to be\nesteemed good men if they enrich their friends with what the Law\nallows. But this is so opposite or contrary to that which ought to be\ndone, that nothing is more wrong.\"\n\nAt this age also a man ought to be Affable, to speak for the good of\nothers, and to listen to such speech willingly, since it is good for a\nman to discourse kindly at an age when he is listened to. And this age\nalso has with it a shadow of authority, for which reason it appears\nthat the aged man is more likely to be listened to than a person in a\nyounger period of life. And of most good and beautiful Truths it seems\nthat a man ought to have knowledge after the long experience of life.\nWherefore Tullius says, in that book On Old Age, in the person of Cato\nthe elder: \"To me is increased the desire and the delight to remain in\nconversation longer than I am wont.\" And that all four of these things\nare right and proper to this age, Ovid teaches, in the seventh chapter\nof Metamorphoses, in that fable where he writes how Cephalus of Athens\ncame to \u00c6acus the King for help in the war which Athens had with the\nCretans. He shows that \u00c6acus, an old man, was prudent when, having,\nthrough pestilence caused by corruption of the air, lost almost all\nhis people, he wisely had recourse to God, and besought of Him the\nrestoration of the dead; and for his wisdom, which in patience\npossessed him and caused him to turn to God, his people were restored\nto him in greater number than before. He shows that he was just, when\nhe says that \u00c6acus was the divider and the distributor of his deserted\nland to his new people. He shows that \u00c6acus was generous or liberal\nwhen he said to Cephalus, after his request for aid: \"O Athens! ask me\nnot to render assistance, but take it yourself; doubt not the strength\nof the forces which this island possesses, nor the power of my state\nand realm; troops are not wanting to us, nay, we have them in excess\nfor offence and defence; it is indeed a happy time to give you aid,\nand without excuse.\"\n\nAlas, how many things are to be observed in this reply! but to a good,\nintelligent man it is sufficient for it to be placed here, even as\nOvid puts it. He shows that \u00c6acus was affable when he described, in a\nlong speech to Cephalus, the history of the pestilence which destroyed\nhis people, and the restoration of the same, which he tells readily.\n\nIt is clear enough, then, that to this age four things are suitable,\nbecause the noble Nature reveals them in it, even as the Song says.\nAnd that the example given may be the more memorable, \u00c6acus says that\nhe was the father of Telamon and Peleus and of Phocus, from which\nTelamon sprang Ajax and from Peleus Achilles.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXVIII.\n\n\nFollowing the section which has been discussed, we have now to proceed\nto the last, that is, to that which begins, \"The fourth part of their\nlife Weds them again to God,\" by which the text intends to show what\nthe noble Soul does in the last age, that is, in Extreme Old Age, that\nis, Senility. And it says that it does two things: the one, that it\nreturns to God as to that port or haven whence it departed when it\nissued forth to enter into the sea of this life; the other is, that it\nblesses the voyage which it has made, because it has been upright,\nstraight, and good, and without the bitterness of storm and tempest.\n\nAnd here it is to be known that, even as Tullius says in that book On\nOld Age, the natural death is, as it were, a port or haven to us after\nour long voyage and a place of rest. And the Virtuous Man who dies\nthus is like the good mariner; for, as he approaches the port or\nhaven, he strikes his sails, and gently, with feeble steering, enters\nport. Even thus we ought to strike the sails of our worldly affairs,\nand turn to God with all our heart and mind, so that one may come into\nthat haven with all sweetness and all peace.\n\nAnd in this we have from our own proper nature great instruction in\ngentleness, for in such a death as this there is no pain nor\nbitterness, but even as a ripe apple easily and without violence\ndetaches itself from its branch, so our Soul without grief separates\nitself from the body wherein it has dwelt.\n\nAristotle, in his book On Youth and Old Age, says that the death which\novertakes us in old age is without sadness. And as to him who comes\nfrom a long journey, before he enters into the gate of his city, the\ncitizens thereof go forth to meet him, so do those citizens of the\nEternal Life go forth to meet the noble Soul; and they do thus because\nof his good works and acts of contemplation, which were of old\nrendered unto God and withdrawn from worldly affairs and thoughts.\nHear what Tullius says in the person of Cato the elder: \"It seems to\nme that already I see, and I uplift myself in the greatest desire to\nsee, your fathers, whom I loved, and not only those whom I knew\nmyself, but also those of whom I have heard spoken.\" In this age,\nthen, the noble Soul renders itself unto God, and awaits the end of\nthis life with much desire; and to itself it seems that it goes out\nfrom the Inn to return home to the Father's mansion; to itself it\nseems to have reached the end of a long journey and to have reached\nthe City; to itself it seems to have crossed the wide sea and returned\ninto the port. O, miserable men and vile, who run into this port with\nsails unfurled; and there where you should find rest, are broken by\nthe fury of the wind and wrecked in the harbour. Truly the Knight\nLancelot chose not to enter it with sails unfurled, nor our most noble\nItalian Guido da Montefeltro. These noble Spirits indeed furled the\nsails after the voyage of this World, whose cares were rendered to\nReligion in their long old age, when they had laid down each earthly\njoy and labour. And it is not possible to excuse any man because of\nthe bond of matrimony, which may hold him in his old age, from turning\nto Religion, even as he who adopts the habit of St. Benedict and St.\nAugustine and St. Francis and St. Dominic and the like mode of life,\nbut also it is possible to turn to a good and true Religion whilst\nremaining in the bonds of matrimony, for God asks of us no more than\nthe religious heart. And therefore St. Paul says to the Romans: \"For\nhe is not a Jew which is one outwardly; neither is that circumcision\nwhich is outward in the flesh. But he is a Jew which is one inwardly;\nand circumcision is that of the heart, in the spirit, and not in the\nletter; whose praise is not of men, but of God.\"\n\nAnd the Noble Soul in this age blesses likewise the time that is past,\nand it may well bless it; because when Memory turns back to them, the\nNoble Soul remembers her upright deeds, without which it were not\npossible for her to come to the port whither she is hastening with\nsuch wealth nor with such gain. And the Noble Soul does like the good\nmerchant, who, when he draws near to his port, examines his cargo, and\nsays: \"If I had not passed along such a highway as that, I should not\npossess this treasure, and I should not have wherewith to rejoice in\nmy city, to which I am approaching;\" and therefore he blesses the\nvoyage he has made.\n\nAnd that these two things are suitable to this age that great poet\nLucan represents to us in the second book of his Pharsalia, when he\nsays that Marcia returned to Cato, and entreated him that he would\ntake her back in his fourth and Extreme Old Age, by which Marcia the\nNoble Soul is meant, and we can thus depict the symbol of it in all\nTruth. Marcia was a virgin, and in that state typifies Adolescence;\nshe then espoused Cato, and in that state typifies Youth; she then\nbore sons, by whom are typified the Virtues which are becoming to\nyoung men, as previously described; and she departed from Cato and\nespoused Hortensius, by which it is typified that she quitted Youth\nand came to Old Age. She bore sons to this man also, by whom are\ntypified the Virtues which befit Old Age, as previously said.\nHortensius died, by which is typified the end of Old Age, and Marcia,\nmade a widow, by which widowhood is typified Extreme Old Age, returned\nin the early days of her widowhood to Cato, whereby is typified the\nNoble Soul turning to God in the beginning of Extreme Old Age. And\nwhat earthly man was more worthy to typify God than Cato? None, of a\ncertainty. And what does Marcia say to Cato? \"Whilst there was blood\nin me [that is to say, Youth], whilst the maternal power was in me\n[that is, Age, which is indeed the Mother of all other Virtues or\nPowers, as has been previously shown or proved], I,\" says Marcia,\n\"fulfilled all thy commandments [that is to say, that the Soul stood\nfirm in obedience to the Civil Laws].\" She says: \"And I took two\nhusbands,\" that is to say, I have been in two fruitful periods of\nlife. \"Now,\" says Marcia, \"that I am weary, and that I am void and\nempty, I return to thee, being no longer able to give happiness to the\nother husband;\" that is to say, that the Noble Soul, knowing well that\nit has no longer the power to produce, that is, feeling all its\nmembers to have grown feeble, turns to God, that is, to Him who has no\nneed of members of the body. And Marcia says, \"Give me the ancient\ncovenanted privileges of the beds; give me the name alone of the\nMarriage Tie;\" that is to say, the Noble Soul says to God, \"O my Lord,\ngive me now repose and rest;\" the Soul says, \"Give me at least\nwhatsoever I may have called Thine in a life so long.\" And Marcia\nsays, \"Two reasons move or urge me to say this; the one is, that they\nmay say of me, after I am dead, that I was the wife of Cato; the other\nis, that it may be said after me that thou didst not drive me away,\nbut didst espouse me heartily.\" By these two causes the Noble Soul is\nstirred and desires to depart from this life as the spouse of God, and\nwishes to show that God was gracious to the creature that He made. O\nunhappy and baseborn men! you who prefer to depart from this life\nunder the name of Hortensius rather than of Cato!\n\nFrom Cato's name a grace comes into the close of the discourse which\nit was fit to make touching the signs of Nobility; because in him\nNobility reveals them all, through all the ages of his life.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXIX.\n\n\nSince the Song has demonstrated those signs which in each age or\nperiod of life appear in the Noble Man, and by which it is possible to\nknow him, and without which he cannot be, even as the Sun cannot be\nwithout light or the fire without heat, the text cries aloud to the\nPeople in the concluding part of this treatise on Nobility, and it\nsays: \"How many are deceived!\" They are deceived who, because they are\nof ancient and famous lineage, and because they are descended of\nexcellent and Noble fathers, believe themselves to be Noble, yet have\nin themselves no Nobility. And here arise two questions, to which it\nis right to attend at the end of this treatise. It would be possible\nfor Manfredi da Vico, who but now is called Praetor and Prefect, to\nsay: \"Whatever I may be, I recall to mind and I represent my elders,\nwho deserved the Office of Prefecture because of their Nobility, and\nthey merited the honour of investiture at the coronation of the\nEmperor, and they merited the honour of receiving the Rose of Gold\nfrom the Roman Pontiff: I ought to receive from the People honour and\nreverence.\" And this is one question. The other is, that it would be\npossible for the scions of the families of San Nazzaro di Pavia and of\nthe Piscitelli of Naples to say: \"If Nobility is that which has been\ndescribed, that is, that it is Divine seed graciously cast into the\nhuman Soul, and the progeny, or offshoots, have, as is evident, no\nSoul, it would not be possible to term any of its progeny or offshoots\nNoble; but this is opposed to the opinion of those who assert that our\nrace is the most Noble in these cities.\"\n\nTo the first question Juvenal replies in the eighth Satire, when he\nbegins with exclaiming, as it were: \"What is the use of all these\nhonours and of this glory which remain from the past, except that they\nserve as a mantle or cloak to him who may wish to cover himself with\nthem, badly as he may live; except for him who talks of his ancestors,\nand points out their great and wonderful works, giving his own mind to\nmiserable and vile actions?\" And this satirical poet asks: \"Who will\ncall that man Noble, because of his good race, who is not worthy of\nhis race? It is no other than to call the Dwarf a Giant.\" Then\nafterwards he says to such an one as this: \"Between thee and the\nstatue erected in memory of thine ancestor there is no other\ndissimilarity except that its head is of marble and thine is alive.\"\nAnd in this (with reverence I say it) I disagree with the poet, for\nthe statue of marble or of wood or of metal, which has remained in\nmemory of some worthy brave man, differs much in effect from the\nwicked descendant: because the statue always confirms a good opinion\nin those who have heard of the good renown or fame of him whose statue\nit is, and it begets good opinion in others. But the wicked son or\nnephew does quite the contrary: he weakens the good opinion of those\nwho have heard of the goodness of his ancestors. For some one says to\nhimself in his thought: \"It cannot possibly be true, all this that has\nbeen said about this man's ancestors, since from their seed one sees\nan offshoot such as that.\" Wherefore he ought to receive not honour,\nbut dishonour, who bears false or evil witness against the good. And\ntherefore Tullius says that the son of the brave man ought to strive\nto bear good witness to the father. Wherefore, in my judgment, even as\nhe who defames an excellent man deserves to be shunned by all people\nand not listened to, even so the vile man descended from good\nancestors deserves to be banned by all; and the good man ought to\nclose his eyes in order not to see that infamous man casting infamy\nupon the goodness which remains in Memory alone. And let this suffice\nat present to the first question that was moved.\n\nTo the second question it is possible to reply that a race of itself\nhas no Soul; and indeed it is true that it is called Noble, but it is\nin a certain way. Wherefore it is to be known that every whole is\ncomposed of its parts, and there is a certain whole which has a simple\nessence in its parts, as in one man there is one essence in all and in\neach individual part; and this which is said to be in the part is said\nin the same way to be in the whole. There is another whole which has\nnot a common essential form or essence with the parts, as a heap of\ncorn; but there is a secondary essence which results from many grains,\nwhich possess in themselves a true and primary essence. And in such a\nwhole as this they are said to be the qualities of the parts in a\nsecondary way; wherefore it is called a white heap, because the grains\nwhereof the heap is made are white. Truly this white appearance is\nmore in the grains in the first place, and in the second place it\nresults in the whole heap, and thus secondarily it is possible to call\nit white; and in such a way it is possible to call a race Noble.\nWherefore it is to be known, that as in order to make a white heap the\nwhite grains must be most numerous, so to make a Noble race the Noble\nMen must be more numerous than the others, so that their goodness,\nwith its good fame or renown, may cover the opposite quality which is\nwithin. And as from a white heap of corn it would be possible to pick\nup the wheat grain by grain, and substitute, grain by grain, red\nmaize, till, finally, the whole heap or mass would change colour, so\nwould it be possible for the good men of the Noble race to die out one\nby one, and the wicked ones to spring up therein, who would so change\nthe name or fame thereof, that it would have to be called, not Noble,\nbut vile, or base.\n\nAnd let this be a sufficient answer to the second question.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX.\n\n\nAs it has been shown previously in the third chapter of this treatise,\nthis Song has three principal parts, whereof two have been reasoned or\nargued out, the first of which begins in the aforesaid chapter, and\nthe second in the sixteenth (so that the first through thirteen, and\nthe second through fourteen chapters, passes on to an end, without\ncounting the Proem of the treatise on the Song, which is comprised in\ntwo chapters), in this thirtieth and last chapter we must briefly\ndiscuss the third principal part, which was made as a refrain and as a\nspecies of ornament for this Song; and it begins: \"My Song, Against\nthe strayers.\"\n\nHere it is chiefly to be known that every good workman, at the end of\nhis work, ought to ennoble and embellish it as much as possible, that\nit may leave his hands so much the more precious, and more worthy of\nfame. And this I endeavour to do in this part, not as a good workman,\nbut as the follower of one.\n\nI say, then, \"My Song, Against the strayers.\" \"Against the strayers\"\nis a phrase, as, for example, from the good friar, Thomas of Aquinas,\nwho, to a book of his, which he wrote to the confusion of all those\nwho go astray from our Faith, gave the title \"Contra Gentili,\" Against\nthe Heathen. I say, then, that thou shalt go, which is as much as to\nsay: \"Thou art now perfect, and it is now time, not to stand still,\nbut to go forward, for thy enterprise is great. And 'when you reach\nOur Lady, hide not from her that your end Is labour that would lessen\nwrong.'\" Where it is to be observed that, as our Lord says, \"We ought\nnot to cast pearls before swine,\" because it is not to their\nadvantage, and it is injury to the pearls; and, as Aesop the poet says\nin the first fable, a little grain of corn is of far more worth to a\ncock than a pearl, and therefore he leaves the pearl and picks up the\ngrain of corn: reflecting on this, as a caution, I speak and give\ncommand to the Song that it reveal its high office where this Lady,\nthat is, where Philosophy, will be found. And that most noble Lady\nwill be found when her dwelling-place is found, that is, the Soul in\nwhich she finds her Inn. And this Philosophy dwells not in wise men\nalone, but likewise, as is proved above in another treatise, wherever\nthe love for her inhabits, she is there. \"And to such as these,\" I say\nto the Song, \"thou mayst reveal thine office, because to them the\npurpose thereof will be useful, and by them its thoughts will be\ngathered in.\"\n\nAnd I bid it say to this Lady, \"I travel ever talking of your Friend.\"\n\nNobility is her Friend. For so much does the one love the other, that\nNobility always seeks her, and Philosophy does not turn aside her most\nsweet glance to any other.\n\nO, what a great and beautiful ornament is this which is given to her\nin the last part of this Song, by giving to her the title of Friend,\nthe Friend of her whose own abode is in the most secret depths of the\nDivine Mind.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\n\n\nNOTE\n\nON THE DATE OF THE CONVITO\n\n\nIt is natural to suppose that Dante's death at Ravenna in 1321 caused\nthe Convito, a work of his latter years, to be left unfinished. But\nthere are arguments that have been especially dwelt upon by writers\nwho regard the Convito as a work begun before the conception of the\nDivine Comedy, and dropped when the Poet's mind became intent upon\nthat masterpiece.\n\nOne argument is that the Divine Comedy is nowhere mentioned or alluded\nto in the Convito. But as the place designed for the Convito is midway\nbetween the Vita Nuova, which preceded it, and the Divine Comedy,\nwhich was to follow, references to the poem which was not yet before\nthe reader would have been a fault in art.\n\nAnother argument is drawn from the fourteenth chapter of the Second\nTreatise, where (on page 84 in this volume) the shadow in the Moon is\nascribed to \"the rarity of its body, in which the rays of the Sun can\nfind no end wherefrom to strike back again as in the other parts.\" In\nthe second canto of the Purgatorio, Beatrice opposes that opinion,\nwhence it may be inferred that Dante had learnt better, and he speaks\nof this again in a later canto (the twenty-second) as a former\nopinion. This leads to an inference that the Second Treatise was\nwritten before 1300.\n\nAttention is due also to a passage in the third chapter of the First\nTreatise (on pages 16 and 17 in this volume), in which Dante speaks of\nhis long exile and poverty. The exile and the wanderings of Dante\nbegan after the year 1300. He was befriended by Guido da Polenta in\nRavenna, by Uguccione della Faggiola in Lucca, by Malaspina in the\nLunigiana, by Can Grande della Scala in Verona, by Bosone de'\nRaffaelli in Gubbio, by the Patriarch Pagano della Torre in Udine. In\n1311, when the Emperor Henry of Luxembourg went to Italy, Dante had\nsome hope of return, which passed away in 1313 when that Emperor died\nin Buonconvento. Dante remained in exile. In 1321 his patron, Guido\nNovello da Polenta, sent him on an embassy to Venice, in which he was\nunsuccessful. The sea way being blocked, he had to return by land, and\nhe was struck by the malaria which caused his death by fever on the\n14th of September in that year, 1321. This reference to long exile\nleads to an inference that the First Treatise was written much later\nthan 1300.\n\nBut, again, there is a passage in the third chapter of the Fourth\nTreatise (on page 171 of this volume) that points to an earlier date.\nFrederick of Suabia is named as the Emperor who\n\n                    held,\n      As far as he could see,\n    Descent of wealth, and generous ways,\n      To make Nobility.\n\nDante calls him \"the last Emperor of the Romans,\" and adds, \"I say\nlast with respect to the present time, notwithstanding that Rudolf,\nand Adolphus, and Albert were elected after his death and from his\ndescendants.\" This last of the Romans was that famous Frederick II.,\nwho died in 1250, and of whom Dante said in his Treatise on the\nLanguage of the People: \"The illustrious heroes, Frederick Caesar and\nhis son Manfredi, followed after elegance and scorned what was mean;\nso that all the best compositions of the time came out of their Court.\nThus, because their royal throne was in Sicily, all the poems of our\npredecessors in the Vulgar Tongue were called Sicilian.\" Rudolf I. of\nHapsburg, founder of the Imperial House of Austria, was elected\nEmperor in 1273, after a time of confusion and nominal rule. He died\nin 1291, and, instead of his son Albert, Adolphus of Nassau was next\nelected Emperor. But in June 1298 Albert obtained election; Adolphus\nwas deposed, and was soon afterwards killed in battle with his rival.\nAlbert was murdered on the 6th of May, 1308, and, after an interregnum\nof seven months, he was succeeded by Henry VII. of Luxembourg. Now,\nDante's list does not go on from Albert to Henry. It is assumed,\ntherefore, that this passage must have been written before the end of\nthe year 1308.\n\nThere is another passage at the close of chapter vi. of the Fourth\nTreatise (on page 186 in this volume) that points to a like inference\nof date. Dante writes: \"Ye enemies of God, look to your flanks, ye who\nhave seized the sceptres of the kingdoms of Italy. And I say to you,\nCharles, and to you, Frederick, Kings, and to you, ye other Princes\nand Tyrants, see who sits by the side of you in council.\" The Charles\nand Frederick here addressed were Charles II. of Anjou, King of\nNaples, and Frederick of Aragon, King of Sicily; and King Charles died\nin the year 1310.\n\nIt has been inferred, therefore, that the four treatises of the\nConvito were not written consecutively. The Second Treatise may have\nbeen begun some time after the death of Beatrice, in 1290, time being\nallowed after 1290 for the completion of the Vita Nuova and a period\nof devotion to philosophic studies. That Second Treatise having been\nfirst written, the Treatise on Nobility, the Fourth, may have next\nfollowed; and this may have been written before the end of the year\n1298. The Third Treatise may have been written later, and made to\nconnect the Second and the Fourth. The First Treatise, or General\nIntroduction, which has in it clear indication of a later date, may\nhave been written last, when the whole design was brought into shape.\nVarious reasons have been used for dating this final arrangement of\nthe plan for an Ethical survey of human knowledge in fifteen\ntreatises, and the suggested date is the year 1314. The whole work\nseems to have been planned. Besides the references to the Fifteenth\nTreatise, there is a glance forward to the matter of the Seventh\nTreatise in the twenty-sixth chapter of the Fourth.\n\nThe question of date is not of great importance, and this may console\nus though we know that it can never be settled. Here it is only\ntouched upon to show the significance of one or two historical\nallusions in the book.","title":"The Banquet (Il Convito)","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":83756}