Dante begins this Canto by asking the reader to join him in a series of astronomical visualizations so that the reader will have a vague idea of what Dante sees as he stands beneath the double crown of lights circling above he and Beatrice. Then the crowns stop spinning and Thomas Aquinas again speaks with Dante, this time to answer a second question Dante has had in mind since Canto 10. There, when Thomas had introduced the other souls/lights in his group, he noted that no one was wiser than Solomon. Thinking of the perfect wisdom of Jesus and of Adam, Dante was confused at this, and for the rest of this Canto Thomas explains what he meant when speaking of the great Hebrew King. Thomas ends with several warnings for Dante in the form of clever aphorisms.
(To read a footnote, click the number in the text. To come back from a footnote, click the up arrow at the note number.)
If you wish to visualize what I saw next, keep these images in your mind as I speak: imagine the fifteen brightest stars in the heavens, those whose brilliance can be seen even through the mist. Consider next the constant movement of the Big Dipper and everything else that moves across Heaven’s great vault. Think of the Horn, at the end of which is that great star around which the Primum Mobile rotates. Imagine all of these joined into a double constellation, not unlike Ariadne’s Crown, the rays from one crown shining into the other and both turning at different speeds, light with light moving.[1]The entire opening scene of this canto – 24 lines in the Italian – is not only the longest address to the reader in the entire Comedy, but also the longest single-sentence opening of a canto in … Continue reading
All this will give you but a glimpse of that luminous constellation of the two crowns encircling me, because what Heaven holds in store for us is more than we can imagine – just as the fastest-moving sphere there far exceeds the flow of our Chiana.[2]Dante ends the elaborate and imaginative introduction to this canto by telling us that it’s just a glimpse, l’ombra de la vera costellazione, “the shadow of the true constellation” that … Continue reading
Nor did the souls in that crown of light sing the praise of pagan gods, but of the Trinity, Three in One, they sang, and of One who is both God and man. And when their circling ended and the final note was sounded, those holy luminaries turned their attention to us, happy to move from that task to a new one.[3]Again, we are reminded that there is music in Heaven and that the souls here sing (and dance) in praise of the Trinity, and particularly the incarnate Son of God, Jesus. When the music comes to an … Continue reading
The momentary silence of those harmonious souls was broken by that light who told the lovely story of Francis, that poor man of God. He began: “One sheaf of holy wheat has been threshed and its grain collected. Now God’s love beckons me to thresh the other one. You were thinking that into Adam, from whom the rib was drawn that would become she whose palate would cost mankind so dearly, and that into Christ, pierced by the lance, who made satisfaction for all human guilt – that into both of these was poured the fullness of wisdom that could be given to a human by God who created them. And so you were surprised to hear me remark about Solomon, our fifth light, that no one possessed such wisdom as he. But open your eyes to what I will show you, and you will see that your thoughts and my words join together as a single truth.[4]The silence is broken by St. Thomas Aquinas from the first crown of lights. It was he who told the story of St. Francis and then identified the other lights making up that crown. Among them was King … Continue reading
“Now all that is mortal and immortal reflect the brilliance of the Son which the Father begets through His love. This Living Light – the Son of God, streams forth from the Father throughout creation, but is never separated from Him nor from the love of the Holy Spirit which unites the Three as One. This Light, of Itself, pours down through the spheres of the heavens and is reflected through the nine orders of angels, though It remains eternally One.[5]Knowing St. Thomas’s reputation for brilliance, we can expect that his reply to Dante’s questions is going to be very philosophical and theological. First, Aquinas states, all creation reflects … Continue reading
“As it descends through the order of created things, this Light gradually decreases so that it brings forth things that exist only briefly, either from seed or not, as determined by the movement of the heavens. It is as if the mold for these things is more or less receptive to do the shaping, and the shaping power is more or less capable – and so what is pressed into it comes out more or less clearly. Thus it is that trees of the same kind might produce diverse fruit – some better, some worse. And so mortals are born with different talents. If the mold was perfect, and if the power of the heavens was at its peak, the matter placed into the mold would be perfectly shaped. Unfortunately, Nature cannot transmit this creative light at its highest capacity, and so it is like a craftsman who knows well his craft – but has a trembling hand. But as it is, the Holy Spirit, the Son, and the Father, working together made the perfect seal, and what that one stamps is always perfect. Thus it is that the first human being was formed perfect from the dust and the second came forth that way from the Virgin’s womb. And so you are correct in thinking that human nature was perfected in these two only.[6]As the divine Light reaches the order of mortal creation – our world – it creates things that do not last forever. What is created is not immortal or eternal or perfect. Here, Aquinas gives Dante … Continue reading
“If, however, I were to stop here, you would be right to ask: ‘How can you say that Solomon here was without equal?’ But to help you make this clear, think for a moment who Solomon was and what he requested when God said to him: ‘Ask me for anything.’ You see, what I said to you originally was intended to remind you that he was a king, and as a king he asked God to give him wisdom so that he would rule wisely. He didn’t ask to know the number of the angels, or if, in logic, an absolute conclusion can be arrived at with conditional premises, or whether something can move without being moved itself, or whether a triangle can be constructed in a semicircle without a right angle.[7]Continuing with his discourse, Aquinas knows that Dante is still unsettled by his (Aquinas’s) claim that Solomon was without equal. To answer this, he directs Dante to the passage in 1 Kings 3:5 … Continue reading
“So, to return to my earlier point, when I spoke of perfect wisdom, what I had in mind was the kingly wisdom that would enable Solomon to govern prudently and justly. And if you recall that I used the phrase, ‘there has never been another one with such wisdom as his,’ you can see that I was speaking of kings – good ones in particular. Thus, if you understand what I said in the right sense, you will see that you are still correct in believing that only two humans were created perfect: Adam and Jesus.[8]Aquinas reiterates what he told Dante earlier, and if Dante has followed his thinking, he tells him, the Poet will see that they have both pursued the same truth. In terms of the Dante’s … Continue reading
“My advice to you is to move slowly regardless of whether you see the ‘yes’ or the ‘no’ of something right away, because only the fool is quick to affirm or deny without first considering both. It happens frequently that hasty opinions lead us in the wrong direction, and then our pride gets in the way and blinds our intellect. Imagine how foolish it is to sail off to fish for the truth unless you have the skill for it. It may happen that you return having caught nothing![9]At the end of a rather difficult canto, Aquinas basically warns Dante not to judge a book by its cover. Most likely what Dante is doing is warning himself, and his words of advice here are simple and … Continue reading History is filled with examples of this: consider Parmenides, Bryson, Melissus and others who set out not knowing their destination clearly.[10]Dante most likely read Aristotle’s Organon, where he refutes these three philosophers. Parmenides taught that everything comes from and returns to the sun. Bryson spent his time trying to square … Continue reading Add to these Sabellus and Arius and the rest of the fools who misread Holy Scripture and distorted the truth there like images seen on the shiny curve of a sword.[11]Sabellus (d. 265) and Arius (d. 336) were third- and fourth- century heretics, both of whom were condemned for their unorthodox teachings about the Trinity. Sabellus denied that there were three … Continue reading Don’t be so quick to trust your judgment like those who calculate their harvest before the corn is ripe. At length, a beautiful rose will grow from a rough, thorny briar. Moreover, I have seen a ship that sailed quickly along its course on the open sea – only to sink when it entered the harbor! Finally, do not believe everyone who sees one steal and another give alms. They do not see with God’s eyes; for in the end the one may be saved and the other condemned!”[12]Aquinas (did he have a sense of humor?) ends his long discourse with four witty aphorisms that make sense in just about any context. The overall message: don’t judge by appearances. Corn harvest: … Continue reading
Notes & Commentary
| ↑1 | The entire opening scene of this canto – 24 lines in the Italian – is not only the longest address to the reader in the entire Comedy, but also the longest single-sentence opening of a canto in the entire Poem! The subject of this entire astronomical spectacle is the double crown of lights, made up of twenty-four souls of the wise, that rotates slowly above Dante and Beatrice. Having heard Sts. Thomas Aquinas and Bonaventure tell stories of the founders of each other’s Religious Orders and then introduce each of the lights in their respective crowns, Dante acts as a cosmic architect, taking his time to draw the Reader into a flight of imagination in which he takes twenty-four of the brightest stars in various constellations and creates the two crowns with them. First, the Poet asks us to visualize the 15 brightest stars in the heavens (the northern hemisphere). Then we move to the Big Dipper (in earlier times called the Wain or Wagon). This is part of the constellation Ursa Major (the Big Bear), made up of its long tail (the handle of the dipper) and lower back and upper hind quarters (making the cup). And, finally, we are to imagine the Little Dipper (apparently also known as the Horn), part of the constellation of Ursa Minor (Little Bear), at the end of whose long tail is Polaris, the North Star. Long before telescopes and photography, it was observed that virtually all the stars in the northern hemisphere seem to rotate around Polaris. This star, then, is the axis on which the Primum Mobile rotates. Imagine how far across the universe Dante stretches to create for us an image of what he was seeing above himself. We need 24 stars for the double crown, so we start with the 15 brightest stars, then we take the seven stars of the Big Dipper, and then two stars from the Little Dipper. Here’s how we get these two stars. First, think of the two Dippers as almost identical. There’s the long handle and then the cup. In the Little Dipper, then, the Horn is conceived this way: the end of the tail is the mouthpiece of the horn or trumpet, and the two stars at the far end of the cup are the bell or mouth of the horn. These two stars are named Beta and Gamma. Thus, imagine the whole of the Little Dipper as a kind of horn with the mouthpiece as the end of the tail, and the bell as the far end of the cup. With these two, then, we have our 24 stars: two crowns of 12 each. Now, then, we are asked to consider the two crowns of light above Dante and Beatrice as a double constellation, their “stars” shining on each other as each constellation rotates in the opposite direction. Dante tells us it is like Ariadne’s crown, also known as the Corona Borealis, or the Northern Crown. This small constellation is shaped like a single semi-circle, though, not two circles, one above the other. Mythically, it gets its name from Ariadne, the daughter of King Minos of Crete, whose brother was the Minotaur (see Inferno Canto 12 and notes). After she helped her lover, Theseus, kill the Minotaur, they eloped. But he soon abandoned her on the island of Naxos. Seeing her thus, the god Bacchus (Dionysius), fell in love with her and, at their later wedding, gave her a lovely crown. When Ariadne died, he threw the crown into the heavens and there it became the constellation known as Ariadne’s Crown. |
|---|---|
| ↑2 | Dante ends the elaborate and imaginative introduction to this canto by telling us that it’s just a glimpse, l’ombra de la vera costellazione, “the shadow of the true constellation” that circled above his head. Why just a glimpse? Heaven holds more than we can imagine – as he’s learning. Here in this Sphere of the Sun where Wisdom is celebrated, the Poet most likely has in mind the words of St. Paul in 1 Corinthians 2:7,9: “We speak God’s wisdom, mysterious, hidden, which He predetermined before the ages for our glory….But as it is written: ‘…eye has not seen, and ear has not heard, nor has it entered the human heart, what God has prepared for those who love Him.’” And then a final comparison: to explain the brilliance and glory of this new “constellation” he is seeing here is like comparing the fastest sphere in the cosmos (the Primum Mobile) to the sluggish Chiana River, that flowed through Tuscany and ended in a swamp. |
| ↑3 | Again, we are reminded that there is music in Heaven and that the souls here sing (and dance) in praise of the Trinity, and particularly the incarnate Son of God, Jesus. When the music comes to an end, the crowns stop circling, and the souls/lights gladly turn their entire attention to Dante and Beatrice. In his commentary here, Robert Hollander writes: “This whole section has the characteristics of being an example of Dante’s primary task as an artist, to mediate between the divine and the human. God’s immediate creation is gradually revealing itself to him, and he is putting it into art that we can understand, even if it is not precisely as His, but an approximation.” |
| ↑4 | The silence is broken by St. Thomas Aquinas from the first crown of lights. It was he who told the story of St. Francis and then identified the other lights making up that crown. Among them was King Solomon, who was famous for his wisdom. To quote Aquinas, he told Dante in Canto 10: “The fifth light – the most beautiful among us….Within that flame is such a lofty mind, in all truth there has never been another one with such wisdom as his.” And in Canto 11, he repeated his claim: “there has never been another one with such wisdom.” Aquinas, who could read Dante’s mind, knew that these statements immediately raised questions in the Poet’s mind. What about Adam? What about Jesus? Why Solomon, whose failings were as famous as his wisdom? A first question about those members of the Dominican Order who remained faithful to their rule has already been answered. That was the first “sheaf of holy wheat.” So, now he comes back to thresh the second sheaf, about Solomon, telling Dante that they’re both after the same truth, but coming from different perspectives. |
| ↑5 | Knowing St. Thomas’s reputation for brilliance, we can expect that his reply to Dante’s questions is going to be very philosophical and theological. First, Aquinas states, all creation reflects the glory/brilliance of God. This concept is amplified in St. Paul’s Letter to the Colossians (1:16): “In him [Christ] were created all things in heaven and on earth, the visible and the invisible, whether thrones or dominions or principalities or powers; all things were created through him and for him.” Note that he refers to four of the nine Orders of Angels. Then we also have the opening line of St. John’s Gospel: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” The Word, of course, is the Son of God, Christ, the second Person of the Trinity. It is this Word (Logos in Greek) by which God (the Father) speaks all of creation into being. Furthermore, this Word (the Son) is never separated from the Father because they are bound together as One by the Love of the Holy Spirit. Finally, as we were reminded in Canto 2, the Light of God streams down from the Empyrean through the spheres of the cosmos, and is reflected by the various orders of Angels who guide those spheres, infusing them with the creative power of this Light. One might say that, in spite of the “distance” this Light travels, it never dissipates but retains its power and unity. |
| ↑6 | As the divine Light reaches the order of mortal creation – our world – it creates things that do not last forever. What is created is not immortal or eternal or perfect. Here, Aquinas gives Dante a few examples, telling him that created things can only come close to or approximate perfection. This is because the “mold” itself, out of which created things come, is itself not quite perfect. Among trees, for example, there is always diversity, and not all the fruit of a particular tree is perfect. Humans, likewise, are vastly diverse in so many ways. In the end, Nature itself is simply not capable of reflecting the creative light at its full power. Rather, it’s like a fine artist who may know all about painting, but his hand trembles. “Even so,” writes Charles Singleton here, “the image is a daring one, for Nature is, after all, God’s agent in this process!” But, to answer Dante’s question directly, Aquinas, going back to the image of a mold, tells him that the Trinity, working together, as it were, did, in fact, make the perfect mold, and what comes out of it is always perfect. Furthermore, it has only been used twice. Once when Adam was formed as a perfect human out of the dust of the earth, and once when Jesus, in his human nature, was created in his mother’s womb. Thus, Dante is correct that in their human nature both Adam and Jesus were created perfectly. And with their perfect intellects, they outshine Solomon. |
| ↑7 | Continuing with his discourse, Aquinas knows that Dante is still unsettled by his (Aquinas’s) claim that Solomon was without equal. To answer this, he directs Dante to the passage in 1 Kings 3:5 where God tells Solomon: “Whatever you ask I shall give you.” God replies in verse 12: “I give you a heart so wise and discerning that there has never been anyone like you until now, nor after you will there be anyone to equal you.” Now, it might seem like splitting hairs, but Aquinas reminds Dante that Solomon was a king, and that he asked for the wisdom to rule wisely as a king. He refers Dante to Scripture as the final authority. Then he finishes by giving four examples of issues that were hotly debated in the Middle Ages, but are really impossible to answer. (1) Is it possible to number the angels? No. Arriving at an answer would be beyond our comprehension. (2) Can a syllogism have an absolute premise, a contingent premise, and arrive at an absolute conclusion? No. Example: Absolute premise: All bachelors are unmarried. Contingent premise: John is a bachelor. Absolute conclusion: John is unmarried. (3) Can something be moved without being moved itself? Generally, no. The question goes back to Aristotle, who answered by proposing that there needs to be a first mover. (4) Can a triangle be constructed in a semicircle without a right angle? No. According to Thales’s Theorem, if a triangle is inscribed in a semicircle with one side as the diameter, then the angle opposite the diameter is always a right angle. |
| ↑8 | Aquinas reiterates what he told Dante earlier, and if Dante has followed his thinking, he tells him, the Poet will see that they have both pursued the same truth. In terms of the Dante’s “…understand[ing] what I said in the right sense,” John Ciardi offers a good insight here: “It is not their [the Saints’] words that lack clarity but Dante’s understanding that lacks vision. Their very use of language, for that matter, is a concession to Dante, akin to their willingness to manifest themselves to him, not as they ultimately are, but in the closest approximation that Dante can grasp. Since their knowledge is a direct ray from God, their understanding is reflected from one to the other, through God, with no need of words.” Of course, not everyone agrees that it was apparent that Aquinas was talking about Solomon’s kingly wisdom. As Aquinas walks Dante toward the solution to his problem with Solomon in this canto, we need to remember that Aquinas has the First Book of Kings (3:9) in mind where, at God’s prompting, Solomon asks: “Give your servant, therefore, a listening heart to judge your people and to distinguish between good and evil. For who is able to give judgment for this vast people of yours?” And God responds: “I now do as you request. I give you a heart so wise and discerning that there has never been anyone like you until now, nor after you will there be anyone to equal you.” We also need to remember that it was three cantos back where Dante’s problem began. Summoning a bit of patience, for a moment, we read there (10:112ff): “…entro v’è l’alta mente u’ sì profondo / saver fu messo, che, se ‘l vero è vero, / a veder tanto non surse il secondo.” Basically: “…within there [the first crown] is the lofty mind in which was placed such profound knowledge that, if the truth is true, a second did not arise to see so much.” Interestingly, Robert Hollander, in his commentary here tells us: “If one examines the commentaries to Paradiso 10:114, hardly anyone before the twentieth century thinks that the reference is to Solomon as king.” Benvenuto da Imola, however, seems to be the first among the early commentators to be direct about this issue. In 1375, he writes: “…quia scilicet non habuit parem, intelligas inter reges,” “…because, of course, he had no equal, you understand, among kings.” Hollander continues: “But this may be said of few others before 1900 (20th-century readers of Paradiso 10 nearly all do look ahead to this passage [13:106ff]). In fact, the biblical text that lies behind both passages (III Kings 3:12) does not qualify Solomon’s excellence by reference to a “peer group,” i.e., that text represents him as the wisest among all humans, not only kings.” Always a fascinating problem, Hollander notes the fact that readers “look ahead.” Perhaps he should have said, “…nearly all have read this far and then look back.” A “virginal reader” wouldn’t know to look ahead. But once he/she got here, they would certainly look back because that’s what Aquinas tells Dante to do. In the end, we’re left with some engaging questions: Did Aquinas really make it clear, in this canto, that he was speaking about Solomon’s wisdom as a king? The context of the scriptural passages clearly has Solomon requesting wisdom as a king so that he can govern wisely. While Aquinas seems to presume that the “truth” of Scripture answers Dante’s question, does it? In the same place as above, Hollander remarks quite candidly: “Thus we once again have a sense that the text of Paradiso, in comparison with its predecessors, was left in a relatively unfinished condition at Dante’s death; he could have handled the issue better when he introduced it.” |
| ↑9 | At the end of a rather difficult canto, Aquinas basically warns Dante not to judge a book by its cover. Most likely what Dante is doing is warning himself, and his words of advice here are simple and sound. Don’t be the fool who makes snap judgments. A thoughtless rush to conclusion often ends in failure. Consider the issue from both sides, keep your pride in check, make sure you have both skill and humility when you set out to find the truth. In the Italian, Aquinas actually tells Dante to put on leaden shoes that will force him to move slowly. |
| ↑10 | Dante most likely read Aristotle’s Organon, where he refutes these three philosophers. Parmenides taught that everything comes from and returns to the sun. Bryson spent his time trying to square the circle. And Melissus, a disciple of Parmenides, taught that there is no movement in the universe, just the appearance of it. |
| ↑11 | Sabellus (d. 265) and Arius (d. 336) were third- and fourth- century heretics, both of whom were condemned for their unorthodox teachings about the Trinity. Sabellus denied that there were three persons in the Trinity, and that the Son and Holy Spirit were different manifestations of God the Father. Arius taught that Christ was subordinate to the Father, but not consubstantial (sharing the same divine nature) with Him. This dispute with orthodox Christian theology lasted for many years and was finally settled at the Council of Nicea in 325. |
| ↑12 | Aquinas (did he have a sense of humor?) ends his long discourse with four witty aphorisms that make sense in just about any context. The overall message: don’t judge by appearances. Corn harvest: nowadays, fortunes are made and lost in worldwide markets doing exactly what it warns against. Roses: again, nowadays we have many varieties of roses that have no thorns. Sinking ship: Dante has used the sea voyage image several times in the Commedia. Apart from the general warning to expect the unexpected, he may be thinking about himself and his ability to finish what he started. In later cantos he will confide in the reader that he’s almost reached the limit of his abilities. On the other hand, think of Ulysses’s final voyage in Inferno 26. For all the wild adventure of it and the sheer feat of it, at the last minute it killed him and all his crew. In the following canto, one is also reminded of the sad end of Guido da Montefeltro (Inf. 27). Late in life, he changed his warlike way of life and became a monk. But he’s in Hell for what he did after he became a monk. As for the thief and the almsgiver: we just don’t know the mind of God. Once again, don’t judge by appearances. |