Dante now sees the whole of Heaven open itself to his sight like a great white rose. The saints, seated in their ranks, are attended by countless angels who, like bees among flowers, continually bring them the love of God from the center of that immense amphitheater. Those countless angels never obscure Dante’s view of the saints, and he can see the farthest regions of Heaven as though they were right in front of him. He compares his awe at such a sight to that of the barbarians who were stunned by the majesty of Rome, and like a pilgrim who has reached his destination, he wonders who he will be able to describe such sights when he returns home.
Knowing that Beatrice will help him make sense of what he sees, Dante turns aside to question her but discovers that she has been replaced by the venerable St. Bernard. The Saint reveals that Beatrice asked him to lead Dante to the end of his journey, and shows him where his beloved guide is seated near the very top of Heaven. In a loving prayer of thanksgiving, Dante tells Beatrice that he now understands fully the significance of his journey and the importance of her guidance that has brought him from slavery to freedom. And for the last time he sees her smile at him in recognition.
St. Bernard then urges Dante to let his eyes roam over the entirety of Heaven until he sees the very top, where a light more brilliant than the rising sun reflects the love of God into the faces of all the saints. Filled with loving devotion, both Dante and St. Bernard look into this splendid light.
(To read a footnote, click the number in the text. To come back from a footnote, click the up arrow at the note number.)
There within that White Rose I saw before me the great legion of saints whom Christ wedded with His own sacred blood.[1]With this opening sentence, Dante immediately takes up where the previous canto ended. The wedding image is a common biblical theme – often symbolizing the marriage of God and Israel or Christ and … Continue reading And soaring above them, singing to the glory of God who fills them with love,[2]In the Italian, these words, “Singing to the glory of God who fills them with love,” are the same words at the opening of the opening of the Paradiso in Canto 1. was that legion of angels who, like a swarm of bees, descended upon the saints seated among the Rose’s fragrant petals. Then they returned to the source of all Love for but a moment, and once again flew back among the souls carrying the love of God into that glorious Rose. Those angels’ faces were like living flames, their bodies whiter than any snow, and their wings were of purest gold. As they flew like bees from tier to tier within that immense Rose, they spread everywhere among the seated saints the peace and love their wings had gathered at the Font of Love Itself. Amazingly, that countless host of busy angels never obscured the vision of all those saints whose sight was fixed constantly on the glorious Light of God above them. In this everlastingly joyful kingdom, teeming with saints old and new, seeing that Light was their single goal.[3]Here, Dante gives the Reader a more detailed description of what he beheld as he stood in Heaven’s arena. First of all, we must recall from the previous canto that the arena’s size is beyond all … Continue reading
O sacred threefold Light which in one beam shines upon them all, fill them with Your joy and remember us in this tempest of life! If the barbarians, who came from those northern regions spanned by the Dipper’s constellation, were so astonished by Rome and her great monuments – like the Lateran Basilica, imagine me in wondrous amazement arriving here in Heaven – a mortal at a place divine, from unruly Florence to such a wholesome people! I tell you, between my awe and my joy, I was content neither to hear nor to speak![4]Dante is overwhelmed at what he sees. His prayer to the Trinity encompasses the full breadth of Heaven and the material world in which we live and struggle.There is a certain comedic effect here with … Continue reading
I was like a pilgrim now, contented and filled with joy as I looked around the temple I had vowed to visit, and wondering how I would be able to describe it when I returned home. And so I simply let my eyes go wandering, now up, now down, now all through that living light filled with rank on rank of blessed saints. Their happy faces were filled with joy in that light, and their smiles and gestures were matched with dignity and grace.[5]As Dante uses the image of a contented pilgrim for himself, we must recall that, as an exile, he has used this image for the entire journey of the Comedy. Now, he approaches the end of his journey, … Continue reading
By now, I had a general idea of the plan of Paradise, though I hadn’t yet concentrated on any one part of it. So, with eager curiosity to know more, I turned around to ask Beatrice to explain things which were still unclear to me. But, expecting to see her standing there, I was surprised to see, instead, a distinguished elder dressed in the robes of all those saints I had just been looking at. Everything about his appearance and demeanor radiated the joy of the blessed saints and the tender kindness of a loving father.[6]Having made a general survey of the vast Rose, Dante, as he usually does, turns to Beatrice for answers to his questions. But…. We can’t read this passage without recalling that deeply-moving … Continue reading
“But where is she?” I asked in astonishment. And gently he replied: “Your Beatrice came to me and requested that I leave my place and guide you to the fulfillment of this great journey of yours. If you turn now and look toward the highest level of our Heaven you will see her enthroned there as she deserves in the third row from the top.”[7]We do not know the identity of Dante’s third guide, but he tells the Poet that Beatrice asked him to be his escort through to the end of his journey. And, obviously reading Dante’s mind, he … Continue reading
In silent wonder, I turned and looked upward where I saw her seated there in the glory of that eternal light. The distance between us was like that between sky and the bottom of the sea, but it made no difference here, for I saw her as though she were standing right before me.[8]Note again an attempt to gage the extent of the vast dimensions of the Rose arena. And at the same time, he uses his new powers of sight to see Beatrice, virtually at the top, as clearly as though … Continue reading
“O blessèd lady, strength of all my hope, who deigned once to enter Hell itself in order to save me from eternal death, now at last I understand the full effect of everything I have seen on my journey which you ordained. By every means within your power – every step of the way – you led me from slavery into freedom. Keep alive within me always the flame of your generous spirit, so that when my soul – which you have healed – leaves my mortal body, it may be pleasing to you in this place forever.” Thus I prayed, and as I did, though she seemed so far away, she looked down and smiled at me one more time. Then she turned her lovely face to look once more into that Fountain of Eternal Light.[9]Though we are not at the end of the Poem yet, this passage could easily stand as a “beginning of the ending.” It has been Beatrice, from beginning to end, who has energized this Poem, and this … Continue reading
And now the saintly elder spoke to me once again: “I have been commissioned by prayer and holy love to see that this great pilgrimage of yours reaches its destined conclusion. But first, let your eyes soar upward through every part of this garden of souls, so that what you take in will prepare you for the Divine Vision that awaits you. The Queen of Heaven, for whom love’s flame burns within me, she will give us every grace we need because I am her devoted servant, Bernard.”[10]There are three parts to this passage: 1) the elder’s commission, 2) the preparatory scan of the “heavenly garden,” and 3) the identity of the elder, Dante’s third and final guide.This … Continue reading
As a pilgrim might come from somewhere like Croatia to look upon our Veronica, which he has longed to see, and now cannot look upon it long enough; and while he sees it there before him, his soul speaks in prayer: “O my Lord Jesus Christ, truly God, is this really what your face looked like?” – just so did I, staring at the holy monk, and seeing the love which, while he lived on earth, enabled him to taste the peace of this heavenly realm.[11]In this long simile, Dante, who was captivated by the beauty of Beatrice when she appeared atop the Earthly Paradise, is now captivated by the loving face of St. Bernard. He likens himself to a … Continue reading
Amused at my hesitation, he spoke again. “My dear child of grace,” he said, “how do you expect to fathom the glories of this place if you keep your eyes fixed down here on me? Look up into this holy congregation to the very highest level until you see her, our beloved Queen, to whom this entire realm is happily subject.”[12]Once again, tongue in cheek, Dante injects a bit of humor as St. Bernard pulls the Pilgrim back from his tendency to miss what is in front of him. In a sense, Dante’s deepest desire to see the very … Continue reading
And so I lifted up my eyes, and with them climbed to the highest point of that great gathering of blessed souls. As the eastern horizon at sunrise is far brighter than the western one, I saw up there a radiance of light that outshone everything else. As in our sky, where we would expect to see the sun – once pulled awry by Phaeton’s reckless chariot – there in those awesome heights that brilliant oriflame of peace outshone everything else. And all around that magnificent light I saw the outstretched wings of countless festal angels, each one unique in splendor and in power.[13]With an interesting image – his climbing eyes – Dante follows St. Bernard’s direction and sets his sight on the very highest part of the Rose arena where Mary, the Mother of Jesus, sits. The … Continue reading
There, smiling happily at the angels’ jubilation, I saw with my own eyes a loveliness that reflected its own bliss into the eyes of all those blessed saints. Even if my words were as rich as my memory of that splendid sight, I would never attempt to describe even the smallest portion of such blissful beauty. And my holy guide, Bernard, seeing how my gaze was fixed with such devotion upon the object of his own holy fervor, turned to her with such love in his blessed eyes that mine became even more fervent in their gaze.[14]Dante ends this canto as both he and St. Bernard gaze with great love and devotion upon the heavenly beauty of the Virgin Mary’s face. She reflects to all the angels and saints the splendor of the … Continue reading
Notes & Commentary
| ↑1 | With this opening sentence, Dante immediately takes up where the previous canto ended. The wedding image is a common biblical theme – often symbolizing the marriage of God and Israel or Christ and the Church. In this image, all those in Heaven are symbolically wedded to Christ by virtue of the shedding of his blood when he was crucified, thus effecting our salvation. The word “legion” here reminds us of Dante’s imagery of a heavenly “army” made up of the angels as one group, and the Saints as the other. In theology, the Saints in Heaven are often referred to as the Church Triumphant. |
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| ↑2 | In the Italian, these words, “Singing to the glory of God who fills them with love,” are the same words at the opening of the opening of the Paradiso in Canto 1. |
| ↑3 | Here, Dante gives the Reader a more detailed description of what he beheld as he stood in Heaven’s arena. First of all, we must recall from the previous canto that the arena’s size is beyond all imagining. And after bathing his face in the river of light, his sight is so enhanced that he can see all of it, near and far, perfectly. Our modern imagination tends to picture an arena with orderly rows of seats laid out in ever ascending tiers so that everyone has a view of what is at the center of the structure. As noted previously, Dante undoubtedly saw the Coliseum in Rome and the Arena in Verona. Describing this celestial arena as a Rose requires a bit more imagination. First, it is a “white” rose, a symbol of purity and sanctity. We don’t want to take Dante’s image literally, but his “Rose” more likely resembles a wild rose whose shape tends to be open-faced than the more tightly structured rose shape we are probably more used to seeing. “Seating” on a wild rose might be more orderly in terms of circular tiers than a typically cultivated rose. As always, even in Heaven, the rose is a symbol of love. Some commentators suggest that the idea of this “rose” came from the rose window in the Basilica of San Zeno in Verona, not far from where Dante lived during the latter years of his exile. If we recall the river of light in the previous canto, we saw great fiery sparks flying out of it into the lovely flowers crowded along its banks. We later learned that these were angels who “pollinate” the flowers (Saints) with the love and grace of God, and then fly back into the river to be replenished. Now, these angels are described as legions of bees that fly out from God, the “Hive” and Font of Love, and swarm among the seated Saints, filling them with that Love. This goes on for eternity as the Saints feast on the Light of God face-to-face. In spite of this angelic swarm, they are diaphanous and Dante’s sight of all the Saints is not impeded by them, nor is the direct sight of God by the Saints – a privilege Dante himself does not yet have. At the same time, we are reminded once again that the Light of God shines everywhere in the universe and illuminates all things, including the souls, to their capacity to receive it. The white, red, and gold colors are often associated in Heaven, especially in art. Readers who want a precise location when imagining this part of the canto sometimes ask where, exactly, is God in this amphitheatrical spectacle. Judging from the text and context, a best guess is likely that He is not at the center on the floor of the arena. Rather, since the sight of the Saints seems to be unlimited and the arena is of immense proportions, God is probably in the center, but just above the whole structure so that the Saints’ faces are slightly upturned, and the angel-bees fly up and down from the Hive to the garden. |
| ↑4 | Dante is overwhelmed at what he sees. His prayer to the Trinity encompasses the full breadth of Heaven and the material world in which we live and struggle. There is a certain comedic effect here with his mention of barbarians coming to Rome. One might think of the many barbarian invasions of the city in the past, but, given the context, it’s more an image of a bumpkin from the hinterlands who wanders among the great monuments of the city, jaws agape in astonishment at sights he or she has never imagined. Dante claims to be that person and, as it were, he “signs” his claim twice: (1) “…me in wondrous amazement…,” and (2) “…a mortal at a place divine….” And he humbly amplifies the latter by admitting that he’s from “unruly Florence.” In the end, as has happened several times before this, awe and joy have overcome him and he’s left happily speechless. Once again Dante lets an astronomical allusion speak for him. Here it refers to the barbarians who come from “those northern regions spanned by the Dipper’s constellation.” What he refers to here are the constellations of the Dippers (Ursa Major, the Big Dipper, and Ursa Minor, the Little Dipper). According to mythology, Helice had a son, Arcas, by Jupiter. Juno, his jealous wife, had them changed into bears, but to protect them Jupiter placed them in the heavens as the constellations we know. But, as recorded by Ovid in his Metamorphoses (2:401-507), the still-aggrieved Juno insisted that they should never touch the sea and thus pollute it. And so in the northern hemisphere near the North Pole (Polaris), they are visible all night long. Ronald Martinez, in his commentary here, notes that this visibility at night all year long “originally defined ‘barbarian,’ that is the non-Latin-speaking, northern regions.” And thus Dante’s use of the term here. The reference to the Lateran Basilica (generally known as St. John Lateran) is intended to stand in for all the grand monuments in Rome which would amaze the “barbarian” traveler. A basilica was originally a large Roman building used for public gatherings and business. The word was later Christianized and used to indicate churches that were specially designated as basilicas by the papacy because of their antiquity, importance, or association with major Saints. This magnificent basilica is located in Rome about a mile east of the Coliseum. The original site was a palace belonging to the Laterani family in the early days of the Empire. A member of the family who was a senator was involved in a plot against the Emperor Nero. He was executed and the property was confiscated and turned into an imperial palace. Early in the second century, when the Emperor Constantine legalized Christianity (313AD), he gave the Lateran Palace to Pope Sylvester I and it became the official papal residence until the fourteenth century. A new basilica was built and consecrated in 324AD. This was the first of the four papal basilicas in Rome. For the next thousand years it was the center of Christianity. Though St. Peter’s later became the official papal residence and the principal church of Roman Catholicism, the Basilica of St. John Lateran is still the official “cathedral” of Rome and the Pope is its bishop. In Dante’s time the Lateran Palace was the residence of the Pope, and as part of an embassy from Florence just before he was exiled, he would have seen both the Basilica and the Lateran Palace, at the time occupied by his nemesis, Pope Boniface VIII. |
| ↑5 | As Dante uses the image of a contented pilgrim for himself, we must recall that, as an exile, he has used this image for the entire journey of the Comedy. Now, he approaches the end of his journey, and stunned, like a “barbarian,” by the magnificence of his destination, he simply lets his enhanced eyes do the walking (and talking) for him as he surveys the amazing Rose arena and all its happy-faced citizens. Recall the first faces he saw when he and Beatrice arrived at the Moon. There, they were just shadows, as it were. Now, he sees the blessèd much more clearly (individual faces and smiles). Note well the sense of “presence” in the triple repeat of the word “now.” His experience (and ours) is immediate and unmediated in the “now present,” not the “now past.” Right from the first line of the Poem, “In the middle of this journey of our life,” he has included us, and ever since, we have traveled with him down to the abyss of Hell, climbed with him to the summit of the Earthly Paradise in Purgatory, and risen with him into the heavenly realms of Paradise. John Ciardi, in his commentary here, offers us this reflection: “It was a custom of the pious, as thanks for an answered prayer, to win forgiveness of sins, or as a testimony of faith, to vow a journey to a stated shrine or temple. Such pilgrimages were often dangerous. Travel was rare in the Middle Ages, and the pilgrim returned from far shrines was much sought after for the hopefully miraculous, and in any case rare, news he brought back. How could Dante, having traveled to the Infinite Summit, fail to think ahead to the way he would speak his vision to mankind?” In Dante’s time, the three most important pilgrimage destinations were the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in Jerusalem, St. Peter’s in Rome, and St. James of Compostella in northern Spain. It should be noted that, having reached their destination, the pilgrims returned home to recount all the amazing things they had seen along the way. Charles Singleton, in his commentary here, finishes this thought: “Dante the wayfarer at this high terminal point, projects, by clear implication, his ‘return home’ – and his Poem is the telling of it all to those ‘back home.’ In short, the poem here, at the end, is using the pilgrim image so as to point to a return to earth which must necessarily be that of the living man who then writes the Poem.” |
| ↑6 | Having made a general survey of the vast Rose, Dante, as he usually does, turns to Beatrice for answers to his questions. But…. We can’t read this passage without recalling that deeply-moving moment in Canto 30 of the Purgatorio when Virgil disappeared as Beatrice appeared. Here, it is Beatrice who disappears and is replaced by a venerable and elder Saint. However, as we will see, reading on, this scene doesn’t carry the heavy overtones of tragedy that the earlier one did. For now, we let Dante the Poet lead the way. |
| ↑7 | We do not know the identity of Dante’s third guide, but he tells the Poet that Beatrice asked him to be his escort through to the end of his journey. And, obviously reading Dante’s mind, he answers his question by pointing out where he can see her in her celestial seat. |
| ↑8 | Note again an attempt to gage the extent of the vast dimensions of the Rose arena. And at the same time, he uses his new powers of sight to see Beatrice, virtually at the top, as clearly as though she was right next to him. In other words, from the sky (which goes on forever) to the bottom of the ocean. |
| ↑9 | Though we are not at the end of the Poem yet, this passage could easily stand as a “beginning of the ending.” It has been Beatrice, from beginning to end, who has energized this Poem, and this deep tribute is a final salute to the power of her presence throughout. Dante was a slave to sin and error when she appeared to Virgil in Canto 2 of the Inferno. And as she noted at the end Canto 30 of the Purgatorio, he had fallen to such depths that there was no other way to save him from Hell but to have him see the damned for himself. But she has led him to such healing and freedom that he stands here now at the center of heaven before all the angels and saints. He prays that she will help him maintain this freedom so that when he dies, he may be as pleasing to her here as she is to him at this final moment. As a parting gift, she turns away from the Beatific Vision for a moment and smiles at him one last time. How far we’ve come from the opening of Canto 21, where she warned him that if she smiled at him he would burn to ashes instantly. In his commentary here, Mark Musa offers this reflection: “The Pilgrim’s final words to Beatrice are words of tribute and of thanks in which is found a brief summary of her role in the Commedia, starting with Inferno Canto 2. It is interesting to note that Dante shifts his form of address from the formal voi to the familiar tu when addressing Beatrice at this point. This change is surprising, and must be seen in the light of Beatrice’s change of status or role in the narrative of the Poem: she is no longer the Pilgrim’s guide, no longer playing her allegorical role. She is, once more, the Poet’s beloved, and he sees her here for the last time as the blessèd soul of a real person, the lady he loved in the earthly realm.” After she smiles at Dante from her heavenly throne, Beatrice turns her gaze back to the Beatific Vision, as though to remind Dante and us that she is not the final goal of this journey. It is God. Her return to the Divine Vision is a signal, as it were, that Dante will soon do the same. |
| ↑10 | There are three parts to this passage: 1) the elder’s commission, 2) the preparatory scan of the “heavenly garden,” and 3) the identity of the elder, Dante’s third and final guide. This saintly elder repeats for Dante’s benefit (and ours) the commission from Beatrice he noted above. While his purpose is to guide Dante to the fulfillment of his journey, this commission is now amplified because it is the result of sacred love and holy prayer. This will soon be plainly evident. Note that this new guide has Dante carefully scan every part of the Rose arena, which he calls a heavenly garden of souls. This will prepare him to see what all the Saints see – the Beatific Vision. At this point, Dante only sees that Vision reflected. The sacred love and holy prayer will empower him to see it directly as do all the Saints he sees around him. From another perspective the “garden” image here at the top of Heaven is reminiscent of the garden of the Earthly Paradise atop the Mountain of Purgatory. The Earthly Paradise was intended to be a material preparation for the heavenly one, a glorious temporary habitation for humankind, a step away, as it were, from our eternal home. Tragically, the original sin of Eve and Adam turned that “step away” to Paradise into an impassable abyss and a life marred by struggle and ending with death. Indeed, the serpent’s irony became the chief human problem: “Your eyes will be opened and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” While we may know the difference, the choices we make have been the subject of this entire Poem! Finally, we discover that Dante’s third and final guide in the Poem is the famous St. Bernard of Clairvaux (pronounced “clair-voh”). His reference to the Virgin Mary (the highest and most exalted of all the Saints in Heaven) stands to reason because, almost from the beginning, Christians, especially Roman Catholics venerate her as the mother of Jesus, the Son of God; and in her role as a mother, she is often held up as an intercessor to Him on our behalf. As St. Bernard is probably the most famous Christian spiritual writer on the Blessed Virgin, Dante the Poet more than likely chose him to fill this role as an important intercessor to the chief intercessor on Dante the Pilgrim’s behalf. And we will see in the remainder of the Poem how this plays out. (By the way, Roman Catholics do not worship the Virgin Mary. But we do venerate and hold her in high esteem as the mother of Jesus. At the same time, Christians, in general, are always free to direct their intercessions and prayers to God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, and any Saint in Heaven.) About St. Bernard there is much that can be said. He was born into a noble family in Burgundy in 1091. After studying in Paris, he joined the Benedictine Order in 1113. After the reform of the Order (a stricter Rule, etc.) Bernard was sent by Abbot of his monastery to help start new monastic houses with the same strict Rule – more than sixty of them. Already famous in his lifetime as a builder of monastic communities, a diplomat, a theologian, an eloquent preacher, and spiritual writer, he is also noted for preaching the Second Crusade which was announced by Pope Eugene III in 1144, and led by King Louis VII of France and Conrad III, the Holy Roman Emperor. This Crusade was a disastrous failure, during which Dante’s great-great-grandfather, Cacciaguida (see Paradiso 15-17), was knighted by Conrad and later killed in battle in 1147. Six years later, on August 2, 1153, Bernard died. Dante was familiar with the writings of St. Bernard, and just as Beatrice symbolizes Divine Revelation, Bernard is the allegorical representative of Contemplation. Recall how Virgil represented human Reason as far as it could go, and how he was supplanted as a guide when Beatrice (symbolizing Revelation) appeared. At this point in the Poem, Revelation leads to the final Contemplation of God and the Beatific Vision. As we will see, Bernard, the famous contemplative and acclaimed spiritual writer about the Virgin Mary, who is said to have had a mystical vision of God, will, as Dante’s final guide, pray to her that she ask her Son, Jesus, to grant the Poet the same vision. He prays thus, not as a learned theologian, but as an affectionate and loving devotee. Bosco and Reggio note this in their commentary here: “Affection outweighs theology…. Affection is, in the end, the dominant note of every human relation to Mary: even in the Eighth Heaven the blessed reach upward with their flames toward her as she ascends – ‘so that the lofty love they bore to Mary / was made manifest to me’ (Paradiso XXIII 125-126).” Dorothy Sayers, in her commentary here, notes that St. Bernard called Mary “‘the sinners’ ladder,’ whose top, like the ladder which the patriarch Jacob saw, touched the heavens, and even passed through them until it reached the well of living waters which are above the heavens.” And here is a fascinating note by Robert Hollander in his commentary here: “Bosco and Reggio, in their commentary, point out that by portraying Bernard as an old man, Dante is violating a commonly understood ground rule of the Paradiso, that all souls are, in their perfected beings, of the age of Christ in His last year on earth, when he was thirty-three. (This is sometimes given as thirty, thirty-three, thirty-four, or even thirty-five.) Why Dante chose to violate this ‘rule’ is not clear. Bosco/Reggio opt for an artist’s rebellion against a view that would inhibit his artistic virtuosity, an old Bernard being more believable than one in his renewed youth.” |
| ↑11 | In this long simile, Dante, who was captivated by the beauty of Beatrice when she appeared atop the Earthly Paradise, is now captivated by the loving face of St. Bernard. He likens himself to a pilgrim from Croatia who has come to Rome to see what is known as Veronica’s Veil. Like the earlier reference to the Basilica of St. John Lateran, which symbolized all the great historical monuments in Rome, Dante’s reference here to Croatia represents a far away place. Earlier the reference was to “barbarians” coming to Rome, and now it is “pilgrims.” The story of Veronica’s Veil is not in the Four Gospels, but dates back to the early fourth century and is part of the Catholic lenten devotion known as The Stations of the Cross. It tells of Jesus who, on His way to be crucified, was stopped by a devout woman who wiped His blood-stained and sweaty face with her veil. On that cloth an image of Jesus’ face was miraculously imprinted, and it has been venerated by Christians ever since. It’s quite possible that Dante saw this relic when he was in Rome. It has been in Rome since the 8th century and is presently housed in a shrine within St. Peter’s Basilica and displayed for the faithful once a year. In modern times, there is some controversy over this famous relic, and it is uncertain that the woman’s name was Veronica since the name itself is a compound of two Latin and Greek words (vera eikon) meaning “true image.” In Dante’s time the veil in Rome was an important pilgrimage destination, and it’s authenticity was unquestioned. In his Vita Nuova (XL:1) he writes: “Many people go to see that blessed image which Jesus Christ left to us as the likeness of His most beautiful countenance.” It should be noted that there is actually another veil housed in the Basilica Shrine of the Holy Face in Manopello, Italy (about 20 miles west of Pescara), and always on vew. It is claimed by those who believe this to be the true image that it was stolen from St. Peter’s during its rebuilding in the early 16th century. But what is important here, as Ronald Martinez notes in his commentary, is that in this canto “Dante imagines first a barbarian in Rome, then a pilgrim in the temple of his vow, and last the relic itself with Christ’s image – each stage closer to the ultimate sight ‘face to face.’” Seeing the face on the veil, Dante notes that the pilgrim cannot resist asking what anyone would ask: “Is this what You really looked like?” And so the earthly pilgrimage to see the true image of Christ here becomes an image of the soul’s (Dante’s) pilgrimage to the heavenly Rome to see the Beatific Vision. And this brings him back to the face of St. Bernard, who himself was reputed to have had a foretaste of Heaven in a mystical vision, and who now has the vision of God in real, forever. Bosco and Reggio offer an important note here: “Some object that it is improper to liken the emotion of seeing Bernard’s face to that of beholding Christ’s. But the comparison is not between two faces; it is between two desires – both long-cherished and scarcely believable in their fulfillment.” |
| ↑12 | Once again, tongue in cheek, Dante injects a bit of humor as St. Bernard pulls the Pilgrim back from his tendency to miss what is in front of him. In a sense, Dante’s deepest desire to see the very depths of Heaven, from the beginning of the Paradiso, cannot be sustained by himself alone. Even poetically. As we have seen, he has frequently needed the assistance of Beatrice or other souls to help him grasp the fullness of what is before him at the time. Here, the venerable St. Bernard, calling him a “son of grace, points Dante’s sight to the very highest level of the Rose arena where he will see the Virgin Mary, Heaven’s Queen. Remember, it was Mary who first set Dante’s salvation – and the Poem – in motion in Canto 2 of the Inferno. |
| ↑13 | With an interesting image – his climbing eyes – Dante follows St. Bernard’s direction and sets his sight on the very highest part of the Rose arena where Mary, the Mother of Jesus, sits. The reference to Phaeton recalls his long and exciting story in Ovid’s Metamorphoses (I:750–779, II:1-328). Too briefly, he convinced his unwilling father, the sun god Helios, to let him drive the chariot of the sun. Unable to control it, he was killed by Zeus before the sun would have burned the earth. The Reader will recall the gorgeous sunrise at the opening of the Purgatorio. This sun here (the Virgin Mary) outshines the sun itself. Her brilliance is compared to an oriflame, the royal banner of the kingdom of France. The word means “golden flame,” and the banner itself has a golden sun and rays on it (see the Art section for this canto). All around this festive scene, apart from the Saints, are the angels. And there’s an interesting concept hidden here. Dante tells us that each angel is unique in splendor and in power. What he is actually reminding us of is that each angel is a separate species unto itself. This was already discussed in greater detail in the commentary at the end of Canto 29. It’s another wonderful part of the mystery of God to consider not only that they are countless, but each has a specific identity and purpose. Returning to Phaeton for a moment, I sometimes think of Dante, the Poet of the Divine Comedy, as a kind of Phaeton in just a few respects. Like Phaeton, his undertaking was grand and cosmic; some may have said ill-advised. Though the Poem didn’t end in disaster for Dante, like the fiery chariot it leaves a trail of light behind it (the Milky Way) that will last longer than us – already 700 years on. Phaeton’s epitaph reads: “Here Phaeton lies, who with the sun god fared. Though greatly he failed, more greatly he dared.” Dante hasn’t failed, but how greatly has he dared! |
| ↑14 | Dante ends this canto as both he and St. Bernard gaze with great love and devotion upon the heavenly beauty of the Virgin Mary’s face. She reflects to all the angels and saints the splendor of the Godhead she looks upon – such a splendor he could never dare to put into words. There is a tremendous reverence conveyed by what he tells us here. Even if he had the power to describe what he saw, out of respect he wouldn’t do it. In this case, not unsimilar to what he’s expressed before, he is happily defeated by what he sees. Bosco and Reggio close their commentary here with these words: “The canto closes in a fusion of lights – the ardor of Bernard kindling Dante’s own – preparing the soul for the supreme contemplation that follows.” |