The language of Paradiso is exceptional, in every sense of that word. There are words here that literally were never before used in a poem (or sometimes anywhere else, as far as we know), some simply transferred from one linguistic field to a new one, others made up by our poet. For Dante’s versification, his wide-ranging lexicon (e.g., Latinisms, dialectical speech, Gallicisms, neologisms), his rhymes, and his stylistic traits, see the admirably clear and complete summary produced by John A. Scott (pp. 261–80) in his helpful introduction to the study of Dante (Scot.2004.2).
(5) Politics in Paradiso.
In attempting to come to grips with Purgatorio, some readers experience difficulty because they take Dante’s views as being more “human” than they in fact are (e.g., the episode involving Matelda in Canto XXVIII may seem to some to valorize sensual love, while in fact it shows the need to transcend it). Others, dealing with Paradiso, make the mistake of considering the interests found in this cantica to be only “divine” (one oft-repeated view is that after we leave Purgatorio behind, the poem reveals no further interest in the political affairs of the world below—which is simply untrue). There is small need to insist on the political nature of so much of Dante’s interest in the first two canticles. (For a fairly recent bibliography, see Di Scipio [Disc.1983.1], p. 282, n. 1.) Paradiso, however, is frequently portrayed either as having left such worldly concerns behind or as, if they are seen as present, downplaying their importance. Such a view is countered by even casual attention to the text. The reader may want to consider Canto VI, in which Justinian narrates the history of the eagle of imperial Rome; Cantos XV–XVII, in the course of which Cacciaguida describes, in detail, the political life of Florence in the “good old days” and the city’s decline, as well as the future, political and personal, of its most famous exile, Dante Alighieri (see Davis [Davi.1968.1]); Canto XXVII (vv. 136–148), in which the poet offers the final political prophecy in the poem; and Canto XXX (vv. 133–148), where Beatrice shows Dante the vacant throne of the emperor Henry VII and savages the sitting pope (much to the dismay of some commentators, who think the poem should be more pacific at a point so near its vision of God). This is not to exhaust the passages showing a pronounced political concern in the final cantica, but does give a rapid sense of the importance of politics in it. Dante’s political views are less surprisingly found in Paradiso than one at first may think. From their very first presence in the poem (e.g., the prophecy of the veltro in Inf. I, Ciacco’s discussion of better times in Florence’s earlier history in Inf. VI), they are not mere political views, but reveal themselves as having a religious, even a providential, component.
Endword.
“This commentary, as demanding of our labor as it was of our publisher’s support, represents, published in these times, an act of faith in our schools and even more in the values found in our culture and in our history that some, shamefully and foolishly, attempt to make matters of debate. In order to preserve our humanity, we believe that it is indispensable to continue to practice philology, criticism, and literary history, that is, to make every effort to understand as precisely as possible the messages passed along to us by our common culture, which we in turn bear the responsibility of passing along to those to come. To be witnesses to and actors in a civilizational moment that reaches toward the future does not in any way deny the value of the past, the very source of our nourishment.” These words (here translated from the Italian), dated Easter 1978, were written by Umberto Bosco, coauthor (along with Giovanni Reggio) of, in the opinion of the author of these notes, one of the finest commentaries to Paradiso available. Bosco’s remarks, found on p. x of his Premessa, reflect the distress felt by many in Italy during one of the most difficult times of the postwar era, when Italian universities were besieged (often literally) by enemies, both external and internal, as the undersigned, a member of a commission of foreign scholars preparing a report on that situation, had opportunity to observe less than a year after Bosco wrote these words. A quarter of a century later, one hardly senses that the forces of civilization are winning the “culture wars” that seem almost embedded in university life and in the culture that lies outside the gates. On the other hand, one may take some comfort in the fact that Homer, Dante, Shakespeare, and other geniuses in the human arts, in whatever form they are appreciated, are still vital presences if only they are read or seen or heard. Whenever they cease their posthumous vitality, their extinction, like that of the dead canary in its cage within the confines of the coal mine, will tell those still breathing among us that it is time to get back to the surface or else, perhaps, to abandon hope.
Robert Hollander
Tortola, 21 January 2005
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The Paradiso: English
OUTLINE: PARADISO I
1–12
proem: looking back at the completed journey and the promise to narrate the rest of its course
13–36
invocation (fifth in the poem): the aid of “Apollo”
13–21
invocation proper
22–36
result of such inspiration; justification for it
37–60
the narrative begins: Dante still in earthly paradise
37–42
the constellation Aries
43–48
noon: Dante looking as Beatrice looks into the sun
49–54
simile: the sun in her eyes and reflecting rays
55–60
Dante can look directly at the sun
61–81
the ascent toward the Moon
61–63
rising, Dante seems to see a second sun above him
64–66
he looks back to see the stars reflected in her eyes
67–72
simile: Glaucus and Dante’s own “transhumanation”
73–75
the poet cannot say whether he ascended in body
76–81
reaching the sublunary ring of fire: son et lumière
82–141
Dante’s questions and Beatrice’s responses
82–93
the first question: where is he? and the response
94–99
the second: how can he pass through air and fire?
100–126
response: the upward inclination of all things
127–135
response: how things diverge from their true goal
136–141
response: but not Dante, now freed from sin
142
coda: Beatrice looks back up.
PARADISO I
The glory of Him who moves all things → →
pervades the universe and shines →
3
in one part more and in another less.
I was in that heaven which receives → → →
more of His light. He who comes down from there →
6
can neither know nor tell what he has seen,
for, drawing near to its desire, →
so deeply is our intellect immersed
9
that memory cannot follow after it. →
Nevertheless, as much of the holy kingdom → →
as I could store as treasure in my mind →
12
shall now become the subject of my song. →
O good Apollo, for this last labor → → →
make me a vessel worthy
15
of the gift of your belovèd laurel.
Up to this point, one peak of Mount Parnassus →
has been enough, but now I need them both
18
in order to confront the struggle that awaits. →
Enter my breast and breathe in me →
as when you drew out Marsyas, →
21
out from the sheathing of his limbs.
O holy Power, if you but lend me of yourself →
enough that I may show the merest shadow
24
of the blessèd kingdom stamped within my mind,
you shall find me at the foot of your belovèd tree, →
crowning myself with the very leaves
27
of which my theme and you will make me worthy.
So rarely, father, are they gathered →
to mark the triumph of a Caesar or a poet— →
30
fault and shame of human wishes—
that anyone’s even longing for them,
those leaves on the Peneian bough, should make
33
the joyous Delphic god give birth to joy.
Great fire leaps from the smallest spark. →
Perhaps, in my wake, prayer will be shaped →
36
with better words that Cyrrha may respond.
The lamp of the world rises on us mortals →
at different points. But, by the one that joins
39
four circles with three crossings, it comes forth
on a better course and in conjunction
with a better sign. Then it tempers and imprints
42
the wax of the world more to its own fashion.
Its rising near that point had brought out morning there
and evening here, and that hemisphere
45
was arrayed in light, this one in darkness,
when I saw that Beatrice had turned toward her left →
and now was staring at the sun—
48
never had eagle so fixed his gaze on it.
And, as a second ray will issue from the first →
and rise again up to its source,
51
even as a pilgrim longs to go back home,
so her gaze, pouring through my eyes
on my imagination, made itself my own, and I,
54
against our practice, set my eyes upon the sun.
Much that our powers here cannot sustain is there →
allowed by virtue of the nature of the place
57
created as the dwelling fit for man.
I could not bear it long, yet not so brief a time →
as not to see it sparking everywhere,
60
like liquid iron flowing from the fire.
Suddenly it seemed a day was added to that day, →
as if the One who has the power
63
had adorned the heavens with a second sun.
Beatrice had fixed her eyes →
upon the eternal wheels and I now fixed
66
my sight on her, withdrawing it from above.
As I gazed on her, I was changed within, →
as Glaucus was on tasting of the grass →
69
that made him consort of the gods in the sea.
To soar beyond the human cannot be described → →
in words. Let the example be enough to one
72
for whom grace holds this experience in store.
Whether I was there in that part only which you → →
created last is known to you alone, O Love who rule →
75
the heavens and drew me up there with your light. →
When the heavens you made eternal, →
wheeling in desire, caught my attention
78
with the harmony you temper and attune, →
then so much of the sky seemed set on fire →
by the flaming sun that neither rain nor river
81
ever fed a lake so vast.
The newness of the sound and the bright light →
lit in me such keen desire to know their cause
84
as I had never with such sharpness felt before.
And she, who knew me as I knew myself, →
to calm my agitated mind
87
before I even had begun to speak, parted her lips
and said: ‘You make yourself dull-witted →
with false notions, so that you cannot see
90
what you would understand, had you but cast them off.
‘You are not still on earth, as you believe. →
Indeed, lightning darting from its source
never sped as fast as you return to yours.’
If I was stripped of my earlier confusion →
by her brief and smiling words, →
96
I was the more entangled in new doubt →
and said: ‘I was content to be released →
from my amazement, but now I am amazed
99
that I can glide through these light bodies.’
Then she, having sighed with pity, →
bent her eyes on me with just that look
102
a mother casts on her delirious child,
and said: ‘All things created have an order → →
in themselves, and this begets the form
105
that lets the universe resemble God.
‘Here the higher creatures see the imprint →
of the eternal Worth, the end
108
for which that pattern was itself set forth.
‘In that order, all natures have their bent → →
according to their different destinies,
111
whether nearer to their source or farther from it.
‘They move, therefore, toward different harbors →
upon the vastness of the sea of being,
114
each imbued with an instinct that impels it on its course.
‘This instinct carries fire toward the moon,
this is the moving force in mortal hearts,
117
this binds the earth to earth and makes it one.
‘This bow impels not just created things →
that lack intelligence, but also those
120
that have both intellect and love.
‘Providence, which regulates all this, →
makes with its light forever calm the heaven
123
that contains the one that whirls with greatest speed,
‘and there now, as to a place appointed,
the power of that bowstring bears us,
126
aimed, as is all it shoots, at a joyful target.
‘It is true that as a work will often fail →
to correspond to its intended form, its matter
129
deaf and unresponsive to the craftsman’s plan,
‘so sometimes a creature, having the capacity
to swerve, will, thus impelled, head off another way,
132
in deviation from the better course
‘and, just as sometimes we see fire
falling from a cloud, just so the primal impulse,
135
diverted by false pleasure, turns toward earth.