by Dante
Dante disposes of this “scientific” account of the miracle recorded in three Gospels on truly experimental grounds. If it were true, then the resulting eclipse would have been only partial. And so we are forced to follow Jerome, whose miraculous “self-eclipse” of the Sun indeed was visible in all the world, and not merely in the area around Jerusalem. [return to English / Italian]
103–108. This picture of religious ceremony in the Florence of Dante’s day has its kinship with that found in the series of (often hilarious) representations of preaching found in the Decameron. All over the city, in parish after parish, all through the year, the leaders of the flock trade in “wind,” notions that are clearly estranged from truth. Such intellectual vagrancy, however, does not excuse the individual sheep, who should realize that what they listen to so avidly has nothing to do with the Bible or with the fundamental truths of their religion. In other words, they are not innocent because they are stupid. [return to English / Italian]
103. Daniello (comm. to this verse) was the first glossator to identify the source of the nickname Lapo as Jacopo. That Bindo derived from Ildebrando was first noted by Fanfani (in his Vocabulary of Tuscan Usage), according to Andreoli (comm. to this verse). [return to English / Italian]
105. Dante’s verb gridare tells all one needs to know about the quality of mind that lies behind these “shouted” sermons. [return to English / Italian]
106–114. For a sermon of St. Bernard that may be reflected in this passage, see Payton (Payt.1995.1), pp. 448–49. [return to English / Italian]
109. Christ’s first “congregation” was comprised of the apostles. [return to English / Italian]
111. The foundation of Jesus’ teaching, as in Mark 16:15. [return to English / Italian]
112–114. Some think that the phrase “le sue guance” (lit. “cheeks” [a choice forced by rhyme?] understood as metonymic for “lips”) refers to the lips of Jesus rather than to those of the apostles. In choosing the latter, we follow Bosco/Reggio (comm. to this tercet) and the large majority of the commentators. However, the estimable Francesco da Buti (comm. to vv. 109–117) begins the tradition of treating the utterances as coming from Christ’s mouth, and has had a narrow but fairly distinguished band of adherents (Landino, Costa, Tommaseo, Andreoli, etc.). [return to English / Italian]
117. The cappuccio (cowl) worn by friars balloons figuratively with their pride. Literally, a large and well-tailored cowl was the sign of wealth of the Order and/or importance of an individual. Bosco/Reggio (comm. to vv. 115–117) point out that the only other cappuccio found in this poem is worn by the hypocrites in Malebolge, Inferno XXIII.61. They are attired in leaden costume that mimics the garb of Cluniac monks. [return to English / Italian]
118. Bosco/Reggio (comm. to this verse) point out that Satan was often, in medieval iconography, represented as a black crow (in contrast to the white dove that represented the Holy Spirit) and that Dante has spoken (Inf. XXXIV.47) of Lucifer as an uccello (bird). [return to English / Italian]
121–123. Believing in the truthfulness of pardons (and pardoners) is the height of credulity. It is hard to blame the trickster when his victims almost insist on being gulled. [return to English / Italian]
124–126. See Tozer’s gloss on this tercet: “ ‘[O]n this (credulity) St. Antony fattens his pig.’ The hog which appears in pictures at the feet of St. Antony, the Egyptian hermit [ca. 250–355], represents the demon of sensuality which he conquered. In the middle ages the swine of the monks of St. Antony were allowed to feed in the streets of cities, and were fed by devout persons (Jameson, Sacred and Legendary Art, pp. 750, 751); this is what Dante refers to.” The obvious reversal in the values of the Antonines, who became the representatives of the vice that their founder had conquered, is apparent. [return to English / Italian]
126. The friars of Antony’s order are “repaying” the contributions of their foolish flocks with counterfeit coin: meaningless pieces of paper on which is written their forgiven sins. [return to English / Italian]
127–129. Beatrice concludes her tirade with an ironic verbal gesture, making it a mere digression. Now let us return, she says, to the true way, the path chosen by the loyal angels, a subject turned aside from in verse 94 for her savage attack upon friars, difficult to accept as a mere digression. [return to English / Italian]
130–132. The numbers of the angels increases the higher they are found. Dante’s coinage, the verb ingradarsi, is found in slightly altered form (digradarsi) in Paradiso XXX.125. In both cases it seems to have the meaning “to increase step-by-step.” Thus, the higher the eyes of an observer mount, the more angels they are able to take in. And that number is beyond both human vocabulary and mortal conception. [return to English / Italian]
133–135. Discussing this passage, Ledda (Ledd.2002.1), pp. 297–98, points out that Daniel’s numeration of the angels (Daniel 7:10, “a thousand thousands served him, and ten thousand times one hundred thousand stood before him” [according to the Vulgate]), while incalculable for most human beings, was probably a finite number in Dante’s opinion. Similarly, the wording of verse 135, “a particular number lies concealed” (determinato numero si cela), would clearly seem to indicate a very large but determinable number. Most commentators think the poet is saying something quite different, namely that the number of angels cannot be represented by any finite number. However, Dante’s sense for mathematics may be more sophisticated than that of his commentators; apparently he knows the distinction between “numberless” (i.e., beyond counting because of limited human capacity) and “infinite,” a concept of which he knew at least from the extended discussion in Aristotle’s Physics (III.iv–viii).
Behind this passage, according to Mellone (Mell.1974.1), pp. 210–11, there lies a dispute between “Aristotelians” (who propose a limited number of angels) and the Bible (e.g., Daniel 7:10, Apocalypse 5:11). However, see Thomas Aquinas (ST I, q. 112, a. 4), as cited by Bosco/Reggio (comm. to verse 135): “The multitude of the angels transcends any material multitude.” It is clear what position Dante does not share, that of the “Aristotelians,” who argue for a strictly limited number (as few as sixty). However, whether he believes that the angels are infinite or numbered is not entirely clear, although verse 135 may be more specific than it is generally understood as being. Aversano (Aver.2000.2), p. 148, supports the second opinion, citing Gregory’s gloss on Job 25:3 from the Moralia: “And if the number of angels is finite to the eye of God [Dante’s ‘particular number’?], in the human view it is infinite [Dante’s ‘lies concealed’?]” (PL LXXV.542). [return to English / Italian]
136–141. God’s brilliance irradiates the angelic nature in such ways that it is received by these creatures (splendori because they reflect the divine light [for Dante’s “light physics” see the note to Par. XXIII.82–84]) variously, each in accord with its capacity to absorb and return God’s love. [return to English / Italian]
142–145. Seemingly infinite in its application, God’s love for the highest creatures that He made nonetheless still issues from the single entity that made them. [return to English / Italian]
PARADISO XXX
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1–3. Tozer’s paraphrase (comm. to verse 1) of this complex tercet runs as follows: “The dawn, instead of being mentioned by name, is here described, by an elaborate periphrasis, as the time when it is about midday 6,000 miles off from us on the earth’s surface. This calculation is arrived at in the following manner. Seven hours are approximately the period of time which the sun takes to pass over 6,000 miles of the earth’s surface; for, according to the computation of Alfraganus (cap. VIII), which Dante accepted (Conv. III.v.11—see Toynbee, Dict., p. 522, s.v. “Terra”), the entire circumference of the earth was 20,400 miles, and consequently the amount of that circumference corresponding to seven hours out of the complete revolution of twenty-four hours was 5,950 miles (20,400 x 7/24 = 5,950), or in round numbers 6,000 miles. Hence, when Dante says that the sixth hour is 6,000 miles distan
t from us, he means that with us it is seven hours before noon, or an hour before sunrise, the sun being regarded as rising at 6 a.m. The word Forse intimates that the calculation is made in round numbers.” For an analysis of the entire opening passage (vv. 1–15), see Salsano (Sals.1974.1), pp. 215–24. [return to English / Italian]
1. Aversano (Aver.2000.2), p. 149, points out that this is the only time the much-used adverb (sixty-seven occurrences) forse (“perhaps,” but here “about,” as Aversano advises) is employed to begin either a verse or a canto. [return to English / Italian]
2. Strictly speaking, the “sixth hour” is 11 to noon (see Par. XXVI.141–142), but here it represents noon itself, six hours after dawn (ideally considered 6 a.m., whenever it actually occurs). [return to English / Italian]
3. The phrase letto piano (level bed) refers to the moment when the sun’s midpoint is in the plane of the horizon. Grandgent (comm. to vv. 1–3): “The sun is below our horizon on one side, and the earth’s conical shadow, projected into space, is correspondingly above our horizon on the other. As the sun rises, the shadow sinks; and when the middle of the sun shall be on the horizon line, the apex of the shadow will be on the same plane in the opposite quarter.” [return to English / Italian]
4–6. For mezzo as “center of the sky,” in the sense of zenith, see Salsano (Sals.1974.1), pp. 222–24, and Chiavacci Leonardi (Chia.1997.1), pp. 825–26. For centuries this was the standard gloss. That is, commentators believed that Dante was referring to the midpoint of the Starry Sphere, directly overhead. Porena (comm. to vv. 1–6 [= “Nota finale” to this canto]) sharply objected. How can the sky directly above an observer be the first part of the heavens seen growing lighter at the approach of dawn, when obviously the eastern horizon is? He goes on to cite a text that, he says, explains this verse perfectly, Convivio III.ix.11–12, where Dante discusses the obscuring qualities of the earth’s atmosphere itself. Most of the commentators who follow Porena accept his explanation (a few even crediting him). See, for example, Bellomo (Bell.1996.1), pp. 52–53. At least three aspects of Porena’s argument are, however, problematic: (1) Dante does not say that the predawn sky grows lighter first at its zenith, only that it does so, and does so very gradually; (2) his description seems to imply invariable phenomena (i.e., celestial events that happen in the same manner every night at its juncture with dawn), while atmospheric hindrances are variable; (3) the relationship between this and the following terzina is such that the process initiated in this one is completed in that, which would at least imply a continuous movement in these celestial “candles” becoming dimmer and finally being snuffed out. In short, it seems unwise to jettison the old reading for Porena’s. [return to English / Italian]
4. For Dante’s cielo … profondo it has been traditional (at least since the time of Lombardi [comm. to vv. 1–6]) to cite Virgil, Georgics IV.222, caelumque profundum. [return to English / Italian]
7–8. The traditional understanding, of uninterrupted currency until the last decade of the nineteenth century, is that the “brightest handmaid of the Sun” is Aurora, who announces the arrival of her lord at sunrise. Scartazzini (comm. to verse 7), however (if without changing that interpretation), reminds us that Dante refers to the hours of the day as ancelle [del giorno] (Purg. XII.81, XXII.118). That bit of lore about the personified hours (which hardly dispatches the traditional literary association of Aurora as the handmaid of the Sun indirectly referred to at Purg. IX.2, with its presentation of the brightening predawn sky) remained offstage until Poletto (comm. to vv. 1–15 [of course not mentioning Scartazzini]) casually refers to it as his only comment on this verse. He was joined by Mattalia (comm. to verse 7 [of course not mentioning either Scartazzini or Poletto]), who was the first commentator to insist that the first hour of the day is the particular brightness referred to. However, several considerations cast serious doubt on this solution: (1) It would be strange for Dante to have referred to the first hour of the day as its brightest, since most would doubtless consider noon to be that; (2) the passage refers to a gradual process (like that of the aurora of the Sun), while the passing of even a single minute when the Sun is rising is marked by a dramatic change indeed; (3) it is difficult once the Sun rises to see any stars at all, much less to watch a gradual extinguishing process across the eastern half of the heavens. Perhaps it was such considerations that governed the continuing response among the commentators, all of whom represented in the DDP remain wedded to the traditional gloss, Aurora. However, inexplicably (if tentatively), Chiavacci Leonardi (Chia.1997.1), p. 826, cites and accepts Mattalia’s interpretation. For the proposal of a totally new understanding, see Leuker (Leuk.2004.1), who claims that the “handmaid” is Venus as morning star. He does not find it problematic that Venus will be referred to in verse 9, believing, rather, that both these periphrases refer to her. [return to English / Italian]
9. The traditional understanding, which has no need of revaluation, is that the brightest and most beautiful light in the predawn sky is Venus as morning star. [return to English / Italian]
10–15. The lengthy and elaborate simile now presents its second term: As the light of the stars in the dawn sky yields to the increasing brilliance of the Sun, so the nine angelic orders, whirling around God, extinguish their glow. The result is that their self-effacement encourages him to yield to his desire, which is to look at Beatrice. [return to English / Italian]
11. See Contini (Cont.1968.1), p. 1018, for recognition of the self-citation here. The line contains a fairly obvious revisitation, in the phrase “al punto che mi vinse” (around the point that overcame me), of Francesca’s description of the punto in the Lancelot romance that aroused her and Paolo (Inf. V.132): “ma solo un punto fu quel che ci vinse” (still, it was a single instant overcame us [italics added]). It is perhaps only the oppositional nature of this punto, not a “point” in a text describing sexual arousal, but God, the Point of the universe, that had kept the close resemblance in phrasing apparently unobserved for so many centuries. For other notice, see Hollander (Holl.1983.1), pp. 139–40, Dronke (Dron.1989.1), p. 32 (both without reference to any precursor), and De Robertis (Dero.1990.1), p. 141 (citing Contini). And see Hollander (Holl.1993.5), pp. 7–8, acknowledging Contini, if belatedly. See also Stierle (Stie.2002.2), pp. 407–8, who mentions no precursor. And see the note to Paradiso XXIX.9. [return to English / Italian]
12. The circles of angels seem to surround God; in fact He “contains” them (and all else). [return to English / Italian]
16–18. The poet, seeing Beatrice at the edge of eternity, as it were, begins his valedictory remarks by insisting that all his preceding praise together would not do to fulfill the need he feels to express her beauty. [return to English / Italian]
17. The word loda (praise) has a “technical” overtone. As recorded in Vita nuova, Dante began to grow toward comprehending the meaning of Beatrice when he turned from poems about the pain his loving her had caused him to those in praise of her (see VN XVIII.9). [return to English / Italian]
18. For the Latinism vice (here translated “that which is due”), the commentators are torn among several possibilities. Perhaps the most popular is the usage found in the Latin phrase explere vicem, meaning “to fulfill one’s duties,” probably the most likely sense of the word here. But see Scartazzini (comm. to this verse) for the majority opinion (which he does not share) that it means volta with the sense of “time” or “occasion.” Several add “place” to the possibilities, and there are still other options. Singleton (comm. to this verse) cites the other use of vice (at Par. XXVII.17), where it is paired with officio (duty), to argue that it therefore cannot mean that here; but see Scartazzini (comm. to Par. XXVII.17–18), who deals with vice as there being the “duty” of silence incumbent on the rest of the spirits while St. Peter fulfills his duty, which is to hold forth against papal turpitude, the two words sharing a sense approaching that of synonyms.
Scott (Scot.1977.2), p. 163, comments on the extraordinary incid
ence of Latinisms in this canto, which he puts at fifty. [return to English / Italian]
19–21. Dante will see Beatrice once more, after she resumes her seat in the Rose (from which she arose once, on 24 March 1300 [also Maundy Thursday according to Dante’s Idealized Earth Time], in order to draw Virgil forth from Limbo; and then again, around noon the following Wednesday, in order to descend to the earthly paradise for her reunion with Dante). This, however, is his last attempt to describe her beauty, which has been increasing from his second description of it (in the heaven of the Moon, Par. IV.139–142) every time he sees her anew until now. That this “program” has come to its end is clear from the seven tercets (vv. 16–36) devoted to a final description of her increased beauty, which offer a kind of history (esp. vv. 28–33) of that beauty’s effect on Dante.
