Authors: Dante
64–66.
For Virgil’s Elysian Fields as the model for this passage, see Gmelin (Gmel.1957.1), p. 52 (his note to
Paradiso
XXXI.7). For the view that this passage may, in its own right, be a veiled first presentation of that text, see Hollander (Holl.1976.2), p. 240 (repr. Holl.1980.1, p. 38). In the
Aeneid
(VI.703–709), the protagonist is looking at the souls of the blessed, those happy inhabitants of the Elysian Fields. (At least they probably seem happy to us when first we see them; but see the note to
Par.
XXXI.7–12 for Aeneas’s eventual view.) In simile, they are compared to bees nestling in flowers. To Dante, not one to leave a fine poetic moment only as fine as he found it, the “bees” are the angels, while the blessed are the “flowers.” This becomes clearer in the next canto (see the note to
Par.
XXXI.7–12), as several commentators testify. Yet it is nonetheless true, once we see the allusion, that we can carry it back with us to this passage. And then we may begin to understand that, for all the apparent discarding of Virgil that sets the last
cantica
apart from the first two, the Latin poet is rewarded by his greatest medieval admirer with a new life in the conclusion of his poem. See Hollander (Holl.1983.1), p. 140; Rossi (Ross.1981.1), pp. 55–58; Rossi (Ross.1989.2), pp. 306–7; and Hollander (Holl.1993.5), pp. 17–19, making the additional point (p. 18) that the reference thus makes this reference, along with that in verse 49 to Saul, reverse the negative version of the protagonist’s typology (
Inf.
II.32). Where before, at least in the protagonist’s own view, he failed to match up to his two precursors, now he is indeed the new Paul and the new Aeneas:
Interea videt Aeneas in valle reducta
seclusum nemus et virgulta sonantia silvae,
Lethaeumque domos placidas qui praenatat amnem.
hunc circum innumerae gentes populique volabant:
ac veluti in pratis ubi apes aestate serena
floribus insidunt variis et candida circum
lilia funduntur, strepit omnis murmure campus.
. . .
And now Aeneas sees in the valley’s depths
a sheltered grove and rustling wooded brakes
and the Lethe flowing past the homes of peace.
Around it hovered numberless races, nations of souls
like bees in meadowlands on a cloudless summer day
that settle on flowers, riots of color, swarming round
the lilies’ lustrous sheen, and the whole field comes alive
with a humming murmur. (Tr. R. Fagles [Viking 2006])
This is a powerful moment in which Virgil’s and Dante’s mimetic proclivities are shown in their warmest tones; at least in Dante’s case we witness the imitation of nature engineered by another kind of imitation altogether. See McLaughlin (Mcla.1995.1), p. 5, for the distinction between mimesis of external reality and imitation of previous literature. And for an earlier brief discussion of the distinction and of how the two techniques may be found joined, see Hollander (Holl.1975.2), p. 122.
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66.
For the ruby set in gold, it has become commonplace, after Scartazzini (comm. to this verse), to cite
Aeneid
X.134: “qualis gemma micat, fulvum quae dividit aurum” (glittered like a jewel set in yellow gold [tr. H. R. Fairclough]).
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67.
For the inebriation of the angels, Scartazzini (comm. to vv. 46–81) cites the Psalms (35:9–10 [36:8–9]): “They feast on the abundance of your house, / and you give them drink from the river of your delights. / For with you is the fountain of life; / in your light do we see light.”
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68.
A discussion of another Virgilian text that may stand behind Dante’s Latinate phrase
miro gurge
(marvelous flood) is found in Rossi (Ross.1985.1), pp. 83–91, examining the parallels between Dante’s river and that found in
Georgics
IV.348–356, the Peneüs, into whose depths Aristaeus will penetrate and see (p. 84) “the place where all the earth’s streams converge” (IV.365–366).
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70–75.
Beatrice intervenes again, preparing Dante for his baptismal ingestion of the waters of Life. Hollander (Holl.1969.1), p. 196, and
(Holl.1993.5), p. 19, points out that he has experienced “baptism” in two previous scenes:
Purgatorio
I.121–129 and XXXIII.127–129.
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76–81.
His guide now explains what we may have already understood, that what Dante was seeing was not really what he thought it was, that it was only a “shadowy forecast” of its true nature.
For the notion that all of
Paradiso
up to verse 90 is best conceived as a series of accommodative metaphors, see discussion in Hollander (Holl.1969.1), pp. 192–202; (Holl.1993.5.1), pp. 19–21.
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77.
Resolved from metaphor, the “laughter” of the “meadows” is represented in the “flowers” that cover it, that is, the saints.
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78.
For the figural sense of history that stands behind this expression (
umbriferi prefazi
), see Pasquini (Pasq.1999.2). See also Ledda (Ledd. 2002.1), pp. 302–3. For more on the figural dimensions of the word
umbra
, see the note to
Paradiso
I.22–24.
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82–90.
In nine lines Dante “drinks in” his “baptismal” “milk” and, as a result, has his vision transformed; he will shortly be able to see the realities of Heaven as they truly are. This simile is the opening gesture in staging his identity as newborn “babe,” culminating in
Paradiso
XXXIII.106–108.
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85–89.
The conclusion of this simile is effortful indeed: Dante “drinks” his “baptism”with his eyelids and thus moves his eyesight to the next level of seeing.
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90.
In a single verse the meaning of Dante’s changed “eyesight” is manifest: For him time has become eternity; history has become its own fulfillment in revelation. His previous linear sense of things has moved to a new dimension, the circularity of perfection. This new vision, unlike that of some, maintains its relation to the things of the world, which now for the first time may be really understood. See
Paradiso
XXXIII.88–90.
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91–96.
The first moment of face-to-face seeing is presented with this simile. The protagonist now perceives the “flowers” as the saints they are, the “sparks” as angels. While no one said so for centuries, the only apparent “source” for this image of unmasking was a festive occasion, a masked ball of some kind. Poletto (comm. to vv. 91–96) somewhat uneasily defends the poet’s choice of material; however, the noun
feste
(lit., “festivals,” or “celebrations”) in verse 94 at least seems to help establish a frame of reference.
Nonetheless, Fallani (comm. to vv. 91–93) suggested that the reference is to masked actors. A potential literary source for this image has apparently never been suggested. It is probably fair to say that most readers feel puzzled as to the poet’s motivation at such an important moment.
For another sort of unmasking, in which the protagonist again has his initial vision yield to a greater reality, see the note to
Paradiso
XXXIII.28–33.
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95–99.
On identical rhymes, see Wlassics (Wlas.1975.1), p. 121. He points out that this repetition of
vidi
(I saw) underlines the claim for a poetics based in seeing and making seen. As several commentators have observed (apparently the first was Scartazzini [comm. to vv. 97–99]), aside from the four occurrences of the identical rhymes of “Cristo” (see the note to
Par.
XII.71–75), there are only two other cases of triple identical rhymes in the poem, the bitterly ironic repetition of “per ammenda” in
Purgatorio
XX.65–69 and the occurrences of “vidi” here.
Responding to the word’s presence in verse 61, Aversano (Aver.2000.2), p. 152, points to the repetitive pattern of the same form,
vidi
, in John’s Apocalypse (Apoc. 5:1, 5:2, 5:6, and 5:11). Dante uses that form seven times in all in this canto, the most of any canto in the
cantica
(
Par.
XVIII is the nearest challenger, with six uses; however,
Inferno
IV, with its list of forty virtuous pagans whom the protagonist saw in the Limbus, has fully eleven appearances of
vidi
; and in
Purgatorio
XXXII, there are eight. There are 167 occurrences of this form of the verb
vedere
in the poem, all but fourteen of them spoken by the poet; exceptions include Virgil [at
Inf.
IV.53, VIII.25, and XXIX.25], the protagonist [at
Inf.
XXIV.129], and several souls to whom Dante listens [
Inf.
XXVI.103, XXVII.79, XXVIII.71, XXXII.116;
Par.
XIII.136; XV.115; XVI.88, 91, 109]).
Vidi
is one of Dante’s favorite locutions, reflecting his strategic insistence on the reality of his experience.
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95.
The
fiori
(flowers) are the saved souls, the
faville
(sparks) are the angels, as is commonly agreed (see the note to vv. 62–66). We see them again in the next canto, verses 7–9, the sparks now transformed, in simile, into bees. Once we see that, we can understand that these first “real substances,” noncontingent and sempiternal, that we see “face-to-face” in the entire poem have models in a scene in the
Aeneid
(VI.703–708 [see the note to vv. 64–66]).
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97–99.
This is the eighth and penultimate invocation in the poem (see the note to
Inf.
II.7–9), addressing God’s reflected light, possibly his grace
(the ninth and final invocation will be addressed to God as
luce
, the source of light, in
Par
. XXXIII.67).
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100–102.
The first line of this tercet marks a borderline as sharply etched as that, involving similar stylistic traits, separating lower from upper Hell (
Inf.
XVIII.1): “Luogo è in inferno detto Malebolge” (There is a place in Hell called Malebolge). Here the light of grace that makes God visible to once-mortal souls introduces the final (and visionary) part of the poem.
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100.
There is a certain amount of indecision in the commentaries as to whether this
lume
is reflected light rather than its source (which would be
luce
). Some argue that it is the Holy Spirit, others Jesus as Logos, still others some form of grace. For this last, see Carroll (comm. to vv. 100–123): “It will be noticed that I speak of this central circular sea as
lumen gratiae
, for it is still the light of grace which once flowed in form of a river; but that light of grace has now reached its perfect form of eternity, the
lumen gloriae
. The change of the river into the circular sea is Dante’s symbolic way of stating that the grace by which a soul is saved and strengthened to persevere to the end of the earthly life, is not something different in kind from the glory to which it leads. According to Aquinas, ‘grace is nothing else than a certain beginning of glory in us’ [
ST
II–II, q. 24, a. 3: ‘Gratia et gloria ad idem genus referuntur; quia gratia nihil est aliud quam quaedam inchoatio gloriae in nobis’], and the light of glory is simply the perfected form of the grace of earth [
ST
I–II, q. 111, a. 3]. Aquinas is here laying down the distinction between prevenient and subsequent grace.” Hollander (Holl.1993.5), p. 25, n. 63, claims that, among the first commentators, only Benvenuto (comm. to
Par.
VII.1–6) discusses the
lumen gloriae
(even if elsewhere); but see his remarks on this passage (vv. 100–102) and those of his student, John of Serravalle (comm. to vv. 100–105). He does go on (correctly) to credit Scartazzini (comm. to vv. 115–117) as being the first of the moderns to do so.
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103–108.
The enormous size of the Rose may come as something of a surprise. Dante never tells us the number of places that are found there, whether it is the precise number (144,000) offered in the Apocalypse (see the note to
Par.
XXXI.115–117), or the approximate number on the basis of the “replacement value” of the fallen angels (see the note to
Par.
XXIX.50), or still another figure. There are some questions that we are simply not encouraged to pose.
The disc of the Sun, even populated by souls on thrones with first-class
legroom, would hold more saints than are imaginable, millions of millions. See Poletto (comm. to vv. 100–105) for discussion of what Dante knew about such measurements, including that of the diameter of the Sun, 37,750 miles according to
Convivio
IV.viii.7.
The Rose is made up of a beam of light (the Godhead) reflected upward from the convex surface of the Primum Mobile, which rotates because of its love for that beam and spreads its influence through the celestial spheres beneath it.
This passage may help in understanding the difficult text at
Paradiso
XXVIII.13–15 (see the note thereto). There the poet, in the Primum Mobile, has his first vision of the Godhead and the surrounding spheres of angels. Exactly where he sees them is a matter in dispute. This passage might help establish that they are here (in the Empyrean) but are seen down there, on the surface of the Crystalline Sphere, whence they, along with the Rose, are also reflected back up here.
For the shape of the Rose as being neither a cylinder nor a cone, but hemispheric, see Kay (Kay.2003.1), pp. 46–48.
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