Paradiso (4 page)

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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