The Banquet Part 16

CHAPTER XXVII.

That section which the text puts forward having been reasoned out and made sufficiently clear, showing the qualities of uprightness which the n.o.ble Soul puts into Youth, we go on to pay attention to the third part, which begins, "Are prudent in their Age," in which the Song intends to show those qualities which the n.o.ble Nature reveals and ought to possess in the third age, that is to say, Old Age. And it says that the n.o.ble Soul in Old Age is prudent, is just, is liberal and cheerful, willing to speak kindly and for the good of others, and ready to listen for the same reason, that is to say, that it is affable. And truly these four Virtues are most suitable to this age.

And, in order to perceive this, it is to be known that, as Tullius says in his book On Old Age, "Our life has a certain course, and one simple path, that of natural moral goodness; and to each part of our age there is given a season for certain things." Wherefore, as to Adolescence is given, as has been said above, that by means of which it may attain perfection and maturity, so to youth is given perfection and maturity in order that the sweetness of its perfect fruit may be profitable to the man himself and to others; for, as Aristotle says, man is a civil or polite animal, because it is required of him to be useful, not only to himself, but to others as well. Wherefore one reads of Cato, that he believed himself to be born not only to himself, but to his country and to all the world. Then after our own perfection, which is acquired in Youth, there must follow that which may give light not only to one's self, but to others as well; and a man ought to open and broaden like a rose as it were, which can no longer remain closed, and spread abroad the sweet odour which is bred within; and this ought to be the case in that third age which we have now in hand.

Then it must be Prudent, that is to say, Wise. And, in order to be this, a good memory of the things which have been seen is requisite, and a good knowledge of present things, and good foresight for things of the future. And, as the Philosopher says in the sixth book of Ethics, it is impossible for the man who is not good to be wise; and therefore he is not to be called a wise man who acts with cunning and with deception, but he is to be called an astute man. As no one would call him a wise man who might indeed know how to draw with the point of a knife in the pupil of the eye, even so he is not to be called a wise man who knows how to do a bad thing well, in the doing of which he must always first injure some other person. If we consider well, good counsel springs from Prudence, which leads or guides a man, and other men, to a good end in human affairs. And this is that gift which Solomon, perceiving himself to be placed as ruler over the people, asked of G.o.d, even as it is written in the Third Book of Kings; nor does the prudent man wait for counsel to be asked of him; but of himself, foreseeing the need for it, unasked he gives counsel or advice; like the rose, which not only to him who goes to her for her sweet odour freely gives it, but also to any one who pa.s.ses near.

Here it would be possible for any doctor or lawyer to say: Then shall I carry my counsel or advice, and shall I give it even before it be asked of me, and shall I not reap fruit from my art or skill? I reply in the words of our Saviour: "Freely ye have received, freely give." I say, then, Master Lawyer, that those counsels which have no respect to thine art, and which proceed alone from that good sense or wisdom which G.o.d gave thee (which is the prudence of which we speak), thou oughtest not to sell to the sons or children of Him who has given it to thee. But those counsels which belong to the art which thou hast purchased, thou mayst sell; but not in such a way but that at any time the tenth part of them may be fitly set apart and given unto G.o.d, that is, to those unhappy ones to whom the Divine protection is all that is left.

Likewise at this age it is right to be Just, in order that the judgments and the authority of the man may be a light and a law to other men. And because this particular Virtue, that is to say, Justice, was seen by the ancient philosophers to appear perfect in men of this age, they entrusted the government of the cities to those men who had attained that age; and therefore the college of Rectors was called the Senate. Oh, my unhappy, unhappy country! how my heart is wrung with pity for thee whenever I read, whenever I write, anything which may have reference to Civil Government! But since in the last treatise of this book Justice will be discussed, to the present let this slight notice of it suffice.

Also at this age a man ought to be liberal, because a thing is then most suitable when it gives most satisfaction to the due requirements of its nature: nor to the due requirements of Liberality is it ever possible to give more satisfaction than at this age. For if we will look well at the argument of Aristotle in the fourth book of Ethics, and at that of Tullius in his book Of Offices, Liberality desires to be seasonable in place and time; so that the liberal man may not injure himself nor other men; which thing it is not possible to have without Prudence and without Justice, Virtues that previous to this age it is impossible to have or possess in perfection in the Natural way.

Alas! ye base-born ones, born under evil stars, ye who rob the widows and orphans, who ravish or despoil those who possess least, who steal from and occupy or usurp the homes of other men, and with that spoil you furnish forth feasts, women, horses, arms, robes, money; you wear wonderful garments, you build marvellous palaces; and you believe that you do deeds of great liberality: and this is no other than to take the cloth from the altar and to cover therewith the thief and his table! Not otherwise one ought to laugh, O tyrants, at your bounteous liberality than at the thief who should lead the invited guests into his house to his feast, and place upon his table the cloth stolen from the altar, with the ecclesiastical signs inwoven, and should not believe that other men might perceive the sacrilege. Hear, O ye obstinate men, what Tullius says against you in the book Of Offices: "Certainly there are many, desirous of being great and glorious, who rob some that they may give to others, believing themselves to be esteemed good men if they enrich their friends with what the Law allows. But this is so opposite or contrary to that which ought to be done, that nothing is more wrong."

At this age also a man ought to be Affable, to speak for the good of others, and to listen to such speech willingly, since it is good for a man to discourse kindly at an age when he is listened to. And this age also has with it a shadow of authority, for which reason it appears that the aged man is more likely to be listened to than a person in a younger period of life. And of most good and beautiful Truths it seems that a man ought to have knowledge after the long experience of life.

Wherefore Tullius says, in that book On Old Age, in the person of Cato the elder: "To me is increased the desire and the delight to remain in conversation longer than I am wont." And that all four of these things are right and proper to this age, Ovid teaches, in the seventh chapter of Metamorphoses, in that fable where he writes how Cephalus of Athens came to aeacus the King for help in the war which Athens had with the Cretans. He shows that aeacus, an old man, was prudent when, having, through pestilence caused by corruption of the air, lost almost all his people, he wisely had recourse to G.o.d, and besought of Him the restoration of the dead; and for his wisdom, which in patience possessed him and caused him to turn to G.o.d, his people were restored to him in greater number than before. He shows that he was just, when he says that aeacus was the divider and the distributor of his deserted land to his new people. He shows that aeacus was generous or liberal when he said to Cephalus, after his request for aid: "O Athens! ask me not to render a.s.sistance, but take it yourself; doubt not the strength of the forces which this island possesses, nor the power of my state and realm; troops are not wanting to us, nay, we have them in excess for offence and defence; it is indeed a happy time to give you aid, and without excuse."

Alas, how many things are to be observed in this reply! but to a good, intelligent man it is sufficient for it to be placed here, even as Ovid puts it. He shows that aeacus was affable when he described, in a long speech to Cephalus, the history of the pestilence which destroyed his people, and the restoration of the same, which he tells readily.

It is clear enough, then, that to this age four things are suitable, because the n.o.ble Nature reveals them in it, even as the Song says.

And that the example given may be the more memorable, aeacus says that he was the father of Telamon and Peleus and of Phocus, from which Telamon sprang Ajax and from Peleus Achilles.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

Following the section which has been discussed, we have now to proceed to the last, that is, to that which begins, "The fourth part of their life Weds them again to G.o.d," by which the text intends to show what the n.o.ble Soul does in the last age, that is, in Extreme Old Age, that is, Senility. And it says that it does two things: the one, that it returns to G.o.d as to that port or haven whence it departed when it issued forth to enter into the sea of this life; the other is, that it blesses the voyage which it has made, because it has been upright, straight, and good, and without the bitterness of storm and tempest.

And here it is to be known that, even as Tullius says in that book On Old Age, the natural death is, as it were, a port or haven to us after our long voyage and a place of rest. And the Virtuous Man who dies thus is like the good mariner; for, as he approaches the port or haven, he strikes his sails, and gently, with feeble steering, enters port. Even thus we ought to strike the sails of our worldly affairs, and turn to G.o.d with all our heart and mind, so that one may come into that haven with all sweetness and all peace.

And in this we have from our own proper nature great instruction in gentleness, for in such a death as this there is no pain nor bitterness, but even as a ripe apple easily and without violence detaches itself from its branch, so our Soul without grief separates itself from the body wherein it has dwelt.

Aristotle, in his book On Youth and Old Age, says that the death which overtakes us in old age is without sadness. And as to him who comes from a long journey, before he enters into the gate of his city, the citizens thereof go forth to meet him, so do those citizens of the Eternal Life go forth to meet the n.o.ble Soul; and they do thus because of his good works and acts of contemplation, which were of old rendered unto G.o.d and withdrawn from worldly affairs and thoughts.

Hear what Tullius says in the person of Cato the elder: "It seems to me that already I see, and I uplift myself in the greatest desire to see, your fathers, whom I loved, and not only those whom I knew myself, but also those of whom I have heard spoken." In this age, then, the n.o.ble Soul renders itself unto G.o.d, and awaits the end of this life with much desire; and to itself it seems that it goes out from the Inn to return home to the Father's mansion; to itself it seems to have reached the end of a long journey and to have reached the City; to itself it seems to have crossed the wide sea and returned into the port. O, miserable men and vile, who run into this port with sails unfurled; and there where you should find rest, are broken by the fury of the wind and wrecked in the harbour. Truly the Knight Lancelot chose not to enter it with sails unfurled, nor our most n.o.ble Italian Guido da Montefeltro. These n.o.ble Spirits indeed furled the sails after the voyage of this World, whose cares were rendered to Religion in their long old age, when they had laid down each earthly joy and labour. And it is not possible to excuse any man because of the bond of matrimony, which may hold him in his old age, from turning to Religion, even as he who adopts the habit of St. Benedict and St.

Augustine and St. Francis and St. Dominic and the like mode of life, but also it is possible to turn to a good and true Religion whilst remaining in the bonds of matrimony, for G.o.d asks of us no more than the religious heart. And therefore St. Paul says to the Romans: "For he is not a Jew which is one outwardly; neither is that circ.u.mcision which is outward in the flesh. But he is a Jew which is one inwardly; and circ.u.mcision is that of the heart, in the spirit, and not in the letter; whose praise is not of men, but of G.o.d."

And the n.o.ble Soul in this age blesses likewise the time that is past, and it may well bless it; because when Memory turns back to them, the n.o.ble Soul remembers her upright deeds, without which it were not possible for her to come to the port whither she is hastening with such wealth nor with such gain. And the n.o.ble Soul does like the good merchant, who, when he draws near to his port, examines his cargo, and says: "If I had not pa.s.sed along such a highway as that, I should not possess this treasure, and I should not have wherewith to rejoice in my city, to which I am approaching;" and therefore he blesses the voyage he has made.

And that these two things are suitable to this age that great poet Lucan represents to us in the second book of his Pharsalia, when he says that Marcia returned to Cato, and entreated him that he would take her back in his fourth and Extreme Old Age, by which Marcia the n.o.ble Soul is meant, and we can thus depict the symbol of it in all Truth. Marcia was a virgin, and in that state typifies Adolescence; she then espoused Cato, and in that state typifies Youth; she then bore sons, by whom are typified the Virtues which are becoming to young men, as previously described; and she departed from Cato and espoused Hortensius, by which it is typified that she quitted Youth and came to Old Age. She bore sons to this man also, by whom are typified the Virtues which befit Old Age, as previously said.

Hortensius died, by which is typified the end of Old Age, and Marcia, made a widow, by which widowhood is typified Extreme Old Age, returned in the early days of her widowhood to Cato, whereby is typified the n.o.ble Soul turning to G.o.d in the beginning of Extreme Old Age. And what earthly man was more worthy to typify G.o.d than Cato? None, of a certainty. And what does Marcia say to Cato? "Whilst there was blood in me [that is to say, Youth], whilst the maternal power was in me [that is, Age, which is indeed the Mother of all other Virtues or Powers, as has been previously shown or proved], I," says Marcia, "fulfilled all thy commandments [that is to say, that the Soul stood firm in obedience to the Civil Laws]." She says: "And I took two husbands," that is to say, I have been in two fruitful periods of life. "Now," says Marcia, "that I am weary, and that I am void and empty, I return to thee, being no longer able to give happiness to the other husband;" that is to say, that the n.o.ble Soul, knowing well that it has no longer the power to produce, that is, feeling all its members to have grown feeble, turns to G.o.d, that is, to Him who has no need of members of the body. And Marcia says, "Give me the ancient covenanted privileges of the beds; give me the name alone of the Marriage Tie;" that is to say, the n.o.ble Soul says to G.o.d, "O my Lord, give me now repose and rest;" the Soul says, "Give me at least whatsoever I may have called Thine in a life so long." And Marcia says, "Two reasons move or urge me to say this; the one is, that they may say of me, after I am dead, that I was the wife of Cato; the other is, that it may be said after me that thou didst not drive me away, but didst espouse me heartily." By these two causes the n.o.ble Soul is stirred and desires to depart from this life as the spouse of G.o.d, and wishes to show that G.o.d was gracious to the creature that He made. O unhappy and baseborn men! you who prefer to depart from this life under the name of Hortensius rather than of Cato!

From Cato's name a grace comes into the close of the discourse which it was fit to make touching the signs of n.o.bility; because in him n.o.bility reveals them all, through all the ages of his life.

CHAPTER XXIX.

Since the Song has demonstrated those signs which in each age or period of life appear in the n.o.ble Man, and by which it is possible to know him, and without which he cannot be, even as the Sun cannot be without light or the fire without heat, the text cries aloud to the People in the concluding part of this treatise on n.o.bility, and it says: "How many are deceived!" They are deceived who, because they are of ancient and famous lineage, and because they are descended of excellent and n.o.ble fathers, believe themselves to be n.o.ble, yet have in themselves no n.o.bility. And here arise two questions, to which it is right to attend at the end of this treatise. It would be possible for Manfredi da Vico, who but now is called Praetor and Prefect, to say: "Whatever I may be, I recall to mind and I represent my elders, who deserved the Office of Prefecture because of their n.o.bility, and they merited the honour of invest.i.ture at the coronation of the Emperor, and they merited the honour of receiving the Rose of Gold from the Roman Pontiff: I ought to receive from the People honour and reverence." And this is one question. The other is, that it would be possible for the scions of the families of San Nazzaro di Pavia and of the Piscitelli of Naples to say: "If n.o.bility is that which has been described, that is, that it is Divine seed graciously cast into the human Soul, and the progeny, or offshoots, have, as is evident, no Soul, it would not be possible to term any of its progeny or offshoots n.o.ble; but this is opposed to the opinion of those who a.s.sert that our race is the most n.o.ble in these cities."

To the first question Juvenal replies in the eighth Satire, when he begins with exclaiming, as it were: "What is the use of all these honours and of this glory which remain from the past, except that they serve as a mantle or cloak to him who may wish to cover himself with them, badly as he may live; except for him who talks of his ancestors, and points out their great and wonderful works, giving his own mind to miserable and vile actions?" And this satirical poet asks: "Who will call that man n.o.ble, because of his good race, who is not worthy of his race? It is no other than to call the Dwarf a Giant." Then afterwards he says to such an one as this: "Between thee and the statue erected in memory of thine ancestor there is no other dissimilarity except that its head is of marble and thine is alive."

And in this (with reverence I say it) I disagree with the poet, for the statue of marble or of wood or of metal, which has remained in memory of some worthy brave man, differs much in effect from the wicked descendant: because the statue always confirms a good opinion in those who have heard of the good renown or fame of him whose statue it is, and it begets good opinion in others. But the wicked son or nephew does quite the contrary: he weakens the good opinion of those who have heard of the goodness of his ancestors. For some one says to himself in his thought: "It cannot possibly be true, all this that has been said about this man's ancestors, since from their seed one sees an offshoot such as that." Wherefore he ought to receive not honour, but dishonour, who bears false or evil witness against the good. And therefore Tullius says that the son of the brave man ought to strive to bear good witness to the father. Wherefore, in my judgment, even as he who defames an excellent man deserves to be shunned by all people and not listened to, even so the vile man descended from good ancestors deserves to be banned by all; and the good man ought to close his eyes in order not to see that infamous man casting infamy upon the goodness which remains in Memory alone. And let this suffice at present to the first question that was moved.

To the second question it is possible to reply that a race of itself has no Soul; and indeed it is true that it is called n.o.ble, but it is in a certain way. Wherefore it is to be known that every whole is composed of its parts, and there is a certain whole which has a simple essence in its parts, as in one man there is one essence in all and in each individual part; and this which is said to be in the part is said in the same way to be in the whole. There is another whole which has not a common essential form or essence with the parts, as a heap of corn; but there is a secondary essence which results from many grains, which possess in themselves a true and primary essence. And in such a whole as this they are said to be the qualities of the parts in a secondary way; wherefore it is called a white heap, because the grains whereof the heap is made are white. Truly this white appearance is more in the grains in the first place, and in the second place it results in the whole heap, and thus secondarily it is possible to call it white; and in such a way it is possible to call a race n.o.ble.

Wherefore it is to be known, that as in order to make a white heap the white grains must be most numerous, so to make a n.o.ble race the n.o.ble Men must be more numerous than the others, so that their goodness, with its good fame or renown, may cover the opposite quality which is within. And as from a white heap of corn it would be possible to pick up the wheat grain by grain, and subst.i.tute, grain by grain, red maize, till, finally, the whole heap or ma.s.s would change colour, so would it be possible for the good men of the n.o.ble race to die out one by one, and the wicked ones to spring up therein, who would so change the name or fame thereof, that it would have to be called, not n.o.ble, but vile, or base.

And let this be a sufficient answer to the second question.

CHAPTER x.x.x.

As it has been shown previously in the third chapter of this treatise, this Song has three princ.i.p.al parts, whereof two have been reasoned or argued out, the first of which begins in the aforesaid chapter, and the second in the sixteenth (so that the first through thirteen, and the second through fourteen chapters, pa.s.ses on to an end, without counting the Proem of the treatise on the Song, which is comprised in two chapters), in this thirtieth and last chapter we must briefly discuss the third princ.i.p.al part, which was made as a refrain and as a species of ornament for this Song; and it begins: "My Song, Against the strayers."

Here it is chiefly to be known that every good workman, at the end of his work, ought to enn.o.ble and embellish it as much as possible, that it may leave his hands so much the more precious, and more worthy of fame. And this I endeavour to do in this part, not as a good workman, but as the follower of one.

I say, then, "My Song, Against the strayers." "Against the strayers"

is a phrase, as, for example, from the good friar, Thomas of Aquinas, who, to a book of his, which he wrote to the confusion of all those who go astray from our Faith, gave the t.i.tle "Contra Gentili," Against the Heathen. I say, then, that thou shalt go, which is as much as to say: "Thou art now perfect, and it is now time, not to stand still, but to go forward, for thy enterprise is great. And 'when you reach Our Lady, hide not from her that your end Is labour that would lessen wrong.'" Where it is to be observed that, as our Lord says, "We ought not to cast pearls before swine," because it is not to their advantage, and it is injury to the pearls; and, as Aesop the poet says in the first fable, a little grain of corn is of far more worth to a c.o.c.k than a pearl, and therefore he leaves the pearl and picks up the grain of corn: reflecting on this, as a caution, I speak and give command to the Song that it reveal its high office where this Lady, that is, where Philosophy, will be found. And that most n.o.ble Lady will be found when her dwelling-place is found, that is, the Soul in which she finds her Inn. And this Philosophy dwells not in wise men alone, but likewise, as is proved above in another treatise, wherever the love for her inhabits, she is there. "And to such as these," I say to the Song, "thou mayst reveal thine office, because to them the purpose thereof will be useful, and by them its thoughts will be gathered in."

And I bid it say to this Lady, "I travel ever talking of your Friend."

n.o.bility is her Friend. For so much does the one love the other, that n.o.bility always seeks her, and Philosophy does not turn aside her most sweet glance to any other.

O, what a great and beautiful ornament is this which is given to her in the last part of this Song, by giving to her the t.i.tle of Friend, the Friend of her whose own abode is in the most secret depths of the Divine Mind.

NOTE

ON THE DATE OF THE CONVITO

It is natural to suppose that Dante's death at Ravenna in 1321 caused the Convito, a work of his latter years, to be left unfinished. But there are arguments that have been especially dwelt upon by writers who regard the Convito as a work begun before the conception of the Divine Comedy, and dropped when the Poet's mind became intent upon that masterpiece.

One argument is that the Divine Comedy is nowhere mentioned or alluded to in the Convito. But as the place designed for the Convito is midway between the Vita Nuova, which preceded it, and the Divine Comedy, which was to follow, references to the poem which was not yet before the reader would have been a fault in art.

Another argument is drawn from the fourteenth chapter of the Second Treatise, where (on page 84 in this volume) the shadow in the Moon is ascribed to "the rarity of its body, in which the rays of the Sun can find no end wherefrom to strike back again as in the other parts." In the second canto of the Purgatorio, Beatrice opposes that opinion, whence it may be inferred that Dante had learnt better, and he speaks of this again in a later canto (the twenty-second) as a former opinion. This leads to an inference that the Second Treatise was written before 1300.

Attention is due also to a pa.s.sage in the third chapter of the First Treatise (on pages 16 and 17 in this volume), in which Dante speaks of his long exile and poverty. The exile and the wanderings of Dante began after the year 1300. He was befriended by Guido da Polenta in Ravenna, by Uguccione della f.a.ggiola in Lucca, by Malaspina in the Lunigiana, by Can Grande della Scala in Verona, by Bosone de'

Raffaelli in Gubbio, by the Patriarch Pagano della Torre in Udine. In 1311, when the Emperor Henry of Luxembourg went to Italy, Dante had some hope of return, which pa.s.sed away in 1313 when that Emperor died in Buonconvento. Dante remained in exile. In 1321 his patron, Guido Novello da Polenta, sent him on an emba.s.sy to Venice, in which he was unsuccessful. The sea way being blocked, he had to return by land, and he was struck by the malaria which caused his death by fever on the 14th of September in that year, 1321. This reference to long exile leads to an inference that the First Treatise was written much later than 1300.