Paradiso (127 page)

7–12.
   These are the first words uttered by Beatrice since
Paradiso
XIV.18. They repeat something we have been told several times now (first at
Par.
I.85–87), that the souls of the saved have the capacity to read minds; thus speech addressing them, while technically unnecessary, has the benefit to a mortal speaker of making his thoughts clear to himself so that his questioners, all of whom are necessarily saved souls, will have sufficient indication of what is “on his mind.” This only seems a curious notion; upon reflection it makes perfectly good sense (i.e., if he has a confused thought in his mind,
that
is what his celestial interrogator will read in it). And what other writer can we imagine having such a complex thought about thinking’s relationship to speech?

The metaphor of thirst as representing desire for knowledge has also been before us previously in this canticle (first at
Par.
II.19). It is here used by Beatrice as part of a severely mixed metaphor, since she has at verse 7 referred to the
vampa
(ardor, flame) of Dante’s desire, now translated into water. Heavenly stylists are obviously not bound by the petty rules of mortal grammarians.
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13–18.
   Dante’s words to Cacciaguida make plain that he has understood a vital difference between mortal intelligence and that of the saints: The
latter see, in the eternal present in God, even contingencies (i.e., those things that might either happen or not happen, in other words all possible occurrences, even those that in fact never did, or do, or will occur [see
Par.
XIII.63 and the note to
Par.
XIII.61–66]). The best we mortals can do, by contrast, is to grasp certain definitional truths, for example, that no triangle (containing a total of 180 degrees) can possess two angles each of which is greater than 90 degrees.

Where Phaeton wanted to know about his ancestry, Dante wants to know from his ancestor (as we will learn in vv. 22–27) the path of his future life. However, both “sons” have absolutely in common the need to be reassured.
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13.
   The word
piota
refers to the sole of the foot (see
Inf.
XIX.120); here it may literally mean footprint while, in metaphor, it would rather seem to signify “root”; Scartazzini (comm. to this verse) discusses the Tuscan use of the noun to indicate the clump of earth around the root system of blades of grass, etc. And this seems the best way to take this passage: Cacciaguida is the patch of earth from which has sprung Dante’s “plant.” Cf.
Paradiso
XV. 88–89, where Cacciaguida refers to himself as the “root” (
radice
) that has produced Dante as its “bough” (
fronda
). See Petrocchi (Petr.1988.2), p. 338.
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15.
   This is the second (and last) appearance of the word “triangle” in the poem (see
Par.
XIII.102 for the first).
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19–27.
   Dante refers to the various predictions of the course of his future life that dot the first two canticles (see the note to vv. 46–99) and claims a serenity in the face of difficulty that some readers find belied by his very questions.
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19.
   It comes as something of a surprise to hear Virgil’s name on Dante’s lips at this point, and for the first time in this canticle. It is as though the Virgilian resonances of Canto XV.25–30 had stirred the protagonist’s loyalties (the last time we heard Virgil’s name was in company of Dante’s unique nominal presence [
Purg.
XXX.55]). This is the penultimate of 32 appearances of the Roman poet’s name in the poem; the last will occur, in Adam’s mouth, surprisingly enough, at
Paradiso
XXVI.118 (an occurrence somehow overlooked by Foster [Fost.1976.1], p. 72). Among denizens of the afterworld, only Beatrice is more often present in name (63 occurrences), if that of God occurs even more often than hers (more than 100 times).
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24.
   
For the word “tetragon,” see Chiavacci Leonardi (Chia.1989.2), pp. 312–13, and Raffa (Raff.2000.1), pp. 164–78, both of whom consider the two sets of meanings of the geometrical figure that may have influenced Dante’s choice of the word here, defensive (it was reckoned by several authorities, including Aristotle and St. Thomas, to be the strongest shape capable of withstanding assault) and more positive (in one medieval tradition it is associated with Christ).

Chiavacci Leonardi (pp. 314–16) also adduces Boethius here, as model in the widest possible sense. In her view, he, like Dante, persecuted and unjustly condemned, wrote a work of which he, again like Dante, was both author and protagonist.

For the Cacciaguida episode as also reflecting the sixth book of Cicero’s
De re publica
, known as the
Somnium Scipionis
(and in this form commented on by Macrobius), see Schnapp (Schn.1986.1, e.g., p. 62, but passim) and Raffa (Raff.2000.1), pp. 147–64. And see Schnapp (Schn.1991.2), p. 216, discussing the similarities and differences between the prophecy offered by Brunetto in
Inferno
XV and that by Cacciaguida here.
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27.
   Starting with Jacopo della Lana (comm. to this tercet), some early commentators attribute a version of this saying (“Jaculum praevisum minus laedit” [A javelin blow hurts the less if it is foreseen]) to “Solomon”; others, later along, beginning with Daniello (comm. to verse 27), say that it derives from a saying of Ovid’s: “Nam praevisa minus laedere tela solent” (For the blows of weapons that one sees coming do not usually hurt as much) but without specifying where in Ovid it is to be found. (Daniello also refers to the “Solomonic”
dictum
first found in Jacopo della Lana.) It was Venturi (comm. to verse 27) who, while maintaining the attribution to Ovid, also kept the first citation alive, but (correctly) reassigned it to Gregory the Great and spiked the attribution to Solomon. However, the phantom attribution to Ovid lasted into the twentieth century, despite the fact (which should have raised more suspicion than it did) that it had never been assigned a specific source in any Ovidian text. Finally, Vandelli (in the Scartazzini/Vandelli comm. to verse 27), referring to an article in
BSDI
(25 [1918], p. 108), reassigns the popular tag to the Esopics of
Waltherius anglicus
(for Waltherius, see the note to
Inf.
XXIII.4–18). In this “school” are found also Brezzi (Brez.1989.1), p. 447, and Chiamenti (Chia.1995.1), p. 188. However, Aversano (Aver.2000.2) argues for the pivotal role of Gregory the Great’s
Homilies
(to Luke 21:9–19): “Minus enim iacula feriunt quae praevidentur” (For javelins that
one sees coming wound the less), rather than that of Waltherius because, both in Gregory and in Dante, the context is of the greater pain one suffers at the betrayal of one’s friends than at the hands of one’s known enemies (Aversano points to Dante’s sense of betrayal by his fellow exiles as registered in vv. 61–66).
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31–36.
   Set off against pagan dark and wayward speech is Christian clarity of word and purpose. Perhaps Dante refers to Sibylline prophecy that resulted in human sacrifice (see the muffled but telling reference to the killing of Iphigenia in
Inferno
XX.110–111). Such is opposed by a better sacrifice, that of the Lamb, who took on all our sins (see, for the eventual biblical source of the phrase in the liturgy, which pluralizes our sins [
peccata
], John 1:29: “Ecce agnus Dei; ecce qui tollit peccatum mundi” [Behold the lamb of God; behold the one who takes away the sins of the world]).
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31.
   The word
ambage
has an interesting history. Dante probably found its most troubling presence in
Aeneid
VI.99, where
ambages
was used to typify the animal-like sounds of the cave-dwelling Sibyl’s prognostications. On the other hand, and as Pio Rajna (Rajn.1902.1) has pointed out, in Virgil, Ovid, and Statius it is also used to describe the twisting path found in the Cretan labyrinth; it also in Virgil indicates an enigmatic way of speaking. In
De vulgari eloquentia
(I.x.2), giving the palm for prose eloquence to the French (to the Provençals and Italians is reserved that for vernacular poetry [I.x.3–4]), Dante had referred to the term. The northerners are recorded as composing biblical narratives, tales of Troy and Rome, and the beautiful
ambage
(fictions) of King Arthur’s court. Thus the word, a hapax in the poem, arrives in this context loaded with negative associations.
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32.
   The verb
inviscarsi
has been used twice before (
Inf.
XIII.57 and XXII.144). In the first instance (where the verb’s root is spelled
invesc
-), Pier delle Vigne speaks of the guileful properties of words (see Marchesi [Marc.1997.1]); the second passage describes winged demons caught in the pitch over which they are playing a cruel game with a sinner who temporarily outwits them. The verb describes the effects of birdlime, spread to entrap birds. It was a favorite word to Petrarch, who liked to describe Laura’s beauty as imprisoning him.
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34–35.
   The word “latino” has caused debate, with the primary warring interpretations being (1) it refers, as it has throughout
Inferno
, to things
Italian (whether the country or, as twice in
Paradiso
, its language) and (2) it here means “Latin,” for the negative reason that, if it does not, then Dante has committed himself to a tautological expression, since “chiare parole” (plain words) and “preciso latin” (clear speech) signify the same thing.

For examples of arguments devoted to each of these views, see (for [1]) Honess (Hone.1994.1), pp. 51–52, and (for [2]) Vianello (Vian. 1968.1), pp. 593–94. The view put forward by Vianello does not admit that the two terms may predicate differing things of Cacciaguida’s speech. However, the first term (
chiare parole
) may refer to his diction, the second (
preciso latin
) to his syntactical command of the language, his substance and his style, as it were. See, for an example (and it is only the very first example) of this poet’s pleasure in “multi-predication,”
Inferno
1.5, “esta selva
selvaggia
e
aspra
e
forte
”; in short, Dante’s usual habit would seem to support the first view. Furthermore, in the rest of the poem “latino” only once seems surely to refer to the Latin language (
Par.
X.120). On most other occasions it clearly means “Italian” (
Inf.
XXII.65; XXVII.27; XXVII.33; XXVIII.71; XXIX.88; XXIX.91;
Purg.
XI.58; XIII.92; and here, where it is employed for the last [thirteenth] time in the poem).
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37–42.
   The old (and apparently never successfully disposed of [if what one hears in one’s own classroom even now is any guide]) problem that many an early Christian theologian felt he had to grapple with, how God’s foreknowledge does not limit freedom of the will, is here resolved in imagistic terms: God’s knowing what you will do does not cause you to do it, just as when you watch a ship moving downstream, its motion is not propelled by your observing eyes.
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37.
   Brezzi (Brez.1989.1), p. 448, underlines the importance of the concept of contingency in this canto, first at verse 16 (“contingenti”) and then here (“contingenza”), as opposed to those things that are eternal. (See also the “cluster” of concern with contingent things in
Par.
XIII.63, XIII.64, and XIII.69.) The word (used as a verb) will reemerge for a final appearance in
Paradiso
XXV.1.
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43–99.
   Cacciaguida’s lengthy personal prophecy of the course of Dante’s future life, the ninth and final one in the poem (stopping, strictly speaking, at verse 93, it is nonetheless exactly the same length as the preceding eight put together), eclipses all that we have learned from the four in
Inferno
(Ciacco, VI.64–75; Farinata, X.79–81; Brunetto, XV.55–57, 61–66, 70–75; Vanni Fucci, XXIV.143–150) and the four found in
Purgatorio
(Currado
Malaspina, VIII.133–139; Oderisi, XI.140–141; Bonagiunta, XXIV.37–38; Forese, XXIV.82–90). See Pasquini (Pasq.1996.1), p. 419. This is clearly meant to be taken as the most important prognostication of Dante’s personal involvement in the political affairs of his world. If we consider that each of the first two canticles has four such passages and that this one, coming in the central canto of the third, is so detailed, it becomes clear that it is meant to overwhelm in importance all those that have preceded.

Chiarenza (Chia.1983.3), p. 145, juxtaposes the two Ovidian myths found in this canto, Phaeton and Hippolytus (see the note to vv. 46–48), arguing that the first is emblematic of damnation, the second of salvation.
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