Paradiso (92 page)

16–17.
   It is as though Dante were playing with the conventions of his art. This self-conscious introduction, naming the intermediate unit of division (between
cantica
and verse) of the poem (
canto
—see Baranski [Bara.1995.3] for an appropriately theoretical consideration of this term) for the first time since
Inferno
XX.2 and XXXIII.90, makes Beatrice, as it were, the “author” of this canto (see De Fazio [Defa.1995.1], pp. 74–75), and then, while interrupting her speech (and thus depriving her of her “record”), compares her to one who does
not
interrupt his or her speech. Such playfulness will be found again in the last verse of the canto, once more deploying the word
canto
in a self-conscious way.
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19–24.
   Promised by Virgil (at
Purg
. XVIII.73–75), here begins Beatrice’s disquisition on freedom of the will, the property of, among all things in God’s creation, angels and humans alone.

It is this passage that a virtual unanimity of contemporary Dante
scholars believes is referred to in the famous tag “sicut in
Paradiso Comoedie
iam dixi” (as I have already said in the
Paradiso
of the
Comedy
[
Mon
. I.xii.6, tr. p. Shaw]), referring to God’s gift of free will to humankind. After the work of Ricci, Mazzoni, and Shaw (see Hollander [Holl.2001.1], pp. 150–51), not to mention Scott (Scot.1996.1, pp. 51–52) and Kay (Kay.1998.1, pp. xxiv–xxxi, giving probable cause for a date
after
31 March 1317), there can be little doubt as to the genuineness of this passage, which probably dates the theologically minded political treatise as contemporary with the composition of the early cantos of
Paradiso
, and no earlier than 1314 (Mazzoni’s estimate) and almost surely not as late as Padoan’s choice of 1320. Mineo (Mine.1987.1), pp. 90–92nn., dates the composition of Canto VI to the second half of 1316. If he is correct, then a date of 1317 for
Monarchia
would be reasonable. This is a complex and vexed problem, one that cannot be said to be entirely resolved; however, whenever the treatise was written, it was almost certainly written between 1314 and 1321 (and nearly certainly—
pace
Padoan [Pado.1993.1, p. 116]—earlier between these poles rather than later), despite the recent claims of Palma di Cesnola (Palm.2003.1), pp. 43–46, for as early as 1313. In any case, neither set of previous arguments for an earlier composition, whether for a date preceding Henry VII’s stay in Italy (1307 [Nardi]) or during it (1310–13 [Macarrone, Vinay]), seems viable any longer.

For the most recent discussion of the dates of composition of the
Commedia
, with a helpful summary of the modern debate (begun by Francesco Egidi in 1927), see Enrico Fenzi (Fenz.2005.1).
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23–24.
   One wonders whether, without the account of the one-tenth of the angelic host who chose to rebel against their maker (for Dante’s version of the event, see
Par
. XXIX.49–51), Dante would have felt the need even to discuss the attribution of free will to angelic intelligences.
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25–33.
   Given the special status of the freedom of our will and given the nature of a vow to God, made freely (no other kind is acceptable), the free will itself becomes part of what is pledged, that is, one sacrifices the right to will any differently in the future without forfeiting the vow. In a real sense it is a pledge to will no further—at least with respect to the matter of a particular vow. The result is that one is not free to make substitution for what is originally promised, since that would be to replace the original sacrifice with something of less value, or simply to attempt to use again what had already been surrendered.

According to Bosco/Reggio (comm. to vv. 26–27), Dante’s rigorism
with respect to the conditions for the substitution of that which was vowed is in polemic with the laxity in this respect of practitioners of canon law.
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34–39.
   The point of the argument, for which Beatrice prepares Dante with a certain urgency, is that there is no possible substitution for a vow, but that “Holy Church” (the sarcasm is stinging) does in fact allow such substitution.
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43–63.
   These verses contain the core of Beatrice’s position. Here is a portion of Carroll’s discussion of them: “She draws a distinction between the matter of a vow, and the compact or agreement itself, the latter of which, as the previous discourse showed, could never be cancelled, save by being fulfilled. Even the Hebrews had still to offer, though sometimes the thing offered was allowed to be changed. Among Christians the surrender of the will in a vow must still be made, but in certain cases the ‘matter’ of the vow may be exchanged for something else. This commutation, however, is to take place under the strictest conditions. First of all, no man is at liberty to shift the burden at his own pleasure: since the vow is to God, only God’s representative can alter it—‘both the white key and the yellow’ [verse 57] must turn in the lock, the knowledge and the authority of the Church. Even the Church, in the second place, ought not to commute the ‘matter’ of a vow save for something else of greater value. In the Mosaic law, the increase of value was assessed at one-fifth; Dante raises it to one-half—the proportion is to be as four to six. It follows from this, in the next place, that there are some things of such supreme value that this exchange of a half more is impossible; and in this case there can be no commutation, far less dispensation. It is commonly assumed that Dante is here referring to the vow of chastity, which ‘draws down every scale,’ and can have no equivalent. The question is carefully discussed by Aquinas, who holds that even the Papal authority has no power to cancel this vow.”
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43–45.
   Beatrice’s discussion of the two elements of a vow now begins to modulate, and seems to mirror her earlier discussion of absolute and conditional will (see
Par
. IV.109–114 and note). Vows have two components, the vow itself (equivalent to the sacrifice of free will), like the absolute will, in that it may never acceptably be relinquished; and the thing vowed. We now realize that Beatrice has been hiding, in her urgent rebuttal of those clergy who want to keep their “customers” happy, the fact that there is a loophole in the laws regarding the second component of a vow, the beloved thing itself that is freely sacrificed.
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46–48.
   
The vow itself, the sacrifice of free will, may never be withdrawn except by being finally adhered to; this position is what results, Beatrice says, from her previous argument.
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49–51.
   The last chapter of Leviticus repeatedly (27:13, 15, 19, 27, 31) sets the official rate of exchange: Whatever is put forth in substitution must be of 20 percent greater value.

Here we, for the first time, have an example of an acceptable substitution for something vowed, even if exactly what may be substituted is less than immediately clear, while its worth seems nitpickingly precise (120 percent). Reading these verses, Benvenuto da Imola (comm. to vv. 40–51) found himself reminded of Genesis 22:13, where Abraham substitutes a ram for Isaac as his sacrifice to his Lord: “sicut filius Abrae in arietem.” It is difficult to understand how a ram might be worth 120 percent of one’s beloved son, much less the 150 percent to which Beatrice will later raise the ante (verse 60). But such are the ways of God, not easily interpreted by us mere humans, whether we are by trade commentators or not.
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51.
   Beatrice means that Dante should know these conditions from his knowledge of Leviticus.
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52–63.
   And now Beatrice makes plain the rules governing allowable substitution in the “matter” of the vow: The new pledge’s worth must be 150 percent (6 to 4) of what was first offered. This seems a nearly impossible condition to fulfill (and is even harsher than the condition imposed in Leviticus 27, as we have seen [see the note to vv. 49–51]) without trivializing the nature of the initial vow. It is probably fair to say that this is exactly Beatrice’s (and Dante’s!) point, for she wants essentially to ban all negotiations with God on the part of scheming prelates and, for that matter, of those selfish members of their flocks.
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57.
   The two keys refer to mercy and justice (see the note to
Purg
. IX.117–126) as these are administered by the Church, through the power vested in its priests. One may not, in other words, take it upon oneself to decide exactly what is of greater value than the object first offered.
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64–72.
   Beatrice now adds a sort of corollary to her previous instruction, warning us in indirect address (“Let not mortals take vows lightly”) not to make foolish vows that are better broken than kept. This constitutes a special case; it is clear that we are meant to consider most vows as being both wise and well intentioned.

Jephthah’s keeping of his vow is joined with Agamemnon’s equally disastrous pledge with regard to Iphigenia. Dante pairs a scriptural and a pagan source (cf. the similar proceeding at
Par
. IV.82–83, linking St. Lawrence and Mucius Scaevola) to underline his point. See Judges 11:30–40 and Cicero,
De officiis
III.25 (according to Moore [Moor.1896.1], p. 263). But see also, as various commentators point out, Virgil (
Aen
. II.116–117) and Ovid (
Metam
. XII.27–38). Both Jephthah and Agamemnon make unexamined vows that result in the deaths of their daughters.
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64.
   This is the seventh and final occurrence of the word
voto
(vow) in Cantos III through V. Underlining how heavily it dominates the discourse in these cantos, its presence is found in only two other places in the rest of the poem (
Inf
. XXVIII.90;
Par
. XXXI.44).
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66–68.
   For the troublesome word
mancia
, which, in modern Italian, usually refers to the gratuity left for someone who performs a service, see its only other use in the poem at
Inferno
XXXI.6, where it also would seem to mean “offering” or “gift.” Not all agree that this is what the word means in Dante. One alternative reading is based on the Old French word
manche
, with the meaning “assault,” “(military) encounter,” as Bosco/Reggio (comm. to verse 66) point out. They also remind us that St. Thomas, too, presents Jephthah as an exemplary maker of a foolish vow (
ST
II-II, q. 88, a. 2); Thomas cites St. Jerome: “He was only being foolish when he made such a vow, but he turned impious when he kept it.”
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70.
   Iphigenia had to mourn her beauty because Agamemnon, her father, had promised to sacrifice the most beautiful thing to be born in his realm that year if Diana would grant favoring winds so that the Greek fleet might set sail from Aulis for Troy. From Dante’s point of view, the vow itself is tinctured with worse things than foolishness, since Troy was the sacred birthplace of what becomes, after its destruction at the hands of perfidious Greeks, Rome. For an earlier and less frontal encounter with this classical matter, see
Inferno
XX.110–111.

For Dante’s transposition of the tears of Jephthah’s daughter, weeping for her lost youth in the mountains of her sorrow (Judges 11:37–38), to Iphigenia’s cheeks, see Torraca (comm. to vv. 70–72).
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73–84.
   Beatrice joins a second (and now direct) address to her last one (vv. 64–72), now specifically referring to Christians, who are ipso facto more guilty than the rest of humankind if they make foolish vows.
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74–75.
   
There is a continuing debate (if not one of particular consequence) about the precise meaning of this “water.” Some take it in the wider sense, that is, Christians are warned not to take vows lightly in the hopes that they will “cleanse” them of guilt; others stay closer to the literal, seeing in
acqua
the cleansing holy water of easy absolution granted by an all-too-human priestly intercessor for an ill-considered vow. The following tercet would seem to support this second line of interpretation, which informs our translation, by implicitly calling into question the authority of such inept priests.

In such a reading, the two verses thus would have a chronological relation: Christians should (1) be hesitant before reaching out for God’s help by taking vows without due consideration of their ensuing indebtedness and then (2), once having made that initial mistake, not be so sure that all priestly intervention will work to release them from their lightly considered (but nonetheless binding) vows. This does seem to be the more likely meaning. If it seems that such a reading blurs the traditional Catholic view, one that protects the individual believer from the captious behavior of his or her priest, it should be remembered that a vow is a pact (see verse 28, above, and
Par
. XII.17) made directly by the individual with God Himself.
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