IL CON VI TO 
 
 THE BANQUET 
 
 *e 
 
 OF 
 
 DANTE ALIGHIERI 
 
 TRANSLATED BY 
 
 ELIZABETH PRICE SAYER 
 
 WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY HENRY MORLEY 
 
 LL.D., PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH LITERATURE AT 
 UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LONDON 
 
 LONDON 
 GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS 
 
 BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL 
 GLASGOW AND NEW YORK 
 
 1887 
 
MORLEY'S UNIVERSAL LIBRARY. 
 
 i 
 
 I. Sheridan's Plays. 
 
 28. Dante's Divine Comedy. 
 
 2. Plays from Mo Here. By 
 
 LONGFELLOW'S Translation. 
 
 English Dramatists. 
 
 29. Goldsmiths Vicar of Wake- 
 
 3. Marlowe's Faustus and 
 
 field, Plays, and Poems. 
 
 GoetJies Faust. 
 
 30. Fables and Proverbs from 
 
 4. Chronicle of the Cid. 
 
 the Sanskrit. (Hitopadesa.) 
 
 5. Rabelais' Gargantua and the 
 Heroic Deeds of Pantagruel. 
 
 31. Lamb's Essays of Eha. 
 32. 77^ History of Thomas 
 
 6. Machiavclli's Prince. 
 
 Ellwood. 
 
 7. Bacon's Essays. 1 33- Emerson's Essays, &c. 
 
 8. Defoe's Journal of the 
 
 34. Southey's Life of Nelson. 
 
 Plague Year. 
 
 35. Zte Quincey's Confessions 
 
 9. Locke on Civil Government 
 
 of an Opium-Eater, &*c. 
 
 and Filmed s "Patriarcha." 
 
 36. Stories of Ireland. By Miss 
 
 10. Butler's Analogy of Religion. 
 II. Dry den's Virgil. 
 
 EDGEWORTH. 
 37. Frere's Aristophanes: 
 
 12. Scott's Demonology and 
 Witchcraft. 
 
 Acharnians, Knights, Birds. 
 38. Burke' s Speeches and Letters. 
 
 13. Her rick's Hesperidts. 
 
 39. 7^homas a Kempis. 
 
 14. Coleridge's Table- Talk. 
 
 40. Popular Sougs of Ireland. 
 
 15- Boccaccio's Decameron. 
 
 41. Potter's sEschylus. 
 
 1 6. Sterne's Tristram Shandy. 
 
 42. Goethe's Faust: Part II. 
 
 I'/. Chapman's Homer's Iliad. 
 1 8. Medieval Tales. 
 
 ANSTER'S Translation. 
 43. Famous Pamphlets. 
 
 19. Voltaire's Candide, and 
 Johnson's Rasseias. 
 
 44. Francklin's Sophocles. 
 45. 3/. (7. Lewis's Tales of 
 
 20. Jomon's Plays and Poems. 
 21. Hobbes's Leviathan. 
 
 Terror and Wonder. 
 
 46. Vestiges of the Natural 
 
 22. Sajnuel Butler's Hudibras. 
 23. Ideal Commonwealths. 
 
 History of Creation. 
 47. D ray ton s Barons' Wars, 
 
 Nymphidia, &*. 
 
 24. Cavendish's Life of Wolsey. 
 
 48. CobbetCs Advice to Youn 
 
 25 & 26. Z>07* Quixote. 
 
 n/r 
 
 Men. 
 
 2 7 . Burlesque Plays and Poems. 
 
 49. Dante's Convito. 
 
 yp g 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 THIS translation of Dante's Convito the first in English 
 is from the hand of a lady whose enthusiasm for the genius 
 of Dante has made it a chief pleasure of her life to dwell 
 on it by translating, not his Divine Comedy only, but also 
 the whole body of his other works. Among those works 
 the Vita Nuova and the Convito have a distinct place, 
 as leading up to the great masterpiece. In the New Life, 
 Man starts on his career with human love that points 
 to the divine. In the Banquet, he passes to mature life 
 and to love of knowledge that declares the power and 
 the love of God in the material and moral world about 
 us and within us. In the Divine Comedy, the Poet passes 
 to the world to come, and rises to the final union of the 
 love for Beatrice, the beatifier, with the glory of the Love 
 of God. Of this great series, the crowning work has, of 
 course, had many translators, and there have been translators 
 also of the book that shows the youth of love. But the 
 noble fragment of the Convito that unites these two has, I 
 believe, never yet been placed within reach of the English 
 reader, except by a translation of its poems only into 
 
6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 unrhymed measure in Mr. Charles Lyell's " Poems of the 
 Vita Nuova and the Convito," published in 1835. 
 
 The Convito is a fragment. There are four books where 
 fifteen were designed, including three only of the intended 
 fourteen songs. But the plan is clear, and one or two 
 glances forward to the matter of the last book, which would 
 have had Justice for its theme, show that all was to have 
 been brought to a high spiritual close. 
 
 Its aim was no less than the lifting of men's minds 
 by knowledge of the world without them and within them, 
 bound together in creation, showing forth the Mind of the 
 Creator. The reader of this volume must not flinch from 
 the ingenious dialectics of the mediaeval reasoner on Man 
 and Nature. Dante's knowledge is the knowledge of his 
 time. Science had made little advance since Aristotle 
 who is " the Philosopher " taken by Dante for his human 
 guide first laid its foundations. It is useful, no doubt, to 
 be able in a book like this, shaped by a noble mind, to 
 study at their best the forms of reasoning that made the 
 science of the Middle Ages. But the reader is not called 
 upon to make his mind unhappy with endeavours to seize 
 all the points, say, of a theory of the heavens that was most 
 ingenious, but in no part true. The main thing is to observe 
 how the mistaken reasoning joins each of the seven sciences 
 to one of the seven heavens, and here as everywhere joins 
 earth to heaven, and bids man lift his head and look up, 
 Godward, to the source of light. If spiritual truth could 
 only come from right and ] perfect knowledge, this would 
 have been a world of dead souls from the first till now ; for 
 
INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 future centuries, in looking back at us, will wonder at the 
 little faulty knowledge that we think so much. But let the 
 known be what it may, the true soul rises from it to a sense 
 of the divine mysteries of Wisdom and of Love. Dante's 
 knowledge may be full of ignorance, and so is ours. But he 
 fills it as he can with the Spirit of God. He is not content 
 that men should be as sheep, and look downward to earth 
 for all the food they need. He bids them to a Banquet of 
 another kind, whose dishes are of knowledge for the mind 
 and heavenward aspiration for the soul. 
 
 Dante's Convito of which the name was, no doubt, 
 suggested by the Banquets of Plato and Xenophon was 
 written at the close of his life, after the Divine Comedy, and 
 no trace has been found of more of its songs than the three 
 which may have been written and made known some time 
 before he began work on their Commentary. Death stayed 
 his hand, and the completion passed into a song that 
 joined the voice of Dante to the praise in heaven. 
 
 H. M. 
 April 1887. 
 
THE 
 
 BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 jfirst treatise* 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 As the Philosopher says in the beginning of the first 
 Philosophy : " All men naturally desire Knowledge." 
 The reason of which may be, that each thing, 
 impelled by the intuition of its own nature, tends L 
 towards its perfection ; hence, forasmuch as Know- 
 ledge is the final perfection of our Soul, in which 
 our ultimate happiness consists, we are all naturally 
 subject to the desire for it. 
 
 Verily, many are deprived of this most noble 
 perfection, by divers causes within the man and 
 without him, which remove him from the use of 
 Knowledge. 
 
 Within the man there may be two defects or 
 impediments ; the one on the part of the Body, the 
 other on the part of the Soul. On the part of the 
 Body it is, when the parts are unfitly disposed, so 
 that it can receive nothing : as with the deaf and 
 dumb, and their like. On the part of the Soul it is, 
 when evil triumphs in it, so that it becomes the 
 
io THE BANQUET OF DANTE AL1GHIER1. 
 
 follower of vicious pleasures, through which it is so 
 much deceived, that on account of them it holds 
 everything in contempt. 
 
 Without the man, two causes may in like manner 
 be understood, of which one comes of necessity, the 
 other of stagnation. The first is the management of 
 the family and conduct of civil affairs, which fitly 
 draws to itself the greater number of men, so that 
 they cannot live in the quietness of speculation. 
 The other is the fault of the place where a person 
 is born and reared, which will ofttimes be not only 
 without any School whatever, but may be far distant 
 from studious people. The two first of these causes 
 the first of the hindrance from within, and the first of 
 the hindrance from without are not deserving of 
 blame, but of excuse and pardon ; the two others, 
 although the one more than the other, deserve blame 
 and are to be detested. 
 
 Hence, he who reflects well, can manifestly see 
 that they are few who can attain to the enjoyment 
 of Knowledge, though it is desired by all, and 
 almost innumerable are the fettered ones who live 
 for ever famished of this food. 
 
 Oh, blessed are those few who sit at that table 
 where the Bread of Angels is eaten, and wretched 
 those who can feed only as the Sheep. But because 
 each man is naturally friendly to each man, and each 
 friend grieves for the fault of him whom he loves ; 
 they who are fed at that high table are full of 
 mercy towards those whom they see straying in 
 one pasture with the creatures who eat grass and 
 acorns. 
 
 And forasmuch as Mercy is the Mother of 
 Benevolence, those who know how, do always 
 liberally offer their good wealth to the true poor, 
 
THE FIRST TREATISE. II 
 
 and are like a living stream, whose water cools the 
 before-named natural thirst I, then, who sit not at 
 the blessed table, but having fled from the pasture of 
 the common herd, lie at the feet of those who sit 
 there and gather up what falls from them, by the 
 sweetness which I find in that which I collect little 
 by little, I know the wretched life of those whom I 
 have left behind me ; and moved mercifully for the 
 unhappy ones, not forgetting myself, I have reserved 
 something which I have shown to their eyes long 
 ago, and for this I have made them greatly desirous. 
 Wherefore, now wishing to prepare for them, I mean 
 to make a common Banquet of this which I have 
 shown to them, and of that needed bread without 
 which food such as this could not be eaten by* them 
 at their feast ; bread fit for such meat, which I 
 know, without it, would be furnished forth in vain. 
 And therefore I desire that no one should sit at this 
 Banquet whose members are so unfitly disposed that 
 he has neither teeth, nor tongue, nor palate : nor any 
 follower of vice ; inasmuch as his stomach is full 
 of venomous and hurtful humours, so that it will 
 retain no food whatever. But let those come to us, 
 whosoever they be, who, pressed by the management 
 of civil and domestic life, have felt this human 
 hunger, and at one table with others who have been 
 in like bondage, let them sit. But at their feet let 
 us place all those who have been the slaves of 
 sloth, and who are not worthy to sit higher : and 
 then let these and those eat of my dish, with the 
 bread which I will cause them to taste and to 
 digest. 
 
 The meat at this repast will be prepared in four- 
 teen different ways, that is, in fourteen Songs, some 
 of whose themes will be of Love and some of Virtue: 
 
12 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 which, without the present bread, might have some 
 shadow of obscurity, so that to many they might be 
 acceptable more on account of their form than 
 because of their spirit. But this bread is the present 
 Exposition. It will be the Light whereby each colour 
 of their design will be made visible. 
 
 And if in the present work, which is named 
 "Convito" the Banquet, the glad Life Together 
 I desire that the subject should be discussed more 
 maturely than in the Vita Nuova the New Life I 
 do not therefore mean in any degree to undervalue 
 that Fresh Life, but greatly to enhance it ; seeing 
 how reasonable it is for that age to be fervid and 
 passionate, and for this to be mature and temperate. 
 At one age it is fit to speak and work in one way, 
 and at another age in another way ; because certain 
 manners are fit and praiseworthy at one age which 
 are improper and blameable at another, as will be 
 demonstrated with suitable argument in the fourth 
 treatise of this Book. In that first Book (Vita 
 Nuova) at the entrance into my youth I spoke ; and 
 in this latter I speak after my youth has already 
 passed away. And since my true meaning may be 
 other than that which the aforesaid songs show forth, 
 I mean by an allegoric exposition to explain these 
 after the literal argument shall have been reasoned 
 out : so that the one argument with the other shall 
 give a relish to those who are the guests invited to 
 this Banquet. And of them all I pray that if the feast 
 be not so splendid as befits the proclamation thereof, 
 let them impute each defect, not to my will but 
 my means, since my will here is to a full and lovi 
 Liberality. 
 
THE FIRST TREATISE. 13 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN preparing for every well-ordered Banquet the 
 servants are wont to take the proper bread, and see 
 that it is clean from all blemish ; wherefore I, who in 
 the present writing stand in servant's place, intend 
 firstly to remove two spots from this exposition 
 which at my repast stands in the place of bread. 
 
 The one is, that it appears to be unlawful for any 
 one to speak of himself; the other, that it seems to 
 be unreasonable to speak too deeply when giving 
 explanations. Let the knife of my judgment pare 
 away from the present treatise the unlawful and the 
 unreasonable. One does not permit any Rhetorician 
 to speak of himself without a necessary cause. And 
 from this is the man removed, because he can speak 
 of no one without praise or blame of those of whom 
 he speaks ; which two causes commonly induce a 
 man to speak of himself. And in order to remove 
 a doubt which here arises, I say that it is worse 
 for any one to blame than to praise himself, 
 although neither may have to be done. The reason 
 is, that anything which is essentially wrong is worse 
 than that which is wrong through accident. For a - 
 man openly to bring contempt on himself is essen- 
 tially wrong to his friend, because a man owes it to 
 take account of his fault secretly, and no one is more 
 friendly to himself than the man himself. In the 
 chamber of his thoughts, therefore, he should reprove 
 himself and weep over his faults, and not before the ; 
 world. Again, a man is but seldom blamed when 
 he has not the power or the knowledge requisite to 
 guide himself aright : but he is always blamed when 
 v/eak of will, because our good or evil dispositions 
 
14 THE BANQUET OF DANTE A LIGHTER! . 
 
 are measured by the strength of will. Wherefore 
 he who blames himself proves that he knows his 
 fault, while he reveals his want of goodness ; if, 
 therefore, he know his 'fault, let him no more speak 
 evil of himself. If a man praise himself it is to 
 avoid evil, as it were ; inasmuch as it cannot be done 
 except such self-laudation become in excess dis- 
 honour ; it is praise in appearance, it is infamy in sub- 
 stance. For the words are spoken to prove that of 
 which he has not inward assurance. Hence, he who 
 lauds himself proves his belief that he is not 
 esteemed to be a good man, and this befalls him 
 not unless he have an evil conscience, which he 
 reveals by self-praise, and in so revealing it he 
 blames himself. 
 
 And, again, self-praise and self-blame are to be 
 shunned equally, for this reason, that it is false wit- 
 nessing. Because there is no man who can be a true 
 and just judge of himself, so much will self-love deceive 
 him. Hence it happens that every man has in his 
 own judgment the measures of the false merchant, 
 who sells with the one, and buys with the other. 
 Every man weights the scales against his own 
 wrong-doing, and adds weight to his good deeds ; 
 so that the number and the quantity and the weight 
 of the good deeds appear to him to be greater than 
 if they were tried in a just balance ; and in like 
 manner the evil appears less. Wherefore speaking 
 of himself with praise or with blame, either he 
 speaks falsely with regard to the thing of which he 
 speaks, or he speaks falsely by the fault of his judg- 
 ment ; and as the one is untruth, so is the other. 
 And therefore, since to acquiesce is to admit, he 
 is wrong who praises or who blames before the 
 face of any man ; because the man thus appraised 
 
THE FIRST TREATISE. 15 
 
 can neither acquiesce nor deny without falling into 
 the error of either praising or blaming himself. 
 Reserve the way of due correction, which cannot be 
 taken without reproof of error, and which corrects if 
 understood. Reserve also the way of due honour 
 and glory, which cannot be taken without mention 
 of virtuous works, or of dignities that have been 
 worthily acquired. 
 
 And in truth, returning to the main argument, 
 I say, as before, that it is permitted to a man for 
 requisite reasons to speak of himself. And amongst 
 the several requisite reasons two are most evident : 
 the one is when a man cannot avoid great danger and 
 infamy, unless he discourse of himself; and then it 
 is conceded for the reason, that to take the less 
 objectionable of the only two paths, is to take as it 
 were a good one. And this necessity moved Boethius 
 to speak of himself, in order that under pretext of 
 Consolation he might excuse the perpetual shame of 
 his imprisonment, by showing that imprisonment to 
 be unjust ; since no other man arose to justify him. 
 And this reason moved St. Augustine to speak of 
 himself in his Confessions ; that, by the progress 
 of his life, which was from bad to good, and from 
 good to better, and from better to best, he might 
 give example and instruction, which, from truer 
 testimony, no one could receive. Therefore, if either 
 of these reasons excuse me, the bread of my moulding 
 is sufficiently cleared from its first impurity. 
 
 The fear of shame moves me ; and I am moved 
 by the desire to give instruction which others truly 
 are unable to give. I fear shame for having followed 
 passion so ardently, as he may conceive who reads 
 the afore-named Songs, and sees how greatly I was 
 ruled by it ; which shame ceases entirely by the 
 
16 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 present speech of myself, which proves that not 
 passion but virtue may have been the moving cause. 
 I intend also to demonstrate the true meaning of 
 those Poems, which some could not perceive unless 
 I relate it, because it is concealed under the veil 
 of Allegory ; and this it not only will give pleasure 
 to hear, but subtle instruction, both as to the diction 
 and as to the intention of the other writings 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MUCH fault is in that thing which is appointed to re- 
 move some grave evil, and yet encourages it ; even 
 as in the man who might be sent to quell a tumult, 
 and, before he had quelled it, should begin another. 
 And forasmuch as my bread is made clean on 
 one side, it behoves me to cleanse it on the other, 
 in order to shun this reproof : that my writing, which 
 one may term, as it were, a Commentary, is appointed 
 to remove obscurity from the before-mentioned 
 Songs, and is, in fact, itself at times a little hard 
 to understand. This obscurity is here intended, in 
 order to avoid a greater defect, and does not occur 
 through ignorance. Alas ! would that it might have 
 pleased the Dispenser of the Universe that the cause 
 of my excuse might never have been ; that others 
 might neither have sinned against me, nor I have 
 suffered punishment unjustly ; the punishment, I say, 
 of exile and poverty ! Since it was the pleasure of the 
 citizens of the most beautiful and the most famous 
 daughter of Rome, Florence, to cast me out from her 
 most sweet bosom (wherein I was born and nourished 
 even to the height of my life, and in which, with her 
 goodwill, I desire with all my heart to repose my 
 
THE FIRST TREATISE. 17 
 
 weary soul, and to end the time which is given to 
 me), I have gone through almost all the land in 
 which this language lives a pilgrim, almost a mendi- 
 cant showing forth against my will the wound of 
 Fortune, with which the ruined man is often unjustly 
 reproached. Truly I have been a ship without a 
 sail and without a rudder, borne to divers ports and 
 lands and shores by the dry wind which blows from 
 doleful poverty; and I have appeared vile in the 
 eyes of many, who perhaps through some report 
 may have imaged me in other form. In the sight of 
 whom not only my person became vile, but each 
 work already completed was held to be of less 
 value than that might again be which remained yet 
 to be done. 
 
 The reason wherefore this happens (not only to 
 me but to all), it now pleases me here briefly to touch 
 upon. And firstly, it is because rumour goes beyond 
 the truth ; and then, what is beyond the truth restricts 
 and strangles it. Good report is the first-born ofV 
 kindly thought in the mind of the friend ; which the 
 mind of the foe, although it may receive the seed, 
 conceives not. 
 
 That mind which gives birth to it in the first 
 place, so to make its gift more fair, as by the charity 
 of friendship, keeps not within bounds of truth, but 
 passes beyond them. When one does that to adorn 
 a tale, he speaks against his conscience ; when 
 it is chanty that causes him to pass the bounds, he 
 speaks not against conscience. 
 
 The second mind which receives this, not only is 
 content with the exaggeration of the first mind, but 
 its own report adds its own effect of endeavours to 
 embellish, and so by this action, and by the decep- 
 tion which it also receives from the goodwill 
 
1 8 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALlGHIERL 
 
 generated in it, good report is made more ample 
 than it should be ; either with the consent or the 
 dissent of the conscience ; even as it was with the 
 first mind. And the third receiving mind does this ; 
 and the fourth ; and thus the exaggeration of good 
 ever grows. And so, by turning the aforesaid 
 motives in the contrary direction, one can perceive 
 why ill-fame in like manner is made to grow. 
 Wherefore Virgil says in the fourth of the ^Eneid : 
 " Let Fame live to be fickle, and grow as she goes." 
 Clearly, then, he who is willing may perceive that the 
 image generated by Fame alone is always larger, 
 whatever it may be, than the thing imaged is, in its 
 true state. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HAVING previously shown the reason why Fame 
 magnifies the good and the evil beyond due limit, 
 it remains in this chapter to show forth those 
 reasons which make evident why the Presence restricts 
 in the opposite way, and having shown this I will 
 return to the principal proposition. I say, then, 
 that for three causes his Presence makes a person 
 of less value than he is. The first is childishness, I 
 do not say of age, but of mind ; the second is envy ; 
 and these are in the judge : the third is human 
 impurity ; and this is in the person judged. The 
 first, one can briefly reason thus : the greater part 
 of men live according to sense and not according to 
 reason, after the manner of children, and the like of 
 these judge things simply from without ; and the 
 goodness which is ordained to a fit end they perceive 
 not, because the eyes of Reason, which they need in 
 
THE FIRST TREATISE. 19 
 
 order to perceive it, are closed. Hence, they soon 
 see all that they can, and judge according to their 
 sight. 
 
 And forasmuch as any opinion they form on the 
 good fame of others, from hearsay, with which, in 
 the presence of the person judged, their imperfect 
 judgment may dissent, they amend not according to 
 reason, because they judge merely according to 
 sense, they will deem that which they have first 
 heard to be a lie as it were, and dispraise the person 
 who was previously praised. Hence, in such men, 
 and such are almost all, Presence restricts the one 
 fame and the other. Such men as these are incon- 
 stant and are soon cloyed ; they are often gay and 
 often sad from brief joys and sorrows ; speedy 
 friends and speedy foes ; each thing they do like 
 children, without the use of reason. 
 
 The second observation from these reasons is, that 
 due comparison is cause for envy to the vicious ; and 
 envy is a cause of evil judgment, because it does 
 not permit Reason to argue for that which is envied, 
 and the judicial power is then like the judge who 
 hears only one side. Hence, when such men as 
 these perceive a person to be famous, they are 
 immediately jealous, because they compare members 
 and powers ; and they fear, on account of the 
 excellence of such an one, to be themselves 
 accounted of less worth ; and these passionate men, 
 not only judge evilly, but, by defamation, they cause 
 others to judge evilly. Wherefore with such men 
 their apprehension restricts the acknowledgment of 
 good and evil in each person represented ; and I say 
 this also of evil, because many who delight in evil 
 deeds have envy towards evil-doers. 
 
 The third observation is of human frailty, which 
 
20 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 one accepts on the part of him who is judged, and from 
 which familiar conversation is not altogether free. 
 In evidence of this, it is to be known that man is 
 stained in many parts ; and, as says St. Augustine, 
 " none is without spot." Now, the man is stained 
 with some passion, which he cannot always resist ; 
 now, he is blemished by some fault of limb ; now, 
 he is bruised by some blow from Fortune ; now, he 
 is soiled by the ill-fame of his parents, or of some 
 near relation : things which Fame does not bear 
 with her, but which hang to the man, so that he 
 reveals them by his conversation ; and these spots 
 cast some shadow upon the brightness of goodness, 
 so that they cause it to appear less bright and 
 less excellent. And this is the reason why each 
 prophet is less honoured in his own country ; and 
 this is why the good man ought to give his presence 
 to few, and his familiarity to still fewer, in order that 
 his name may be received and not despised. And 
 this third observation may be the same for the evil 
 as for the good, if we reverse the conditions of the 
 argument. Wherefore it is clearly evident that by 
 imperfections, from which no one is free, the seen 
 Presence restricts right perception of the good and 
 of the evil in every one, more than truth desires. 
 Hence, since, as has been said above, I myself have 
 been, as it were, visibly present to all the Italians, 
 by which I perhaps am made more vile than truth 
 desires, not only to those to whom my repute had 
 already run, but also to others, whereby I am made 
 the lighter ; it behoves me that with a more lofty 
 style I may give to the present work a little gravity, 
 through which it may show greater authority. Let 
 this suffice to excuse the difficulty of my com- 
 mentary. 
 
THE FIRST TREATISE. 21 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SINCE this bread is now cleared of accidental spots, 
 it remains to excuse it from a substantial one, that 
 is for being in my native tongue and not in Latin ; 
 which by similitude one may term, of barley-meal 
 and not of wheaten flour. And from this it is 
 briefly excused by three reasons which moved me to 
 choose the one rather than the other. One springs 
 from the avoidance of inconvenient Unfitness : the 
 second from the readiness of well-adjusted Liberality ; 
 the third from the natural Love for one's own Native 
 Tongue. And these things, with the grounds for 
 them, to the staying of all possible reproof, I mean 
 in due order to reason out in this form. 
 
 That which most adorns and commends human 
 actions, and which most directly leads them to a 
 good result, is the use of dispositions best adapted 
 to the end in view ; as the end aimed at in knight- 
 hood is courage of mind and strength of body. 
 And thus he who is ordained to the service of 
 others, ought to have those dispositions which are 
 suited to that end ; as submission, knowledge and 
 obedience, without which any one is unfit to serve 
 well. Because if he is not subject to each of these 
 conditions, he proceeds in his service always with 
 fatigue and trouble, and but seldom continues in it. 
 If he is not obedient, he never serves except as in 
 his wisdom he thinks fit, and when he wills ; which 
 is rather the service of a friend than of a servant. 
 Hence, to escape this disorder, this commentary is 
 fit, which is made as a servant to the under-written 
 Songs, in order to be subject to these, and to each 
 separate command of theirs. It must be conscious 
 
22 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 of the wants of its lord, and obedient to him ; which 
 dispositions would be all wanting to it if it were a 
 Latin servant, not a native, since the songs are all 
 in the language of our people. For, in the first 
 place, if it had been a Latin servant he would be 
 not a subject but a sovereign, in nobility, in virtue, 
 and in beauty ; in nobility, because the Latin is 
 perpetual and incorruptible ; the language of the 
 vulgar is unstable and corruptible. Hence we see 
 in the ancient writings of the Latin Comedies and 
 Tragedies that they cannot change, being the same 
 Latin that we now have ; this happens not with our 
 native tongue, which, being home-made, changes 
 at pleasure. Hence we see in the cities of Italy, if 
 we will look carefully back fifty years from the 
 present time, many words to have become extinct, 
 and to have been born, and to have been altered. 
 But if a little time transforms them thus, a longer 
 time changes them more. So that I say that, if 
 those who departed from this life a thousand years 
 ago should come back to their cities, they would 
 believe those cities to be inhabited by a strange 
 people, who speak a tongue discordant from their 
 own. On this subject I will speak elsewhere more 
 completely in a book which I intend to write, God 
 willing, on the u Language of the People." 
 
 Again, the >JL,atin was not subject, but sovereign, 
 through virtue. Each thing has virtue in its nature, 
 which does that to which it is ordained ; and the 
 better it does it so much the more virtue it has : 
 hence we call that man virtuous who lives a life con- 
 templative or active, doing that for which he is best 
 fitted ; we ascribe his virtue to the horse that 
 runs swiftly and much, to which end he is ordained : 
 we see virtue of a sword that cuts through hard 
 
THE FIRST TREATISE. 23 
 
 things well, since it has been made to do so. 
 Thus speech, which is ordained to express human 
 thought, has virtue when it does that ; and most 
 virtue is in the speech which does it most. Hence, 
 forasmuch as the Latin reveals many things con- 
 ceived in the mind which the vulgar tongue cannot 
 express, even as those know who have the use of 
 either language, its virtue is far greater than that of 
 the vulgar tongue. 
 
 Again, it was not subject, but sovereign, because of 
 its beauty. That thing man calls beautiful whose 
 parts are duly proportionate, because beauty results 
 from their harmony ; hence, man appears to be 
 beautiful when his limbs are duly proportioned ; and 
 we call a song beautiful when the voices in it, 
 according to the rule of art, are in harmony with 
 each other. Hence, that language is most beautiful 
 in which the words most fitly correspond, and this 
 they do more in the Latin than in the present 
 Language of the People, since the beautiful vulgar 
 tongue follows use, and the Latin, Art. Hence, one 
 concedes it to be more beautiful, more virtuous and 
 more noble. And so one concludes, as first pro- 
 posed ; that is, that the Latin Commentary would 
 have been the Sovereign, not the Subject, of the 
 Songs. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HAVING shown how the present Commentary 
 could not have been the subject of Songs written in 
 our native tongue, if it had been in the Latin, it 
 remains to show how it could not have been capable 
 or obedient to those Songs ; and then it will be shown 
 
24 THE BANQUET OF DANTE AlIGHlERL 
 
 how, to avoid unsuitable disorder, it was needful to 
 speak in the native tongue. 
 
 I say that Latin would not have been a capable 
 servant for my Lord the Vernacular, for this reason. 
 The servant is required chiefly to know two things 
 perfectly : the one is the nature of his lord, because 
 there are lords of such an asinine nature that they 
 command the opposite of that which they desire ; 
 and there are others who, without speaking, wish to 
 be understood and served ; and there are others who 
 will not let the servant move to do that which is 
 needful, unless they have ordered it. And because 
 these variations are in men, I do not intend in the 
 present work to show, for the digression would be 
 enlarged too much, except as I speak in general, that 
 such men as these are beasts, as it were, to whom 
 reason is of little worth. Wherefore, if the servant 
 know not the nature of his lord, it is evident that 
 he cannot serve him perfectly. The other thing is, 
 that it is requisite for the servant to know also the 
 friends of his lord ; for otherwise he could not honour 
 them, nor serve them, and thus he would not serve 
 his lord perfectly : forasmuch as the friends are the 
 parts of a whole, as it were, because their whole is 
 one wish or its opposite. Neither would the Latin 
 Commentary have had such knowledge of those 
 things as the vulgar tongue itself has. That the 
 Latin cannot be acquainted with the Vulgar Tongue 
 and with its friends, is thus proved. He who knows 
 anything in general knows not that thing perfectly ; 
 even as he who knows from afar off one animal, 
 knows not that animal perfectly, because he knows 
 not if it be a dog, a wolf, or a he-goat. The Latin 
 knows the Vulgar tongue in general, but not sepa- 
 rately ; for if it should know it separately it would 
 
THE FIRST TREATISE. 25 
 
 know all the Vulgar Tongues, because it is not right 
 that it should know one more than the other ; and 
 thus, what man soever might possess the complete 
 knowledge of the Latin tongue, the use of that know- 
 ledge would show him all distinctions of the Vulgar. 
 But this is not so, for one used to the Latin does not 
 distinguish, if he be a native of Italy, the vulgar 
 tongue of Provence from the German, nor can the 
 German distinguish the vulgar Italian tongue from 
 that of Provence : hence, it is evident that the Latin 
 is not cognizant of the Vulgar. Again, it is not 
 cognizant of its friends, because it is impossible to 
 know the friends without knowing the principal ; 
 hence, if the Latin does not know the Vulgar, as it 
 is proved above, it is impossible for it to know its 
 friends. Again, without conversation or familiarity, 
 it is impossible to know men ; and the Latin has no 
 conversation with so many in any language as the 
 Vulgar has, to which all are friends, and consequently 
 cannot know the friends of the Vulgar. 
 
 And this, that it would be possible to say, is no 
 contradiction ; that the Latin does converse with 
 some friends of the Vulgar : but since it is not 
 familiar with all, it is not perfectly acquainted with 
 its friends, whereas perfect knowledge is required, 
 and not defective. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 HAVING proved that the Latin Commentary could 
 not have been a capable servant, I will tell how it 
 could not have been an obedient one. He is obe- 
 dient who has the good disposition which is called 
 obedience. True obedience must have three things, 
 
26 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGH1ERL 
 
 without which it cannot be : it should be sweet, 
 and not bitter; entirely under control, and not im- 
 pulsive ; with due measure, and not excessive ; which 
 three things it was impossible for the Latin Com- 
 mentary to have ; and, therefore, it was impossible 
 for it to be obedient. That to the Latin it would 
 have been impossible, as is said, is evident by such 
 an argument as this : each thing which proceeds by an 
 inverse order is laborious, and consequently is bitter, 
 and not sweet ; even as to sleep by day and to wake 
 by night, and to go backwards and not forwards. 
 For the subject to command the sovereign, is to 
 proceed in the inverse order ; because the direct 
 order is, for the sovereign to command the subject ; 
 and thus it is bitter, and not sweet ; and because to 
 the bitter command it is impossible to give sweet 
 obedience, it is impossible, when the subject com- 
 mands, for the obedience of the sovereign to be 
 sweet. Hence if the Latin is the sovereign of the 
 Vulgar Tongue, as is shown above by many reasons, 
 and the Songs, which are in place of commanders, 
 are in the Vulgar Tongue, it is impossible for the 
 argument to be sweet. Then is obedience entirely 
 commanded, and in no way spontaneous, when that 
 which the obedient man does, he would not have 
 done of his own will, either in whole or in part, 
 without commandment. And, therefore, if it might 
 be commanded to me to carry two long robes upon 
 my back, and if without commandment I should 
 carry one, I say that my obedience is not entirely 
 commanded, but is in part spontaneous ; and such 
 would have been that of the Latin Commentary, 
 and consequently it would not have been obedience 
 entirely commanded. What such might have been 
 appears by this, that the Latin, without the command 
 
THE FIRST TREATISE \ 27 
 
 of this Lord, the Vernacular, would have expounded 
 many parts of his argument (and it does expound, as he 
 who searches well the books written in Latin may 
 perceive), which the Vulgar Tongue does nowhere. 
 
 Again, obedience is within bounds, and not exces- 
 sive, when it goes to the limit of the command, and 
 no further ; as Individual Nature is obedient to Uni- 
 versal Nature when she makes thirty-two teeth in 
 the man, and no more and no less ; and when she 
 makes five fingers on the hand, and no more and no 
 less ; and the man is obedient to Justice when he 
 does that which the Law commands, and no more 
 and no less. 
 
 Neither would the Latin have done this, but it 
 would have sinned not only in the defect, and not 
 only in the excess, but in each one ; and thus its 
 obedience would not have been within due limit, but 
 intemperate, and consequently it would not have 
 been obedient. That the Latin would not have 
 been the executor of the commandment of his Lord, 
 and that neither would he have been a usurper, one 
 can easily prove. This Lord, namely, these Songs, 
 to which this Commentary is ordained for their 
 servant, commands and desires that they shall be 
 explained to all those whose mind is so far intelligent 
 that when they hear speech they can understand, 
 and when they speak they can be understood, 
 And no one doubts, that if the Songs should 
 command by word of mouth, this would be their 
 commandment. But the Latin would not have 
 explained them, except to the learned men : and so 
 that the rest could not have understood. Hence, 
 forasmuch as the number of unlearned men who 
 desire to understand those Songs may be far greater 
 than the learned, it follows that it could not havd 
 
2 8 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 fulfilled its commandment so well as the Native 
 Tongue, which is understood both by the Learned 
 and the Unlearned. Again, the Latin would have 
 explained them to people of another language, as to 
 the Germans, to the English, and to others ; and 
 here it would have exceeded their commandment. 
 For against their will, speaking freely, I say, their 
 meaning would be explained there where they could 
 not convey it in all their beauty. 
 
 And, therefore, let each one know, that nothing 
 which is harmonized by the bond of the Muse can 
 be translated from its own language into another, 
 without breaking all its sweetness and harmony. 
 And this is the reason why Homer was not trans- 
 lated from Greek into Latin, like the other writings 
 that we have of the Greeks. And this is the reason 
 why the verses of the Psalms are without sweetness 
 of music and harmony ; for they were translated 
 from Hebrew into Greek, and from Greek into Latin, 
 and in the first translation all that sweetness vanished. 
 
 And, thus is concluded that which was proposed in 
 the beginning of the chapter immediately before this. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SINCE it is proved by sufficient reasons that, in order 
 to avoid unsuitable confusion, it would be right that 
 the above-named Songs be opened and explained by 
 a Commentary in our Native Tongue and not in the 
 Latin, I intend to show again how a ready Liberality 
 makes me select this way and leave the other. It is 
 possible, then, to perceive a ready Liberality in three 
 things, which go with this Native Tongue, and which 
 would not have gone with the Latin. The first is to 
 
THE FIRST TREATISE. 29 
 
 give to many ; the second is to give useful things ; 
 the third is to give the gift without being asked for it. 
 
 For to give to and to assist one person is good ; 
 but to give to and to assist many is ready goodness, 
 inasmuch as it has a similitude to the good gifts of 
 God, who is the Benefactor of the Universe. And 
 again, to give to many is impossible without giving 
 to one, forasmuch as one is included in many. 
 But to give to one may be good without giving to 
 many, because he who assists many does good to 
 one and to the other ; he who assists one does good 
 to one only : hence, we see the imposers of the laws, 
 especially if they are for the common good, hold the 
 eyes fixed whilst compiling these laws. Again, to 
 give useless things to 'the receiver is also a good, 
 inasmuch as he who gives, shows himself at least to 
 be a friend ; but it is not a perfect good, and there- 
 fore it is not ready : as if a knight should give to a 
 doctor a shield, and as if the doctor should give to 
 a knight the written aphorisms of Hippocrates, or 
 rather the technics of Galen ; because the wise men 
 say that " the face of the gift ought to be similar to 
 that of the receiver," that is, that it be suitable to 
 him," and that it be useful ; and therein it is called 
 ready liberality in him who thus discriminates in giving. 
 
 But forasmuch as moral discourses usually create 
 a desire to see their origin, in this chapter I intend 
 briefly to demonstrate four reasons why of neces- 
 sity the gift (in order that it be ready liberality) 
 should be useful to him who receives. Firstly, 
 because virtue must be cheerful and not sad in every 
 action : hence, if the gift be not cheerful in the giving 
 and in the receiving, in it there is not perfect nor 
 ready virtue. And this joy can spring only from the 
 utility, which resides in the giver through the giving, 
 
30 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 and which comes to the receiver through the re-* 
 ceiving. In the giver, then, there must be the 
 foresight, in doing this, that on his part there shall 
 remain the benefit of an inherent virtue which is above 
 all other advantages ; and that to the receiver come 
 the benefit of the use of the thing given. Thus the 
 one and the other will be cheerful, and consequently 
 it will be a ready liberality, that is, a liberality both 
 prompt and well considered. 
 
 Secondly, because virtue ought always to move 
 things forwards and upwards. For even as it would 
 be a blameable action to make a spade of a beautiful 
 sword, or to make a fair basin of a lovely lute ; so it 
 is wrong to move anything from a place where it 
 may be useful, and to carry it into a place where it 
 may be less useful. And since it is blameable to 
 work in vain, it is wrong not merely to put the thing 
 in a place where it may be less useful, but even in a 
 place where it may be equally useful. Hence, in 
 order that the changing of the place of a thing may 
 be laudable, it must always be for the better, because 
 it ought to be especially praiseworthy ; and this the 
 gift cannot be, if by transformation it become not 
 more precious. Nor can it become more precious, if 
 it be not more useful to the receiver than to the 
 giver. Wherefore, one concludes that the gift must 
 be useful to him who receives it, in order that it may 
 be in itself ready liberality. 
 
 Thirdly, because the exercise of the virtue of 
 itself ought to be the acquirer of friends. For our 
 life has need of these, and the end of virtue is to 
 make life happy. But that the gift may make the 
 receiver a friend, it must be useful to him, because 
 utility stamps on the memory the image of the gift, 
 which is the food of friendship, and the firmer 
 
THE FIRST TREATISE. 31 
 
 the impression, so much the greater is the utility; 
 hence, Martino was wont to say, u Never will fade 
 from my mind the gift Giovanni made me." Where- 
 fore, in order that in the gift there may be its 
 virtue, which is Liberality, and that it may be ready, 
 it must be useful to him who receives it. 
 
 Finally, since the act of virtue should *be free, not 
 forced, it is free action, when a person goes will- 
 ingly to any place ; which is shown by his keeping 
 the face turned thitherward ; it is forced action, when 
 he goes against his will ; which is shown by his not 
 looking cheerfully towards the place whither he 
 goes : and thus the gift looks towards its appointed 
 place when it addresses itself to the need of the 
 receiver. And since it cannot address itself to that 
 need except it be useful, it follows, in order that it 
 may be with free action, that the virtue be free, and 
 that the gift go freely to its object, which is the 
 receiver ; and consequently the gift must be to the 
 utility of the receiver, in order that there may be a 
 prompt and reasonable Liberality therein. 
 
 The third respect in which one can observe a ready 
 Liberality, is giving unasked ; because, to give what 
 is asked, is, on one side, not virtue, but traffic ; for, 
 the receiver buys, although the giver may not sell ; 
 and so Seneca says "that nothing is purchased 
 more dearly than that whereon prayers are expended." 
 Hence, in order that in the gift there be ready 
 Liberality, and that one may perceive that to be in 
 it, there must be freedom from each act of traffic, 
 and the gift must be unasked. Wherefore that which 
 is besought costs us so dear, I do not mean to argue 
 now, because it will be fully discussed in the last 
 treatise of this book. 
 
32 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A LATIN Commentary would be wanting in all the 
 three above-mentioned conditions, which must con- 
 cur, in order that in the benefit conferred there may be 
 ready Liberality ; and our Mother Tongue possesses 
 all, as it is possible to show thus manifestly. The 
 Latin would not have served many ; for if we recall 
 to memory that which is discoursed of above, the 
 learned men, without the Italian tongue, could not 
 have had this service. And those who know Latin, if 
 we wish to see clearly who they are, we shall find that, 
 out of a thousand one only would have been reason- 
 ably served by it, because they would not have 
 received it, so prompt are they to avarice, which 
 removes them from each nobility of soul that espe- 
 cially desires this food. And to the shame of them, 
 I say that they ought not to be called learned men : 
 because they do not acquire knowledge for the use 
 of it, but forasmuch as they gain money or dignity 
 thereby ; even as one ought not to call him a harper 
 who keeps a harp in his house to be lent out for a 
 price, and not to use it for its music. 
 
 Returning, then, to the principal proposition, I say 
 that one can see clearly how the Latin would have 
 given its good gift to few, but the Mother Tongue 
 will serve many. For the willingness of heart 
 which awaits this service, is in those who, through 
 misuse of the world, have left Literature to men 
 who have made of her a harlot ; and these nobles 
 are princes, barons, knights, and many other 
 noble people, not only men^ but women, whose 
 language is that of the people and unlearned. 
 Again, the Latin would not have been giver of a 
 
THE FIRST TREATISE. 33 
 
 useful gift, as the Mother Tongue will be ; forasmuch 
 as nothing is useful except inasmuch as it is used ; 
 nor is there a perfect existence with inactive goodness. 
 Even so of gold, and pearls, and other treasures 
 which are subterranean, those which are in the hand 
 of the miser are in a lower place than is the earth 
 wherein the treasure was concealed. The gift truly 
 of this Commentary is the explanation of the Songs, 
 for whose service it is made. It seeks especially to 
 lead men to wisdom and to virtue, as will be seen 
 by the process of this treatise. This design those 
 only could have in use in whom true nobility is sown, 
 after the manner that will be described in the fourth 
 treatise ; and these are almost all men of the people, 
 as those are noble which in this chapter are named 
 above. And there is no contradiction, though some 
 learned man may be amongst them ; for, as says my 
 Master Aristotle in the first book of the Ethics, 
 " One swallow HOPS nflf. make the ^pring." It is, 
 then, evident that the Mother Tongue will give the 
 useful thing where Latin would not have given 
 it. Again, the Mother Tongue will give that gift 
 unasked, which the Latin would not have given, 
 because it will give itself in form of a Commentary 
 which never was asked for by any person. But this 
 one cannot say of the Latin, which for Commentary 
 and for Expositions to many writings has often been 
 in request, as one can perceive clearly in the opening 
 of many a book. 
 
 And thus it is evident that a ready Liberality 
 moved me to use the Mother Tongue rather than 
 Latin. 
 
34 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 r CHAPTER X. 
 
 HE greatly needs excuse who, at a feast so noble in 
 its provisions, and so honourable in its guests, sets 
 bread of barley, 'not of wheateri flour : and evident 
 must be the reason which can make a man depart 
 from that which has long been the custom of 
 others, as the use of Latin in writing a Commentary. 
 And, therefore, he would make the reason evident ; 
 for the end of new things is not certain, because 
 experience of them has never been had before : hence, 
 the ways used and observed are estimated both in 
 process and in the end. 
 
 Reason, therefore, is moved to command that 
 man should diligently look about him when he 
 enters a new path, saying, " that, in deliberating 
 about new things, that reason must be clear which 
 can make a man depart from an old custom." Let 
 no one marvel, then, if the digression touching my 
 apology be long ; but, as is necessary, let him bear 
 its length with patience. 
 
 Continuing it, I say that, since it has been shown 
 how, in order to avoid unsuitable confusion and from 
 readiness of liberality, I fixed on the Commentary in 
 the Mother Tongue and left the Latin, the order of 
 the entire apology requires that I now prove how I 
 attached myself to that through the natural love for 
 my native tongue, which is the third and last reason 
 which moved me to this. I say that natural love 
 moves the lover principally to three things : the one 
 is to exalt the loved object, the second is to be jealous 
 thereof, the third is to defend it, as each one sees 
 constantly to happen ; and these three things made 
 me adopt it, that is, our Mother Tongue, which 
 naturally and accidentally I love and have loved. 
 
THE FIRST TREATISE. 35 
 
 I was moved in the first place to exalt it. And 
 that I do exalt it may be seen by this reason : it 
 happens that it is possible to magnify things in 
 many conditions of greatness, and nothing makes so 
 great as the greatness of that goodness which is the 
 mother and preserver of all other forms of greatness. 
 And no greater goodness can a man have than that of 
 virtuous action, which is his own goodness, by which 
 the greatness of true dignity and of true honour, of 
 true power, of true riches, of true friends, of true and 
 pure renown, are acquired and preserved : and this 
 greatness I give to - this friend, inasmuch as that 
 which he had of goodness in latent power and hidden, 
 I cause him to have in action and revealed in its own 
 operation, which is to declare thought. 
 
 Secondly, I was moved by jealousy of it. The 
 jealousy of the friend makes a man anxious to 
 secure lasting provision ; wherefore, thinking that, 
 from the desire to understand these Songs, some un- 
 learned man would have translated the Latin Com- 
 mentary into the Mother Tongue ; and fearing that 
 the Mother Tongue might have been employed by 
 some one who would have made it seem ugly, as he 
 did who translated the Latin of the " Ethics," I 
 endeavoured to employ it, trusting in myself more 
 than in any other. Again, I was moved to defend 
 it from its numerous accusers, who depreciate it and 
 commend others, especially the Langue d'Oc, say- 
 ing, that the latter is more beautiful and better than 
 this, therein deviating from the truth. For by this 
 Commentary the great excellence of our common 
 Lingua di Si will appear, since (through it, most 
 lofty and most original ideas may be as fitly, 
 sufficiently, and easily expressed as if it were by 
 the Latin itself, which cannot show its virtue in 
 
36 THE BANQUET OF DANTE AL1GHIERL 
 
 things rhymed because of accidental ornaments 
 which are connected therewith that is, the rhyme 
 and the rhythm, or the regulated measure ; as it is 
 with the beauty of a lady when the splendour of 
 the jewels and of the garments excite more admi- 
 ration than she herself. He, therefore, who wishes 
 to judge well of a lady looks at her when she is 
 alone and her natural beauty is with her, free from 
 all accidental ornament. So it will be with this 
 Commentary, in which will be seen the facility of 
 the syllables, the propriety of the conditions, and 
 the sweet orations which are made in our Mother 
 Tongue, which a good observer will perceive to be 
 full of most sweet and most amiable beauty. But, 
 since it is most determined in its intention to show 
 the error and the malice of the accuser, I will tell, 
 to the confusion of those who accuse the Italian 
 language, wherefore they are moved to do this ; and 
 this I shall do in a special chapter, in order that 
 their shame may be more notable. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 To the perpetual shame and abasement of the evil 
 men of Italy who commend the Mother Tongue of 
 other nations and depreciate their own, I say that 
 their action proceeds from five abominable causes : 
 the first is blindness of discretion ; the second, mis- 
 chievous self-justification ; the third, greed of vain- 
 glory ; the fourth, an invention of envy ; the fifth 
 and last, vileness of mind, that is, cowardice. And 
 each one of these grave faults has a great following, 
 for few are those who are free from them. 
 
THE FIRST TREATISE. 37 
 
 Of the first, one can reason thus. As the sensi- 
 tive part of the soul has its eyes, with which it 
 learns the difference of things, inasmuch as they are 
 coloured externally ; so the rational part has its eye 
 with which it learns the difference of things, inas- 
 much as each is ordained to some end ; and this is 
 discretion. And as he who is blind with the eyes 
 of sense goes always according to the guidance of 
 others judging evil and good ; so he who is blinded 
 from the light of discretion, always goes in his judg- 
 ment according to the cry, right or wrong as it may 
 be. Hence, whenever the guide is blind, it must 
 follow that what blind man soever leans on him 
 must come to a bad end. Therefore it is written 
 that, " If the blind lead the blind, both fall into the 
 ditch." This cry has been long raised against our 
 Mother Tongue, for the reasons which will be argued 
 below. 
 
 After this cry the blind men above mentioned, 
 who are infinite, as it were with one hand on the 
 shoulder of these false witnesses, have fallen into the 
 ditch of false opinion, from which they know not 
 how to escape. From the use of the sight of discre- 
 tion the mass of the people are debarred, because 
 each being occupied from the early years of his life 
 with some trade, he so directs his mind to that, by 
 force of necessity, that he understands nought else. 
 And forasmuch as the habit of virtue, moral as 
 well as intellectual, cannot possibly be had all on a 
 sudden, but it must be acquired through long 
 custom, and as these people place their custom in 
 some art, and care not to discern other things, it is 
 impossible to them to have discretion. Wherefore it 
 happens that often they cry aloud : " Long live 
 Death!" and "Let 'Life die!" because some one begins 
 
3 8 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 the cry. And this is the most dangerous defect in 
 their blindness. For this reason Boethius judges 
 glory of the people vain, because he sees it to be 
 without discernment. These persons are to be 
 termed sheep and not men ; for if a sheep should 
 leap over a precipice of a thousand feet, all the 
 others would follow after it ; and if one sheep, for 
 some cause or other, in crossing a road, leaps, all 
 the others leap, even when they see nothing to leap 
 over. And I once saw many leap into a well, 
 because one had leapt into it, believing perhaps that 
 it was leaping a wall ; notwithstanding that the 
 shepherd, weeping and shouting, with arms and 
 breast set himself against them. 
 
 The second faction against our Mother Tongue 
 springs from a malicious self-justification. There 
 are many who would rather be thought masters 
 than be such; and to avoid the opposite that is, to 
 be held not to be such they always cast blame on 
 the material they work on, or upon the instrument ; 
 as the clumsy smith blames the iron given to him, 
 and the bad harpist blames the harp, thinking to 
 cast the blame of the bad blade and of the bad 
 music upon the iron and upon the harp, and to lift 
 it from themselves. Thus there are some, and not a 
 few, who desire that a man may hold them to be 
 orators ; and to excuse themselves for not speaking, 
 or for speaking badly, they accuse or throw blame 
 on the material, that is, their own Mother Tongue, 
 and praise that of other lands, which they are not 
 required to employ. And he who wishes to see 
 wherefore this iron is to be blamed, let him look at 
 the work which good artificers make of it, and he 
 will understand the malice of those who, in casting 
 blame upon it, think thereby to excuse themselves. 
 
THE FIRST TREATISE, 39 
 
 Against such as these, Tullius exclaims in the be- 
 ginning of his book, which he names the book " De 
 Finibus," because in his time they blamed the Roman 
 Latin, and praised the Greek grammar. And thus I 
 say, for like reasons, that these men vilify the Italian 
 tongue, and glorify that of Provence. 
 
 The third faction against our Mother Tongue 
 springs from greed of vainglory. There are many 
 who, by describing certain things in some other 
 language, and by praising that language, deem 
 themselves to be more worthy of admiration than 
 if they described them in their own. And un- 
 doubtedly to learn well a foreign tongue is deserving 
 of some praise for intellect ; but it is a blameable 
 thing to applaud that language beyond truth, to 
 glorify one's self for such an acquisition. 
 
 The fourth springs from an invention of envy. So 
 that, as it is said above, envy is always where there 
 is equality. Amongst the men of one nation there 
 is the equality of the native tongue ; and because 
 one knows not how to use it like the other, there- 
 from springs envy. The envious man then argues, 
 not blaming himself for not knowing how to speak 
 like him who does speak as he should, but he blames 
 that which is the material of his work, in order to rob, 
 by depreciating the work on that side, him who does 
 speak, of honour and fame ; like him who should 
 find fault with the blade of a sword, not in order to 
 throw blame on the sword, but on the whole work of 
 the master. 
 
 The fifth and last faction springs from vileness of 
 mind. The magnanimous man always praises him- 
 self in his heart ; and so the pusillanimous man, on. 
 the contrary, always deems himself less than he is. 
 And because to magnify and to diminish always have 
 
40 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALTGHIERL 
 
 respect to something, by comparison with which the 
 large-minded man makes himself great and the small- 
 minded man makes himself small, it results therefrom 
 that the magnanimous man always makes others less 
 than they are, and the pusillanimous makes others 
 always greater. And therefore with that measure 
 wherewith a man measures himself, he measures his 
 own things, which are as it were a part of himself. 
 It results that to the magnanimous man his own 
 things always appear better than they are, and 
 those of others less good ; the pusillanimous man 
 always believes his things to be of little value, and 
 those of others of much worth. Wherefore many, 
 on account of this vileness of mind, depreciate their 
 native tongue, and applaud that of others ; and all 
 such as these are the abominable wicked men of 
 Italy who hold this precious Mother Tongue in vile 
 contempt, which if it be vile in any case, is so only 
 inasmuch as it sounds in the evil mouth of these 
 adulterers, under whose guidance go those blind 
 men of whom I spoke in the first argument. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 IF flames of fire should issue visibly through the 
 windows of a house, and if any one should ask if 
 there were fire within it, and if another should 
 answer " Yes " to him, one would not well know how 
 to judge which of those might be mocking the most. 
 Not otherwise would the question and the answer 
 pass between me and that man who should ask me 
 if love for my own language is in me, and if I should 
 answer " Yes " to him, after the arguments pro- 
 pounded above. 
 
THE FIRST TREATISE. 41 
 
 But, nevertheless, it has to be proved that not only 
 love, but the most perfect love for it exists in me, and 
 again its adversaries must be blamed. Whilst demon- 
 strating this to him who will understand well, I will 
 tell how I became the friend of it, and then how my 
 friendship is confirmed. 
 
 I say that (as Tullius writes in his book on 
 Friendship, not dissenting from the opinion of the 
 Philosopher opened up in the eighth and in the ninth 
 of the Ethics) Neighbourhood and Goodness are, 
 naturally, the causes of the birth of Love: Bene-' 
 volence, Study, and Custom are the causes of the 
 growth of Love. And there have been all these 
 causes to produce and to strengthen the love which I 
 bear to my Native Language, as I shall briefly 
 demonstrate. A thing is so much the nearer in pro-],/ 
 portion as it is most nearly allied to all the other\ 
 things of its own kind ; wherefore, of all men the ' 
 son is nearest to the father, and of all the Arts, 
 Medicine is nearest to the Doctor, and Music to the 
 Musician, because they are more allied to them than 
 the others. Of all parts of the earth the nearest is 
 that whereon a man lives, because he is most united 
 to it. And thus his own Native Language is nearest 
 to him, inasmuch as he is most united to it ; for it, 
 and it alone, is first in the mind before any other. 
 And not only of itself is it united, but by accident, 
 inasmuch as it is united with the persons nearest to 
 him, as his parents, and his fellow-citizens, and his 
 own people. And this is his own Mother Tongue, 
 which is not only nearest, but especially the nearest 
 to each man. Therefore, if near neighbourhood be 
 the seed of friendship, as is said above, it is manifest 
 that it has been one of the causes of the love which 
 I bear to my Native Language, which is nearer to 
 
42 THE BANQUET OF DANTE AL1GHIERI. 
 
 me than the others. The above-mentioned cause, 
 whereby that alone which stands first in each mind 
 is most bound to it, gave rise to the custom of the 
 people, that the first-born sons should succeed to 
 the inheritance solely as being the nearest relatives ; 
 and because the nearest relatives, therefore the most 
 beloved. 
 
 Again, Goodness made me a friend to it. And 
 here it is to be known that all goodness inherent in 
 anything is loveable in that thing ; as in manhood 
 to be well bearded, and in womanhood to be all 
 over the face quite free from hair ; as in the setter 
 to have good scent, and as in the greyhound to be 
 swift. And in proportion as it is native, so much 
 the more is it delightful. Hence, although each virtue 
 is loveable in man, that is the most loveable in him 
 which is most human : and this is Justice, which 
 alone is in the rational part, or rather in the intel- 
 lectual, that is, in the Will. This is so loveable that 
 as says the Philosopher in the fifth book of the 
 Ethics, its enemies love it, such as thieves and 
 robbers ; and, therefore, we see that its opposite, 
 that is, Injustice, is especially hated ; such as 
 treachery, ingratitude, falsehood, theft, rapine, deceit, 
 and their like ; the which are such inhuman sins, 
 that, in order to excuse himself from the infamy of 
 such, it is granted through long custom that a man 
 may speak of himself, as has been said above, and 
 may say if he be faithful and loyal. Of this virtue 
 I shall speak hereafter more fully in the fourteenth 
 treatise ; and here quitting it, I return to the pro- 
 position. Having proved, then, that the goodness 
 of a thing is loved the more the more it is innate, 
 the more it is to be loved and commended for itself, 
 it remains to see what that goodness is. And we 
 
THE FIRST TREATISE. 43 
 
 see that, in all speech, to express a thought well 
 and clearly is the thing most to be admired and 
 commended. This, then, is its first goodness. And 
 forasmuch as this is in our Mother Tongue, as is made 
 evident in another chapter, it is manifest that it has 
 been the cause of the love which I bear to it ; since, 
 as has been said, " Goodness is the producer of Love." 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 HAVING said how in the Mother Tongue there are 
 those two things which have made me its friend, 
 that is, nearness to me and its innate goodness, I will 
 tell how by kindness and union in study, and through 
 the benevolence of long use, the friendship is con- 
 firmed and grows. Firstly, I say that I for myself 
 have received from it the greatest benefits. And, 
 therefore, it is to be known that, amongst all benefits, 
 that is the greatest which is most precious to him 
 who receives it ; and nothing is so precious as thai 
 through which all other things are wished ; and all 
 the other things are wished for the perfection of 
 him who wishes. Wherefore, inasmuch as a man 
 may have two perfections, one first and one second 
 (the first causes him to be, the second causes him to 
 be good), if the Native Language has been to me the 
 cause of the one and of the other, I have received 
 from it the greatest benefit. And that it may have 
 been the cause of this condition in me can be shown 
 briefly. The efficient cause for the existence of things 
 is not one only, but among many efficient causes one 
 is the chief of the others, hence the fire and the 
 hammer are the efficient causes of the sword-blade, 
 
44 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 although the workman is especially so. This my 
 Mother Tongue was the bond of union between my 
 forefathers, who spoke with it, even as the fire is the 
 link between the iron and the smith who makes the 
 knife ; therefore it is evident that it co-operated in 
 my birth, and so it was in some way the cause of 
 my being. Again, this my Mother Tongue was my 
 introducer into the path of knowledge, which is the 
 ultimate perfection, inasmuch as with it I entered 
 into the Latin Language, and with it I was 
 taught ; the which Latin was then the way of further 
 advancement for me. And so it is evident and 
 known by me that this my language has been my 
 great benefactor. Also it has been engaged with me 
 in one self-same study, and this I can thus prove. 
 Each thing naturally studies its self-preservation ; 
 hence, if the Mother Tongue could seek anything 
 oi itself, it would seek that ; and that would be to 
 secure for itself a position of the greatest stability : 
 but greater stability it could not secure than by 
 uniting itself with number and with rhyme. 
 
 And this self-same study has been mine, as is so 
 evident that it requires no testimony ; therefore its 
 study and mine have been one and the same, 
 whereby the harmony of friendship is confirmed and 
 increased. Also between us there has been the 
 benevolence of long use : for from the beginning of 
 my life I have had with it kind fellowship and 
 conversation, and have used it, when deliberating, 
 interpreting, and questioning ; wherefore, if friendship 
 increases through long use, as in all reason appears, 
 it is manifest that in me it has increased especially, 
 for with this my Mother Tongue I have spent all 
 my time. And thus one sees that to the shaping of 
 this friendship there have co-operated all causes of 
 
THE FIRST TREATISE. 45 
 
 birth and growth. Therefore, let it be concluded that 
 not only Love, but the most Perfect Love, is that 
 which I have for it. So it is, and ought to be. 
 
 Thus, casting the eyes backwards and gathering 
 up the afore-stated reasons, one can see that this 
 Bread, with which the Meat of the under-written 
 Poems ought to be eaten, is made clear enough 
 of blemishes, and of fault in the nature of its grain. 
 Wherefore, it is time to attend to and serve up 
 the viands. 
 
 This will be that barley-bread with which a thou- 
 sand will satisfy themselves ; and my full baskets 
 shall overflow with it. This will be that new Light, 
 that new Sun, which shall rise when the sun of this 
 our day shall set, and stell give light to those who 
 are in darkness and in gloom because the sun of this 
 our day gives light to them no more. 
 
tTbe Seconb treatise. 
 
 YE who the third Heaven move, intent of thought, 
 Hear reasoning that is within my heart, 
 Thoughts that to none but you I can impart : 
 
 Heaven, that is moved by you, my life has brought 
 To where it stands, therefore I pray you heed 
 What I shall say about the life I lead. 
 
 To you I tell the heart's new cares : always 
 The sad Soul weeps within it, and there hears 
 Voice of a Spirit that condemns her tears, 
 
 A Spirit that descends in your star's rays. 
 
 Thought that once fed the grieving heart was sweet, 
 Thought that oft fled up to your Father's feet. 
 
 There it beheld a Lady glorified, 
 Of whom so sweetly it discoursed to me 
 That the Soul said, " With her I long to be ! " 
 
 Now One appears that drives the thought aside, 
 And masters me with so effectual might 
 That my heart quivers to the outward sight. 
 
 This on a Lady fixes my regard 
 
 And says, " Who seeks where his salvation lies 
 Must gaze intently in this Lady's eyes, 
 
 Nor dread the sighs of anguish ! " O, ill-starred ! 
 Such opposite now breaks the humble dream 
 Of the crowned angel in the glory beam. 
 
 Still, therefore, the Soul weeps, " The tender stir,' 
 It says, "of thought that once consoled me flies 
 That troubled one asks, " When into thine eyes 
 
 Looked she ? Why doubted they my words of her ? " 
 
 siid, " Her eyes bear death to such as I : 
 Vet, vainly warned, I gaze on her and die. 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 47 
 
 " Thou art not dead, but in a vain dismay, 
 
 Dear Soul of ours so lost in thy distress," 
 
 Whispers a spirit voice of tenderness. 
 " This Lady's beauty darkens all your day, 
 
 Vile fear possesses you ; see, she is lowly, 
 
 Pitiful, courteous, though so wise and holy. 
 
 " Think thou to call her Mistress evermore : 
 
 Save thou delude thyself, then shall there shine 
 
 High miracles before thee, so divine 
 That thou shalt say, O Love, when I adore, 
 
 True Lord, behold the handmaid of the Lord, 
 
 Be it unto me according to thy Word ! " 
 
 My song, I do believe there will be few 
 
 Wio toil to understand thy reasoning ; 
 
 Bat if thou pass, perchance, to those who bring 
 No skill to give thee the attention due, 
 
 Then pray I, dear last-born, let them rejoice 
 
 TD find at least a music in my voice. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 SINCE I, the servant, with preliminary discourse 
 in the preceding Treatise, have with all due care 
 prepaied my bread, the time now summons, and 
 requires my ship to leave the port: wherefore, having 
 trimrred the mizen-mast of reason to the wind of my 
 desirq I enter the ocean with the hope of an easy 
 voyage, and a healthful happy haven to be reached 
 at the end of my supper. But in order that my 
 food may be more profitable, before the first dish 
 comes on the table I wish to show how it ought to 
 be eaten. I say then, as is narrated in the first 
 chapter, that this exposition must be Literal and Alle- 
 gorcal ; and to make this explicit one should know 
 tha it is possible to understand a book in four 
 
48 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 different ways, and that it ought to be explained 
 chiefly in this manner. 
 
 The one is termed Literal, and this is that which 
 does not extend beyond the text itself, such as is the 
 fit narration of that thing whereof you are discours- 
 ing, an appropriate example of which is the third 
 Song, which discourses of Nobility. 
 
 Another is termed Allegorical, and it is that which 
 is concealed under the veil of fables, and is a Truth 
 concealed under a beautiful Untruth ; as when Ovid 
 says that Orpheus with his lute made the wild beasts 
 tame, and made the trees and the stones to follow 
 him, which signifies that the wise man with ihe in- 
 strument of his voice makes cruel hearts gentle and 
 humble, and makes those follow his will whf) have 
 not the living force of knowledge and of art j who, 
 having not the reasoning life of any knowledge 
 whatever, are as the stones. And in order thjat this 
 hidden thing should be discovered by the vrise, it 
 will be demonstrated in the last Treatise. Verily 
 the theologians take this meaning otherwise tian do 
 the poets : but, because my intention here is to fol- 
 low the way of the poets, I shall take the Allegorical 
 sense according as it is used by the poets. 
 
 The third sense is termed Moral ; and this i| that 
 which the readers ought intently to search br in 
 books, for their own advantage and for that of their 
 descendants ; as one can espy in the Gospel, Uien 
 Christ ascended the Mount for the Transfiguration, 
 that, of the twelve Apostles, He took with Him !>nly 
 three. From which one can understand in the IVpral 
 sense that in the most secret things we ought to lave 
 but little company. 
 
 The fourth sense is termed Mystical, that is, atbve 
 sense, supernatural ; and this it is, when spiritually 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 49 
 
 one expounds a writing which even in the Literal 
 sense by. the things signified bears express reference 
 to the Divine things of Eternal Glory ; as one can 
 see in that Song of the Prophet which says that by 
 the exodus of the people of Israel from Egypt Judaea 
 is made holy and free. That this happens to be 
 true according to the letter is evident Not less 
 true is that which it means spiritually, that in the 
 Soul's liberation from Sin (or in the exodus of 
 the Soul from Sin) it is made holy and free in 
 its powers. 
 
 But in demonstrating these, the Literal must 
 always go first, as that in whose sense the others are 
 included, and without which it would be impossible 
 and irrational to understand the others. Especially 
 is it impossible in the Allegorical, because, in each 
 thing which has a within and a without, it is impos- 
 sible to come to the within if you do not first come 
 to the without. Wherefore, since in books the 
 Literal meaning is always external, it is impossible 
 to reach the others, especially the Allegorical, with- 
 out first coming to the Literal. Again, it is impos- 
 sible, because in each thing, natural and artificial, it 
 is impossible to proceed to the form without having 
 first laid down the matter upon which the form 
 should be. Thus, it is impossible for the form of 
 the gold to come, if the matter, that is, its subject, is 
 not first laid down and prepared ; or for the form of 
 the ark to come, if the material, that is, the wood, be 
 not first laid down and prepared. Therefore, since 
 the Literal meaning is always the subject and the 
 matter of the others, especially of the Allegorical, it 
 is impossible to come first to the meaning of the 
 others before coming to it. Again, it is impossible, 
 because in each thing, natural and artificial, it is im- 
 
50 THE BANQUET OF DANTE A LIGHTER!. 
 
 possible to proceed unless the foundation be first 
 laid, as in the house, so also in the mind. Therefore, 
 since demonstration must be the building up of 
 Knowledge, and Literal demonstration must be the 
 foundation of the other methods of interpreting, 
 especially of the Allegorical, it is impossible to come 
 first to the others before coming to that. Again, if 
 it were possible that it could be so ordered, it would 
 be irrational, that is, out of order ; and, therefore, one 
 would proceed wit-h much fatigue and with much 
 error. Hence, as the Philosopher says in the first 
 book of the Physics, Nature desires that we proceed 
 in due order in our search for knowledge, that is, by 
 proceeding from that which we know well to that 
 which we know not so well ; so I say that Nature 
 desires it, inasmuch as this way to knowledge is 
 innate in us ; and therefore, if the other meanings, 
 apart from the Literal, are less understood which 
 they are, as evidently appears it would be irrational 
 to demonstrate them if the Literal had not first 
 been demonstrated. 
 
 I, then, for these reasons will discourse in due 
 order of each Song, firstly upon its Literal meaning, 
 and after that I will discourse of its Allegory, that 
 is, the hidden Truth, and sometimes I will touch 
 incidentally on the other meanings as may be con- 
 venient to place and time. 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 51 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 BEGINNING, then, I say that the star of Venus 
 had twice revolved in that circle which causes the 
 evening and the morning to appear, according to the 
 two varying seasons, since the death of that blessed 
 Beatrice, who lives in Heaven with the Angels, and 
 on Earth with my soul ; when that gentle Lady, of 
 whom I made mention at the end of the "Vita 
 Nuova," first appeared before my eyes, accompanied 
 by Love, and assumed a position in my mind. And, 
 as has been stated by me in the little book referred 
 to, more because of her gentle goodness than from 
 choice of mine, it befell that I consented to be her 
 servant. For she appeared impassioned with such 
 sorrow for my sad widowed life that the spirits of 
 my eyes became especially friendly to her ; and, so 
 disposed, they then depicted her to be such that 
 my good-will was content to espouse itself to that 
 image. But because Love is not born suddenly, \, 
 nor grows great nor comes to perfection in haste, 
 but desires time and food for thought, especially 
 there where there are antagonistic thoughts which 
 impede it, there must needs be, before this new Love 
 could be perfect, a great battle between the thought 
 of its food and of that which was antagonistic 
 to it, which still held the fortress of my mind for 
 that glorious Beatrice. For the one was succoured 
 on one side continually by the ever-present vision, 
 and the other on the opposite side by the memory 
 of the past. And the help of the ever-present sight 
 increased each day, which memory could not do, 
 in opposing that which to a certain degree prevented 
 me from turning the face towards the past. Where- 
 
52 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 fore it seemed to me so wonderful, and also so 
 hard to endure, that I could not support it, and 
 with a loud cry (to excuse myself from the struggle, 
 in which it seemed to me that I had failed in 
 courage) I lifted up my voice towards that part 
 whence came the victory of the new thought, which 
 was full of virtuous power, even the power of 
 celestial virtue ; and I began to say : " You ! who 
 the third Heaven move, intent of thought." For 
 the intelligent understanding of which Song, one 
 must first know its divisions well, so that it will 
 then be easy to perceive its meaning. 
 
 In order that it may no longer be necessary to 
 preface the explanations of the others, I say that 
 the order which will be taken in this Treatise I 
 intend to keep through all the others. I say, then, 
 that the proposed Song is contained within three 
 principal parts. The first is the first verse of that, 
 in which certain Intelligences are induced to listen 
 to what I intend to say, or rather by a more usual 
 form of speech we should call them Angels, who 
 are in the revolution of the Heaven of Venus, as 
 the movers thereof. The second is in the lines 
 which follow after the first, in which is made 
 manifest that which I felt spiritually amidst various 
 thoughts. The third is in the last lines, wherein the 
 man begins to speak to the work itself, as if to 
 comfort it, as it were, and all these three parts are 
 in due order to be demonstrated, as has been said 
 above. 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 53 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THAT we may more easily perceive the Literal mean- 
 ing of the first division, to which \ve now attend, it 
 is requisite to know who and what are those who 
 are summoned to my audience, and what is that 
 third Heaven which I say is moved by them. And 
 firstly I will speak of the Heaven ; then I will speak 
 of those whom I address. And although with regard 
 to the truth concerning those things it is possible 
 to know but little, yet so much as human reason can 
 discern gives more delight than the best known and 
 most certain of the things judged by the sense ; 
 according to the opinion of the Philosopher in his 
 book on Animals. 
 
 I say, then, that concerning the number of the 
 Heavens and their site, different opinions are held 
 by many, although the truth at last may be found. 
 Aristotle believed, following merely the ancient 
 foolishness of the Astrologers, that there might be 
 only eight Heavens, of which the last one, and which 
 contained all, might be that where the fixed stars 
 are, that is, the eighth sphere, and that beyond it 
 there could be no other. Again, he believed that 
 the Heaven of the Sun might be immediate with 
 that of the Moon, that is, second to us. And this 
 opinion of his, so erroneous, he who wishes can see 
 in the second book on Heaven and the World, which 
 is in the second of the Books on Natural History. 
 In fact, he excuses himself for this in the twelfth 
 book of the Metaphysics, where he clearly proves 
 himself to have followed also another opinion where 
 he was obliged to speak of Astrology. Ptolemy, 
 then, perceiving that the eighth sphere is moved by 
 
54 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 many movements, seeing its circle to depart from 
 the right circle, which turns from East to West, 
 constrained by the principles of Philosophy, which 
 of necessity desires a Primum Mobile, a most simple 
 one, supposed another Heaven to be outside the 
 Heaven of the fixed stars, which might make that 
 revolution from East to West which I say is com- 
 pleted in twenty-four hours nearly, that is, in twenty- 
 three hours, fourteen parts of the fifteen of another, 
 counting roughly. Therefore, according to him, and 
 according to that which is held in Astrology and in 
 Philosophy since those movements were seen, there 
 are nine moveable Heavens ; the site of which is 
 evident and determined, according to an Art which 
 is termed Perspective, Arithmetical and Geometrical, 
 by which and by other sensible experiences it is 
 visibly and reasonably seen, as in the eclipses of the 
 Sun it appears sensibly, that the Moon is below 
 the Sun ; and as by the testimony of Aristotle, who 
 saw with his own eyes, according to what he says 
 in the second book on Heaven and the World, the 
 Moon, being new, to enter below Mars, on the side 
 not shining, and Mars to remain concealed so long 
 that he re-appeared on the other bright side of the 
 Moon, which was towards the West. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 AND the order of the houses is this, that the 
 first that they enumerate is that where the Moon 
 is ; the second is that where Mercury is ; the third 
 is that where Venus is ; the fourth is that where 
 the Sun is ; the fifth is that where Mars is ; the 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 55 
 
 sixth is that where Jupiter is ; the seventh is that 
 where Saturn is ; the eighth is that of the Stars ; 
 the ninth is that which is not visible except by that 
 movement which is mentioned above, which they 
 designate the great Crystalline sphere, diaphanous, 
 or rather all transparent. Truly, beyond all these, 
 the Catholics place the Empyrean Heaven, which 
 is as much as to say, the Heaven of Flame, or rather 
 the Luminous Heaven ; and they assign it to be 
 immoveable, in order to have in itself, according to 
 each part, that which its material desires. And this 
 is why that first moved the Primum Mobile has 
 such extremely rapid motion. For, because of the 
 most fervent appetite which each part of it has to 
 be united with each part of that most Divine 
 Heaven of Peace, in which it revolves with so 
 much desire, its velocity is almost incomprehensible. 
 And this quiet and peaceful Heaven is the place of 
 that Supreme Deity who from above beholds the 
 whole. This is the place of the blessed Spirits, 
 according as Holy Church teaches, which cannot 
 speak falsely ; and even Aristotle seems to feel this, 
 to him who understands him well, in the first book 
 of Heaven and the World. This is the highest 
 bound of the World, within which the whole World 
 is included, and beyond which there is nothing. 
 And it is in no place, but was formed alone in the 
 First Mind, which the Greeks term Protonoe. This 
 is that magnificence of which the Psalmist spoke 
 when he sang to God : " Thy glory is raised above 
 
 the Heavens." 
 
 * ., 
 
 So, then, gathering together this which is discussed, 
 it seems that there may be ten Heavens, of which 
 the Heaven of Venus may be the third ; whereof 
 mention is made in that part which I intend to 
 
56 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 demonstrate. And it is to be known that each 
 Heaven below the Crystalline has two firm poles as 
 to itself; and the ninth has them firm and fixed, 
 and not mutable in any respect. And each one, the 
 ninth even as the others, has a circle, which one may 
 term the equator of its own Heaven ; which equally, 
 in each part of its revolution, is remote from one 
 pole and from the other, as he who rolls an apple or 
 any other round thing can sensibly perceive. And this 
 circle has more swiftness in its movement than any 
 other part of its Heaven, in each Heaven, as he may 
 perceive who considers well. And each part, in 
 proportion as it is nearer to it, moves so much the 
 more swiftly ; so much the slower in proportion as it 
 ^is more remote and nearer to the pole ; since its 
 revolution is less, and it must of necessity be in one 
 self-same time with the greater. I say again, that in 
 proportion as the Heaven is nearer to the equatorial 
 circle, so much the more noble is it in comparison to 
 its poles; since it has more motion and more actuality 
 and more life and more form and more touch from 
 that which is above itself, and consequently has more 
 virtue. Hence the stars in the Heaven of the fixed 
 stars are more full of power amongst themselves in 
 proportion as they are nearer to that circle. 
 
 And upon the back of this circle in the Heaven of 
 Venus, of which I now speak, is a little sphere, which 
 revolves by itself in this Heaven, the circle of which 
 Astrologers call Epicycle ; and as the great sphere 
 revolves about two poles, so does this little sphere : 
 and so has this little sphere the equatorial circle ; 
 and so much the more noble it is in proportion as it- 
 is nearer to those : and in the arc, or rather back, of 
 this circle is fixed the most brilliant star of Venus. 
 And, although it may be said that there are ten 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 57 
 
 Heavens according to strict Truth, this number does 
 not comprehend them all : for that of which mention 
 is made, the Epicycle, in which the star is fixed, 
 is a Heaven by itself, or rather sphere ; and it has 
 not one essence with that which bears it, although it 
 may be more like to it than to the others, and with 
 it is called one Heaven, and they name the one and 
 the other from the star. How the other Heavens 
 and the other stars may be is not for present 
 discussion ; let it suffice that the nature of the third 
 Heaven, with which I am at present concerned, has 
 been told, and concerning which all that is at pre- 
 sent needful has been shown. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SINCE it has been shown in the preceding chapter 
 what this third Heaven is, and how it is ordered in 
 itself, it remains to show who those are who move it 
 It is then to be known, in the first place, that the 
 movers thereof are .substances apart from material, 
 that is, Intelligences, which the common people term 
 Angels: and of these creatures, as of the Heavens, 
 different persons have had different ideas, although 
 the truth may be found. There were certain Philo- 
 sophers, of whom Aristotle appears to be one in his 
 Metaphysics, although in the first book on Heaven 
 and Earth incidentally he appears to think other- 
 \vise, who only believed these to be so many as 
 there are revolutions in the Heavens, and no more ; 
 saying, that the others would have been eternally in 
 vain, without operation, which was impossible, inas- 
 much as their being is their operation. There were 
 
58 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHlERL 
 
 others, like Plato, a most excellent man, who place 
 not only so many Intelligences as there are move- 
 ments in Heaven, but even as there are species of 
 things, that is, manners of things ; as of one species 
 are all mankind, and of another all the gold, and of 
 another all the silver, and so with all : and they are 
 of opinion that as the Intelligences of the Heavens 
 are generators of those movements each after his 
 kind, so these were generators of the other things, 
 each one being a type of its species : and Plato calls 
 them Ideas, which is as much as to say, so many 
 universal forms and natures. 
 
 The Gentiles called them Gods and Goddesses, 
 although they could not understand those so philo- 
 sophically as Plato did ; and they adored their 
 images, and built large temples to them, as to 
 Juno, whom they called the Goddess of Power ; as 
 to Vulcan, whom they called the God of Fire ; as to 
 Pallas, or rather Minerva, whom they called the 
 Goddess of Wisdom ; and to Ceres, whom they 
 called the Goddess of Corn. Opinions such as 
 these the testimony of the Poets makes manifest, 
 for they describe to a certain extent the mode of 
 the Gentiles both in their sacrifices and in their 
 faith ; and it is testified also in many names, 
 remains of antiquity, or in names of places and 
 ancient buildings, as he who will can easily find. 
 And although these opinions above mentioned might 
 be built upon a good foundation by human reason 
 and by no slight knowledge, yet the Truth was not 
 seen by them, either from defect of reason or from 
 defect of instruction. Yet even by reason it was 
 possible to see that very numerous were the creatures 
 above mentioned who are not such as men can 
 understand. And the one reason is this : no one 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 59 
 
 doubts, neither Philosopher, nor Gentile, nor Jew, 
 nor Christian, nor any one of any sect, that they are 
 either the whole or the greater part full of all 
 Blessedness, and that those blessed ones are in a 
 most perfect state. Therefore, since that which is 
 here Human Nature may have not only one 
 Beatitude, but two Beatitudes, as that of the 
 Civil Life and that of the Contemplative, it would 
 be irrational if we should see these Celestial Beings 
 to have the Beatitude of the Active Life, that is, the 
 Civil, in the government of the World, and not to 
 have that of the Contemplative, which is the most 
 excellent and most Divine. 
 
 But since that which has the Beatitude of the 
 Civil government cannot have the other, because 
 their intellect is one and perpetual, there must be 
 others beyond this ministry, who live only in con- 
 templation. And because this latter life is more 
 Divine -and in proportion as the thing is more 
 Divine so much the more is it in the image of God 
 it is evident that this life is more beloved of God : 
 and if it be more beloved, so much the more vast has 
 its Beatitude been ; and if it has been more vast, so 
 much the more vivifying power has He given to it 
 rather than to the other ; therefore one concludes ' 
 that there may be a much larger number of those 
 creatures than the effects tend to show. And this 
 is not opposed to that which Aristotle seems to 
 state in the tenth book of the Ethics, that to the 
 separate substances the Contemplative Life must be 
 requisite ; as also the Active Life must be imperative 
 to them. Nevertheless, in the contemplation of 
 certain truths the revolution of the Heaven follows, 
 which is the government of the World ; which is, as 
 it were, a Civil government ordained and compre- 
 
60 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 bended in the contemplation of the movers, that is, 
 the ruling Intelligences. The other reason is, that 
 no effect is greater than the cause, because the cause 
 cannot give that which it has not ; wherefore, since 
 the Divine Intellect is the cause of all, especially of 
 the Human Intellect, it follows that the Human Intel- 
 lect does not dominate the Divine, but is dominated 
 by it in proportion to the superior power of the Divine. 
 Hence, if we, by the reason above stated, and by 
 many others, understand God to have been able to 
 create Spiritual Creatures almost innumerable, it is 
 quite evident that He has made them in this great 
 number. Many other reasons it were possible to 
 see : but let these suffice for the present. Nor let 
 any one marvel if these and other reasons which we 
 could adduce concerning this are not fully demon- 
 strated ; since likewise we ought to wonder at their 
 excellence, which overpowers the eyes of the Human 
 Mind, as the Philosopher says in the second book 
 of the Metaphysics, and he affirms their existence. 
 /Though we have not any perception of them from 
 J which our knowledge can begin, yet some light from 
 their most vivacious essence shines upon our 
 intellect, inasmuch as we perceive the above- 
 mentioned reasons and many others, even as he 
 who has the eyes closed affirms the air to be 
 luminous, because oi some little brightness or ray 
 of light which passes through the pupils ; as it is 
 with the bat, for not otherwise are the eyes of the 
 intellect closed, so long as the soul is bound and 
 prisoned by the organs of our body. 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 61 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IT has been said that, through defective instruction, 
 the ancients saw not the Truth concerning the 
 Spiritual Creatures, although the people of Israel 
 were in part instructed by their Prophets, through 
 whom by many modes of speech and in many ways 
 God had spoken to them, as the Apostle says. Bat 
 we are therein instructed by Him who came from 
 God, by Him who made them, by Him who pre- 
 serves them, that is, by the Emperor of the Universe, 
 who is Christ the Son of the Supreme God, and the 
 Son of the Virgin Mary, a woman truly, and the 
 daughter of Joseph and Anna very Man, who was 
 slain by us in order that He might bring us Life ; 
 who was the Light which enlightens us in the 
 Darkness, even as John the Evangelist says ; and 
 He told us the Truth of those things which we 
 could not have known without Him, nor seen truly. 
 The first thing and the first secret which He showed 
 us was one of the before-mentioned Beings or 
 creatures. This was that one, His great Legate, 
 the Angel Gabriel, who came to Mary, a young 
 damsel of thirteen years, on the part of the Heavenly 
 Saviour. This our Saviour, with His own mouth, 
 said, that the Father could give Him many Legions 
 of Angels. This He denied not, when it was said to 
 Him that the Father had commanded His Angels 
 that they should minister unto Him and should serve 
 Him. Wherefore, it is evident to us that these 
 creatures are in a very great number ; since His 
 Spouse and Secretary, Holy Church, of whom 
 Solomon says : " Who is this that cometh forth 
 from the Desert, full of those things which give 
 
62 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 
 delight, leaning upon her friend ? " says, believes, and 
 
 preaches these most noble creatures to be almost 
 innumerable ; and She divides them into three Hier- 
 archies, that is to say, three holy, or rather Divine, 
 Principalities : and each Hierarchy has three orders, 
 so that nine orders of spiritual creatures the Church 
 holds and affirms. 
 
 The first is that of the Angels, the second of the 
 Archangels, the third of the Thrones ; and these 
 three orders make the first Hierarchy not first as 
 to nobility, nor as to creation, for the others are 
 more noble, and all were created together, but first 
 in degree, according to our perception of their 
 exaltation. 
 
 Then there are the Dominations ; after them the 
 Virtues ; then the Principalities ; and these make the 
 second Hierarchy. 
 
 Above these are the Powers and the Cherubim, 
 and above all are the Seraphim ; and these make 
 the third Hierarchy. 
 
 And the most potent reason for their contempla- 
 tion is the number in which the Hierarchies are, and 
 that in which the orders are. & For, since the Divine 
 Majesty is in Three Persons, which have one sub- 
 stance, it is possible to contemplate them triply. 
 For it is possible to contemplate the Supreme Power 
 of the Father,^ which the first Hierarchy gazes upon, 
 namely, that which is first by nobility, and which we 
 enumerate last. And it is possible to contemplate 
 the Supreme Wisdom of the Son; and upon this the 
 second Hierarchy gazes. And it is possible to con- 
 template the Supreme and most fervent Charity of 
 the Holy Spirit; and upon this the third Hierarchy 
 gazes, which, being nearest to us, gives of the gifts 
 which it receives. 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 63 
 
 And, since it is possible to regard each person in 
 the Divine Trinity triply, so in each Hierarchy there 
 are three orders which contemplate diversely. It is 
 possible to consider the Father having regard to 
 none but Him ; and this is the contemplation of the 
 Seraphim, who see more of the First Cause than any 
 other Angelic Nature. It is possible to consider the 
 Father according as He has relation to the Son, 
 that is, how He is apart from Him, and how united 
 with Him ; and this is the contemplation of the 
 Cherubim. It is possible again to consider the 
 Father according as from Him proceeds the Holy 
 Spirit, and how it is apart from Him and how united 
 with Him ; and this is the contemplation of the 
 Powers. 
 
 And in like way it is possible to contemplate the 
 Son and the Holy Spirit. 
 
 Wherefore, there must be nine orders of contem- 
 plative Spirits to gaze into the Light, which alone 
 beholds itself completely. And this is not the place 
 to be silent so much as one word. I say, that of all 
 these orders some were lost as soon as they were 
 created, perhaps in number of the tenth part, to 
 restore which Human Nature was created. The 
 numbers, the orders, the Hierarchies, declare the glory 
 of the movable Heavens, which are nine ; and the 
 tenth announces this Unity and stability of God 
 And therefore the Psalmist says : " The Heavens 
 declare the glory of God, and the Firmament showeth 
 His handiwork." Wherefore it is reasonable to 
 believe that the movers of the Heaven of the Moon 
 are of the order of the Angels, and those of Mercury 
 may be the Archangels, and those of Venus may be 
 the Thrones, in whom the Love of the Holy Spirit 
 being innate, they do their work conformably to it, 
 
6 4 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 which means that the revolution of that Heaven is 
 full of Love. The form of the said Heaven takes 
 from this a virtue by whose glow souls here below 
 are kindled to love according to their disposition. 
 
 And because the ancients perceived that Heaven 
 to be here below the cause of Love, they said that 
 Love was the son of Venus, as Virgil testifies in 
 the first book of the ^Eneid, where Venus says 
 to Love : " Oh ! son, my virtue, son of the great 
 Father, who takest no heed of the darts of 
 Typhceus," And Ovid so testifies in the fifth book 
 of his Metamorphoses, when he says that Venus said 
 to Love : " Son, my arms, my power." And there 
 are Thrones which are ordered to the government of 
 this Heaven in number not great, concerning which 
 the Philosophers and the Astrologers have thought 
 differently, according as they held different opinions 
 concerning its revolutions. But all may be agreed, 
 as many are, in this, as to how many movements 
 it makes. Of this, as abbreviated in the book of the 
 Aggregation of the Stars, you may find in the better 
 demonstration of the Astrologers that there are 
 three : one, according as the star moves towards its 
 Epicycle ; the other, according as the Epicycle moves 
 with its whole Heaven equally with that of the Sun ; 
 the third, according as the whole of that Heaven 
 moves, following the movement of the starry sphere 
 from West to East in one hundred years one degree. 
 So that to these Three Movements there are Three 
 Movers. Again, if the whole of this Heaven moves 
 and turns with the Epicycle from East to West once 
 in each natural day, that movement, whether it be 
 caused by some Intelligence or whether it be through 
 the rapid movement of the Primum Mobile, God 
 knows, for to me it seems presumptuous to judge. 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 65 
 
 These Movers produce, caring for that alone, the revo- 
 lution proper to that sphere which each one moves. 
 The most noble form of the Heaven, which has in 
 itself the principle of this passive Nature, revolves, 
 touched by the Moving Power, which cares for this ; 
 and I say touched, not by a bodily touch, but by 
 a Power which directs itself to that operation. And 
 these Movers are those to whom I begin to speak 
 and to whom I put my inquiry. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ACCORDING to that which is said above in the third 
 chapter of this treatise, in order to understand well 
 the first part of the Song I comment on, it is requi- 
 site to discourse of those Heavens, and of their 
 Movers ; and in the three preceding chapters this 
 has been discussed. I say, then, to those whom I 
 proved to be Movers of the Heaven of Venus : 
 " Ye who, w r ith thought intent " (i.e., with the intel- 
 lect alone, as is said above), "the third Heaven 
 move, Hear reasoning that is within my heart ; " and 
 I do not say " Hear " because they hear any sound, 
 for they have no sense of hearing ; but I say " Hear," 
 meaning with that hearing which they have, which 
 is of the understanding through the intellect. I say, 
 " Hear reasoning that is within my heart," within 
 me, which as yet has not appeared externally. It 
 is to be known that throughout this Song, ac- 
 cording to the one sense (the Literal), and the 
 other sense (the Allegorical), the Heart is concerned 
 with the secret within, and not any other special 
 
 C 
 
66 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERT. 
 
 part of the soul or body. When I have called them to 
 hear that which I wish to say, I assign two reasons 
 why I ought fitly to speak to them. One is the 
 novelty of my condition, which, from not having 
 been experienced by other men, would not be so 
 understood by them as by those who superintend 
 such effects in their operation. And this reason I 
 touch upon when I say : " To you alone its new 
 thoughts I impart." The other reason is : when a 
 man receives a benefit or injury, he ought first to 
 relate it to him who bestows or inflicts it, if he can, 
 rather than to others ; in order that, if it be a benefit, 
 he who receives it may show himself grateful towards 
 the benefactor, and, if it be an injury, let him lead 
 the doer thereof to gentle mercy with sweet words. 
 And this reason I touch upon when I. say : " Heaven, 
 that is moved by you, my life has brought To 
 where it stands ; " that is to say, your operation, 
 namely, your revolution, is that which has drawn me 
 into the present condition ; therefore I conclude and 
 say that my speech ought to be to them, such as is 
 said ; and I say here : " Therefore to you 'tis need 
 That I should speak about the life I lead." And 
 after these reasons assigned, I beseech them to listen 
 when I speak. 
 
 But, because in each manner of speech the speaker 
 especially ought to look to persuasion, that is, to the 
 pleasing of the audience, as that which is the begin- 
 ning of all other persuasions, as do the Rhetoricians, 
 and the most powerful persuasion to render the 
 audience attentive is to promise to say new and 
 wonderful things, I add to the prayer made for 
 attention, this persuasion, or embellishment, announ- 
 cing to them my intention to speak of new things, 
 that is, the division which is in my mind ; and great 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 67 
 
 things, namely, the power of their star ; and I say 
 this in those last words of this first part : 
 
 To you I'll tell the heart's new cares : always 
 The sad Soul weeps within it, and there hears 
 Voice of a Spirit that condemns her tears, 
 
 A Spirit that descends through your star's rays. 
 
 And to the full understanding of these words, I say 
 that this Spirit is no other than a frequent thought 
 how to commend and beautify this new Lady. And 
 this Soul is no other than another thought, accom- 
 panied with acquiescence, which, repudiating that 
 Spirit, commends and beautifies the memory of that 
 glorious Beatrice. But, again, because the last 
 sentiment of the mind, acquiescence, is held by that 
 thought which memory assisted, I call it the Soul, 
 and the other the Spirit ; as we are accustomed to 
 call the City those who hold it, and not those who 
 fight it, although the one and the other may be 
 citizens. I say also, that this Spirit comes on the 
 rays of the star, because one desires to know that 
 the rays of each 'Heaven are the way by which 
 their virtue descends into things here below. And 
 since the rays are no other than a light which comes 
 from the source of Light through the air even to the 
 thing illuminated, and the light has no source 
 except the star, because the other Heaven is trans- 
 parent, I say not that this Spirit, this thought, comes 
 from their Heaven entirely, but from their star. And 
 their star, through the nobility of its Movers, is of 
 such virtue that in our souls, and in other things, it 
 has very great power, notwithstanding that it is so 
 far from us, about one hundred and sixty-seven 
 times farther than it is to the centre of the Earth, 
 which is three thousand two hundred and fifty miles, 
 
68 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 And this is the Literal exposition of the first part of 
 the Song. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 WHAT I have said shows clearly enough the Literal 
 meaning of the first part. In the second, there 
 is to be understood how it makes manifest what 
 I experienced from the struggle within me ; and 
 this part has two divisions. In the first place it 
 describes the quality of these oppositions, according 
 as their cause was within me. Then I narrate 
 what the one and the other voice of opposition 
 said ; and upon that firstly which described what 
 was being lost, in the passage which is the second 
 of that part and the third of the Song. In evi- 
 dence, then, of the meaning of the first division, it 
 is to be known that things must be named by that 
 part of their form which is the noblest and best, as 
 Man by Reason, and not by Sense, nor by aught else 
 which is less noble ; therefore, when one speaks of 
 the living man, one should understand the man using 
 Reason, which is his especial Life, and is the action 
 of his noblest part And, therefore, whoso departs 
 from Reason and uses only the Senses is not a living 
 man, but a living beast, as says that most excellent 
 Boethius, "JLe^the Ass live." 
 
 Rightly I speak, because thought is the right act 
 of reason, wherefore the beasts who have it not do 
 not think ; and I speak not only of the lesser beasts, 
 but of those who have a human appearance w r ith the 
 spirit of a sheep or of some other abominable beast. I 
 say then: "Thought that once fed my grieving heart" 
 thought, that is, of the inner life " was sweet " 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 69 
 
 (sweet, insomuch as it is persuasive, that is, pleasing, 
 or beautiful, gentle, delightful) ; this thought often 
 sped away to the feet of the Father of those Spirits 
 to whom I speak, that is, God ; that is to say, 
 that I in thought contemplated the realm of the 
 Blessed. " Thought that once fled up to the Father s 
 feet." And I name the final cause immediately, be- 
 cause I ascended there above in thought when I say, 
 " There I beheld a Lady glorified," to let you under- 
 stand that I was certain, and am certain by its 
 gracious revelation, that she was in Heaven ; where- 
 fore I, thinking many times how this was possible for 
 me, went thither, rapt, as it were. Then subse- 
 quently I speak of the effect of this thought, in order 
 to let you understand its sweetness, which was such 
 that it made me desirous of Death, that I also might 
 go where she was gone. And of this I speak there : 
 " Of whom so sweetly it discoursed to me That the 
 Soul said, ' With her would I might be ! ' " And this 
 is the root of one of the struggles which was in 
 me. And it is to be known that here one terms 
 Thought, and not Soul, that which ascended to 
 see that Blessed Spirit, because it was an especial 
 thought sent on that mission ; the Soul is under- 
 stood, as is stated in the preceding chapter, as 
 thought in general, with acquiescence. 
 
 Then, when I say, " Now One appears that drives 
 the thought aside/' I touch the root of the other 
 struggle, saying how that previous thought was wont 
 to be the life of me, even as another appears, which 
 makes that one cease to be. I say, "drives the 
 thought aside," in order to show that one to be 
 antagonistic, for naturally the opposing one drives 
 aside the other, and that which is driven appears 
 to yield through want of power. And I say that 
 
;o THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGH1ERI. 
 
 this thought, which newly appears, is powerful in 
 taking hold of me and in subduing my Soul, say- 
 ing that it " masters me with such effectual might " 
 that the heart, that is, my inner life, trembles so 
 much that my countenance shows it in some new 
 appearance. 
 
 Subsequently I show the power of this new thought 
 by its effect, saying that it makes me " fix my 
 regard " on a Lady, and speaks to me words of 
 allurement, that is to say, it reasons before the eyes 
 of my intelligent affection, in order the better to 
 induce me, promising me that the sight of her eyes 
 is its salvation. And in order to make this credible 
 to the Soul experienced in love, it says that it is for 
 no one to gaze into the eyes of this woman who fears 
 the anguish of laboured sighs. And it is a beautiful 
 mode of rhetoric when externally it appears that 
 you disembellish a thing, and yet really embellish it 
 within. This new thought of love could not induce 
 my mind to consent, except by discoursing of the 
 virtue of the eyes of this fair Lady so profoundly. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Now that it is shown how and whereof Love is 
 born, and the antagonist that fought with me, I 
 must proceed to open the meaning of that part in 
 which different thoughts contend within me. I say 
 that, firstly, one must speak on the part of the Soul, 
 that is, of the former thought, and then of the other ; 
 for this reason, that always that which the speaker 
 intends most especially to say he ought to reserve 
 in the background, because that which is said finally, 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 71 
 
 remains most in the mind of the hearer. Therefore, 
 since I mean to speak further, and to discourse of 
 that which performs the work of those to whom 
 I speak, rather than of that which undoes this 
 work, it was reasonable first to mention and to 
 discourse of the condition of the part which was 
 undone, and then of that which was generated by 
 the other. 
 
 But here arises a doubt, which is not to be passed 
 over without explanation. It would be possible for 
 any one to say : Since Love is the effect of these 
 Intelligences, to whom I speak, and that of the first 
 Love might be the same as that of the new Love, 
 why should their virtue destroy the one, and produce 
 the other ? since it ought to preserve the first, for 
 the reason that each cause loves its effect, and 
 ought to protect what it loves. To this question 
 one can easily reply, that the effect of those Spirits, 
 as has been said, is Love : and since they could not 
 save it except in those who are subject to their 
 revolution, they transfer it from that part which is 
 beyond their power to that which is within reach, 
 from the soul departed out of this life, into that 
 which is yet living ; as human nature transfers in 
 the human form its preservation of the father to the 
 son, because it cannot in this father preserve 
 perpetually its effect : I say effect in as far as soul 
 and body are united, and not effect in as far as that 
 soul, which is divided from the body, lasts for ever, 
 in a nature more than human. And thus is the 
 question solved. 
 
 But since the immortality of the Soul is here 
 touched upon, I will make a digression upon 
 that ; because to discourse of that will make a fit 
 conclusion to the mention I have made of that 
 
72 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 living and blessed Beatrice, of whom I do not intend 
 to speak further in this book. 
 
 For proposition I say that, amongst all the 
 bestialities, that is the most foolish, the most vile, 
 and most damnable which believes no other life to 
 be after this life ; wherefore, if we turn over all 
 books, whether of philosophers or of the other wise 
 writers, all agree in this, that in us there is some 
 everlasting principle. And this especially Aristotle 
 seems to desire in that book on the Soul ; this 
 especially each stoic seems to desire ; this Tullius 
 seems to desire, especially in that book on Old Age. 
 This each of the Poets who have spoken according 
 to the faith of the Gentiles seems to desire; this 
 the law seems to desire, among Jews, Saracens, and 
 Tartars, and all other people who live according to 
 some civil law. And if all these could be deceived, 
 there would result an impossibility which even to 
 describe would be horrible. Each man is certain 
 that human nature is the most perfect of all 
 natures here below. This no one denies : and 
 Aristotle affirms it when he says, in the twelfth 
 book On Animals, that man is the most perfect of 
 all the animals. Therefore, since many who live 
 are entirely mortal, as are the brute animals, and all 
 may be, whilst they live, without that hope of the 
 other life ; if our hope should be in vain, our want 
 would be greater than that of any other animal. 
 There have been many who have given this life for 
 that : and thus it would follow that the most perfect 
 animal, man, would be the most imperfect, which 
 is impossible ; and that that part, namely, reason, 
 which is his chief perfection, would be in him the 
 cause of the chief defect : which seems strange to 
 say of the whole. And again it would follow that 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 73 
 
 Nature, in contradiction to herself, could have put 
 this hope in the human mind ; since it is said that 
 many have hastened to death of the body that they 
 might live in the other life ; and this also is impos- 
 sible. Again, we have continual experience of our 
 immortality in the divination of our dreams, which 
 could not be if there were no immortal part in us, 
 since immortal must be the revelation. This part 
 may be either corporeal or incorporeal if one think 
 well and closely. I say corporeal or incorporeal, 
 because of the different opinions which I find con- 
 cerning this. That which is moved, or rather 
 informed, by an immediate informer, ought to have 
 proportion to the informer ; and between the 
 mortal and the immortal there is no proportion. 
 Again, we are assured of it by the most truthful 
 doctrine of Christ, which is the Way, the Truth, and 
 the Light : the Way, because by it without impedi- 
 ment we go to the happiness of that immortality ; 
 the Truth, because it endures no error ; the Light, 
 because it enlightens us in the darkness of worldly 
 ignorance. This doctrine, I say, which above all 
 other reasons makes us certain of it ; for it has been 
 given to us by Him who sees and measures our 
 immortality, which we cannot perfectly see whilst 
 our immortal is mingled with the mortal. But we 
 see it by faith perfectly ; and by reason we see it 
 with the cloud of obscurity which grows from the 
 mixture of the mortal with the immortal. This 
 ought to be the most powerful argument that both 
 are in us : and I thus believe, thus affirm.; and I am 
 equally certain, after this life, to pass to that other 
 and better life there where that glorious Lady lives, 
 with whom my soul was enamoured when it was 
 struggling, as will be set forth in the next chapter. 
 
74 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHlERL 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 RETURNING to the proposition, I say that in that 
 verse which begins " A foe so strong I find him that 
 he destroys," I intend to make manifest that which 
 was discoursing in my Soul, the ancient thought 
 against the new ; and first briefly I show the cause 
 of its lamentation, when I say : " This opposite now 
 breaks the humble dream Of the crowned angel in 
 the glory-beam." This one is that especial thought 
 of which it is said above that it was wont to be the 
 life of the sorrowing heart. Then when I say, " Still, 
 therefore, my Soul weeps," it is evident that my Soul 
 is still on its side, and speaks with sadness ; and I 
 say that it speaks words of lamentation, as if it 
 might wonder at the sudden transformation, saying : 
 " ' The tender star,' It says, ' that once was my con- 
 soler, flies.' " It can well say consoler, for in the 
 great loss which I sustained in the death of Beatrice 
 this thought, which ascended into Heaven, had given 
 to my Soul much consolation. 
 
 Then afterwards I say, that all my thought, my 
 Soul, of which I say, " That troubled one," turns in 
 excuse of itself, and speaks against the eyes ; and 
 this is made evident there : " That troubled one asked, 
 1 When into thine eyes Looked she ? ' " And I say 
 that she speaks of them and against them three 
 things : the first is, she blasphemes the hour when 
 this woman saw them. And here you must know, 
 that although many things in one hour can come into 
 the eyes, truly that which comes by a straight line 
 into the point of the pupil, that truly one sees, and 
 that only is sealed in the imaginative part. And 
 this is, because the nerve by which the visible spirit 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 75 
 
 runs is directed to that part, and thereupon truly 
 one eye cannot look on the eye of another so that it 
 is not seen by it ; for as that which looks receives 
 the form of the pupil by a right line, so by that same 
 line its form passes into that eye which gazes. And 
 many times in the direction of that line a shaft 
 flies from the bow of Love, with whom each weapon 
 is light. Therefore, when I ask, " When first into 
 mine eyes looked she ? " it is as much as to ask, 
 "When did her eyes and mine look into each 
 other ? " 
 
 The second point is in that which reproves their 
 disobedience, when it says, " Of her, why doubted 
 they my words ? " Then it proceeds to the third 
 thing and says that it is not right to reprove them 
 for precaution, but for their disobedience ; for it says 
 that, sometimes, when speaking of this woman, it 
 might be said, " Her eyes bear death to such as I," 
 if she could have opened the way of approach. And 
 indeed one ought to believe that my Soul knew of its 
 own inclination ready to receive the operation of this 
 power, and therefore dreaded it ; for the act of the 
 agent takes full effect in the patient who has the 
 inclination to receive it, as the Philosopher says in 
 the second book on the Soul. And, therefore, if 
 wax could have the spirit of fear, it would fear 
 most to come into the rays of the Sun, which would 
 not turn it into stone, since its disposition is to yield 
 to that strong operation. 
 
 Lastly, the Soul reveals in its speech that their 
 presumption had been dangerous when it says, " Yet 
 vainly warned, I gazed on her and die." And thus 
 it closes its speech, to which the new thought replies, 
 as will be declared in the following chapter. 
 
76 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE meaning of that part in which the Soul speaks, 
 that is, the old thought which is undone, has been 
 shown. Now, in due order, the meaning must be 
 shown of the part in which the new antagonistic 
 thought speaks ; and this part is contained entirely 
 in the verse or stanza which begins, " Thou art not 
 dead," which part, in order to understand it well, I 
 will divide into two ; that in the first part, which 
 begins " Thou art not dead," it then says, continuing 
 its last words, " It is not true that thou art dead ; 
 but the cause wherefore thou to thyself seemest to 
 be dead is a deadly dismay into which thou art 
 vilely fallen because of this woman who has appeared 
 to thee." And here it is to be observed that, 
 as Boethius says in his Consolation, each sudden 
 change of things does not happen without some 
 flurry of mind. And this is expressed in the reproof 
 of that thought which is called " the spirit voice of 
 tenderness," when it gave me to understand that my 
 consent was inclining towards it ; and thus, one can 
 easily comprehend this, and recognize its victory, 
 when it already says, " Dear Soul of ours," therein 
 making itself familiar. Then, as is stated, it com- 
 *mands where it ought to rebuke that Soul, in order 
 to induce it to come to her ; and therefore it says to 
 her : " See, she is lowly, Pitiful, courteous, though so 
 wise and holy." 
 
 These are two things which are a fit remedy for the 
 fear with which the Soul appeared impassioned ; for, 
 firmly united, they cause the individual to hope well, 
 and especially Pity, which causes all other goodness 
 to shine forth by its light. Wherefore Virgil, speaking 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 77 
 
 of ^Eneas, in his greater praise calls him compas- 
 sionate, pitiful ; and that is not pity such as the 
 common people understand it, which is to lament 
 over the misfortunes of others ; nay, this is an especial 
 effect which is called Mercy, Pity, Compassion ; and 
 it is a passion. But compassion is not a passion ; 
 rather a noble disposition of mind, prepared to 
 receive Love, Mercy, and other charitable passions. 
 Then it says : " See also how courteous, though so 
 wise and holy." 
 
 Here it says three things which, according as they 
 can be acquired by us, make the person especially 
 pleasing. It says Wise. Now, what is more beauti- 
 ful in a woman than knowledge ? It says Courteous. 
 Nothing in a woman can be more excellent than 
 courtesy. And neither are the wretched common 
 people deceived even in this word, for they believe 
 that courtesy is no other than liberality ; for liberality 
 is an especial, and not a general courtesy. Courtesy 
 is all one with honesty, modesty, decency ; and be- 
 cause the virtues and good manners were the custom 
 in Courts anciently, as now the opposite is the 
 custom, this word was taken from the Courts ; which 
 word, if it should now be taken from the Courts, 
 especially of Italy, would and could express no other 
 than baseness. It says Holy. The greatness which 
 is here meant is especially well accompanied with 
 the two afore-mentioned virtues ; because it is that 
 light which reveals the good and the evil of the 
 person clearly. And how much knowledge and 
 how much virtuous custom does there not seem to 
 be wanting by this light ! How much madness and 
 how much vice are seen to be by this light ! Better 
 would it be for the wretched madmen high in station, 
 stupid and vicious, to be of low estate, that neither 
 
78 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 in the world nor after this life they should be so 
 infamous. Truly for such Solomon says in Eccle- 
 siastes : " There is a sore evil that I have seen under 
 the Sun ; namely; riches kept for the owners thereof 
 to their hurt." 
 
 Then subsequently it lays a command on it, that 
 is, on my Soul, that it should now call this one its 
 Lady : " Think thou to call her Mistress evermore," 
 promising my Soul that it will be quite content with 
 her when it shall have clear perception of all her 
 wonderful accomplishments ; and then this one says : 
 " Save thou delude thyself, then shall there shine 
 High miracles before thee ; " neither does it speak 
 otherwise even to the end of that stanza. And here 
 ends the Literal meaning of all that which I say in 
 this Song, speaking to these Celestial Intelligences. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 FINALLY, according to that which the letter of this 
 Commentary said above, when I divided the principal 
 parts of this Song, I turn back with the face of my 
 discourse to the same Song, and I speak to that. 
 And in order that this part may be understood more 
 fully, I say that generally in each Song there is what 
 is called a Tornata, because the Reciters, who origi- 
 nally were -accustomed to compose it, so contrived 
 that when the song was sung, with a certain part of 
 the song they could return to it. But I have rarely 
 done it with that intention ; and, in order that others 
 may perceive, this I have seldom placed it with the 
 sequence of the Song, so long as it is in the rhythm 
 which is necessary to the measure. But I have used 
 it when it was requisite to express something inde- 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 79 
 
 pendent of the meaning of the Song, and which was 
 needful for its embellishment, as it will be possible 
 to perceive in this and in the other Songs. 
 
 And, therefore, I say at present, that the goodness 
 and the beauty of each discourse are parted and 
 divided ; for the goodness is in the meaning, and 
 the beauty in the ornament of the words. And the 
 one and the other are with delight, although the 
 goodness is especially delightful. Wherefore, since 
 the goodness of this Song might be difficult to 
 perceive, because of the various persons who are led 
 to speak in it, where so many distinctions are re- 
 quired ; and the beauty would be easy to see, it 
 seemed to me, of the nature of the Song that by 
 some men more attention might be paid to the beauty 
 of the words than to the goodness of matter. And 
 this is what I say in that part. 
 
 But, because it often happens that to admonish 
 seems presumptuous in certain conditions, it is usual 
 for the Rhetorician to speak indirectly to others, 
 directing his words, not to him for whom he speaks, 
 but towards another. And truly this method is 
 maintained here ; for to the Song the words go, and 
 to the men the meaning of them. I say then : 
 " My Song, I do believe there will be few Who toil 
 to understand thy reasoning." And I state the 
 cause, which is double. First, because thou speakest 
 with fatigue with fatigue, I say, for the reason which 
 is stated ; and then because thou speakest with diffi- 
 culty with difficulty, I say, as to the novelty of the 
 meaning. Now afterwards I admonish it, and say : 
 
 But if thou pass perchance by those who bring 
 No skill to give thee the attention due, 
 Then pray I, dear last-born, let them rejoice 
 At least to find a music in my voice. 
 
8o THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 For in this I desire to say no other according to 
 what is said above, except " Oh, men, you who 
 cannot see the meaning of this Song, do not therefore 
 refuse it ; but pay attention to its beauty, which is 
 great, both for construction, which belongs to the 
 Grammarians ; and for the order of the discourse, 
 which belongs to the Rhetoricians ; as well as for the 
 rhythm of its parts, which belongs to the Musicians." 
 For which things he who looks well can see that 
 there may be beauty in it. And this is the entire 
 Literal meaning of the first Song which is prepared 
 for the first dish in my Banquet. 
 
 CHAPTER XIIL 
 
 SINCE the Literal meaning has been sufficiently 
 explained, we must now proceed to the Allegorical 
 and true exposition. And, therefore, beginning again 
 from the first head, I say that when I had lost the 
 chief delight of my Soul in former time, I was left 
 so stung with sadness that no consolation whatever 
 availed me. Nevertheless, after some time, my mind, 
 reasoning with itself to heal itself, took heed, since 
 neither my own nor that of another availed to com- 
 fort it, to turn to the method which a certain dis- 
 consolate one had adopted when he looked for Con- 
 solation. And I set myself to read that book of 
 Boethius, not known to many, in which, when a 
 captive exile, he had consoled himself. And, again, 
 hearing that Tullius had written another book, in 
 which, treating of Friendship, he had spoken words 
 for the consolation of Lsdius, a most excellent man, 
 on the death of his friend Scipio, I set myself to read 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. Si 
 
 it. And although at first it was difficult to me to 
 enter into their meaning, yet, finally, I entered into 
 it so much as the knowledge of grammar that I 
 possessed, together with some slight power of intellect, 
 enabled me to do : by which power of intellect I 
 formerly beheld many things almost like a person in 
 a dream, as may be seen in the Vita Nuova. And 
 as it is wont to be that a man goes seeking for silver, 
 and beyond his purpose he finds gold, whose hidden 
 cause appears not perhaps without the Divine Will ; 
 I, who sought to console myself, found not only a 
 remedy for my tears, but words of authors and of 
 sciences and of books ; reflecting on which I judged 
 well that Philosophy, who was the Lady of these 
 authors, of these sciences, and of these books, might 
 be a supreme thing. And I imagined her in the form 
 of a gentle Lady ; and I could imagine her in no 
 other attitude than a compassionate one, because if 
 willingly the sense of Truth beheld her, hardly could 
 it turn away from her. And with this imagination 
 I began to go where she is demonstrated truthfully, 
 that is, to the Schools of the Religious, and to the 
 disputations of the Philosophers ; so that in a short 
 time, perhaps of thirty months, I began to feel her 
 sweetness so much that my love for her chased away 
 and destroyed all other thought. Wherefore I, feel- 
 ing myself to rise from the thought of the first Love 
 to the virtue of this new one, as if wondering at 
 myself, opened my mouth in the speech of the pro- 
 posed Song, showing my condition under the figure 
 of other things : for of the Lady with whom I was 
 enamoured, no rhyme of any Vernacular was worthy 
 to speak openly, neither were the hearers so well pre- 
 pared that they could have easily understood the 
 words without figure : neither would faith have been 
 
&2 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 given by them to the true meaning, as to the figura- 
 tive ; since if the truth of the whole was believed, 
 that I was inclined to that love, it would not be 
 believed of this. I then begin to speak : " Ye who, 
 intent of thought, the third Heaven move." 
 
 And because, as has been said, this Lady was the 
 daughter of God, the Queen of all, the most noble 
 and most beautiful Philosophy, it remains to be seen 
 who these Movers were, and what this third Heaven. 
 And firstly of the third Heaven, according to the 
 order which has been gone through. And here it is 
 not needful to proceed to division, and to explanation 
 of the letter, for, having turned the fictitious speech 
 away from that which it utters to that which it means, 
 by the exposition just gone through, this meaning 
 is sufficiently made evident. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IN order to see what is meant by the "third 
 Heaven," one has in the first place to perceive 
 what I desire to express by this word Heaven alone : 
 and then one will see how and why this third 
 i Heaven was needful to us. I say that by Heaven 
 I mean Science, and by the Heavens "the Sciences," 
 from three resemblances which the Heavens have 
 with the Sciences, especially by the order and 
 number in which they must appear ; as will be 
 seen by discussing that word Third. The first 
 similitude is the revolution of the one and the 
 other round one fixed centre. For each movable 
 Heaven revolves round its centre, which, on account 
 of its movement, moves not ; and thus each Science 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 83 
 
 moves round its subject, which itself moves not ; 
 for no Science demonstrates its own foundation, but 
 presupposes that. The second similitude is the 
 illumination of the one and the other. For each 
 Heaven illuminates visible things ; and thus each 
 Science illuminates the things intelligible. And 
 the third similitude is the inducing of perfection in 
 the things so inclined. Of which induction, as to the 
 first perfection, that is, of the substantial generation, 
 all the philosophers agree that the Heavens are the 
 cause, although they attribute this in different 
 ways : some from the Movers, as Plato, Avicenna, 
 and Algazel ; some from the stars themselves, 
 especially the human souls, as Socrates, and also 
 Plato and Dionysius the Academician ; and some 
 from celestial virtue which is in the natural heat of 
 the seed, as Aristotle and the other Peripatetics. 
 Thus the Sciences are the cause in us of the 
 induction of the second perfection ; by the use of 
 which we can speculate concerning the Truth, which 
 is our ultimate perfection, as the Philosopher says 
 in the sixth book of the Ethics, when he says that 
 Truth is the good of the intellect. Because of these 
 and many other resemblances, it is possible to call 
 Science, Heaven. 
 
 Now it remains to see why it is called the third 
 Heaven. Here it is requisite to reflect somewhat 
 with regard to a comparison which exists between 
 the order of the Heavens and that of the Sciences. 
 Wherefore, as has been previously described, the 
 Seven Heavens next to us are those of the Planets ; 
 then there are two Heavens above these, the Mobile ; 
 and one above all, Quiet. To the Seven first N \ 
 correspond the Seven Sciences of the Trivium and of 
 the QuadriviwH) namely, Grammar, Logic, Rhetoric, 
 
84 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 Arithmetic, Music, Geometry, and Astrology. To 
 the eighth Sphere, i.e., to the starry, correspond 
 Natural Science, which is termed Physics, and the 
 first Science, which is termed Metaphysics. To 
 the ninth Sphere corresponds Moral Science ; and 
 to the Quiet Heaven corresponds Divine Science, 
 which is designated Theology. 
 
 And the reason why this is, remains briefly to be 
 seen. I say that the Heaven of the Moon is 
 likened unto Grammar because it is possible to 
 find a comparison to it. For if you look at the 
 Moon well, two things are seen to be proper to it 
 which are not seen in the other stars : the one is 
 the shadow which is in it, which is no other than 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 ; the other is the variation of its bright- 
 ness, which now shines on one side, and now on the 
 other, according as the Sun sees it. And these two 
 properties Grammar has : for, because of its infinity, 
 the rays of reason can find no end in it in parts, 
 especially of the words ; and it shines now on this 
 side, now on that, inasmuch as certain words, certain 
 declensions, certain constructions, are in use which 
 were not formerly, and many formerly were which 
 again will be ; as Horace says in the beginning of 
 his book on the art of Poetry, when he says : " Many 
 words will spring up again which have now fallen 
 out of use." 
 
 And the Heaven of Mercury may be compared to 
 Logic because of two properties : that Mercury is 
 the smallest star in Heaven, that the amount of its 
 diameter is no more than two hundred and thirty-two 
 miles, according as Alfergano puts it, who says that 
 it is one twenty-eighth part of the diameter of the 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 85 
 
 Earth, which is six thousand five hundred miles ; 
 the other property is, that it is more concealed by 
 the rays of the Sun than any other star. And these 
 two properties are in Logic : for Logic is less in 
 substance than any other Science, for it is perfectly 
 compiled and terminated in so much text as is found 
 in the old Art and the new ; and it is more concealed 
 than any other Science, inasmuch as it proceeds 
 with more sophistical and probable arguments than 
 any other. 
 
 And the Heaven of Venus may be compared to 
 Rhetoric because of two properties : the one is the 
 brightness of its aspect, which is most sweet to 
 behold, far more than any other star ; the other is 
 its appearance, now in the morning, now in the 
 evening. And these two properties are in Rhetoric : 
 for Rhetoric is the sweetest of all Sciences, since it 
 principally aims at sweetness. It appears in the 
 morning, when the Rhetorician speaks before the 
 face of the hearer ; it appears in the evening, 
 that is, afterwards, when it speaks by Letters in 
 distant parts. 
 
 And the Heaven of the Sun may be compared to 
 Arithmetic because of two properties : the one is, 
 that with his light all the other stars are informed ; 
 the other is that the eye cannot gaze at it. And 
 these two properties are in Arithmetic, which with 
 its light illuminates all its Sciences : for their sub- 
 jects are all considered under some Number, and 
 with Number one always proceeds in the considera- 
 tion of these ; as in Natural Science the movable 
 body is the subject, which movable body has in, 
 itself three reasons of continuity, and this has in 
 itself reason of infinite number. And of Natural 
 Science its first and chiefest consideration is to 
 
86 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 consider the principles of natural objects, which are 
 three, that is, matter, privation, and form ; in which 
 this Number is seen, and not only in all together, 
 but again in each one, as he who considers subtly 
 may perceive. Wherefore, Pythagoras, according to 
 what Aristotle says in the first book of the Physics, 
 established as the principles of natural things, the 
 equal and the unequal ; considering all things to be 
 Number. The other property of the Sun is again 
 seen in Number, of which Number is the Science of 
 Arithmetic, that the eye of the intellect cannot gaze 
 at it. For Number, inasmuch as it is considered in 
 itself, is infinite ; and this we cannot understand. 
 
 And the Heaven of Mars may be compared to 
 Music because of two properties. One is its most 
 beautiful relative position ; for, when enumerating 
 the movable Heavens, from which one soever you 
 may begin, either from the lowest or from the highest, 
 this Heaven of Mars is the fifth ; it is the central one 
 of all, that is, of the first, of the second, of the third, 
 and of the fourth. The other is, that this Mars dries 
 up and burns things, because his heat is like to that 
 of fire ; and this is why it appears flaming in colour, 
 sometimes more and sometimes less, according to 
 the density and rarity of the vapours which follow it, 
 which of themselves are often kindled, as is deter- 
 mined in the first book on Meteors. And, therefore, 
 Albumassar says that the kindling of these vapours 
 signifies the death of Kings and the change of King- 
 doms ; for they are the effects of the dominion of 
 Mars. And, therefore, Seneca says that, on the 
 death of Augustus, he beheld on high a ball of fire. 
 And in Florence, at the beginning of its destruction, 
 there was seen in the air, in the form of a cross, a 
 great quantity of these vapours following the planet 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 87 
 
 Mars. And these two properties are in Music, which 
 is all relative, as is seen in harmonized words and in 
 songs, from which the sweeter harmony results in 
 proportion as the relation is more beautiful, which 
 in this Science is especially beautiful, because there 
 is in it a special harmony. Again, Music attracts 
 to itself human spirits, which are as it were chiefly 
 vapours from the heart, so that they almost cease 
 from all labour ; so is the whole soul when it hears 
 it, and the power of all those spirits flies as it were 
 to the spirit of sense, which receives the sound. 
 
 And the Heaven of Jupiter can be compared to 
 Geometry because of two properties. The one is, 
 that ft moves between two Heavens, repugnant to 
 its good tempering, namely, that of Mars and that 
 of Saturn. Hence Ptolemy says, in the book 
 alluded to, that Jupiter is a star of a temperate 
 complexion, midway between the cold of Saturn 
 and the heat of Mars. The other is, that amongst 
 all the stars it appears white, as if silvered. And 
 these things are in the -Science of Geometry. 
 Geometry moves between two things antagonistic 
 to it ; as between the point and the circle, and I 
 term circle freely anything that is round, either a 
 body or superfices ; for, as Euclid says, the point is 
 the beginning of Geometry, and, according to what 
 he says, the circle is the most perfect figure in it, 
 which must therefore have reason for its end ; so 
 that between the point and the circle, as between 
 the beginning and the end, Geometry moves. And 
 these two are antagonistic to its certainty ; for the 
 point by its indivisibility is immeasurable, and the 
 circle, on account of its arc, it is impossible to 
 square perfectly, and therefore it is impossible to 
 measure precisely. And again, Geometry is most 
 
88 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 white, inasmuch as it is without spot of error, and it 
 is most certain in itself, and by its handmaid, called 
 Perspective. 
 
 And the Heaven of Saturn has two properties 
 because of which it can be compared to Astrology. 
 One is the slowness of its movement through the 
 twelve signs ; for twenty-nine years and more, 
 according to the writings of the Astrologers, is the 
 time that it requires in its orbit. The other is, that 
 above all the other planets it is highest. And these 
 two properties are in Astrology, for in completing its 
 circle, as in the acquirement of this Science, the 
 greatest space of time is revolved, because its demon- 
 strations are more than any other of the afore- 
 mentioned Sciences, and long experience is requisite 
 to those who would acquire good judgment in it. 
 And again, it is the highest of all the others, because, 
 as Aristotle says in the commencement of his book 
 on the Soul, the Science is high, because of its 
 nobility, and because of the nobleness of its subject 
 and its certainty. And this Science more than any 
 other of those mentioned above is noble and high, 
 for noble and high is its subject, which is the move- 
 ment of the Heavens ; and high and noble, because 
 of its certainty, which is without any defect, even as 
 that which springs from the most perfect and most 
 regular principle. And if any one believe that there 
 is defect in it, it is not on the part of the Science, but, 
 as Ptolemy says, it is through our negligence, and to 
 that it must be imputed. 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 89 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AFTER the comparisons which I have made of the 
 seven first Heavens, we must now proceed to the 
 others, which are three, as has been often stated. 
 
 I say that the Starry Heaven may be compared 
 to Physics because of three properties, and to Meta- 
 physics because of three others. For it shows us of 
 itself two visible things, such as the multitude of 
 stars and such as the Galaxy, that white circle 
 which the common people call the Path of St. James. 
 It shows to us also one of the poles, and keeps the 
 other hidden from us. And it shows to us one move- 
 ment alone from East to West ; and another, which 
 it makes from West to East, it keeps almost, as it 
 were, hidden from us. Therefore, in due order are 
 to be seen, first the comparison with the Physical 
 and then that with the Metaphysical. 
 
 I say that the Starry Heaven shows us many 
 stars ; for, according to what the wise men of Egypt 
 have seen, even to the last star which appeared to 
 them in the Meridian, they place there twenty-two 
 thousand bodies of stars, of which I speak. And in 
 this it has the greatest similitude with Physics, if 
 these three numbers, namely, Two, and Twenty, 
 and Thousand, are regarded well and subtly. For 
 by the two is meant the local movement, which is of 
 necessity from one point to another ; and by the 
 twenty is signified the movement of the alteration, 
 for, since from the ten upwards one advances not 
 except by altering this ten with the other nine and 
 with itself; and the most beautiful alteration which 
 it receives is its own with itself, and the first which 
 it receives is the twenty ; reasonably by this number 
 
9 o THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 the said movement is signified. And by the thou- 
 sand is signified the movement of increase, which in 
 name, that is, this thousand, is the greater number, 
 and to increase still more is not possible except by 
 multiplying this. And these three movements alone, 
 are observed in Physics, as it is demonstrated in the 
 fifth chapter of his first book. 
 
 And because of the Milky Way, this Heaven has 
 a great similitude with Metaphysics. Wherefore, it 
 is to be known that concerning this Galaxy the 
 Philosophers have had different opinions. For the 
 followers of Pythagoras said that the Sun at some 
 time or other went astray from his path, and, passing 
 through other parts not suitable to his fervent heat, 
 he burnt the place through which he passed, and 
 there remained that appearance of the conflagration. 
 And I believe that they were moved by the fable of 
 Phaeton, which Ovid relates in the beginning of the 
 second part of his Metamorphoses. Others said, 
 such as Anaxagoras and Democritus, that it was the 
 light of the Sun reflected into that part. And these 
 opinions, with demonstrative reasons, they proved over 
 and over again. What Aristotle may have said of 
 this is not so easy to learn, because his opinion is not 
 found to be the same in one translation as in the other ; 
 and I believe that it might be due to the error of the 
 translators, for in the new one he seems to say that 
 the Galaxy is a collection of vapours under the stars 
 of that part which always attract them ; and this 
 does not seem to be the true reason. In the old 
 translation he says that the Galaxy is no other than 
 a multitude of fixed stars in that part, so small that 
 we cannot distinguish them from here below, but 
 that they cause the whiteness which we call the -i 
 Milky Way. And it may be that the Heaven in 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 91 
 
 that part is more dense, and therefore retains and 
 represents that light ; and this opinion Avicenna 
 and Ptolemy seem to share with Aristotle. There- 
 fore, since the Galaxy is an effect of those stars 
 which we cannot see, if we understand those things 
 by their effect alone, and Metaphysics treats of the 
 first substances, which we cannot similarly under- 
 stand except by their effects, it is evident that the 
 Starry Heaven has a great similitude to Metaphysics. 
 
 Again, by the pole which we see is signified the 
 things known to our senses, concerning which, taking 
 them universally, the Science of Physics treats ; and 
 by the pole which we do not see is signified the 
 things which are without matter, which are not 
 sensible, concerning which Metaphysics treats ; and 
 therefore the said Heaven has a great similitude 
 with the one Science and with the other. 
 
 Again, by the two movements it signifies these 
 two Sciences : for by the movement in which every 
 day revolves, and makes a new revolution from point 
 to point, it signifies things natural and corruptible 
 which daily complete their path, and their material 
 is changed from form to form ; and of this the 
 Science of Physics treats. And by the almost in- 
 sensible movement which it makes from West to East 
 by one degree in a hundred years, it signifies things 
 incorruptible, which received from God the beginning 
 of their creation, and will have no end ; but of these 
 Metaphysics treats. Therefore I say that this move^ 
 ment signifies those things, for it began this revolution 
 which will have no end ; the end of the revolution 
 being to return to one self-same point, to which this 
 Heaven will not return by this movement, which has 
 revolved a little more than the sixth part from the 
 commencement of the world ; and we are now in the 
 
t)2 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 last age of the world, and verily we wait the con- 
 summation of the celestial movement. Thus it is 
 evident that the Starry Heaven, on account of many 
 properties, may be compared to the Science of 
 Physics and Metaphysics. 
 
 The Crystalline Heaven, which, as the Primum 
 Mobile, has been previously counted, has a sufficiently 
 evident comparison to Moral Philosophy ; for Moral 
 Philosophy, according to what Tommaso says upon 
 the second book of the Ethics, teaches us method in 
 the other Sciences. 
 
 For as the Philosopher says in the fifth book of 
 the Ethics, legal Justice requires the Sciences to 
 be learnt, and commands, in order that they may not 
 be abandoned, that they be learnt and taught : thus, 
 the said Heaven rules with its movement the daily 
 revolution of all the others ; from which revolution 
 every day all those receive and send below the vir- 
 tues of their several parts. For, if the revolution of 
 this Heaven could not rule over that, but little of 
 their power would descend below, and little of their 
 aspect. Wherefore we hold that, if it could be pos- 
 sible for this ninth Heaven not to move, the third part 
 of the Heaven would not again be seen in any part 
 from the Earth : Saturn would be for fourteen years 
 and a half concealed from any place on the Earth, 
 Jupiter would be hidden for six years, and Mars for 
 almost a whole year, and the Sun for one hundred 
 and eighty-two days and fourteen hours (I say days, 
 meaning so much time as so many days measure) ; 
 and Venus and Mercury, almost like the Sun, would 
 be hidden and would reappear, and the Moon for the 
 space of fourteen days and a half would be hidden 
 from all people. Verily, here below there would be 
 neither generation, nor the life of animals, nor of 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 
 
 plants ; there would be no night, nor day, nor we 
 nor month, nor year ; but the whole Universe wou 
 be disordered, and the movement of the stars would 
 be in vain. Not otherwise, should Moral Philosophy 
 cease to be, would the other Sciences be hidden for 
 some time, and there would be no generation nor 
 life of happiness, and all books would be in vain, and 
 all discoveries of old. Therefore it is sufficiently evi- 
 dent that there is a comparison between this Heaven 
 and Moral Philosophy. 
 
 Again, the Empyrean Heaven, because of its 
 Peace, bears a similitude to the Divine Science, 
 which is full of all Peace ; which endures no conflict 
 of opinion or of sophistical arguments, on account of 
 the most excellent certainty of its subject, which is 
 God. And of this He Himself speaks to His dis- 
 ciples : " My peace I give to you : My peace I leave 
 unto you," giving and leaving to them His doctrine, 
 which is this Science whereof I speak. 
 
 Solomon says of this Science : " Sixty are the 
 queens, and eighty the friendly concubines ; and 
 youthful virgins without number ; but one is my 
 dove and my perfect one." All the Sciences he 
 terms queens, and friends, and virgins ; and he calls 
 this one dove, because it is without blemish of 
 strife ; and he calls this one perfect, because it 
 causes us to see perfectly the Truth in v/hich our 
 Soul finds Peace. 
 
 And therefore the comparison of the Heavens to 
 the Sciences having been thus reasoned out, it is 
 easy to see that by the Third Heaven I mean 
 Rhetoric, which has been likened unto the Third 
 Heaven, as appears above. 
 
94 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 BY the similitudes spoken of it is possible to see 
 who these Movers are to whom I speak ; what are 
 the Movers of that Heaven ; even as Boethius and 
 Tullius, who by the sweetness of their speech sent 
 me, as has before been stated, to the Love, which is 
 the study of that most gentle Lady, Philosophy, by 
 the rays of their star, which is the written word of 
 that fair one. Therefore in each Science the written 
 word is a star full of light, which that Science 
 reveals. And, this being made manifest, it is easy 
 to see the true meaning of the first verse of the pur- 
 posed Poem by means of the exposition, Figurative 
 and Literal. And by means of this self-same exposi- 
 tion one can sufficiently understand the second verse, 
 even to that part where it says, This Spirit made 
 me look on a fair Lady : where it should be known 
 that this Lady is Philosophy ; which truly is a Lady 
 full of sweetness, adorned with modesty, wonderful 
 for wisdom, the glory of freedom, as in the Third 
 Treatise, where her Nobility will be described, it is 
 made manifest. And then where it says : " Who 
 seeks where his Salvation lies, Must gaze intently 
 in this Lady's eyes;" the eyes of this Lady are 
 her demonstrations, which look straight into the 
 eyes of the intellect, enamour the Soul, and set it 
 free from the trammels of circumstance. Oh, most 
 sweet and ineffable forms, swift stealers of the 
 human mind, which appear in these demonstrations, 
 that is, in the eyes of Philosophy, when she 
 discourses to her faithful friends ! Verily in you 
 is Salvation, whereby he is made blessed who looks 
 at you, and is saved from the death of Ignorance 
 
THE SECOND TREATISE. 95 
 
 and Vice. Where it says, " Nor dread the sighs of 
 anguish, joys debarred," the wish is to signify, if he 
 fear not the labour of study and the strife of con- 
 flicting opinions, which flow forth ever multiplying 
 from the living Spring in the eyes of this Lady, and 
 then her light still continuing, they fall away, almost 
 like little morning clouds before the Sun. And now 
 the intellect, become her friend, remains free and 
 full of certain Truth, even as the atmosphere is 
 rendered pure and bright by the shining of the 
 midday Sun. 
 
 The third passage again is explained by the 
 Literal exposition as far as to where it says, " Still 
 therefore the Soul weeps." Here it is desirable 4:o 
 attend to a certain moral sense which may be 
 observed in these words : that a man ought not for 
 the sake of the greater friend to forget the service 
 received from the lesser ; but if one must follow the 
 one and leave the other, the greater is to be 
 followed, with honest lamentation for desertion of 
 the other, whereby he gives occasion to the one 
 whom he follows to bestow more love on him. 
 Then there where it says, " Of my eyes," has no 
 other meaning except that bitter was the hour when 
 the first demonstration of this Lady entered into the 
 eyes of my intellect, which was the cause of this 
 most close attachment. And there where it says, 
 " My peers," it means the Souls set free from 
 miserable and vile pleasures, and from vulgar habits, 
 endowed with understanding and memory. And 
 then it says, " Her eyes bear death," and then it 
 says, . " I gazed on her and die," which appears 
 contrary to that which is said above of Salvation 
 by this Lady. And therefore it is to be known 
 that one Spirit speaks here on one side and the 
 
96 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 other speaks there on the other ; which two dispute 
 contrariwise, according to that which is made 
 evident above. Wherefore it is no wonder if here 
 the one Spirit says Yes, and there the other Spirit 
 says No. Then in the stanza where it says, " A 
 sweet voice of tenderness," a thought is meant which 
 was born of my deep contemplation ; wherefore it is 
 to be known that by Love, in this Allegory, is 
 always meant that deep contemplation which is the 
 earnest application of the enamoured mind to that 
 object wherewith it is enamoured. Then when it 
 says, " There shall shine High miracles before thee," 
 it announces that through her the adornments of the 
 miracles will be seen ; and it speaks truly, that the 
 adornment of the miracles is to see the cause of the 
 same, which she demonstrates ; as in the beginning 
 of the book on Metaphysics the Philosopher seems 
 to feel, saying that, through the contemplation 
 of these adornments, men began to be enamoured 
 with this Lady. And concerning this word, i.e., 
 miracle, in the following treatise I shall speak more 
 fully. What then follows of this Song is sufficiently 
 explained by the other exposition. 
 
 And thus at the end of this Second Treatise, I 
 say and affirm that the Lady with whom I became 
 enamoured after the first Love was the most 
 beautiful and most excellent daughter of the Ruler 
 of the Universe, to which daughter Pythagoras gave 
 the name of Philosophy. And here ends the Second 
 Treatise, which is brought in for the first dish at my 
 Banquet. 
 
Ubfrfc {Treatise, 
 
 LOVE, reasoning of my Lady in my mind 
 With constant pleasure, oft of her will say 
 Things over which the intellect may stray ; 
 
 His words make music of so sweet a kind 
 
 That the Soul hears and feels, and cries, Ah, me, 
 That I want power to tell what thus I see ! 
 
 If I would tell of her what thus I hear, 
 First, all that Reason cannot make its own 
 I needs must leave ; and of what may be known 
 
 Leave part, for want of words to make it clear. 
 If my Song fail, blame wit and words, whose force 
 Fails to tell all I hear in Love's discourse. 
 
 The Sun sees not in travel round the earth, 
 Till it reach her abode, so fair a thing 
 As she of whom Love causes me to sing. 
 
 All minds of Heaven wonder at her worth ; 
 Mortals, enamoured, find her in their thought 
 When Love his peace into their minds has brought. 
 
 Her, Maker saw that she was good, and poured, 
 Beyond our Nature, fulness of His Power 
 On her pure soul, whence shone this holy dower 
 
 Through all her frame, with beauty so adored 
 That from the eyes she touches heralds fly 
 Heartward with longings, heavenward with a sigh. 
 
 On her fair frame Virtue Divine descends 
 As on the angel that beholds His face. 
 Fair one who doubt, go with her, mark the grace 
 
 In all her acts. Downward from Heaven bends 
 An angel when she speaks, who can attest 
 A power in her by none of us possessed. 
 
 U 
 
98 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIER1. 
 
 The graceful acts that she shows forth to all 
 Rival in calls to love that love must hear ; 
 Fair in all like her, fairest she'll appear 
 
 Who is most like her. We, content to call 
 Her face a Miracle, have Faith made sure : 
 For that, He made her ever to endure. 
 
 Her aspect shows delights of Paradise, 
 Seen in her eyes and in her smiling face ; 
 Love brought them there as to his dwelling-place. 
 
 They dazzle reason, as the Sun the eyes ; 
 And since I cannot fix on them my gaze 
 Words must suffice that little speak their praise. 
 
 Rain from her beauty little flames of fire, 
 Made living with a spirit to create 
 Good thoughts, and crush the vices that innate 
 
 Make others vile. Fair one, who may desire 
 Escape from blame as one not calm or meek, 
 From her, who is God's thought, thy teaching seek. 
 
 My Song, it seems you speak this to oppose 
 The saying of a sister Song of mine : 
 This lowly Lady whom you call divine, 
 
 Your sister called disdainful and morose. 
 
 Though Heaven, you know, is ever bright and pure, 
 Eyes may have cause to find a star obscure. 
 
 So when your sister called this Lady proud 
 
 She judged not truly, by what seemed ; but fear 
 Possessed her soul ; and still, when I come near 
 
 Her glance, there's dread. Be such excuse allowed, 
 My Song, and when thou canst, approach her, say ; 
 My Lady, take all homage I can pay. 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 99 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN the preceding treatise is described how my second 
 Love took its rise from the compassionate countenance 
 of a Lady ; which Love, finding my Soul inclined to 
 its ardour, after the manner of fire, was kindled from 
 a slight spark into a great flame ; so that not only 
 during my waking hours, but during sleep, its light 
 threw many a vision into my mind. And how great 
 the desire which Love excited to behold this Lady, 
 it would be impossible either to tell or to make under- 
 stood. And not only of her was I thus desirous, 
 but of all those persons who had any nearness to her, 
 either as acquaintances or as relations. Oh ! how 
 many were the nights, when the eyes of other persons 
 were closed in sleep, that mine, wide open, gazed 
 fixedly upon the tabernacle of my Love. 
 
 And as the rapidly increasing fire must of neces- 
 sity be seen, it being impossible for fire to remain 
 hidden, the desire seized me to speak of the Love 
 that I could no longer restrain within me. And 
 although I could receive but little help from my 
 own counsel, yet, inasmuch as, either from the will 
 of Love or from my own promptness, I drew nigh 
 to it many times, I deliberated, and I saw that, in 
 speaking of Love, there could be no more beautiful 
 nor more profitable speech than that which com- 
 mends the beloved person. And in this deliberation 
 three reasons assisted me. One of them was self- 
 love, which is the source of all the rest, as every one 
 sees. For there is no more lawful nor more courteous 
 way of doing honour to one's self than by doing 
 honour to one's friend ; and, since friendship cannot 
 exist between the unlike, wherever one sees friend- 
 
ioo THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 ship, likeness is understood ; and wherever likeness 
 is understood, thither runs public praise or blame. 
 And from this reason two great lessons may be 
 learnt : the one is, never to wish that any vicious 
 man should seem your friend, for in that case a 
 bad opinion is formed of him who has made the 
 evil man his friend ; the other is, that no one 
 ought to blame his friend publicly, because, if you 
 consider well the aforesaid reason, he but points to 
 himself with his ringer in his eye. 
 
 The second reason was the desire for the duration 
 of this friendship ; wherefore it is to be known, as the 
 Philosopher says in the ninth book of the Ethics, in 
 the friendship of persons of unequal position it is 
 requisite, for the preservation of that friendship, for a 
 certain proportion to exist between them, which may 
 reduce the dissimilarity to a similarity, as between 
 .the master and the servant. For, although the ser- 
 vant cannot render the same benefit to the master 
 that is conferred on him, yet he ought to render the 
 best that he can, with so much solicitude and free- 
 will that that which is dissimilar in itself may become 
 similar through the evidence of good-will, which 
 proves the friendship, confirms and preserves it. 
 Wherefore I, considering myself lower than that 
 Lady, and perceiving myself benefited by her, 
 endeavoured to praise her according to my ability. 
 And, if it be not similar of itself, my prompt free- 
 will proves at least that if I could I would do more, 
 and thus it makes its friendship similar to that of 
 this gentle Lady. 
 
 The third reason was an argument of prudence ; 
 for, as Boethius says, " It is not sufficient to look 
 only at that which is before the eyes, that is, at the 
 Present ; and, therefore, Prudence, Foresight, is given 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 101 
 
 to us, which looks beyond to that which may happen." 
 I say that I thought that for a long time I might 
 be reproached by many with levity of mind, on 
 hearing that I had turned from my first Love. 
 Wherefore, to remove this reproach, there was no 
 better argument than to state who the Lady was 
 who had thus changed me ; that, by her manifest 
 excellence, they might gain some perception of her 
 virtue ; and that, by the comprehension of her most 
 exalted virtue, they might be able to see that all 
 stability of mind could be in that mutability : and, 
 therefore, they should not judge me light and un- 
 stable. I then began to praise this Lady, and if not 
 in the most suitable manner, at least as well as I 
 could at first ; and I began to say : " Love, reason- 
 ing of my Lady in my mind." This Song chiefly 
 has three parts. The first is the whole of the first two 
 stanzas, in which I speak in a preliminary manner. 
 The second is the whole of the six following 
 stanzas, in which is described that which is intended, 
 i.e., the praise of that gentle Lady ; the first of which 
 begins : " The Sun sees not in travel round the 
 earth." The third part is in the last two stanzas, in 
 which, addressing myself to the Song, I purify it from 
 all doubtful interpretation. And these three parts 
 remain to be discussed now in due order. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 TURNING, then, to the First Part, which was com- 
 posed as a Proem or Preface to the Song or Poem, 
 I say that it is fitly divided into three parts. In the 
 first place, it alludes to the ineffable condition of 
 this theme ; secondly, it describes my insufficiency 
 
102 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 to speak of it in a perfect manner ; and this second 
 part begins : " If I would tell of her what thus I 
 hear." Finally, I excuse myself for my insufficiency, 
 for which they ought not to lay blame to my charge ; 
 and I commence this part when I say : " If my Song 
 fail." 
 
 I begin, then : " Love, reasoning of my Lady in my 
 mind," where in the first place it is to be seen who 
 this speaker is, and what this place is in which I say 
 that he is speaking. Love, taking him in his true 
 sense, and considering him subtly, is no other than 
 the spiritual union of the Soul with the beloved 
 object ; into which union, of its own nature, the Soul 
 hastens sooner or later, according as it is free or 
 impeded. And the reason for that natural disposition 
 may be this : each substantial form proceeds from its 
 First Cause, which is God, as is written in the book of 
 Causes ; and they receive not diversity from that First 
 Cause, which is the most simple, but from the secon- 
 dary causes, and from the material into which it 
 descends. Wherefore, in the same book it is written, 
 when treatiug of the infusion of the Divine Goodness : 
 " The bounties and good gifts make diverse things, 
 through the concurrence of that which receives them." 
 Wherefore, since each effect retains somewhat of the 
 nature of its cause, as Alfarabio says when he affirms 
 that that which has been the first cause of a round 
 body has in some way an essentially round form, 
 so each form in some way has the essence of the 
 Divine Nature in itself; not that the Divine Nature 
 can be divided and communicated to these, but par- 
 ticipated in by these, almost in the same way that 
 the other stars participate in the nature of the Sun. 
 And the nobler the form, the more does it retain of 
 that Divine Nature. 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 103 
 
 Wherefore the human Soul, which is the noblest 
 form of all those which are generated under Heaven, 
 receives more from the Divine Nature than any other. 
 And since it is most natural to wish to be in God, 
 for as in the book quoted above one reads, the first 
 thing is to exist, and before that there is nothing, the 
 human Soul desires to exist naturally with all possible 
 desire. And since its existence depends upon God, 
 and is preserved by Him, it naturally desires and 
 longs to be united to God, and so add strength to its 
 own being. And since, in the goodness of Human 
 Nature, Reason gives us proof of the Divine, it follows 
 that, naturally, the Human Soul is united therewith 
 by the path of the spirit so much the sooner, and so 
 much the more firmly, in proportion as those good 
 qualities appear more perfect ; which appearance of 
 perfection is achieved according as the power of the 
 Soul to produce a good impression is strong and 
 clear, or is trammelled and obscure. And this unioii)/. 
 is that which we call Love, whereby it is possible to<x 
 know that which is within the Soul, by looking at ! 
 those whom it loves in the world without, This 
 Love, which is the union of my Soul with that gentle 
 Lady in whom so much of the Divine Light was 
 revealed to me, is that speaker of whom I speak ; 
 since from him continuous thoughts were born, whilst 
 gazing at and considering the wondrous power of 
 this Lady who was spiritually made one with my 
 Soul. 
 
 The place in which I say that he thus speaks is 
 the Mind. But in saying that it is the Mind, one 
 does not attach more meaning to this than before ; 
 and therefore it is to be seen what this Mind properly 
 signifies. I say, then, that the Philosopher, in the 
 second book on the Soul, when speaking of its 
 
104 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERT. 
 
 powers, says that the Soul principally has three 
 powers, which are, to Live, to Feel, and to Reason : 
 and he says also to Move, but it is possible to make 
 this one with feeling, since every Soul moves that 
 feels, either with all the senses or with one alone ; 
 for the power to move is conjoined with feeling. 
 And according to that which he says, it is most evi- 
 dent that these powers are so entwined that the 
 one is a foundation of the other ; and that which 
 is the foundation can of itself be divided ; but the 
 other, which is built upon it, cannot be apart from 
 its foundation. Therefore, the Vegetative power, 
 whereby one lives, is the foundation upon which one 
 feels, that is, sees, hears, tastes, smells, and touches ; 
 and this vegetative power of itself can be the Soul, 
 vegetative, as we see in all the plants. The Sensi- 
 tive cannot exist without that. We find nothing that 
 feels, and does not live. And this Sensitive power is 
 the foundation of the Intellectual, that is, of the 
 Reason ; so that, in animate mortals, the Reasoning 
 power is not found without the Sensitive. But the 
 Sensitive is found without Reason, as in the beasts, 
 and in the birds, and in the fishes, and in any brute 
 animal, as we see. And that Soul which contains all 
 these powers is the most perfect of all. And the 
 Human Soul possessing the nobility of the highest 
 power, which is Reason, participates in the Divine 
 Nature, after the manner of an eternal Intelligence : 
 for the Soul is ennobled and denuded of matter by 
 that Sovereign Power in proportion as the Divine 
 Light of Truth shines into it, as into an Angel ; and 
 Man is therefore called by the Philosophers the 
 Divine Animal. 
 
 In this most noble part of the Soul are many vir- 
 tues, as the Philosopher says, especially in the third 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 105 
 
 chapter of the Soul, where he says that there is in it 
 a virtue which is called Scientific, and one which is 
 called Ratiocinative, or rather deliberative ; and with 
 this there are certain virtues, as Aristotle says in that 
 same place, such as the Inventive and the Judging. 
 And all these most noble virtues, and the others 
 which are in that excellent power, are designated 
 by that one word, which we sought to understand, 
 that is, Mind. Wherefore it is evident that by 
 Mind is meant the highest, noblest part of a man's 
 Soul. 
 
 And it is seen to be so, for only of man and of 
 the Divine substances is this Mind predicated, as can 
 plainly be seen in Boethius, who first predicates it of 
 men, where he says to Philosophy : " Thou, and God 
 who placed thee in the mind of men ; " then he pre- 
 dicates it of God, when he says : " Thou dost 
 produce everything from the Divine Model, Thou 
 most beautiful One, bearing the beautiful World in 
 Thy mind." Neither was it ever predicated of brute 
 animals ; nay, of many men who appear defective in 
 the most perfect part, it does not seem that it ought 
 to be, or that it could be, predicated ; and there- 
 fore such as these are termed in the Latin Tongue 
 amcnti and dementi, that is, without mind. Hence 
 one can now perceive that it is Mind which is the 
 perfect and most precious part of the Soul in which 
 is God. 
 
 And that is the place where I say that Love dis- 
 courses to me of my Lady. 
 
io6 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERT. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 NOT without cause do I say that this Love was at 
 work in my mind ; but it is said reasonably, in order 
 to explain what this Love is, by the place in which 
 it works. Wherefore, it is to be known that each 
 thing, as is said above, for the reason shown above, 
 has its especial Love, as the simple bodies have Love 
 innate, each in its proper place. Therefore the Earth 
 always descends to the centre, the fire to the circum- 
 ference above near the Heaven of the Moon, and 
 always ascends towards that. The bodies first com- 
 posed, such as are the minerals, have love for the 
 place where their generation is ordained, and in 
 which they increase, and from which they have 
 vigour and power. Wherefore, we see the load- 
 stone always receive power from the place of its 
 generation. Each of the plants which are first ani- 
 mated, that is, first animated with a vegetative 
 soul has most evident love for a particular place, 
 according as its nature may require ; and therefore 
 we see certain plants almost always grow by the side 
 of the streams, and certain others upon the mountain 
 tops, and certain others grow by the sea-shore, or 
 at the foot of hills, which, if they are transplanted, 
 either die entirely or live a sad life, as it were, like 
 a being separated from his friend. The brute beasts 
 have a most evident love, not only for places, but we 
 see also their love towards each other. Men have 
 their own love for things perfect and excellent ; and 
 since Man, although his Soul is one substance alone, 
 because of his nobility, partakes of the nature of each 
 of these things, he can possess all these affections, 
 and he does possess them all. By his part in the 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 107 
 
 nature of the simple body, as earth, naturally it tends 
 downwards ; therefore, when he moves his body 
 upwards, he becomes more weary. 
 
 Because of the second nature, of the mixed body, 
 it loves the place of its generation, and even the 
 time ; and therefore each one naturally is of more 
 power in his own place and in his own time than in 
 any other. Wherefore, one reads in the History of 
 Hercules, and in the greater Ovid, and in Lucan, and 
 in other Poets, that when fighting with the Giant 
 who was named Antaeus, every time that the Giant 
 was weary, and laid his body down on the earth at 
 full length, either by the will or strength of Hercules, 
 new strength and vigour then surged up in him, 
 drawn wholly from the Earth, in which and from 
 which he was produced ; Hercules, perceiving this, 
 at last seized him, and having compressed and raised 
 him above the Earth, he held him so tightly, without 
 allowing him to touch the Earth again, that he con- 
 quered Antaeus by excess of strength, and killed him. 
 According to the testimony of the books, this battle 
 took place in Africa. 
 
 And because of the third nature, that is, of the 
 plants, Man has a love for a certain food, not inas- 
 much as it affects the senses, but in so much as it is 
 nutritious ; and that particular food does the work of 
 that most perfect Nature, while certain other food, 
 dissimilar, acts but imperfectly. And therefore we 
 see that certain food will make men handsome, and 
 strong-limbed, and very brightly coloured, and cer- 
 tain other food will do the opposite of this. 
 
 And by the fourth nature, of the animals, that is, 
 the sensitive, Man has the other love, by which he 
 loves according to the sensible appearance, like the 
 beasts ; and this love in Man especially has need of 
 
io8 THE' BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 control, because of its excessive operation in the 
 delights given, especially through sight and touch. 
 
 And because of the fifth and last nature, which is 
 the true Human Nature, and, to use a better phrase, 
 the Angelic, namely, the Rational, Man has by it the 
 Love of Truth and Virtue ; and from this Love is 
 born true and perfect friendship from the honest 
 intercourse of which the Philosopher speaks in the 
 eighth book of the Ethics, when he treats of Friend- 
 ship. 
 
 Wherefore, since, this nature is termed Mind, as is 
 proved above, I spoke of Love as discoursing in my 
 Mind in order to explain that this Love was the 
 Friendship which is born of that most noble nature, 
 that is, of Truth and Virtue, and to exclude each 
 false opinion, by which my Love might be suspected 
 to spring from pleasure of the Senses. 
 
 I then say, " With constant pleasure," to make 
 people understand its continuance and its fervour. 
 And I say that it often whispers " Things over which 
 the intellect may stray." And I speak truth, because 
 my thoughts, when reasoning of her, often sought to 
 draw conclusions of her, which I could not compre- 
 hend, and I was alarmed, so that I seemed almost like 
 oi;e dazed, even as he who, looking with the eye along a 
 direct line, sees first the nearest things clearly ; then, 
 proceeding, it sees them less clearly ; then, further 
 on, doubtfully ; then, proceeding an immense way, 
 the sight is divided from the object, and sees nothing. 
 And this is one unspeakable thing of that which I 
 have -taken for a theme ; and consequently I relate 
 the other when I say : 
 
 His words make music of so sweet a kind 
 
 That the Soul hears and feels, and cries, Ah, me. 
 That I want power to tell what thus I see ! 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 169 
 
 And because I know not how to tell it, I say that 
 my soul laments, saying, " Ah, me, that I want 
 power." And this is the other unspeakable thing, 
 that the tongue is not a complete and perfect fol- 
 lower of all that the intellect sees. And I say, 
 " That the Soul hears and feels ; " hearing, as to the 
 words, and feeling, as to the sweetness of the sound. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 NOW that the two ineffable parts of this matter have 
 been discussed, we must proceed to discuss words that 
 describe my insufficiency. 
 
 I say, then, that my insufficiency arises from a 
 double cause, even as in a twofold manner the 
 exalted nature of my Lady surpasses all, in the way 
 which has been told. For I am compelled, by the 
 poverty of my intellect, to omit much of the truth 
 concerning her which shone into my mind like rays 
 of light, but which my mind receives like a trans- 
 parent body, unable to gather up the ends thereof 
 and reflect them back. And this I express in that 
 following part : " First, all that Reason cannot make 
 its own I needs must leave." Then, when I say, 
 " And of what can be known," I say that not even to 
 that which I do understand am I sufficient, because 
 my tongue is not so eloquent that it could tell that 
 which is discoursed in my thoughts concerning her. 
 It may be seen, therefore, that, with respect to the 
 Truth, it is very little that I shall say ; and this 
 redounds to her great praise, if well considered, in 
 that which was the main intention. And it is 
 possible to say that this form of speech came indeed 
 
no THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 from the workshop of Rhetoric, which on every side 
 lays its hand upon the main intention. Then, when 
 it says, " If my Song fail," I excuse myself for my 
 fault, which ought not, then, to be blamed when others 
 see that my words are far below the dignity of this 
 Lady. And I say that, if the defect is in my 
 rhymes, that is, in my words, which are appointed to 
 discourse of her, for this are to be blamed the weak- 
 ness of the intellect and the abruptness of our speech: 
 " blame wit and words," which are overpowered by 
 the thought, so that they cannot follow it entirely, 
 especially there where the thought is born of love, 
 because there the Soul searches more deeply than 
 elsewhere. It would be quite possible for any one 
 to say : Thou dost excuse and accuse thyself all in 
 one breath, which is a reason for blame, not for 
 escape from blame, inasmuch as the blame, which is 
 mine, is cast on the intellect and on the speech ; 
 for, if it be good, I ought to be praised for it in so 
 much as it is so ; and if it be defective, I ought to 
 be blamed. To this it is possible to reply, briefly, 
 that I do not accuse myself, but that I excuse myself 
 in truth. And therefore it is to be known, according 
 to the opinion of the Philosopher in the third book 
 of the Ethics, that man is worthy of praise or of 
 blame only in those things which it is in his power 
 to do or not to do ; but in those things over which 
 he has no power he deserves neither blame nor 
 praise, since either the praise or blame is to be 
 attributed to some other, although the things may be 
 parts of the man himself. Therefore, we ought not 
 to blame the man because his body, from his birth, 
 may be ugly, since it was not in his power to make 
 it beautiful ; but our blame should fall on the evil 
 disposition of the matter whereof he is made, whose 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. in 
 
 source was a defect of Nature. And even so we 
 ought not to praise the man for the beauty of form 
 which he may have from his birth, for he was not 
 the maker of it ; but we ought to praise the artificer, 
 that is, Human Nature, who shapes her material into 
 so much beauty when she is not impeded. And 
 therefore the priest said well to the Emperor who 
 laughed and scoffed at the ugliness of his body: 
 " The Lord, He is God : It is He that hath made us, 
 and not we ourselves ; " and these are the words of the 
 Prophet in a verse of the Psalms, written neither more 
 nor less than according to the reply of the Priest. 
 
 And therefore let the wicked evil-born ones per- 
 ceive that, if they put their chief care in the adorn- 
 ment of their persons, it must be with all modesty ; 
 for to do that is no other than to adorn the work of 
 another, that is, Nature, and to abandon their own 
 proper work. 
 
 Returning, then, to the proposition, I say that our 
 intellect, through defect of the power through which 
 it sees organic power, that is, the imagination, is not 
 able to ascend to certain things, because the imagina- 
 tion cannot help it and has not the wherewithal, such 
 as are the substances apart from matter, which (if we 
 can have any knowledge of them) we cannot fully 
 comprehend. 
 
 And the man is not to blame for this, because he 
 was not the maker of this defect ; nay, Universal 
 Nature did this, which is God, who wills that in this 
 life we be without this light. And because He was 
 the cause, it would be presumptuous to argue con- 
 cerning it. So that if my earnest thought transported 
 me into a place where my imagination failed my in- 
 tellect, I was not to blame if I could not possibly 
 understand. 
 
H2 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 Again, a bound is set to our understanding in 
 each operation thereof ; but not by us, but by Uni- 
 versal Nature ; and therefore it is to be known that 
 the bounds of the understanding are wider in thought 
 than in speech, and wider in speech than in signs. 
 Hence, if our thought, not only that which fails in a 
 perfect intellect, but also that which in a perfect in- 
 tellect attains its end, is the conqueror of speech, we 
 are not to blame, because we are not the makers of 
 it. And therefore I prove that I do truthfnlly 
 excuse myself when I say : " Blame wit and words, 
 whose force Fails to tell all that I hear Love dis- 
 course ; " for, sufficiently clear ought to appear the 
 good- will, which alone we should regard in respect to 
 merits that are human. 
 
 And thus is now explained the first principal part 
 of this Song which flows from my hand. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DISCOURSE on the first part of the Song has now 
 made its meaning open and clear, and it is needful to 
 proceed to the second ; for the clearer perception of 
 which, three divisions are desirable, according as it is 
 contained in three sections. For in the first part I 
 praise that Lady entirely and generally, as in the 
 Soul so in the body ; in the second part I descend 
 to especial commendation of the Soul ; and in the 
 third, to especial praise of the body. The first part 
 begins: "The Sun sees not in travel round the 
 earth ; " the second begins : " Her Maker saw that 
 she was good ; " the third begins : " Rain from her 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 113 
 
 beauty little flames of fire ; " and these- parts or 
 divisions in due order are to be discussed. 
 
 I say then : " The Sun sees not in travel round 
 the earth ; " where it is co be known, in order to 
 have perfect understanding thereof, how the Earth is 
 circled round by the Sun. In the first place, I say 
 that by the Earth I do not here mean the whole body 
 of the Universe, but only that part of the sea and 
 land, following the common speech, which is thus 
 wont to designate it, whereupon some one exclaims, 
 " This man has seen all the World," meaning " this 
 part of the sea and land." This World Pythagoras 
 and his followers asserted to be one of the stars, and 
 they also said that there was another opposite to it, 
 similar to it : and they called that one Antictona ; 
 and he said that both were in one sphere which 
 revolved from East to West, and by this revolution 
 the Sun was circled round us, and now he was seen, 
 and now he was not seen. And he said that the fire 
 was in the centre of these, considering the fire to be 
 a more noble body than the water and than the 
 Earth, and giving the noblest centre to the four 
 simple bodies ; he said that the fire, when it appeared 
 to ascend, according to strict truth descended to the 
 centre. Then "Plato was of another opinion, and he 
 wrote in a book of his, which he called Timseus, that 
 the Earth with the sea was indeed the centre of all, 
 but that its whole sphere revolved round its centre, 
 following the first movement of the Heavens, but much 
 slower on account of its gross material, and because 
 of the immense distance from that first moved. 
 These opinions are confuted in the second chapter, 
 Of Heaven and the World, by that glorious Philo- 
 sopher, to whom Nature opened her secrets most 
 freely ; and by him it is therein proved that this 
 
H4 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 World, the Earth, is of itself stable and fixed to 
 all eternity. And his reasons, which Aristotle states 
 in order to break those other opinions and to affirm 
 the truth, it is not my intention here to narrate ; 
 therefore, let it be enough for those to whom I speak, 
 to know, upon his great authority, that this Earth is 
 fixed, and does not revolve, and that it, with the sea, 
 is the centre of the Heavens. These Heavens revolve 
 round this centre continuously, even as we see ; in 
 which revolution there must of necessity be two 
 fixed Poles, and a circle equally distant from these 
 round which all especially revolves. Of these two 
 Poles, the one is visible to almost all the discovered 
 Earth, that is, the Northern Pole ; the other is hidden 
 from almost all the discovered Earth, that is, the 
 Southern Pole. The circle spread from them is that 
 part of Heaven under which the Sun revolves when it 
 is in Aries and Libra. Wherefore, it is to be known 
 that if a stone could fall from this Pole of ours, it would 
 fall there beyond into the sea precisely upon that 
 surface of the sea, where, if a man could be, he 
 would always have the Sun above the middle of his 
 head ; and I believe that from Rome to that place, 
 going in a straight line to the North, the distance 
 may be almost two thousand seven hundred miles, 
 or a little more or less. Imagining, then, in order 
 to understand better what I say, that there is in 
 that place a city, and that its name may be Maria, 
 I say again that if from the other Pole, that is, the 
 Southern, a stone could fall, that it would fall upon 
 that part of the ocean which is precisely on this 
 ball opposite to Maria ; and I believe that from 
 Rome to where this second stone would fall, going 
 in a direct line to the South, the distance may be 
 seven thousand five hundred miles, a little more or 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE ', 
 
 \ ^'l^',, -v 
 less. And here let us imagine another city, which ^^ 
 
 may have the name of Lucia ; and the distance, from 
 whatever part one draws the line, is ten thousand 
 two hundred miles between the one and the other, 
 that is, half the circumference of this ball, so that the 
 citizens of Maria hold the soles of the feet oppo- 
 site the soles of the feet of the citizens of Lucia. 
 Let us imagine also a circle upon this ball which is 
 in every part equi-distant from Maria as from Lucia. 
 I believe that this circle, according to what I under- 
 stand by the assertions of the Astrologers, and by 
 that of Albertus Magnus in his book On the Nature 
 of Places and on the Properties of the Elements, 
 and also by the testimony of Lucan in his ninth 
 book, would divide this Earth uncovered by the sea 
 in the Meridian, almost through all the extreme end 
 of the first climate, where there are amongst the 
 other people the Garamanti, who are almost always 
 naked ; to whom came Cato with the people of 
 Rome when flying from the dominion of Caesar. 
 Having marked out these three places upon this ball, 
 one can easily see how the Sun circles round it. 
 
 I say, then, that the Heaven of the Sun revolves 
 from West to East, not directly against the diurnal 
 movement, that is, of the day and night, but ob- 
 liquely against that, so that its mid-circle, which is / 
 equally between its Poles, in which is the body of 
 the Sun, cuts into two opposite parts the circle of 
 the two first Poles, in the beginning of Aries and 
 in the beginning of Libra ; and it is divided by two 
 arcs from it, one towards the North and one towards 
 the South ; the points of these two said arcs are 
 equi-distant from the first circle in every part by 
 twenty-three degrees and one point more, and the 
 one point is the tropic of Cancer, and the other is the 
 
n6 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 tropic of Capricorn ; therefore it must be that Maria 
 in the sign of Aries can see, when the Sun sinks 
 below the mid-circle of the first Poles, this Sun to 
 revolve round the Earth below, or rather the sea, 
 like a millstone, of which only one half of its body 
 appears, and can see this come rising up after the 
 manner of the screw of a vine-press, so much so that 
 it completes ninety-one rotations, or a little more. 
 When these rotations are completed, its ascension is 
 to Maria almost as much in proportion as it ascends 
 to us in the half-third, that is, of the equal day and 
 night ; and if a man could stand in Maria, with his 
 face always turned to the Sun, he would see that Sun 
 pass by on the right. Then by the same way it 
 seems to descend another ninety-one rotations, or a 
 little more, so much so that it circles round below 
 the Earth, or rather sea, not showing the whole of 
 itself ; and then it is hidden, and Lucia begins to see 
 it, which, the same as Maria, then sees it to ascend 
 and to descend around itself with the same number 
 of rotations. And if a man could stand in Lucia, 
 with his face always turned towards the Sun, he 
 would see it pass to the left. Therefore, it is pos- 
 sible to see that these places have in the year one 
 day of six months' duration, and one night of the 
 same length of time ; and when one has the day the 
 other has the night. 
 
 It must be also that the circle where the Gara- 
 manti are, as has been said above, upon this ball, can 
 see the Sun revolve precisely above them, not after 
 the fashion of a mill-stone, but of a wheel, which 
 cannot in any part be seen except the centre, when 
 it goes under Aries. And then it is seen to depart 
 from its place immediately above and go towards 
 Maria ninety-one days, or a little more, and by so 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 117 
 
 many to return to its position ; and then, when it has 
 turned back, it goes before Libra, and even so 
 departs and goes towards Lucia ninety-one days, or 
 a little more, and in so many returns to its position. 
 And this place always has the day equal with the 
 night, either on this side or on that, as the Sun goes, 
 and twice a year it has the summer of intense heat, 
 and two little winters. It must also be that the two 
 distances, which are midway from the two imagi- 
 nary Cities and the mid-circle, see the Sun variously, 
 according as they are remote from, and near to, 
 these places. 
 
 Now, by what has been said, this can be seen by 
 him who has good understanding, to which it is well 
 to give a little fatigue. He can now perceive that, 
 by the Divine Providence, the World is so ordained 
 that the sphere of the Sun, being revolved and 
 turned round to one point, this ball whereon we are 
 in every part receives an equal share of light and 
 darkness. Oh, ineffable Wisdom, Thou which didst 
 thus ordain ! Oh, how poor and feeble is our mind 
 when seeking to comprehend Thee ! And you, 
 O men, for whose benefit and pleasure I write, in 
 what fearful blindness do you live if you never raise 
 your eyes upwards to these things, but keep them 
 fixed in the mud of your foolishness. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IN the preceding chapter is shown after what man- 
 ner the Sun travels round the Earth ; so that now 
 one can proceed to demonstrate the meaning of the 
 part to which this thought belongs. I say, then, that 
 
nS THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 in that first part I begin to praise that Lady by 
 comparison with other things. And I say that the 
 Sun, circling round the Earth, sees nothing so gentle 
 as that Lady ; wherefore it follows that she is, 
 according to the letter, the most gentle of all things 
 that the sun shines upon. And it says : " Till the 
 hour ; " wherefore it is to be known that " hour " is 
 understood in two ways by the Astrologers. The 
 one is, that of the day and of the night they make 
 twenty-four hours twelve of the day, twelve of the 
 night, however long or short the day may be. And 
 these hours are short and long in the day and night 
 according as the day and night increase and 
 diminish. And these hours the Church uses when 
 it says, Prima, Tertia, Sexta, and Nona first, third, 
 sixth, and ninth ; and these are termed hours tem- 
 poral. The other mode is, that, making of the day 
 and of the night twenty-four hours, the day some- 
 times has fifteen hours and the night nine ; and 
 sometimes the night has sixteen and the day eight, 
 according as the day and night increase and 
 diminish ; and they term these hours equal at 
 the Equinox, and those that are termed temporal 
 are always the same, because, the day being equal 
 to the night, it must happen thus. 
 
 Then when I say, "All Minds of Heaven wonder 
 at her worth," I praise her, not having respect to any 
 other thing. And I say that the Intelligences of 
 Heaven behold her, and that the people here below 
 think of that gentle Lady when they have more of 
 that peace which delights them. And here it is to 
 be known that each Mind or Intellect in Heaven 
 above, according to that which is written in the book 
 Of Causes, knows that which is above itself and that 
 which is below itself ; therefore it knows God as its 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 119 
 
 Cause ; therefore it knows that which is below itself 
 as its effect. 
 
 And since God is the most universal cause of 
 everything, to know Him is to know all, according 
 to the degree of the Intelligence ; wherefore all the 
 Intelligences know the human form in as far as it 
 is by intention fixed or determined in the Divine 
 Mind. The moving Intelligences especially know 
 it ; since they are the most especial causes of it, 
 and of every kind of form ; and they know the 
 most perfect, as far as they can know it, as their 
 rule and pattern. 
 
 And if this human form, copied and individualized, 
 is not perfect, it is not the fault of the said copy or 
 image, but of the matter from which the individual 
 is formed. Therefore when I say, "All Minds in 
 Heaven wonder at her worth," I wish to express no 
 other than that she is thus made, even as the 
 express image of the human form in the Divine 
 Mind. And each Mind there above beholds her 
 by virtue of that quality which exists especially 
 in those angelic Minds which build up and shape, 
 with Heaven, things that exist below. And to 
 confirm this, I subjoin when I say, " Mortals, 
 enamoured, find her in their thought When Love 
 his peace into their minds has brought," where it is 
 to be known that each thing especially desires its per- 
 fection, and in that its every desire finds peace and 
 calm, and for that peace each thing is desired. 
 
 And this is that desire which always makes every 
 pleasure appear incomplete, for there is no joy or 
 pleasure so great in this life that it can quench the 
 thirst in our Soul, for always the desire for that 
 perfection remains in the Mind. And since this 
 Lady is truly that perfection, I say that people 
 
120 THE BANQUET OF DANTE AL1GHIERL 
 
 here below receive great delight when they have 
 most peace ; for she abides then in their thoughts. 
 For this Lady, I say, is perfect in as high a degree 
 as it is possible for Human Nature to be. 
 
 Then when I say, " Her Maker saw that she was 
 good," I prove that not only this Lady is the most 
 perfect in the human race, but more than the most 
 perfect, inasmuch as she receives from the Divine 
 Goodness more than human dues. Wherefore one 
 can reasonably believe that as each Master loves 
 most his best work far more than the other work, 
 so God loves the good human being far above the 
 rest And forasmuch as His Bounty is of necessity 
 not restricted by any limit, His love has no regard 
 to the amount due to him who receives, but it over- 
 flows in gifts, and in the blessings of power and grace. 
 Wherefore I say here, that this God, who gave life 
 or being to this Lady, through love or charity for 
 her perfection pours into her of His Bounty beyond 
 the limits of the amount due to our nature. 
 
 Then when I say, " On her pure soul," I prove 
 this that has been said with reasonable testi- 
 mony, which gives us to know that, as the Philo- 
 sopher says in the second chapter, On the Soul, 
 the Soul is the act of the Body ; and if it be its 
 act, it is its Cause ; and as it is written in the 
 book before quoted, On Causes, each Cause infuses 
 into its effect some of the goodness which it receives 
 from its own Cause, which is " God." Wherefore, 
 since in her are seen wonderful things, so much so 
 on the part of the body that they make each 
 beholder desirous to see those things, it is evident 
 that her form, which is her Soul, guides it as its 
 proper Cause and receives miraculously the gracious 
 goodness of God. 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 12 1 
 
 And thus is proved, by that appearance, which 
 exceeds the due appointment of our nature, which 
 in her is most perfect, as has been said above, that 
 this Lady is by God endowed with good gifts and 
 made a noble thing. And this is the whole Literal 
 meaning of the first section of the second principal 
 part. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 HAVING commended this Lady generally, both 
 according to the Soul and according to the Body, 
 I proceed to praise her specially according to the 
 Soul. 
 
 And first I praise her Soul for its goodness, that 
 is great in itself ; then I commend it for a goodness 
 that is great in others, and useful to the World. 
 And that second part begins when I say, firstly, " On 
 her fair frame Virtue Divine descends ; " where it is 
 to be known that the Divine Goodness descends into 
 all things, and otherwise they could not exist ; but, 
 although this goodness springs from the First Cause, 
 it is received diversely, according to the more or less 
 of virtue in the recipients. Wherefore it is written in 
 the book Of Causes : " The First Goodness sends His 
 good gifts forth upon things in one stream. Verily 
 each thing receives from this stream according to 
 the manner of its virtue and its being." And we 
 can have a sensible, living example of this in the 
 Sun. We see the light of the Sun, which is one 
 thing, derived from one fountain, to be variously 
 received by material substances ; as Albertus 
 Magnus says in his book On the Intellect, that 
 certain bodies, through having mixed in themselves 
 
122 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALTGHIER1. 
 
 an excess of transparent brightness, so soon as the 
 Sun sees them they become so bright that, by the 
 multiplication of light within them, their aspect is 
 hardly discernible, and from themselves they render 
 back to others great splendour or brilliancy, such as is 
 gold and any gem. Sure I am that by being entirely 
 transparent, not only do they receive the light, but 
 that they do not intercept it ; nay, they pass it on, 
 like stained glass, coloured with their own colour, to 
 other things. And there are certain other bodies 
 so overpowering in the purity of the transparency 
 that they become so radiant as to overpower the 
 adjustments of the eye, and you cannot look at 
 them without fatigue of sight; such as are the 
 mirrors. Certain others are so free from trans- 
 parency, that but little light can they receive ; as 
 is the Earth. Thus the Goodness of God is received 
 in sundrywise by the sundry substances, that is, in 
 one way by the Angels, who are without grossness 
 of matter, as if transparent through their purity of 
 form ; and otherwise by the human Soul, which 
 although on one side it may be free from matter, 
 on another side it is impeded : even as the man 
 who is all in the water but his head, of whom one 
 cannot say that he is entirely in the w r ater, or 
 entirely out of it. Again otherwise it is received 
 by the animals, whose soul is wholly comprised in 
 matter ; but I say that the soul of animals receives 
 of the Goodness of God in proportion as it is 
 ennobled. Again otherwise is it received by the 
 minerals ; and otherwise by the Earth, than by the 
 others, because the Earth is most material, and there- 
 fore most remote, and most out of all proportion 
 to the First most simple and most high Cause, which 
 is alone Intellectual, that is to say, God. 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 123 
 
 And although here below there may be placed 
 general degrees of excellence, nevertheless, singular 
 degrees of excellence may also be placed ; that is to 
 say, that amongst human Souls one Soul may receive 
 more bountifully than another. And since in the 
 intellectual order of the Universe one ascends and 
 descends by degrees almost continuous from the 
 lowest form to the highest, and from the highest to 
 the lowest, as we see in the visible order of things ; 
 and between the Angelic Nature, which is intellectual, 
 and the Human Soul there may be no step, but the 
 one rise to the other as it were continuously through 
 the height of the degrees ; and from the Human 
 Soul and the most perfect soul of the brute animals, 
 again, there may not be any break in the descent. 
 For as we see many men so vile and of such low 
 condition that it seems almost that it can be no 
 other than bestial, so it is to be asserted and firmly 
 believed that there may be some men so noble and 
 of a condition so exalted that it can be no other 
 than that of the Angel Otherwise the human 
 species could not be continued on every side, which 
 cannot be. Such as these Aristotle calls, in the 
 seventh book of the Ethics, Divine ; and such a one 
 I say that this Lady is, so that the Divine Virtue, 
 after the manner that it descends into the Angel, 
 descends into her. 
 
 Then when I say, " Fair one who doubt," I prove 
 this by the experience that it is possible to have of 
 it in those operations which are proper to the rational 
 Soul, wherein the Divine Light shines forth more 
 quickly, that is, in the speech and in the actions, 
 which are wont to be termed conduct and deport- 
 ment. Wherefore it is to be known that only man 
 amongst the animals speaks, and has conduct and 
 
124 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 acts which are called rational, because he alone has 
 Reason in himself. And if any one might wish to 
 say, in contradiction, that a certain bird can speak, 
 as appears true, especially of the magpie and of the 
 parrot ; and that some beast performs acts, or rather 
 things, by rule, as appears in the ape and in some 
 other ; I reply that it is not true that they speak, 
 nor that they have rules, because they have not 
 Reason, from which these things must proceed ; 
 neither is there in them the principle of these 
 operations ; neither do they know what that is ; 
 neither do they understand that by those acts some- 
 thing is intended ; but that only which they see and 
 hear they represent, even as the image of somebody 
 may be reflected in a glass. Wherefore, as in the 
 mirror the corporal image which the mirror shows 
 is not true, so the image of Reason, in the acts 
 and the speech which the brute soul represents, or 
 rather shows, is not true. I say that what gentle 
 Lady soever doubts should " go with her, mark the 
 grace In all her acts." I do not say man, because 
 one can derive experience more modestly from the 
 woman than from the man ; and I say she will find 
 that " Downward from Heaven bends An angel 
 when she speaks." For her speech, because of its 
 exalted character and because of its sweet- 
 ness, kindles in the mind of him who hears it a 
 thought of Love, which I call a celestial Spirit ; 
 since from Heaven is the source and from Heaven 
 the intention thereof, as has been already narrated. 
 From which thought I pass to a firm opinion that 
 this Lady is of miraculous power, that there is 
 " A power in her by none of us possessed." Her 
 actions, by their suavity and by their moderation, 
 " Rival in calls to Love that Love must hear." 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 125 
 
 They cause Love to awaken and again to hear 
 whenever he is sown by the power of bountiful 
 Nature. Which natural seed acts as in the next 
 treatise is shown. 
 
 Then when I say, "Fair in all like her, fairest 
 she'll appear Who is most like her," I intend to 
 narrate how the goodness and the power of her soul 
 are good and useful to others ; and, firstly, how useful 
 it is to other women, saying that she is " Fair in all 
 like her," where I present a clear or bright example 
 to the women, from gazing at which they can make 
 their beauty seem gentle in following the same. 
 Secondly, I relate how useful she is to all people, 
 saying that her aspect assists our faith, which is 
 more useful to the whole Human Race than all 
 other things beside ; for it is that by which we 
 escape from Eternal Death and acquire Eternal 
 Life ; and she assists our Faith, for the first founda- 
 tion of our Faith is on the miracles performed by 
 Him who was crucified, who created our Reason, 
 and willed that it should be less than His power. 
 He performed these miracles, then, in His own name 
 for His saints ; and many men are so obstinate that 
 they are in doubt of those miracles if there be the 
 least mist or cloud around them ; and they cannot 
 believe any miracle unless they have visible experi- 
 ence of the same ; and this Lady is a thing visibly 
 miraculous, of which the eyes of men daily can have 
 experience, and which can make the other miracles 
 appear possible to us. Wherefore it is manifest that 
 this Lady, with her marvellous aspect, assists our 
 Faith. And, therefore, finally I say : 
 
 We, content to call 
 
 Her face a Miracle, have Faith made sure : 
 For that God made her ever to endure. 
 
126 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 And thus ends the second section of the second 
 principal part of the Song according to its Literal 
 meaning. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 AMONGST the Works of Divine Wisdom, Man is the 
 most wonderful, considering how in one form the 
 Divine Power joined three natures ; and in such a 
 form how subtly harmonized his body must be. It 
 is organized for all his distinct powers ; wherefore, 
 because of the great concord there must be, among 
 so many organs, to secure their perfect response 
 to each other, in all the multitude of men but 
 few are perfect. And if this Creature is so won- 
 derful, certainly it is a dread thing to discourse of 
 his conditions, not only in words, but even in thought. 
 So that to this apply those words of Ecclesiastes : 
 " I beheld all the Work of God, that a Man can- 
 not find out the Work th'at is done under the Sun." 
 And those other words there, where he says : " Let 
 not thine heart be hasty to utter anything before 
 God : for God is in Heaven, and thou upon Earth : 
 therefore let thy words be few." I, then, who in 
 this third section intend to speak of a certain con- 
 dition of such a creature, inasmuch as, through the 
 goodness of the Soul, visible beauty appears in his 
 body, I begin timorously uncertain, intending, if not 
 fully, at least partially, to untie such a knot as this. 
 I say, then, that since the meaning of that section is 
 clear, wherein this Lady is praised on the part of 
 the Soul, we are now to proceed and to see how it is 
 when I say : " Her aspect shows delights of Paradise." 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 127 
 
 I praise her on the part of the body, and I say that 
 in her aspect bright gleams appear which show us 
 pleasant things, and amongst others those of Paradise. 
 
 The most noble state of all, and that which is the 
 crown of every good, is to be at peace within one's 
 self ; and this is to be happy. And this content is 
 truly (although in another manner) in her aspect ; so 
 that, by looking at her, the people find peace, so 
 sweetly does her Beauty feed the eyes of the be- 
 holders ; but in another way, for the Peace that is 
 perpetual in Paradise is not attainable by any man. 
 
 And since some one might ask where this wonder- 
 ful content appears in this Lady, I distinguish in her 
 person two parts, in which human pleasure and 
 displeasure most appear. Wherefore it is to be 
 known that in whatever part the Soul most fulfils 
 its office, it strives most earnestly to adorn that part, 
 and there it does its work most subtly. Wherefore 
 we see that in the Face of Man, where it fulfils its 
 office more than in any other outward part, it works 
 so subtly that, by making itself subtle therein as 
 much as its material permits, it causes that no face 
 is like another, because its utmost power over matter, 
 which is dissimilar in almost all, is there brought into 
 action ; and because in the face the Soul works 
 especially in two places, as if in those two places all 
 the three Natures of the Soul had jurisdiction, that is, 
 in the Eyes and in the Mouth, these it chiefly adorns, 
 and there it spends its care to make all beautiful if 
 it can. And in these two places I say that those 
 pleasures of content appear, saying : " Seen in her 
 eyes and in her smiling face ; " the which two places, 
 by means of a beautiful comparison, may be desig- 
 nated the balconies of the woman who dwells in the 
 house of the body, she being the Soul ; because 
 
128 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 there, although veiled, as it were, the Soul often 
 shows itself. The Soul shows itself so evidently in 
 the eyes that it is possible, to know its present pas- 
 sion if you look attentively. 
 
 Six passions are proper to the human Soul of 
 which the Philosopher makes mention in his Rhe- 
 toric, namely, Grace, Zeal, Mercy, Envy, Love, and 
 Shame ; and with whichever of these the Soul is 
 impassioned, there comes into the window of the 
 Eyes the semblance of it, unless it be repressed 
 within, and shut from view by great power of will. 
 Wherefore some one formerly plucked out his eyes 
 that an inward shame should not appear without, as 
 Statius the Poet says of the Theban GEdipus when 
 he says that with eternal night he loosed his damned 
 shame. 
 
 It reveals itself in the Mouth, like colour behind 
 glass as it were. And what is a smile or a laugh 
 except a coruscation of the Soul's delight, a light 
 shot outwardly from that which shines within ? And 
 therefore it is right for a man to reveal his Soul by a 
 well-tempered cheerfulness, smiling moderately with 
 a due restraint, and with slight movement of the 
 limbs ; so that the Lady, that is, the Soul, which 
 then, as has been said, shows herself, may appear 
 modest, and not dissolute. Therefore the book on 
 the Four Cardinal Virtues commands us thus : " Let 
 thy smile be without loud laughter, that is, without 
 cackling like a hen." 
 
 Ah, the sweet wonder of my Lady's smile, which 
 is never seen but in the eyes ! 
 
 And I say of these delights seen in her eyes and 
 smile : " Love brought them there as to his dwelling 
 place ;" where it is possible to consider Love in a 
 twofold form. First, the Love of the Soul, peculiar 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 129 
 
 or proper to these places ; secondly, universal Love, 
 which inclines things to love and to be loved, which 
 ordains the Soul to rule these parts. 
 
 Then, when I say, " They dazzle Reason," I 
 excuse myself for this, that it appears of such 
 exceeding beauty that I can tell but little, owing 
 to its overpowering force ; and I say that I can say 
 but little concerning it for two reasons. The one is, 
 that those things which appear in her aspect over- 
 power our intellect ; and I tell how this conquest is 
 made : that " They dazzle Reason, as sunbeams our 
 eyes," when the Sun overpowers our feeble sight, if not 
 also the healthy and the strong. The other is, that 
 the man cannot look fixedly at it, because the Soul 
 becomes inebriate therein ; so that incontinently, 
 after gazing thereat, it fails in all its operations. 
 
 Then, when I say, " Rain from her beauty little 
 flames of fire," I recur to discourse of its effect, since 
 to discourse entirely of it is not possible. Wherefore 
 it is to be known that all those things which subdue 
 our intellect, so that it is unable to see what they are, 
 are most suitably to be discussed in their effects ; 
 wherefore of God, and of His separate substances, 
 and of the first matter we can thus have some know- 
 ledge. And therefore I say that the beauty of that 
 Lady rains little flames of fire, meaning the ardour 
 of Love and of Charity, " Made living with a spirit," 
 that is, Love informed by a gentle spirit, which is 
 direct desire, through which and from which "to create 
 Good thoughts ; " and it not only does this, but it 
 crushes and destroys its opposite, the innate vices 
 which are especially the foes of all good thoughts. ^ 
 
 And here it is to be known that there are certain 
 vices in the Man to which he is naturally disposed ; 
 as certain men of a choleric complexion are disposed 
 
 E 
 
130 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 to anger : and such vices as these are innate, that is, 
 /^natural. Others are the vices of habit, for which not 
 the complexion, but habit, or custom, is to blame ; 
 such as intemperance, and especially intemperance in 
 wine. But these vices are subdued and put to flight 
 by good habits, and the man is made virtuous 
 thereby without finding fatigue in his moderation, 
 as the Philosopher says in the second book of the 
 Ethics. Truly there is this difference between the 
 natural passions and the habitual, that through use 
 of good morals the habitual entirely vanish, because 
 their origin, the evil habit, is destroyed by its oppo- 
 site ; but the natural, the source of which is in the 
 complexion of the passionate man, although they 
 may be made much lighter by good morals, yet they 
 do not entirely disappear as far as regards the first 
 cause, but they almost wholly disappear in act, 
 because custom is not equal to nature, which is 
 the source of such a passion. And therefore the 
 man is more praiseworthy who guides himself and 
 rules himself when he is of an evil disposition by 
 nature, in opposition to natural impulse, than he who, 
 being gifted with a good disposition by nature, 
 carries himself naturally well ; as it is more praise- 
 worthy to control a bad horse than one that is not 
 troublesome. I say, then, that those little flames 
 which rain down from her beauty destroy the innate, 
 or the natural, vices, to make men understand that 
 her beauty has power to renew Nature in those who 
 behold it, which is a miraculous thing. And this 
 confirms that which is observed above in the other 
 chapter when I say that she is the helper of our 
 Faith. 
 
 Finally, when I say, " Lady, who may desire 
 Escape from blame,''' I infer, under pretext of 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 131 
 
 admonishing another, the end for which so much 
 beauty was made. And I say that what lady 
 believes her beauty to be open to blame through 
 some defect, let her look on this most perfect 
 example ; where it is understood that it is designed 
 not only to improve and raise the good, but also to 
 convert evil to good. And, finally, it is subjoined 
 that she is " God's thought," that is, from the Mind 
 of God. And this to make men understand that, by 
 design of the Creator, Nature is made to produce 
 such an effect. 
 
 And thus ends the whole of the second chief part 
 of the Song. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE order of the present treatise requires, after these 
 two parts of the Song have been discussed, according 
 to my intention, that we now proceed to the third, 
 in which I intend to purify the Song from a reproof 
 which might be unfavourable to it. 
 
 And it is this, that before I composed it, this 
 Lady seeming to me to be somewhat fierce and 
 haughty against me, I made a little ballad, in which 
 I called her proud and angry, which appears to be 
 contrary to that which is here reasoned ; and there- 
 fore I turn to the Song, and, under colour of teach- 
 ing it how it is proper that it should excuse itself, I 
 make an excuse for that which came before. And 
 this, when one addresses inanimate things, is a figure 
 which is called by rhetoricians, Prosopopoeia, and the 
 Poets often use it. " My Song, it seems you speak 
 this to oppose." The intention of which address, to 
 
132 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 make it more easy of understanding, it behoves me 
 to divide into three sections : first, one affirms where- 
 fore excuse is necessary ; then, one proceeds with the 
 excuse, when I say, " Though Heaven, you know ;" 
 finally, I speak to the Song as to a person well 
 skilled in that which it is right to do when I say, 
 " Be such excuse allowed." 
 
 I say, then, in the first place : " My Song, it seems 
 you speak this to oppose The saying of a sister Song 
 of mine." For the sake of similitude, I say sister ; 
 for as that woman is called a sister who is born of 
 the same father, so may a man call that work a 
 sister which is wrought by the same worker ; for our 
 work is in some degree a thing begotten. And I say 
 why it seems opposed or contrary to that sister Song, 
 saying : " This lovely Lady whom you count divine, 
 Your sister called disdainful and morose." This accu- 
 sation being affirmed, I proceed to the excuse, by 
 quoting an example, wherein the Truth is quite oppo- 
 site to the appearance of Truth, and it is quite 
 possible to take the false semblance of Truth for 
 Truth itself, regarding Truth itself as Falsehood. I 
 say : " Though Heaven, you know, is ever high and 
 pure, Men's eyes may fail, and find a star obscure ; " 
 where it is shown that it is the property of colour 
 and light to be visible, as Aristotle affirms in the 
 second book Of the Soul and in the book on Sense 
 and Sensation. Other things, indeed, are visible, but 
 it is not their property to be so, nor to be tangible, 
 as in form, height, number, motion, and rest, which 
 are said to be subject to the Common Sense, and 
 which we comprehend by union of many senses ; 
 but of colour and light it is the property to be visible, 
 because with the sight only we comprehend them. 
 These visible things, both those of which it is the 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 133 
 
 property and those subject to the Common Sense, 
 inasmuch as they are visible, come within the eye ; 
 I do not say the things, but their form ; through the 
 transparent medium, not really, but by intention, as 
 it were through transparent glass. And in the humour 
 which is in the pupil of the eye this current which 
 makes the form visible is completed, because that 
 humour is closed behind like a mirror which has 
 its glass backed with lead ; so that it cannot pass 
 farther on, but strikes there, after the manner of a 
 ball, and stops ; so that the form which does not 
 appear in the transparent medium, having reached 
 the disc behind, shines brightly thereon ; and this is 
 the reason why the image appears only in the glass 
 which has lead at the back. 
 
 From this pupil the visual spirit, which is continued 
 from it to the part of the Brain, the anterior, where 
 the sensitive power is, suddenly, without loss of time, 
 depicts it as in the clear spring of a fountain ; and 
 thus we see. Wherefore, in order that its vision be 
 truthful, that is, such as the visible thing is in itself, 
 the medium through which the form comes to the eye 
 must be without any colour, and so also the humour 
 of the pupil ; otherwise the visible form would be 
 stained of the colour of the medium and of that of the 
 pupil. And this is the reason why they who wish 
 to make things appear of a certain colour in a mirror 
 interpose that colour between the glass and the lead, 
 the glass being pressed over it. 
 
 Plato and other Philosophers said, indeed, that 
 our sight was not because the visible came into the 
 eye, but because the visual virtue went out to the 
 visible form. And this opinion is confuted by the 
 Philosopher in that book of his on Sense and Sensa- 
 tion. Having thus considered this law of vision, one 
 
134 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 can easily perceive how, although the star is always 
 in one way bright, clear, and resplendent, and 
 receives no change whatever except that of local 
 movement, as is proved in that book on Heaven and 
 the World, yet from many causes it may appear dim 
 and obscure ; since it may appear thus on account of 
 the medium, the atmosphere, that changes con- 
 tinually. This medium changes from light to dark- 
 ness, according to the presence or absence of the 
 Sun ; and during the presence of the Sun the 
 medium, which is transparent, is so full of light that 
 it overpowers the star, and therefore it no longer 
 appears brilliant. This medium also changes from 
 rare to dense, from dry to moist, because of the 
 vapours of the Earth which rise continually. The 
 medium, thus changed, changes by its density the 
 image of the star, which passes through it, makes it 
 appear dim, and by its moisture or dryness changes 
 it in colour. In like manner it may thus appear 
 through the visual organ, that is, the eye, which on 
 account of some infirmity, or because of fatigue, is 
 changed into some degree of dimness or into some 
 degree of weakness. So it happens very often, owing 
 to the membrane of the pupil becoming suffused 
 with blood, on account of some corruption produced 
 by weakness, that things all appear of a red colour ; 
 and therefore the star appears so coloured. And 
 owing to the sight being weakened, there results in 
 it some dispersion of the spirit, so that things do not 
 appear united, but scattered, almost in the same way 
 as our writing does on a wet piece of paper. And 
 this is the reason why many persons, when they 
 wish to read, remove the paper to some distance from 
 the eyes, in order that the image thereof may come 
 within the eye more easily and more subtly, and 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 135 
 
 thereby the lettering is left impressed on the sight 
 more distinctly and connectedly. For like reason 
 the star also may appear blurred ; and I had ex- 
 perience of this in the same year in which this Song 
 was born, for, by trying the eyes very much in the 
 labour of reading, the visual spirits were so weakened 
 that the stars all appeared to me to be blurred by 
 some white mist : and by means of long repose in 
 shady and cool places, and by cooling the ball of the 
 eye with spring water, I re-united the scattered 
 powers, which I restored to their former good 
 condition. 
 
 And thus, for the reasons mentioned above, there 
 are many visible causes why the star can appear to 
 us different to what it really is. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 LEAVING this digression, which has been needful for 
 seeing the Truth, I return to the proposition, and I 
 say that, as our eyes call, that is, judge, the star 
 other than it really is as to its true condition, so 
 this little ballad judged this Lady according to 
 appearance, other than the Truth, through infirmity 
 of the Soul, which was impassioned with too much 
 desire. And this I make evident when I say that 
 " fear possessed her soul." For this which I saw in 
 her presence appeared fierce or proud to me. Where 
 it is to be known that in proportion as the agent is 
 more closely united to the patient, so much the more 
 powerful is the passion, as may be understood from 
 the opinion of the Philosopher in his book On Gene- 
 ration. Wherefore in proportion as the desired thing 
 
136 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 draws nigh to the person who desires it, so much the 
 greater is the desire ; and the Soul, more impas- 
 sioned, unites itself more closely to the carnal part, 
 and abandons reason more and more ; so that the 
 individual no longer judges like a man, but almost 
 like some other animal, even according to appearance, 
 not discerning the Truth. And this is the reason 
 why the countenance, modest according to the truth, 
 appears disdainful and proud in her. 
 
 And that little ballad spoke, according to that 
 judgment, as sensual and irrational at once. And 
 herein it is sufficiently understood that this Song 
 judges this Lady according to Truth, by the dis- 
 agreement which it has with that other Song of 
 harmony between it and that ballad. And not 
 without reason I say, " When I come near to her 
 glance," and not when she comes within mine. But 
 in this I wish to express the great power which her 
 eyes had over me ; for, as if I had been transparent, 
 through every part their light shone through me. 
 And here it would be possible to assign reasons 
 natural and supernatural, but let it suffice here to 
 have said as much as I have ; elsewhere I will dis- 
 course of it more suitably. Then when I say, " Be 
 such excuse allowed," I impose on the Song instruc- 
 tion how, by the assigned reasons, it may excuse 
 itself there where that is needful, namely, where 
 there may be any suspicion of this opposition ; for 
 there is no more to say, except that whoever may 
 feel doubtful as to the matter wherein this Song 
 differs from the other, let him look at the reason 
 which has been here stated. And such a figure as 
 this is quite laudable in Rhetoric, and even neces- 
 sary when the words are to one person and the 
 intention is to another ; because it is always praise- 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 137 
 
 worthy to admonish and necessary also ; but it is 
 not always suitable in the mouth of every one. 
 Wherefore, when the son is aware of the vice of the 
 father, and when the subject is aware of the vice of 
 the lord, and when the friend knows that the shame 
 of his friend would be increased to him by admo- 
 nition from him, when he knows that it would 
 detract from his honour, or when he knows that 
 his friend would not be patient, but enraged at the 
 admonition, this figure is most beautiful and most 
 useful. You may term it dissimulation ; it is similar 
 to the work of that wise warrior who attacked the 
 castle on one side in order to draw off the defence 
 from the other, for the attack and the design of the 
 commander are not aimed at one and the same part. 
 
 Also, I lay a command on this Song, that it ask 
 permission of this Lady to speak of her ; whereby 
 one may infer that a man ought not to be presump- 
 tuous in praising another, ought not to take it for 
 granted in his own mind that it is pleasing to the 
 person praised, because often, when some one believes 
 he is bestowing praise, it is taken as blame, either 
 through defect of the speaker or through defect of 
 him who hears. Wherefore it is requisite to have 
 much discretion in this matter ; which discretion is 
 tantamount to asking permission, in the way in 
 which I say that this Song or Poem should ask 
 for it. 
 
 And thus ends the whole Literal meaning of this 
 treatise ; wherefore the order of the work now 
 requires the Allegorical exposition, following the 
 Truth, to be proceeded with. 
 
138 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERT. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 RETURNING now, as the order requires, to the begin- 
 ning of the Song, I say that this Lady is that Lady 
 of the Intellect who is called Philosophy. But 
 naturally praise excites a desire to know the person 
 praised ; and to know the thing may be to know 
 what it is considered to be in itself, and in all that 
 pertains to it, as the Philosopher says in the begin- 
 ning of the book On Physics ; and the name may 
 reveal this when it bears some meaning, as he says 
 in the fourth chapter of the Metaphysics, where it is 
 said that the definition is that reason which the name 
 signifies. Here, therefore, it is necessary, before 
 proceeding farther with her praises, to prove and to 
 say what this is that is called Philosophy, what this 
 name signifies ; and when this has been demonstrated, 
 the present Allegory will be more efficaciously dis- 
 cussed. And first of all I will state who first gave 
 this name ; then I shall proceed to its signification. 
 
 I say, then, that anciently in Italy, almost from the 
 beginning of the foundation of Rome, which was 
 seven hundred and fifty years, a little more or less, 
 before the advent of the Saviour, according as Paul 
 Orosius writes, about the time of Numa Pompilius, 
 second king of the Romans, there lived a most noble 
 Philosopher, who was named Pythagoras. And that 
 he might be living about that time appears from 
 something to which Titus Livius alludes incidentally 
 in the first part of his History. And before him 
 they were called the followers of Science, not Philo- 
 sophers but Wise Men such as w r ere those Seven 
 most ancient Wise Men, who still live in popular 
 fame. The first of them had the name of Solon, 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. I39 
 
 the second Chilon, the third Periander, the fourth 
 Talus, the fifth Cleobulus, the sixth Bias, the seventh 
 Pittacus. Pythagoras, being asked if he were con- 1 
 sidered to be a Wise Man, rejected this name, and 
 stated himself to be not a Wise Man, but a Lover of 
 Wisdom. And from this circumstance it subsequently 
 arose that any man studious to acquire knowledge, 
 was called a Lover of Wisdom, that is, a Philosopher ; 
 for inasmuch as " Philo " in Greek is equivalent to 
 <e Love " and " sophia " is equivalent to Wisdom, there- 
 fore, "Philo and sophia" mean the same as Love of 
 Wisdom. Wherefore it is possible to see that those 
 two words make that name Philosopher, which is 
 as much as to say Lover of Wisdom. Therefore it 
 may be observed that it is not a term of arrogance, 
 but of humility. 
 
 From this sprang naturally the word philosophy, 
 as from the word friend springs naturally the word 
 friendship. Wherefore it is possible to see, con- 
 sidering the signification of the first and second 
 word, that philosophy is no other than friendship to 
 wisdom, or rather to knowledge ; wherefore to a 
 certain degree it is possible to call every man a 
 philosopher, according to the natural love which 
 generates a desire for knowledge in each individual. 
 
 But since the natural passions are common to all 
 men, we do not specify those passions by some 
 distinctive word, applied to some individual who 
 shares our common nature, as when we say, John is 
 the friend of Martin, we do not mean to signify 
 merely the natural love which all men bear to all 
 men, but we mean the friendship founded upon the 
 natural love which is distinct and peculiar to certain 
 individuals. Thus we do not term any one a philo- 
 sopher because of the love common to us all. It is 
 
i 4 o THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 the intention or meaning of Aristotle, in the eighth 
 book of the Ethics, that that man may be called a 
 friend whose friendship is not concealed from the 
 person beloved, and to whom also the beloved person 
 is a friend, so that the attachment is mutual ; and 
 this must be so either for mutual benefit, or for 
 pleasure, or for credit's sake. And thus, in order 
 that a man may be a philosopher, it must be love to 
 Wisdom which makes one of the sides friendly ; it 
 must be study and care which make the other side 
 also friendly, so that familiarity and manifestation of 
 benevolence may spring up between them ; because 
 without love and without study one cannot be called 
 a philosopher, but there must be both the one and 
 the other. 
 
 And as friendship for the sake of pleasure given 
 or for profit is not true friendship, but acci- 
 dental, as the Ethics demonstrate, so philosophy 
 for delight or profit is not true philosophy, but 
 accidental. Wherefore one ought not to call him 
 a true philosopher who for some pleasure or other 
 may be a friend of Wisdom in some degree ; even 
 as there are many who take delight in repeating 
 songs and in studying the same, and who delight in 
 studying Rhetoric and Music, and who avoid and 
 abandon the other Sciences, which are all members 
 of Wisdom's body. One ought not to call him a 
 true philosopher who is the friend of Wisdom for 
 the sake of profit ; such as are the Lawyers, Doctors, 
 and almost all the Religious Men, who do not study 
 for the sake of knowledge, but to acquire money or 
 dignity ; and if any one would give them that which 
 they seek to acquire, they would not continue to 
 study. And as amongst the various kinds of friend- 
 ship, that which is for profit may be called the 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 141 
 
 meanest friendship, so such men as these have less 
 share in the name of Philosopher than any other 
 people. 
 
 Wherefore as the friendship conceived through 
 honest affection is true and perfect and perpetual, so 
 is that philosophy true and perfect which is gene- 
 rated by upright desire for knowledge, without 
 regard to aught else, and by the goodness of the 
 friendly soul ; which is as much as to say, by right 
 appetite and right reason. And it is possible to say 
 here that as true friendship amongst men is, that 
 each love each entirely, so the true Philosopher 
 loves each part of Wisdom, and Wisdom each part 
 of the Philosopher, so as to draw him wholly to 
 herself, and to allow no thought of his to stray away 
 to other things. Wherefore Wisdom herself says in 
 the Proverbs of Solomon, " I love those who love 
 me." And as true friendship of the mind, con- 
 sidered in itself alone, has for its subject the know- 
 ledge of good effects, and for its form the desire for, 
 the same, even so Philosophy considered in itself 
 alone, apart from the Soul, has understanding for 
 its subject, and for its form an almost divine love to 
 intellect. 
 
 And as the efficient cause of true friendship is 
 Virtue, so the efficient cause of Philosophy is 
 Truth. And as the end of true friendship is true 
 affection, which proceeds from the intercourse 
 proper to Humanity, that is, according to the dic- 
 tates of Reason, as Aristotle seems to think in the 
 ninth book of the Ethics, so the end of Philosophy 
 is that most excellent affection which suffers no 
 intermission or defect, that is, the true happiness 
 which is acquired by the contemplation of Truth. 
 
 And thus it is now possible to see who this my 
 
142 THE BANQUET OF DANTE AL1GHIERL 
 
 Lady is, in all her causes and in her whole reason, 
 and why she is called Philosophy ; and who is a 
 true Philosopher, and who is one by accident. 
 
 But in some fervour or heat of mind the one 
 and the other end of the acts and of the passions 
 are called by the word for the act itself or the 
 passion ; as Virgil does in the second book of the 
 ^Eneid, where he calls Hector, " Oh, light " 
 (which was the act) " and hope " (which is the 
 passion) " of the Trojans : " for he was neither the 
 light nor the hope, but he was the end whence 
 came to them their light in council, and he was the 
 end in which was reposed their hope of safety : as 
 Statins writes in the fifth book of the Thebaid, when 
 Hypsipyle says to Archemorus, " Oh, consolation 
 of things and of the lost country ! oh, honour of my 
 servitude ! " even as we say daily, showing the friend, 
 " See my friendship ; " and the father says to the 
 son, " My love ; " and so it is that, through long 
 custom, the Sciences, in which most fervently Philo- 
 sophy finds the end to which she looks, are called 
 by her name, such as the Natural Science, the 
 Moral Science, and the Metaphysical Science, 
 which last, because most necessarily she looks to 
 her end in that chiefly and most fervently, is called 
 the First Philosophy. 
 
 Now, therefore, since it has been seen what the 
 true Philosophy is in its essence ; which is that Lady 
 of whom I speak; how her noble name through 
 custom is communicated to the Sciences, and the 
 first science is called the First Philosophy, I may 
 proceed further with her praise. 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 IN the first chapter of this treatise the reason which 
 moved me to this Song is so fully discussed that it 
 is no longer necessary to discuss it further, for one 
 can easily enough recall to mind what has been said 
 in this exposition : and therefore, following the 
 divisions made for the Literal meaning, I shall run 
 through the Song, turning back to the sense of the 
 letter where it may be needful. I say, " Love, 
 reasoning of my Lady in my mind." By Love I 
 mean the jabqur and gains I took to acquire the 
 love of this Lady. If one wishes to know what 
 labour, it can be here considered in two ways. 
 There is one study which leads the man to the] 
 daily use of Art and Science ; there is another^ 
 study which he will employ in the acquired use. 
 The first is that which I call j^oye, which fills my 
 mind continually with new and most exalted ideas 
 of this Lady : even as the anxious pains which 
 one takes to acquire a friendship are wont to do ; 
 for, when desiring that friendship, a man is wont 
 to take anxious thought concerning it. This is that 
 study and that affection which usually precedes in 
 men the begetting of the friendship, when already 
 on one side Love is born, and desires and strives 
 that it may be on the other ; for, as is said above, 
 Philosophy is born when the Soul and Wisdom 
 have become friends, so that the one is loved by 
 the other. 
 
 Neither is it again needful to discuss that first 
 stanza in the present explanation, which was 
 reasoned out as the Proem in the Literal exppsi- 
 
I 4 4 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 tion ; since, from the first argument thereof, it is 
 easy enough to make out the meaning in this the 
 second one. 
 
 We may proceed, then, to the second part, which 
 begins the treatise, and to that place where I say, 
 "The Sun sees not in travel round the Earth." 
 Here it is to be known that as, when discoursing of 
 a sensible thing, one handles it suitably by means of 
 an insensible thing, so of an intelligible thing, one 
 fitly argues by means of an unintelligible. In the 
 Literal sense one speaks of the Sun as a substantial 
 and sensible body ; so now it is fit, by image of the 
 Sun, to discourse of the Spiritual and Unintelligible, 
 that is, God. 
 
 There is no visible thing in all the world more 
 worthy to serve as a type of God than the Sun, which 
 illuminates with visible light itself first, and then all 
 the celestial and elemental bodies. Thus, God illu- 
 minates Himself first with intellectual light, and then 
 the celestial and other intelligible beings. The Sun\ 
 vivifies all things with his heat, and if anything is 
 destroyed thereby, it is not by the intention of the ; 
 cause, but it is an accidental effect : thus God vivifies 
 all things in His Goodness, and, if any suffer evil, it 
 is not by the Divine intention, but the effect is acci-j 
 dental. For, if God made the Angels good and evil, 
 He did not make both by intention, but He made 
 the good only ; there followed afterwards, beyond 
 His intention, the wickedness of the evil ones ; but 
 not so far beyond His intention that God could not 
 foreknow in Himself their wickedness ; but so great 
 was the loving desire to produce the Spiritual crea- 
 ture that the foreknowledge that some would come 
 to a bad end neither could nor should prevent God 
 from continuing the production ; as it would not be 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 145 
 
 to the praise of Nature if, knowing of herself that the 
 flowers of a tree in a certain part must perish, she 
 should refuse to produce flowers on that tree, and 
 should abandon the production of fruit-bearing trees 
 as vain and useless. I say, then, that God, who en- 
 circles and understands all, in His encircling and 
 His understanding sees nothing so gentle, so noble, 
 as He sees when He shines on this Philosophy. 
 For, although God Himself, beholding, may see all 
 things together, inasmuch as the distinction of things 
 is in Him in the same way as the effect is in the 
 cause, yet He sees those things also apart and dis- N 
 tinct He sees, then, this Lady the most noble of 
 all absolutely, inasmuch as most perfectly He sees 
 her in Himself and in her essence. If what has been 
 said above be recalled to mind, Philosophy is a 
 loving use of Wisdom ; which especially is in God, 
 because in Him is Supreme Wisdom, and Supreme 
 Love, and Supreme Action ; which cannot be else- 
 where except inasmuch as it proceeds from Him. It 
 is, then, the Divine Philosophy of the Divine Being, 
 since in Him nothing can be that is not part of His 
 Essence ; and it is most noble, because the Divine 
 Essence is most noble, and it is in Him in a manner 
 perfect and true, as if by eternal wedlock ; it is in 
 the other Intelligences in a less degree, as if pla- 
 _tonic, as if a virgin love from whom no lover receives 
 full and complete joy, but contents himself by gazing 
 on the beauty of her countenance. Wherefore it is 
 possible to say that God sees not, that He does 
 not intently regard, anything so noble as this Lady ; 
 I say anything, inasmuch as He sees and distin- 
 guishes the other things, as has been said, seeing 
 Himself to be the cause of all. Oh, most noblel 
 and most excellent heart, which is at peace in the j 
 
146 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 bride of the Ruler of Heaven; and not bride only, 
 but sister, and the daughter beloved above all 
 others. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 HAVING seen in the beginning of the praises of this 
 Lady how subtly it is said that she is of the Divine 
 Substance, as was first to be considered, we proceed 
 now to consider her as she is in the Intelligences that 
 proceed thence. " All minds of Heaven wonder at 
 her worth," where it is to be known that I say, " minds 
 of Heaven," making that allusion to God which has 
 been mentioned above ; and from this one excludes 
 the Intelligences who are exiled from the eternal 
 country, who can never study Philosophy, because 
 love in them is entirely extinct, and for the study of 
 Philosophy, as has been already said, Love is neces- 
 sary. One sees, therefore, that the spirits of Hell 
 are deprived of the sight of this most beautiful Lady ; 
 and, since she is the blessing of the intellect, the 
 deprivation of her is most bitter and full of every 
 sadness. 
 
 Then, when I say, " Mortals, enamoured, find her 
 in their thought," I descend to show how, she 
 also may come into the Human Intelligence in a 
 secondary degree ; with which Human Philosophy 
 I then proceed through the treatise, praising it. 
 I say, then, that the mortals who " find her in their 
 thought " in this life do not always find her there, 
 but only " When Love his peace into their hearts has 
 brought ; " wherein there are to be seen three points 
 which are alluded to in this text. 
 
 The first is when one says, " Mortals, enamoured," 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 147 
 
 because it seems to make a distinction in the human 
 race, and of necessity it must be made ; for, according 
 to what manifestly appears, and which in the follow- 
 ing treatise will be specially reasoned out, the greatest 
 part of men live more according to the Sense than 
 according to Reason ; and those who live according 
 to the Sense can never be enamoured of this Lady, 
 since of her they can have no apprehension what- 
 ever. 
 
 The second point is when it says, "When Love 
 his peace into their minds has brought," where it 
 appears to make a distinction of time. And that is 
 necessary ; for, although the separate Intelligences 
 gaze at this Lady continually, the Human Intelligence 
 cannot do so ; since Human Nature, besides that 
 which gives delight to the Intellect and the Reason, 
 has need of many things requisite for its support 
 which contemplation cannot furnish forth. Therefore 
 our Wisdom is sometimes habitual only, and not 
 actual ; and this does not happen to the other In- 
 telligences, which alone are perfect in their intellectual 
 nature. And so, when our soul is not in the act of 
 contemplation, one cannot truly say that it is in 
 Philosophy, except inasmuch as it has the habit of it, 
 and the power of being able to arouse it ; sometimes, 
 therefore, she is with the people who are enamoured 
 of her here below, and sometimes not. 
 
 The third point is, when it speaks of the time 
 when those people are with her, namely, when Love 
 has brought into their minds his peace ; which means 
 no other than when the man is in the act of contem- 
 plation, since he does not strive to feel the peace of 
 that Lady except in the act of contemplation. 
 
 And thus one sees how this Lady is firstly in the 
 Mind of God, secondly in the other separate Intel- 
 
I 4 8 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGH1ERI. 
 
 ligences through continual contemplation, and after- 
 wards in the human intellect through interpreted 
 contemplation. But the man who has her for his 
 Lady is ever to be termed a Philosopher, notwith- 
 standing that he may not be always in the final 
 act of Philosophy, for it is usual to name other 
 men after their habits. Wherefore we call any 
 man virtuous, not merely when performing virtuous 
 actions, but from having the habit or custom of 
 virtue. And we call a man eloquent, even when he 
 is not speaking, from his habit of eloquence, that is, 
 of speaking well. 
 
 And of this Philosophy, in which Human Intelli- 
 gence has part, there will now be the following 
 encomiums to prove how great a part of her good 
 gifts is bestowed on Human Nature. I say, then, 
 afterwards : 
 
 Her Maker saw that she was good, and poured, 
 Beyond our Nature, fulness of His Power 
 On her pure Soul, whence shone this holy dower 
 
 Through all her frame. 
 
 For the capacity of our Nature is subdued by it, 
 which it makes beautiful and virtuous. Wherefore, 
 although into the habit of that Lady one may some- 
 what come, it is not possible to say that any one 
 who enters thereinto properly has that habit ; since 
 the first study, that whereby the habit is begotten, 
 cannot perfectly acquire that philosophy. And here 
 one sees her lowly praise ; for, perfect or imperfect, 
 she never loses the name of perfection. And because 
 of this her surpassing excellence, it says that the Soul 
 of Philosophy " shone Through all her frame," that is, 
 that God ever imparts to her of His Light. 
 
 Here we may recall to mind what is said above, 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 149 
 
 **> 
 
 that Love is a form of Philosophy, and therefore here 
 is called her Soul ; which Love is manifest in the 
 use of Wisdom, and such use brings with it a won- 
 derful beauty, that is to say, contentment under any 
 condition of the time, and contempt for those things 
 which other men make their masters. 
 
 Wherefore it happens that those other unhappy 
 ones who gaze thereon, and think over their own 
 defects from the desire for perfection, fall into the 
 weariness of sighs ; and this is meant where it says : 
 " That from the eyes she touches heralds fly Heart- 
 ward with longings, heavenward with a sigh." 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 As in the Literal exposition, after the general praises 
 one descends to the especial, firstly on the part of the 
 Soul, then on the part of the body, so now the text 
 proceeds after the general encomium to descend to 
 the especial commendation. As it is said above, 
 Philosophy here has Wisdom for its material subject 
 and Love for its form, and the habit of contem- 
 plation for the union of the two. Wherefore in this 
 passage which subsequently begins, " On her fair 
 form Virtue Divine descends," I mean to praise Love, 
 which is part of Philosophy. Here it is to be known 
 that for a virtue to descend from one thing into 
 another there is no other way than to reduce that 
 thing into its own similitude ; as we see evidently in 
 the natural agents, for their virtue descending into 
 the things that are the patients, they bring those 
 things into their similitude as far as they are able to 
 attain it. 
 
150 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 We see that the Sun, pouring his rays down on 
 this Earth, reduces the things thereon to his own 
 similitude of light in proportion as they by their own 
 disposition are able to receive light of his light. 
 Thus, I say that God reduces this Love to His own 
 Similitude as much as it is possible for it to bear 
 likeness to Him. And it alludes to the nature of 
 the creative act, saying, " As on the Angel that 
 beholds His face." Where again it is to be known 
 that the first Agent, who is God, paints His Virtue 
 on some things by means of direct radiance, and on 
 some things by means of reflected splendour ; where- 
 fore into the separate Intelligences the Divine Light 
 shines without any interposing medium ; into the 
 others it is reflected from those Intelligences which 
 were first illumined. 
 
 But since mention is here made of Light and 
 Splendour, for the more perfect understanding 
 thereof I will show the difference between those 
 words, according to the opinion of Avicenna. I say 
 that it is the custom of Philosophers to speak of 
 Heaven as Light, inasmuch as Light is there in its 
 primeval Spring, or its first origin. They speak of it 
 as a ray of Light while it passes through the medium 
 from its source into the first body in which it has 
 its end ; they call it Splendour where it is reflected 
 back from some part that has received illumination. 
 I say, then, that the Divine Virtue or Power draws 
 this Love into Its Own Similitude without any inter- 
 posing medium. 
 
 And it is possible to make this evident, especially 
 in this, that as the Divine Love is Eternal, so must 
 its object of necessity be eternal, so that those things 
 are eternal which He loves. And thus it makes this 
 Love to love, for the Wisdom into which this Love 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 151 
 
 strikes is eternal. Wherefore it is written of her : 
 " From the beginning, before Time was created, I 
 am : and in the Time to come I shall not fail" 
 And in the Proverbs of Solomon this Wisdom says : 
 " I am established for ever." And in the beginning 
 of the Gospel of John, her eternity is openly alluded 
 to, as it is possible to observe. And therefore it 
 results that there, where this Love shines, all the 
 other Loves became obscure and almost extinct, 
 since its eternal object subdues and overpowers all 
 other objects in a manner beyond all comparison ; 
 and therefore the most excellent Philosophers in 
 their actions openly demonstrate it, whereby we 
 know that they have treated all other things with 
 indifference except Wisdom. Wherefore Democritus, 
 neglecting all care of his own person, trimmed 
 neither his beard, nor the hair of his head, nor his 
 nails. Plato, indifferent to the riches of this world, 
 despised the royal dignity, for he was the son of a 
 king. Aristotle, caring for no other friend, com- 
 bated with his own best friend, even with the 
 above-named Plato, his dearest friend after Philo- 
 sophy. And why do we speak of these, when we 
 find others who, for these thoughts, held their life in 
 contempt, such as Zeno, Socrates, Seneca, and many 
 more ? It is evident, therefore, that in this Love the 
 Divine Power, after the manner of an Angel, descends 
 into men ; and to give proof of th'is, the text pre- 
 sently exclaims : " Fair one who doubt, go with 
 her, mark the grace In all her acts." By "Fair 
 one " is meant the noble soul of judgment, free in its 
 own power, which is Reason ; hence the other souls 
 cannot be called Ladies, but handmaids, since they 
 are not for themselves, but for others ; and the Philo- 
 sopher says, in the first book of Metaphysics, that 
 
152 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 that thing is free which is a cause of itself and not 
 for others. It says, " go with her, mark the grace 
 In all her acts," that is, make thyself the companion 
 of this Love, and look at that which will be found 
 within it ; and in part it alludes to this, saying, 
 " Downward from Heaven bends An Angel when 
 she speaks," meaning that where Philosophy is in 
 action a celestial thought stoops down, in which this 
 being reasons or discourses beyond the power of 
 Human Nature. 
 
 The Song says "from Heaven," to give people 
 to understand that not only Philosophy, but the 
 thoughts friendly to it, are abstracted from all low 
 and earthly things. Then afterwards it says how she 
 strengthens and kindles love wherever she appears 
 with the sweet persuasions of her actions, which are 
 in all her aspects modest, gentle, and without any 
 domineering assumption. And subsequently, by still 
 greater persuasion to induce a desire for her com- 
 pany, it says : " Fair in all like her, fairest she'll 
 appear Who is most like her." Again it adds : " We, 
 content to call Her face a Mjracle," find help in it, 
 where it is to be known that the regard of this Lady 
 was freely ordained to arouse a desire in us for its 
 acquisition, not only in her countenance, which she 
 reveals to sight, but also in the things which she 
 keeps hidden. Wherefore as, through her, much of 
 that which is hidden is seen by means of Reason 
 (and consequently to see by Reason without her 
 seems a miracle), so, through her, one believes each 
 miracle in the action of a higher intellectual Power 
 to have reason, and therefore to be possible. From 
 whence true Faith has its origin, from which comes 
 the Hope to desire the Future, and from that are 
 born the works of Charity, by which three Virtues 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 153 
 
 we mount to become Philosophers in that celestial 
 Athens where Stoics, Peripatetics, and Epicureans, I \J 
 by the practice of Eternal Truth, concur harmoniously 
 in one desire. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 IN the preceding chapter this glorious Lady is praised 
 according to one of her component parts, that is, Love. 
 In this chapter I intend to explain that passage which 
 begins, " Her aspect shows delights of Paradise," and 
 here it is requisite to discuss and praise her other 
 part, Wisdom. 
 
 The text then says that in the face of this Lady 
 things appear which show us joys of Paradise ; and 
 it distinguishes the place where this appears, namely, 
 in the eyes and the smile. And here it must be 
 known that the eyes of Wisdom are her demon- 
 strations, whereby one sees the Truth most certainly; 
 but her persuasions are in her smile, in which per- 
 suasions the inner Light of Wisdom reveals itself 
 without any veil or concealment. And in these two 
 is felt that most exalted joy which is the supreme 
 good in Paradise. This joy cannot be in any other 
 thing here below, except in gazing into these eyes 
 and upon that smik. And the reason is this, that 
 since each thing naturally desires its perfection, 
 without which it cannot be at peace, to have that is 
 to be blessed. For although it might possess all 
 other things, yet, being without that, there would 
 remain in it desire, which cannot consist with perfect 
 happiness, since perfect happiness is a perfect thing, and 
 desire is a defective thing. For one desires not that 
 
I 54 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 which he has, but that which he has not, and here is 
 a manifest defect. And in this form solely can human 
 perfection be acquired, as the perfection of Reason, 
 on which, as on its principal part, our essential being 
 all depends. All our other actions, as to feel or hear, 
 to take food, and the rest, are through this one alone ; 
 and this is for itself, and not for others. So that, if 
 that be perfect, it is so perfect that the man, inasmuch 
 as he is a man, sees each desire fulfilled, and thus he 
 is happy. And therefore it is said in the Book of 
 Wisdom : '" Whoso casteth away Wisdom and Know- 
 ledge is unhappy," that is to say, he suffers the 
 privation of happiness. From the habit of Wis- 
 dom it follows that a man learns to be happy and 
 content, according to the opinion of the Philosopher. 
 One sees, then, how in the aspect of this Lady joys 
 of Paradise appear, and therefore one reads in the 
 Book of Wisdom quoted above, when speaking of 
 her, " She is a shining whiteness of the Eternal Light ; 
 a Mirror without blemish, of the Majesty of God." 
 Then when it says, " Things over which the intel- 
 lect may stray," I excuse myself, saying that I can 
 say but little concerning these, on account of their 
 overpowering influence. Where it is to be known 
 that in any way these things dazzle our intellect, 
 inasmuch as they affirm certain things to be, which 
 our intellect is unable to comprehend, that is, God 
 and Eternity, and the first Matter which most cer- 
 tainly they do not see, and with all faith they believe 
 ,to be. And even what they are we cannot under- 
 stand ; and so, by not denying things, it is possible 
 to draw near to some knowledge of them, but not 
 otherwise. 
 
 Truly here it is possible to have some very strong 
 doubt how it is that Wisdom can make the man 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. 155 
 
 completely happy without being able to show him 
 certain things perfectly ; since the natural desire for 
 knowledge is in the man, and without fulfilment of 
 the desire he cannot be fully happy. To this it is 
 possible to reply clearly, that the natural desire in 
 each thing is in proportion to the possibility of 
 reaching to the thing desired ; otherwise it would 
 pass into opposition to itself, which is impossible ; 
 and Nature would have worked in vain, which also 
 is impossible. 
 
 It would pass into opposition, for, desiring its per- 
 fection, it would desire its imperfection, since he 
 would desire always to desire, and never fulfil his 
 desire. And into this error the cursed miser falls, 
 and does not perceive that he desires always to 
 desire, going backwards to reach to an impossible 
 amount. 
 
 Nature also would have worked in vain, since it 
 would not be ordained to any end ; and, in fact, human 
 desire is proportioned in this life to that knowledge 
 which it is possible to have here. One cannot pass 
 that point except through error, which is outside the 
 natural intention. And thus it is proportioned in 
 the Angelic, and it is limited in Human Nature, and 
 it finds its end in that Wisdom in proportion as the 
 nature of each can apprehend it. 
 
 And this is the reason why the Saints have no 
 envy amongst themselves, since each one attains the 
 end of his desire, and the desire of each is in due 
 proportion to the nature of his goodness. Where- 
 fore, since to know God and certain other things, as 
 Eternity and the first Matter, is not possible to our 
 Nature, naturally we have no desire for that know- 
 ledge, and hereby is this doubtful question solved. 
 
 Then when I say, " Rain from her beauty little 
 
156 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 flames of fire," I proceed to another joy of Paradise, 
 that is, from the secondary felicity, happiness, to this 
 first one, which proceeds from her beauty, where it 
 is to be known that Morality is the beauty of Philo- 
 sophy. For as the beauty of the body is the result 
 of its members in proportion as they are fitly ordered, 
 so the beauty of Wisdom, which is the body of Philo- 
 sophy, as has been said, results from the order of the 
 Moral Virtues which visibly make that joy. And 
 therefore I say that her beauty, which is Morality, 
 rains down little flames of fire, meaning direct 
 desire, which is begotten in the pleasure of the Moral 
 Doctrine ; which desire removes it again from the 
 natural vices, and not only from the others. And 
 thence springs that happiness which Aristotle defined 
 in the first book of Ethics, saying, that it is Work 
 according to Virtue in the Perfect Life. 
 
 And when it says, " Fair one, who may desire 
 Escape from blame," it proceeds in praise of Philo- 
 sophy. I cry aloud to the people that they should 
 follow her, telling them of her good gifts, that is to 
 say, that by following her each one may become 
 good Therefore it says to each Soul, that feels its 
 beauty is to blame because it does not appear what 
 it ought to appear, let her look at this example. 
 Where it is to be known that the Morals are the 
 beauty of the Soul, that is to say, the most excellent 
 virtues, which sometimes through vanity or through 
 pride are made less beautiful or less agreeable, as in 
 the last treatise it was possible to perceive. And 
 therefore I say that, in order to shun this, one 
 looks at that Lady, Philosophy, there where she is 
 the example of Humility, namely, in that part of her- 
 self which is called Moral Philosophy. And I sub- 
 join that by gazing at her (I say, at Wisdom) in that 
 
THE THIRD TREATISE. I 57 
 
 part, every vicious man will become upright and 
 good. And therefore I say she has " a spirit to 
 create Good thoughts, and crush the vices." She 
 turns gently back him who has gone astray from the 
 right course. 
 
 Finally, in highest praise of Wisdom, I say of her 
 that she is the Mother of every good Principle, say- 
 ing that she is " God's thought," who began the 
 World, and especially the movement of the Heaven 
 by which all things are generated, and wherein each 
 movement has its origin, that is to say, that the 
 Divine Thought is Wisdom. She was, when God made 
 the World ; whence it follows that she could make it, 
 and therefore Solomon said in the Book of Proverbs, 
 in the person of Wisdom : " When He prepared the 
 Heavens, I was there : when He set a compass upon 
 the face of the depth ; when He established the clouds 
 above ; when He strengthened the fountains of the 
 deep ; when He gave to the sea His decree, that the 
 waters should not pass His commandment; when He 
 appointed the foundations of the Earth : then I was 
 by Him, as one brought up with Him, and I was 
 daily His delight, rejoicing always before Him." 
 O, ye Men, worse than dead, who fly from the friend- 
 ship of Wisdom, open your eyes, and see that before 
 you were she was the Lover of you, preparing and 
 ordaining the process of your being ! Since you 
 were made she came that she might guide you, came 
 to you in your own likeness ; and, if all of you can- 
 not come into her presence, honour her in her friends, 
 and follow their counsels, as of them who announce 
 to you the will of this eternal Empress ! Close not 
 your ears to Solomon, who tells you " the path of the 
 Just is as a shining Light, which goeth forth and 
 increaseth . even to the day of salvation." Follow 
 
158 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 after them, behold their works, which ought to be to 
 you as a beacon of light for guidance in the path of 
 this most brief life. 
 
 And here we may close the Commentary on the 
 true meaning of the present Song. The last stanza, 
 which i3 intended for a refrain, can be explained 
 easily enough by the Literal exposition, except inas- 
 much as it says that I there called this Lady " dis- 
 dainful and morose." Where it is to be known 
 that at the beginning this Philosophy appeared to 
 me on the part of her body, which is Wisdom, 
 morose, for she smiled not on me, insomuch that as 
 yet I did not understand her persuasions ; and she 
 seemed to me disdainful, for she turned not her 
 glance to me, that is to say, I could not see her 
 demonstrations. But the defect was altogether on 
 my side. From this, and from that which is given 
 in the explanation of the Literal meaning of the 
 Song, the Allegory of the refrain is evident. It 
 is time, therefore, that we proceed farther, and this 
 treatise end. 
 
ttbe jpourtb treatise. 
 
 SOFT rhymes of love I used to find 
 
 Within my thought, I now must leave, 
 Not without hope to turn to them again ; 
 But signs of a disdainful mind 
 That in my Lady I perceive 
 Have closed the way to my accustomed strain. 
 
 And since time suits me now to wait, 
 
 I put away the softer style 
 Proper to love ; rhyme subtle and severe 
 Shall tell how Nobleman's estate 
 
 Is won by worth, hold false and vile 
 The judgment that from wealth derives a Peer. 
 
 First calling on that Lord 
 
 Who dwells within her eyes, 
 C ontaining whom, my Lady learnt 
 
 Herself to love and prize. 
 
 One raised to Empire held, 
 
 As far as he could see, 
 Descent of wealth, and generous ways, 
 
 To make Nobility. 
 
 Another, lightly wise, 
 
 That saying turned aside, 
 Perchance for want of generous ways 
 
 The second source denied. 
 
 And followers of him 
 
 Are all the men who rate 
 Those noble in whose families 
 
 The wealth has long been great. 
 
160 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI, 
 
 ^ <* 
 
 And so long among us 
 
 The falsehood has had sway, 
 That men call him a Nobleman, 
 
 Though worthless, who can say, 
 
 I nephew am, or son, 
 
 Of one worth such a sum ; 
 But he who sees the Truth may know 
 
 How vile he has become 
 
 To whom the Truth was shown, 
 
 Who from the Truth has fled, 
 And though he walks upon the earth 
 
 Is counted with the dead : 
 
 Whoever shall define 
 
 The man a living tree 
 Will speak untruth and less than truth, 
 
 Though more he may not see. 
 
 The Emperor so erred ; 
 
 First set the false in view, 
 Proceeding, on the other side, 
 
 To what was less than true. 
 
 For riches make not worth 
 
 Although they can defile ; 
 Nor can their want take worth away : 
 
 They are by nature vile. 
 
 No painter gives a form 
 
 That is not of his knowing ; 
 No tower leans above a stream 
 
 That far away is flowing. 
 
 How vile and incomplete 
 
 Wealth is, let this declare 
 However great the heap may be 
 
 It brings no peace, but care. 
 
 And hence the upright mind, 
 
 To its own purpose true, 
 Stands firm although the flood of wealth 
 
 Sweep onward out of view. 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 161 
 
 They will not have the vile 
 
 Turn noble, nor descent 
 From parent vile produce a race 
 
 For ever eminent. 
 
 Yet this, they say, can be, 
 
 Their reason halts behind, 
 Since time they suit to noble birth 
 
 By course of time defined. 
 
 It follows then from this 
 
 That all are high or base, 
 Or that in Time there never was 
 
 Beginning to our race. 
 
 But that I cannot hold, 
 
 Nor yet, if Christians, they ; 
 Sound intellect reproves their words 
 
 As false, and turns away. 
 
 And now I seek to tell, 
 
 As it appears to me, 
 What is, whence comes, what signs attest 
 
 A true Nobility. 
 
 I say that from one root 
 
 Each Virtue firstly springs, 
 Virtue, I mean, that Happiness 
 
 To man, by action, brings. 
 
 This, as the Ethics teach, 
 
 Is habit of right choice 
 That holds the means between extremes, 
 
 So spake that noble voice. 
 
 Nobility by right 
 
 No other sense has had 
 Than to import its subject's good, 
 
 As vileness makes him bad. 
 
 Such virtue shows its good 
 
 To others' intellect, 
 For when two things agree in one, 
 
 Producing one effect. 
 
162 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 One must from other come, 
 
 Or each one from a third, 
 If each be as each, and more, then one 
 
 From the other is inferred. 
 
 Where Virtue is, there is 
 
 A Nobleman, although 
 Not where there is a Nobleman 
 
 Must Virtue be also. 
 
 So likewise that is Heaven 
 
 Wherein a star is hung, 
 But Heaven may be starless ; so 
 
 In women and the young 
 
 A modesty is seen, 
 
 Not virtue, noble yet ; 
 Comes virtue from what's noble, as 
 
 From black comes violet ; 
 
 Or from the parent root 
 
 It springs, as said before, 
 And so let no one vaunt that him 
 
 A noble mother bore. 
 
 They are as Gods whom Grace 
 
 Has placed beyond all sin : 
 God only gives it to the Soul 
 
 That He finds pure within. 
 
 That seed of Happiness 
 
 Falls in the hearts of few, 
 Planted by God within the Souls 
 
 Spread to receive His dew. 
 
 Souls whom this Grace adorns 
 
 Declare it in each breath, 
 From birth that joins the flesh and soul 
 
 They show it until death. 
 
 In Childhood they obey, 
 
 Are gentle, modest, heed 
 To furnish Virtue's person with 
 
 The graces it may need, 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 163 
 
 Are temperate in Youth, 
 
 And resolutely strong, 
 Love much, win praise for courtesy, 
 
 Are loyal, hating wrong. 
 
 Are prudent in their Age, 
 
 And generous and just, 
 And glad at heart to hear and speak 
 
 When good to man's discussed. 
 
 The fourth part of their life 
 
 Weds them again to God, 
 They wait, and contemplate the end, 
 
 And bless the paths they trod. 
 
 How many are deceived ! My Song, 
 
 Against the strayers : when you reach 
 Our Lady, hide not from her that your end 
 Is labour that would lessen wrong, 
 
 And tell her too, in trusty speech, 
 I travel ever talking of your Friend. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LOVE, according to the unanimous opinion of the 
 wise men who discourse of him, and as by experience 
 we see continually, is that which brings together and 
 unites the lover with the beloved ; wherefore Pytha- 
 goras says, "In friendship many become one." 
 
 -And the things which are united naturally com- 
 municate their qualities to each other, insomuch that 
 sometimes it happens that one is wholly changed 
 into the nature of the other, the result being that 
 the passions of the beloved person enter into the 
 person of the lover, so that the love of the one is 
 communicated to the other, and so likewise hatred, 
 desire, and every other passion ; wherefore the friends 
 of the one are beloved by the other, and the enemies 
 
 F 2 
 
1 64 THE BANQUET OF DANTE AL1GHIERL 
 
 hated ; and so in the Greek proverb it is said : " With 
 friends all things ought to be in common." 
 
 Wherefore I, having made a friend of this Lady, 
 mentioned above in the truthful exposition, began to 
 love and to hate according to her love and her hatred. 
 I then began to love the followers of Truth, and to hate 
 the followers of Error and Falsehood, even as she does. 
 But since each thing is to be loved for itself and 
 none are to be hated except for excess of evil, it 
 is reasonable and upright to hate not the things, but 
 the evil in the things, and to endeavour to distinguish 
 between these. And if any person has this intention, 
 my most excellent Lady understands especially how 
 to distinguish the evil in anything, which is the cause 
 of hate ; since in her is all Reason, and in her is the 
 fountain-head of all uprightness. 
 
 I, following her as much as I could in her work 
 as in her love, abominated and despised the errors of 
 the people with infamy or reproach, not cast on those 
 lost in error, but on the errors themselves ; by blaming 
 which, I thought to create displeasure and to separate 
 the displeased ones from those faults in them which 
 were hated by me. Amongst which errors one espe- 
 cially I reproved, which, because it is hurtful and 
 dangerous not only to those who remain in it, but 
 also to others who reprove it, I separate it from them 
 and condemn. 
 
 This is the error concerning Human Goodness, 
 which, inasmuch as it is sown in us by Nature, ought 
 to be termed Nobility ; which error was so strongly 
 entrenched by evil custom and by weak intellect 
 that the opinion of almost all people was falsified or 
 deceived by it ; and from the false opinion sprang 
 false judgments, and from false judgments sprang 
 unjust reverence and unjust contempt ; wherefore 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 165 
 
 the good were held in vile disdain, and the evil were 
 honoured and exalted. This was the worst confusion 
 in the world ; even as he can see who looks subtly 
 at that which may result from it. And though it 
 seemed that this my Lady had somewhat changed 
 her sweet countenance towards me, especially where* 
 I gazed and sought to discover whether the first\ 
 Matter of the Elements was created by God, for 
 which reason I strengthened myself to frequent her/ 
 presence a little, as if remaining there with her assent, 
 I began to consider in my mind the fault of man 
 concerning the said error. And to shun sloth, which 
 is an especial enemy of this Lady, and to describe 
 or state this error very clearly, this error which robs 
 her of so many friends, I proposed to cry aloud to 
 the people who are walking in the path of evil, in 
 order that they might direct their steps to the right 
 road ; and I began a Song, in the beginning of 
 which I said, "Soft rhymes of love I used to find,' 
 wherein I intend to lead the people back into the 
 right path, the path of right knowledge concerning 
 true Nobility, as by the knowledge of its text, to 
 the explanation of which I now turn my attention, 
 any one will be able to perceive. 
 
 And since the intention of this Song is directed 
 to a remedy so requisite, it was not well to speak 
 under any figure of speech ; but it was needful to 
 prepare this medicine speedily, that speedy might be 
 the restoration to health, which, being so corrupted, 
 hastened to a hideous death. It will not, then, be 
 requisite in the exposition of this Song to unveil 
 any allegory, but simply to discuss its meaning 
 according to the letter. By my Lady I always * 
 mean her who is spoken of in the preceding Song, 
 that is to say, that Light of supreme virtue, Philo- 
 
166 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 sophy, whose rays cause the flowers of true Nobility 
 to blossom forth in mankind and to bear fruit in the 
 sons of men ; concerning which true Nobility the 
 proposed Song fully intends to treat. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 IN the beginning of the explanation now undertaken, 
 in order to render the meaning of the proposed Song 
 more clear and distinct, it is requisite to divide that 
 first part into two parts, for in the first part one speaks 
 in the manner of a Proem or Preface ; in the second, 
 the subject under discussion is continued; and the 
 second part begins in the commencement of the 
 stanza, where it says : 
 
 One raised to Empire held, 
 
 As far as he could see, 
 Descent of wealth, and generous ways, 
 
 To make Nobility. 
 
 The first part, again, can be comprehended in three 
 divisions or members. In the first it states why I 
 depart from my usual mode of speech ; in the second, 
 I say of what it is my intention to discourse ; in the 
 third, I call upon that Helper who most can aid me 
 to establish Truth. The second member, clause, or 
 division begins: "And since time suits me now." 
 The third begins : " First calling on that Lord." I 
 say then that I was compelled to abandon the soft 
 rhymes of Love which I was accustomed to search 
 for in my thoughts, and I assign the reason or cause ; 
 wherefore I say that it is not because I have given 
 up all intention of making rhymes of Love, but* 
 

 THE FOURTH TREATISE. 167 
 
 because new aspects have appeared in my Lady 
 which have deprived me of material for present 
 speech of Love. Where it is to be known that it 
 does not here say that the gestures of this Lady are 
 disdainful and angry according to appearance only, 
 as may be seen in the tenth chapter of the preceding 
 treatise ; for at another time I say that the appear- 
 ance is contrary to the Truth ; and how this can be, 
 ^ow one self-same thing can be sweet and appear 
 bitter, oi --4-i^ r j^ c } ear anc j appear obscure, may 
 there be seen clearly cix,. ot , 
 
 Afterwards when I say, " And sm^ ^ .. 
 
 I say, even as has been said, what that is whereu* \ 
 intend to discourse. And that which it says in the 
 words " time suits " is not here to be passed over 
 with a dry foot, because there is a most powerful 
 reason for my action ; but it is to be seen how 
 reasonably time must wait on all our acts, and 
 especially on speech. 
 
 Time, according to what Aristotle says in the 
 fourth chapter of Physics, is the number of move- 
 ment, first, second, and onwards ; and the number of 
 the celestial movement, which prepares the things 
 here below to receive in various ways any informing 
 power. For the Earth is prepared in one way in the 
 beginning of Spring to receive into itself the inform- 
 ing power of the herbs and flowers, and the Winter 
 otherwise ; and in one manner is one season prepared 
 to receive the seed, differing from another. And 
 even so our Mind, inasmuch as it is founded upon 
 the temper of the body, which has to follow the revo- 
 lution of the Heaven, at one time is disposed in one 
 way, at another time in another way ; wherefore words, 
 which are, as it were, the seeds of actions, ought very 
 discreetly to be withheld or uttered ; they should 
 
1 68 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 be spoken with such sound judgment that they may 
 be well received, and good fruit follow from them ; 
 not withheld or spent so sparingly that barrenness 
 is the result of their defective utterance. And there- 
 fore a suitable time should be chosen, both for him 
 who speaks and for him who must hear : for if the 
 speaker is badly prepared, very often his words are 
 injurious or hurtful ; and if the hearer is ill-disposed, 
 those words which are good are ill received. A~ - 1 
 -therefore Solomon says in Ecclesi^^ ' inere 1S a 
 time to speak, and ' to be silent -" Where ' 
 fore I ^-""^ within myself that my disposition to 
 of Love was disturbed, for the cause which has 
 
 been mentioned in the preceding chapter, it seemed 
 to me that the time might suit me now, time which 
 bears with it the fulfilment of every desire, and 
 appears in the guise of a generous giver to those who 
 grudge not to await him patiently. Wherefore St. 
 James says in his Epistle, in the fifth chapter : " Be- 
 hold, the husbandman waiteth for the precious fruit 
 of the Earth, and hath long patience for it, until he 
 receive the early and the latter rain." For all our 
 sorrows, or cares, or vexations, if we inquire dili- 
 gently into their origin, proceed, as it were, from not 
 knowing the use of time. I say, "since the time 
 suits," I will leave my pen alone, that is to say, the 
 sweet or gentle style I used when I sang of Love ; 
 and I say that I will speak of that worth whereby a 
 man is truly noble. 
 
 And as it is possible to understand worth in 
 many ways, here I intend to assume worth to be a 
 power of Nature, or rather a goodness bestowed by 
 her, as will be seen in what follows ; and I promise 
 to discourse on this subject with a " rhyme subtle 
 and severe." 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 169 
 
 Wherefore it is requisite to know that rhyme 
 may be considered in a double sense, that is to say, 
 in a wide and in a narrow sense. In the narrow 
 sense, it is understood as that concordance which in 
 the last and in the penultimate syllable it is usual to 
 make. In the wide sense, it is understood for all 
 that language which, with numbers and regulated 
 time, falls into rhymed consonance ; and thus it is 
 desired that it should be taken and understood in 
 this Proem. And therefore it says "severe," with 
 reference to the sound of the style, which to such 
 a subject must not be sweet and pleasing ; and it 
 says u subtle," with regard to the meaning of the 
 words, which proceed with subtle argument and dis- 
 putation. 
 
 And I subjoin : " hold false and vile The judg- 
 ment ; " where again it is promised to confute the 
 judgment of the people full of error : false, that is, 
 removed from the Truth ; and vile, that is to say, 
 affirmed and fortified by vileness of mind. And it 
 is to be observed that in this Proem I promise, 
 firstly, to treat of the Truth, and then to confute 
 the False ; and in the treatise the opposite is done, 
 for, in the first place, I confute the False, and then 
 treat of the Truth, which does not appear rightly 
 according to the promise. And therefore it is to be 
 known that, although the intention is to speak of 
 both, the principal intention is to handle the Truth ; 
 and the intention is to reprove the False or Untrue, 
 in so far as by so doing I make the Truth appear 
 more excellent. 
 
 And here, in the first place, the promise is to 
 speak of the Truth according to the chief intention, 
 which creates in the minds of the hearers a desire to 
 hear ; for in the first treatise I reprove the False or 
 
iyo THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHlERl. 
 
 Untrue in order that, the false opinions being chased 
 away, the Truth may be received more freely. And 
 this method was adopted by the master of human 
 argument, Aristotle, who always in the first place 
 fought with the adversaries of Truth, and then, 
 having vanquished them, revealed or demonstrated 
 Truth itself. 
 
 Finally, when I say, " First calling on that Lord," 
 I appeal to Truth to be with me, Truth being that 
 Lord who dwells in the eyes of Philosophy, that is 
 to say, in her demonstrations. And indeed Truth 
 is that Lord ; for the Soul espoused to Truth is the 
 bride of Truth, and otherwise it is a slave or servant 
 deprived of all liberty. 
 
 And it says, "my Lady learnt Herself to love 
 and prize," because this Philosophy, which has been 
 said in the preceding treatise to be a loving use 
 of Wisdom, beholds herself when the beauty of her 
 eyes appears to her. And what else is there to be 
 said, except that the Philosophic Soul not onnl 
 contemplates this Truth, but again contemplates her 
 own contemplation and the beauty of that, again 
 revolving upon herself, and being enamoured with 
 herself on account of the beauty of her first glance ? 
 
 And thus ends this which; as a Proem or Preface 
 in three divisions, heads the present treatise. 
 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 HAVING seen the meaning of the Proem, we must 
 now follow the treatise, and, to demonstrate it 
 clearly, it must be divided into its chief parts, which 
 are three. 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. ! 7l 
 
 In the first, one treats of Nobility according to the 
 opinion of other men ; in the second, one treats of 
 it according to the true opinion ; in the third, one 
 addresses speech to the Song by way of ornament to 
 that which has been said. The second part begins : 
 " I say that from one root Each Virtue firstly 
 springs." The third begins : " How many are de- 
 ceived ! My Song, Against the strayers." And after 
 these general parts, it will be right to make other divi- 
 sions, in order to make the meaning of the demon- 
 stration clear. Therefore, let no one marvel if it 
 proceed with many divisions, since a great and high 
 work is now on my hands, and one that is but little 
 entered upon by authors ; the treatise must be long 
 and subtle into which the reader now enters with me, 
 if I am to unfold perfectly the text according to the 
 meaning which it bears. 
 
 I say, then, that this first part is now divided 
 into two : for in the first, the opinions of others 
 are placed ; in the second, those opinions are con- 
 futed ; and this second part begins: " Whoever 
 shall define The man a living tree." Again, the first 
 part which remains has two clauses : the first is 
 the variation of the opinion of the Emperor ; 
 the second is the variation of the opinion of 
 the Common People, which is naked or void of 
 all reason ; and this second clause or division 
 begins : " Another, lightly wise." I say then, " One 
 raised to Empire," that is to say, such an one 
 made use of the Imperial Office. Where it is 
 to be known that Frederick of Suabia, the last 
 Emperor of the Romans (I say last with respect to 
 the present time, notwithstanding that Rudolf, and 
 Adolphus, and Albert were elected after his death 
 and from his descendants), being asked what Nobility 
 
I 7 2 THE BANQUET OF DANTE AL1GHIERI. 
 
 might be, replied that " it was anck 
 good manners." 
 
 A,nd I say that there was another of less wisdom, 
 
 who, pondering and revolving this definition in every 
 part, removed the last particle, that is, the good 
 manners, and held to the first, that is, to the ancient 
 riches. And as he seems to have doubted the text, 
 perhaps through not having good manners, and not 
 wishing to lose the title of Nobility, he defined it 
 according to that which made himself noble, namely, 
 possession of ancient wealth. 
 
 And I say that this opinion is that of almost all, 
 saying that after it go all the people who make 
 those men noble who have a long pedigree, and who 
 have been rich through many generations ; since in 
 this cry do almost all men bark. 
 
 These two opinions (although one, as has been 
 said, is of no consequence whatever) seem to have 
 two very grave arguments in support of them. The 
 first is, that the Philosopher says that whatever 
 appears true to the greatest number cannot be 
 entirely false. The second is, the authority of the 
 definition by an Emperor. And that one may the 
 better see the power of the Truth, which conquers 
 all other authority, I intend to argue with the one 
 reason as with the other, to which it is a strong 
 helper and powerful aid. 
 
 And, firstly, one cannot understand Imperial 
 authority until the roots of it are found. It is 
 our intention to treat or discourse of them in an 
 especial chapter. 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 173 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE radical foundation of Imperial Majesty, accord- 
 ing to the Truth, is the necessity of Human Civiliza- 
 tion, which is ordained to one end, that is, to a Happy 
 Life. Nothing is of itself sufficient to attain this 
 without some external help, since man has need of 
 many things which one person alone is unable to 
 obtain. And therefore the Philosopher says that 
 man is naturally a companionable animal. And as 
 a man requires for his sufficient comfort the 
 domestic companionship of a family, so a house 
 requires for its sufficient comfort a neighbourhood ; 
 otherwise there would be many wants to endure 
 which would be an obstacle to happiness. And since 
 a neighbourhood cannot satisfy all requirements, there 
 must for the satisfaction of men be the City. Again, 
 the City requires for its Arts and Manufactures to 
 have an environment, as also for its defence, and to 
 have brotherly intercourse with the circumjacent or 
 adjacent Cities, and thence the Kingdom. 
 
 But since the human mind in restricted possession 
 of the Earth finds no peace, but always desires to 
 acquire Glory, as we see by experience, discords and 
 wars must arise between realm and realm. These 
 are the tribulation of Cities ; and through the Cities, 
 of the neighbourhoods ; and through the neighbour- 
 hoods, of the houses ; and through the houses, of 
 men ; and thus is the happiness of man prevented or 
 obstructed. Wherefore, in order to prevent these 
 wars, and to remove the causes of them through all 
 the Earth, so far as it is given to the Human Race 
 to possess it, there must of necessity be Monarchy, 
 that is to say, one sole principality ; and there must 
 
174 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 be one Prince, who, possessing all, and not being 
 'able to desire more, holds the Kings content within 
 the limits of the kingdoms, so that peace may be 
 between them, wherein the Cities may repose, and in 
 this rest the neighbouring hamlets may dwell together 
 in mutual love ; in this love the houses obtain all they 
 need, which, being obtained, men can live happily, 
 which is that end for which man was born. And to 
 these reasons might be applied the words of the 
 Philosopher, for he says, in the book On Politics, 
 that when many things are ordained to one end, one 
 of those must be the ruling power, and all the others 
 must be governed by that. Even as we see in 
 a ship that the different offices and the different 
 means to different ends in that ship are ordained to 
 one end alone^ that is to say, to reach the desired port 
 by a safe voyage, where as each officer orders his 
 own work to the proper end, even so there is one who 
 considers all these ends, and ordains those to the final 
 one ; and this is the Pilot, whose voice all must obey. 
 We see this also in the religious bodies and in the 
 military bodies, in all those things which are ordained 
 to one end, as has been said. Wherefore it can 
 plainly be seen that to attain the perfection of the 
 Universal Union of the Human Race there must be 
 one Pilot, as it were, who, considering the different 
 conditions of the World, and ordaining the different 
 and needful offices, may hold or possess over the 
 whole the universal and incontestable office of Com- 
 mand. And this office is well designated Empire, 
 without any addition, because it is of all other 
 governments the government ; and so he who is 
 appointed to this office is designated Emperor, 
 because of all Governors he is the Governor, and 
 what he says is Law to all, and ought by all to be 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. I7 $ 
 
 obeyed ; and every other government derives vigour 
 and authority from the government of this man. 
 And thus it is evident that the Imperial Majesty and 
 Authority is the most exalted in the Human Family. 
 No doubt it would be possible for some one to 
 cavil, saying, that although the office of Empire may 
 be required in the World, that does not make the 
 authority of the Roman Prince rationally supreme, 
 which it is the intention of the treatise to prove ; 
 since the Roman Power was acquired, not by Reason 
 nor by decree of Universal Election, but by Force, 
 which seems to be opposed to Reason. To this one 
 can easily reply, that the election of this Supreme 
 Official must primarily proceed from that Council 
 which foresees all things, that is, God; otherwise the 
 election would not have been of equal benefit for 
 all the people, since, before the pre-ordained Official, 
 there was none who had the good of all at heart. 
 
 And since a gentler nature in ruling, and a 
 stronger in maintaining, and a more subtle in acquir- 
 ing never was and never will be than that of the 
 Latin People, as one can see by experience, and 
 especially that of the Holy People, in whom was 
 blended the noble Trojan blood ; to that office it 
 was elected by God. Wherefore, since, to obtain it, 
 not without very great power could it be approached, 
 and to employ it a most exalted and most humane 
 benignity was required, this was the people which was 
 most fitly prepared for it. Hence not by Force was 
 it assumed in the first place by the Roman People 
 but by Divine Ordinance, which is above all Reason. 
 And Virgil is in harmony with this in the first 
 book of the yEneid, when he says, speaking in the 
 person of God : " On these [that is, on the Romans] I 
 impose no limits to their possessions, nor to their 
 
176 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 duration ; to them I have given boundless Empire." 
 Force, then, was not the moving cause, as he believed 
 who was cavilling ; but there w r as an instrumental 
 cause even as the blows of the hammer are the cause of 
 the knife, and the soul of the workman is the moving 
 and the efficient cause ; and thus, not force, but a 
 cause, even a Divine Cause, has been the origin of 
 the Roman Empire. 
 
 And that this is so it is possible to see by two 
 most evident reasons, which prove that City to be 
 the Empress, and to have from God an especial birth, 
 and to have from God an especial success. But since 
 in this chapter without too great length it would not 
 be possible to discuss this subject, and long chapters 
 are the enemies of Memory, I will again make a 
 digression in another chapter in order to prove the 
 reasons here alluded to, which are not without utility, 
 and may give great pleasure. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 IT is no cause for wonder if the Divine Providence, 
 which surpasses beyond measure all angelic and 
 human foresight, often appears to us to proceed mys- 
 teriously, since many times human actions conceal 
 their motives from men. But there is great cause for 
 wonder when the execution of the Eternal Counsel 
 proceeds so evidently that our reason can discern it. 
 And therefore in the beginning of this chapter I can 
 speak with the mouth of Solomon, who, in the person 
 of Wisdom, says in his Proverbs : " Hear, for I will 
 speak of excellent things !" 
 
 The Divine Goodness unmeasureable, desiring to 
 conform again to Itself the Human Creature, which, 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 177 
 
 through the sin of the prevarication of the first Man, 
 was separated from God and deformed thereby, it 
 was decided, in that most exalted and most united 
 Divine Consistory of the Trinity, that the Son of God 
 should descend to the Earth to accomplish this 
 union. And since at His advent into the world, not 
 only Heaven, but Earth, must be in the best dis- 
 position ; and the best, disposition of the Earth is 
 when it is a Monarchy, that is to say, all subject to 
 one Prince, as has been said above, by Divine Pro- 
 vidence it was ordained what people -and what city 
 should fulfil this, and that people was the Roman 
 nation, and that city was glorious Rome. And 
 since the Inn also wherein the Heavenly King must 
 enter must of necessity be most cleanly and most 
 pure, there was ordained a most Holy Race, from 
 which, after many excellent or just ancestors, there 
 should be born a Woman more perfect than all 
 others, who should be the abode of the Son of God. 
 And this race was the Race of David, from which 
 was born the glory and honour of the Human Race, 
 that is to say, Mary. And therefore it is written in 
 Isaiah : " A virgin shall be born of the stem of Jesse, 
 and a branch shall grow out of his roots." And 
 Jesse was the father of the aforesaid David. And it 
 happened at one period of time that when David was 
 born, Rome was born, that is to say, yEneas then 
 came from Troy to Italy, which was the origin of the 
 most noble Roman City, even as the written word 
 bears witness. Evident enough, therefore, is the 
 Divine election of the Roman Empire by the birth 
 of the Holy City, which was contemporaneous with 
 the root of the race from which Mary sprang.^ 
 
 And incidentally it is to be mentioned that, since 
 this Heaven began to revolve, it never was in a 
 
1 78 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 better disposition than when He descended from on 
 high, He who had made it and who is its Ruler, 
 even as again by virtue of their arts the Mathema- 
 ticians may be able to discover. The World never 
 was nor ever will be so perfectly prepared as then, 
 when it was governed by the voice of one man 
 alone, Prince and Commander of the Roman people, 
 even as Luke the Evangelist bears witness. And 
 therefore there was Universal Peace, which never 
 was again nor ever will be, for the Ship of the 
 Human Family rightly by a sweet pathway was 
 hastening to its rightful haven. Oh, ineffable and 
 incomprehensible Wisdom of God, which in Heaven 
 above didst prepare, so long beforehand, for Thy 
 advent into Syria and here in Italy at the same 
 time ! And oh, most foolish and vile beasts who 
 pasture in the guise of men you who presume to 
 speak against our Faith, and profess to know, as ye 
 spin and dig, what God has ordained with so much 
 forethought curses be on you and your presump- 
 tion, and on him who believes in you ! 
 
 And, as has been said above, at the end of the 
 preceding chapter, the Roman People had from God 
 not only an especial birth, but an especial success ; 
 for, briefly, from Romulus, who was the first father 
 of Rome, even to its most perfect era, that is, to 
 the time of its predicted Emperor, its success was 
 achieved not only by human, but by Divine means. 
 For if we consider the Seven Kings who first 
 governed it Romulus, Numa, Tullus, Ancus Martius, 
 Servius Tullius, and the Tarquins, who were, as it 
 were, the nurses and tutors of its Childhood we 
 shall be able to find, by the written word of Roman 
 History, especially by Titus Livius, those to have 
 been of different natures, according to the oppor- 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 179 
 
 tunity of the advancing tract of time. If we con- 
 sider, then, its Adolescence, when it was emancipated 
 from the regal tutorship by Brutus, the first Consul, 
 even to Caesar, its first supreme Prince, we shall find 
 it exalted, not with human, but with Divine citizens, 
 into whom, not human, but Divine love was inspired 
 in loving Rome ; and this neither could be nor 
 ought to be, except for an especial end intended by 
 God through such infusion of a. heavenly spirit. And 
 who will say that there was no Divine inspiration 
 in Fabricius when he rejected an almost infinite 
 amount of gold because he was unwilling to abandon 
 his country ? or in Curius, whom the Samnites 
 attempted to corrupt, who said, when refusing a 
 very large quantity of gold for love of his country, 
 that the Roman citizens did not desire to possess 
 gold, but the possessors of the gold ? Who will say 
 there was no Divine inspiration in Mutius burning 
 his own hand because it had failed in the blow 
 wherewith he had thought to deliver Rome ? Who 
 will say of Torquatus, who sentenced his own 
 son to death from love to the Public Good, that he 
 could have endured this without a Divine Helper ? 
 Who will say this of the Brutus before mentioned ? 
 Who will say it of the Decii and of the Drusi, who 
 laid down their lives for their country ? Who will 
 say of the captive Regulus of Carthage, sent to Rome 
 to exchange the Carthaginian prisoners for Roman 
 prisoners of war, who, after having explained the 
 object of his embassy, gave counsel against himself, 
 through pure love to Rome, that he was moved to 
 do this by the impulse of Human Nature alone ? 
 Who will say it of Ouinctius Cincinnatus, who, taken 
 from the plough and made dictator, after the time of 
 office had expired, spontaneously refusing its continu- 
 
iSo THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 ance, followed his plough again ? Who will say of 
 Camillas, banished and chased into exile, who, having 
 come to deliver Rome from her enemies, and having 
 accomplished her liberation, spontaneously returned 
 into exile in order not to offend against the authority 
 of the Senate, that he was without Divine inspira- 
 tion ? O, most sacred heart of Cato, who shall 
 presume to speak of thee ? Truly, to speak freely 
 of thee is not possible ; it were better to be silent 
 and to follow Jerome, when, in the Preface of the 
 Bible where he alludes to Paul, he says that it were 
 better to be silent than say little. Certainly it 
 must be evident, remembering the lives of these 
 men and of the other Divine citizens, that such 
 wonders could not have been without some light of 
 the Divine Goodness, added to their own goodness 
 of nature. And it must be evident that these most 
 excellent men were instruments with which Divine 
 Providence worked in the building up of the Roman 
 Empire, wherein many times the arm of God 
 appeared to be present. And did not God put His 
 own hand to the battle wherein the Albans fought 
 with the Romans in the beginning for the chief 
 dominion, when one Roman alone held in his hands 
 the liberty of Rome ? And did not God interfere 
 with His own hands when the Franks, having taken 
 all Rome, attacked by stealth the Capitol by night, 
 and the voice alone of a goose caused this to be 
 known ? And did not God interfere with His own 
 hands when, in the war with Hannibal, having lost 
 so many citizens that three bushels of rings were 
 carried into Africa, the Romans wished to abandon 
 the land, if the blessed Scipio the younger had 
 not undertaken his expedition into Africa for the 
 recovery of freedom ? And did not God interfere 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 181 
 
 with His own hands when a new citizen of humble 
 station, Tullius, defended, against such a citizen as 
 Catiline, the Roman liberty ? Yes, surely. Where- 
 fore one should not need to inquire further to see 
 that an especial birth and an especial success were in 
 the Mind of God decreed to that holy City. And 
 certainly I am of a firm opinion that the stones which 
 remain in her walls are worthy of reverence ; and it 
 is asserted and proved that the ground whereon she 
 stands is worthy beyond all other that is occupied 
 by man. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ABOVE, in the third chapter of this treatise, a 
 promise was made to discourse of the supremacy of 
 the Imperial Authority and of the Philosophic 
 Authority. And since the Imperial Authority has 
 been discussed, my digression must now proceed 
 further in order to consider that of the Philosopher, 
 according to the promise made. 
 
 And here we must first see what is the meaning 
 of this word ; since here there is a greater necessity 
 to understand it than there was above in the argu- 
 ment on the Imperial Authority, which, on account 
 of its Majesty, does not seem to be doubted. It is 
 then to be known that Authority is no other than 
 the act of the Author. 
 
 This word, that is to say, Auctore, without this 
 third letter, c, can be derived from two roots. One 
 is from a verb, whose use in grammar is much 
 abandoned, which signifies to bind or to tie words 
 together, that is, A U I E O ; and whoso looks well at it 
 in its first vowel or syllable will clearly perceive that 
 
182 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALTGHIERL 
 
 it demonstrates it itself, for it is constituted solely of 
 a tie of words, that is, of five vowels alone, which are 
 the soul and bond of every word, and composed of 
 them in a twisted way, to figure the image of a liga- 
 ture ; for beginning with the A, then it twists round 
 into the U, and comes straight through the I into 
 the E, then it revolves and turns round into the O : 
 so that truly this figure represents A, E, I, O, U, 
 which is the figure or form of a tie ; and how much 
 Autore (Author) derives its origin from this word, 
 one learns from the poets alone, who have bound 
 their words together with the art of harmony ; but 
 on this signification we do not at present dwell. 
 The other root from which the word "Autore" 
 (Author) is derived, as Uguccione testifies in the 
 beginning of his Derivations, is a Greek word, 
 " Autentim," which in Latin means " worthy of 
 faith and obedience." And thus " Autore" (Author), 
 derived from this, is taken for any person worthy 
 to be believed and obeyed ; and thence comes this 
 word, of which one treats at the present moment, 
 that is to say, Authority. Wherefore one can see 
 that Authority is equivalent to an act worthy of 
 faith and obedience. 
 
 [Here is a small break in the original, containing 
 some such words as Worthy, nay, most worthy, of 
 obedience and of faith is Aristotle :] hence it is evi- 
 dent that his words are a supreme and chief Authority. 
 That Aristotle is most worthy of faith and obedi- 
 ence, one can thus prove. Amongst workmen and 
 artificers of different Arts and Manufactures, which 
 are all directed to one final work of Art, or to one 
 building, the Artificer or Designer of that work 
 must be completely believed in, and implicitly 
 obeyed by all, as the man who alone beholds the 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 183 
 
 ultimate end of all the other ends. Hence the 
 sword-cutler must believe in the knight, so must the 
 bridle-maker and saddle-maker and the shield-maker, 
 and all those trades which are appointed to the pro- 
 fession of knighthood. And since all human actions 
 require an aim, which is that of human life, to which 
 man is appointed inasmuch as he is man, the 
 master and artificer who considers that aim and 
 demonstrates, it ought especially to be believed in 
 and obeyed ; and he is Aristotle ; wherefore he is 
 most worthy of faith and obedience. And in order 
 to see how Aristotle is the master and leader of 
 Human Reason in so far as it aims at its final 
 operation, it is requisite to know that this our aim 
 of life, which each one naturally desires, in most 
 ancient times was searched for by the Wise Men ; 
 and since those who desire this end are so numerous, 
 and their desires are as it were all singularly different, 
 although they exist in us universally, it was never- 
 theless very difficult to discern that end whereon 
 rightly each human appetite or desire might repose. 
 
 There were then many ancient philosophers, the 
 first and the chief of whom was Zeno, who saw and 
 believed this end of human life to be solely a rigid 
 honesty, that is to say, rigid without regard to any 
 one in following Truth and Justice, to show no sorrow, 
 to show no joy, to have no sense of any passion 
 whatever. And they defined thus this honest up- 
 rightness, as that which, without bearing fruit, is to 
 be praised for reason of itself. And these men and 
 their sect were called Stoics ; and that glorious Cato 
 was one of them, of whom in the previous chapter I 
 had not courage enough to speak. 
 
 Other philosophers there were who saw and 
 believed otherwise ; and of these the first and chief 
 
1 84 THE BANQUET OF DANTE AL1GHIER1. 
 
 was a philosopher, who was named Epicurus, who, 
 seeing that each animal as soon as it is born is as it 
 were directed by Nature to its right end, which shuns 
 pain and seeks for pleasure, said that this end or aim 
 of ours was enjoyment. I do not say greedy enjoy- 
 ment, voluntade, but I write it with a /, voluptate, 
 that is, delight or pleasure free from pain ; and 
 therefore between pleasure and pain no mean was 
 placed. He said that pleasure was no. other than no 
 pain ; as Tullius seems to say in the first chapter 
 De Finibus. And of these, who from Epicurus are 
 named Epicureans, was Torquatus, a noble Roman, 
 descended from the blood of the glorious Torquatus 
 mention of whom I made above. There were others, 
 and they had their rise from Socrates, and then from 
 his successor, Plato, who, looking more subtly, and see- 
 ing that in our actions it was possible to sin, and that 
 one sinned in too much and in too little, said that our 
 action, without excess and without defect, measured to 
 the due mean of our own choice, is virtue, and virtue 
 is the aim of man ; and they called it action with 
 virtue. And these were called Academicians, as was 
 Plato and Speusippus, his nephew ; they were thus 
 called from the place where Plato taught, that is, the 
 Academy ; neither from Socrates did they take or 
 assume any word, because in his Philosophy nothing 
 was affirmed. Truly Aristotle, who had his surname 
 from Stagira, and Xenocrates of Chalcedon, his com- 
 panion, through the genius, almost Divine, which 
 Nature had put into Aristotle, knowing this end by 
 means of the Socratic method, with the Academic 
 file, as it were, reduced Moral Philosophy to perfec- 
 tion, and especially Aristotle. And since Aristotle 
 began to reason while walking hither and thither, they 
 were called, he, I say, and his companions, Peripa- 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 185 
 
 tetics, which means the same as walkers about. And 
 since the perfection of this Morality by Aristotle was 
 attained, the name of Academician became extinct, 
 and all those who attached thei*clves to this sect 
 are called Peripatetics ~' a these people hold the 
 doctrine of th^ s^ernment of the World through all 
 
 tc-i t.s : and it may be termed a catholic opinion, 
 
 as it were. Wherefore it is possible to see that Aris- 
 totle was the Indicator and the Leader of the people 
 to this mark. And this is what I wished to prove. 
 
 Wherefore, collecting all together, the principal 
 intention is manifest, that is to say, that the authority 
 of him whom we understand to be the supreme 
 Philosopher is full of complete vigour, and in no 
 way repugnant to Imperial Authority. But the 
 Imperial without the Philosopher is dangerous ; and 
 this without that is weak, not of itself, but through 
 the disorder of the people : but when one is united 
 with the other they are together most useful and 
 full of all vigour ; and therefore it is written in that 
 Book of Wisdom : " Love the Light of Wisdom, 
 all you who are before the people," that is to say, 
 unite Philosophic Authority with the Imperial, in 
 order to rule well and perfectly. O, you miserable 
 ones, who rule at the present time ! and O, most 
 miserable ones, you who are ruled ! For no Philo- 
 sophic Authority is united with your governments, 
 neither through suitable study nor by counsel ; so 
 that to all it is possible to repeat those words from 
 Ecclesiastes : " Woe to thee, O land, when thy King 
 is a child, and thy Princes eat in the morning ; " 
 and to no land is it possible to say that which 
 follows : " Blessed art thou, O land, when thy King 
 is the son of nobles, and thy Princes eat in due 
 season, for strength and not for drunkenness/' 
 
i86 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 Ye enemies of God, look to your flanks, ye who 
 have seized the sceptres of the kingdoms of Italy. 
 And I say to you, Charles, and to you, Frederick, 
 Kings, and to yo, ye other Princes and Tyrants, see 
 who sits by the side of y^ i n council, and count how 
 many times a day this aim 01 iman life is indi- 
 cated to you by your councillors. Bettei ~^\& ft 
 be for you, like swallows, to fly low down than, like 
 make lofty circles over carrion. 
 
 * tESE % 4 
 
 'rt 4*., 
 
 */f 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SINCE it is seen how much the Imperial Authority 
 and the Philosophic are to be revered, which .must 
 support the opinions propounded, it is now for us to 
 return into the straight path to the intended goal. 
 I say, then, that this last opinion of the Common 
 People has continued so long that without other cause, 
 without inquiry into any reason, every man is termed 
 Noble who may be the son or nephew of any brave 
 man, although he himself is nothing. And this is 
 what the Song says : 
 
 And so long among us 
 
 This falsehood has had sway, 
 That men call him a Nobleman, 
 
 Though worthless, who can say, 
 
 I nephew am, or son, 
 
 Of one worth such a sum. 
 
 Wherefore it is to be observed that it is most 
 dangerous negligence to allow this evil opinion to 
 take root ; for even as weeds multiply in the 
 uncultivated field, and surmount and cover the ear 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 187 
 
 of the corn, so that, looking at it from a distance, 
 the wheat appears not, and finally the corn is lost ; 
 so the evil opinion in the mind, neither chastised nor 
 corrected, increases and multiplies, so that the ear of 
 Reason, that is, the true opinion, is concealed and 
 buried as it were, and so it is lost. O, how great 
 is my undertaking in this Song, for I wish now to 
 weed the field so full of wild and woody plants as is 
 this field of the common opinion so long bereft of 
 tillage ! Certainly I do not intend to cleanse all, 
 but only those parts where the ears of Reason are 
 not entirely overcome ; that is, I intend to lift up 
 again those in whom some little light of Reason 
 still lives through the goodness of their nature ; the 
 others need only as much care as the brute beasts : 
 wherefore it seems to me that it would not be a 
 less miracle to lead back to Reason him in whom 
 it is entirely extinct than to bring back to Life him 
 who has been four days in the grave. 
 
 Then the evil quality of this popular opinion is 
 narrated suddenly, as if it were a horrible thing ; it 
 strikes at that, springing forth from the order of the 
 confutation, saying, " But he who sees the Truth 
 will know How vile he has become," in order to 
 make people understand its intolerable wickedness, 
 saying, that those men lie especially, for not only is 
 the man vile, that is, not Noble, who, although de- 
 scended from good people, is himself wicked, but 
 also he is most vile ; and I quote the example of 
 the right path being indicated, where, to prove this, 
 it is fit for me to propound a question, and to reply 
 to that question in this way. 
 
 There is a plain with certain paths, a field with 
 hedges, with ditches, with rocks, with tanglewood, 
 with all kinds of obstacles ; with the exception of 
 
188 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 its two straight paths. And it has snowed so much 
 that the snow covers everything, and presents one 
 smooth appearance on every side, so that no trace of 
 any path is to be seen. Here comes a man from 
 one part of the country, and he wishes to go to a 
 house which is on the other side ; and by his 
 industry, that is, through prudent foresight and 
 through the goodness of genius, guided solely by 
 himself, he goes through the right path whither he 
 meant to go, leaving the prints of his footsteps 
 behind him. Another comes after this man, and he 
 wishes to go to that mansion, and to him it is only 
 needful to follow the footprints left there ; but 
 through his own fault this man strays from the 
 path, which the first man without a guide has known 
 how to keep ; this man, though it is pointed out to 
 him, loses his way through the brambles and the 
 rocks, and he goes not to the place whither he is 
 bound. 
 
 Which of these men ought to be termed excellent, 
 brave, or worthy ? I reply : He who went first. 
 How would you designate that other man ? I reply : 
 " As most vile." Why is he not called unworthy or 
 cowardly, that is to say, vile ? I reply : Because 
 unworthy, that is, vile, he should be called who, 
 having no guide, might have failed to walk straight- 
 forward ; but since this man had a guide, his error 
 and his fault can rise higher ; and therefore he is to 
 be called, not vile, but most vile. And likewise he 
 who, by his father or by some elder of his race is 
 ennobled, and does not continue in a noble course, 
 not only is he vile, but he is most vile, and deserving 
 of as much contempt and infamy as any other villain, 
 if not of more. And because a man may preserve 
 himself from this vile baseness, Solomon lavs this 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 189 
 
 command on him who has had a brave and excellent 
 ancestor, in the twenty-second chapter of Proverbs : 
 " Remove not the ancient landmark, which thy fathers 
 have set." And previously he says, in the fourth 
 chapter of the said book : " The path of the Just," 
 that is, of the worthy men, " is as the shining light, 
 that shineth more and more unto the perfect day ; 
 the way of the wicked is as darkness, and they know 
 not at what they stumble." 
 
 Finally, when it says, " And though he walks upon 
 the earth Is counted with the dead," to his greater 
 disgrace I say that this most worthless man is dead, 
 seeming still alive. Where it is to be known that 
 the wicked man may be truly said to be dead, and 
 especially he who goes astray from the path trodden 
 by his good ancestor. And this it is possible to 
 prove thus : as Aristotle says in the second book 
 On the Soul, to live is to be with the living ; and 
 since there are many ways of living as in the plants 
 to vegetate ; in the animals to vegetate and to feel 
 and to move ; in men to vegetate, to feel, to move, 
 and to reason, or rather to understand ; and since 
 things ought to be denominated by the noblest part, 
 it is evident that in animals to live is to feel in the 
 brute animals, I say ; in man, to live is to use reason. 
 Wherefore, if to live is the life or existence of man, 
 and if thus to depart from the use of Reason, which 
 is his life, is to depart from life or existence, even 
 thus is that man dead. 
 
 And does he not depart from the use of Reason 
 who does not reason or think concerning the aim of 
 his life ? And does he not depart from the use of 
 Reason who does not reason or think concerning the 
 path which he ought to take ? Certainly he does so 
 depart ; and this is evident especially in him who 
 
i 90 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGH1ERI. 
 
 has the footprints before him, and looks not at them ; 
 and therefore Solomon says in the fifth chapter of 
 Proverbs : " He shall die without instruction ; and 
 in the greatness of his folly he shall go astray," that 
 is to say, he is dead who becomes a disciple, and 
 who does not follow his master ; and such an one is 
 most vile. 
 
 And of him it would be possible for some one to 
 say : How is he dead and yet he walks ? I reply, 
 that as a man he is dead, but as a beast he has 
 remained alive ; for as the Philosopher says in the 
 second book On the Soul, the powers of the Soul 
 stand upon itself, as the figure of the quadrangle 
 stands upon the triangle, and the pentagon stands 
 upon the quadrangle ; so the sensitive stands upon 
 the vegetative, and the intellectual stands upon the 
 sensitive. Wherefore, as, by removing the last side 
 of the pentagon, the quadrangle remains, so by 
 removing the last power of the Soul, that is, Reason, 
 the man no longer remains, but a thing with a 
 sensitive soul only, that is, the brute animal. 
 
 And this is the meaning or intention of the second 
 part of the devised Song, in which are placed the 
 opinions of others. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE most beautiful branch which grows up from 
 the root of Reason is Discretion. For as St. Thomas 
 says thereupon in the prologue to the book of Ethics, 
 to know the order of one thing to another is the 
 proper act of Reason ; and this is Discretion. One 
 of the most beautiful and sweetest fruits of this 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 191 
 
 branch is the reverence which the lesser owes to 
 the greater. Wherefore Tullius, in the first chapter 
 of the Offices, when speaking of the beauty which 
 .shines forth in Uprightness, says that reverence is 
 part of that beauty ; and thus as this reverence is 
 the beauty of Uprightness, so its opposite is baseness 
 and want of uprightness ; which opposite quality it 
 is possible to term irreverence, or rather as impudent 
 boldness, in our Vulgar Tongue. 
 
 And therefore this Tullius in the same place says : 
 " To treat with contemptuous indifference that which 
 others think of one, not only is the act of an arro- 
 gant, but also of a dissolute person," which means no 
 other except that arrogance and dissolute conduct 
 show want of self-knowledge, which is the beginning 
 of the capacity for all reverence. Wherefore I, 
 desiring (and bearing meanwhile all reverence both 
 to the Prince and to the Philosopher) to remove the 
 infirmity from the minds of some men, in order 
 afterwards to build up thereupon the light of truth, 
 before I proceed to confute the opinions propounded, 
 will show how, whilst confuting those opinions, I 
 argue with irreverence neither against the Imperial 
 Majesty nor against the Philosopher. For if in any 
 part of this entire book I should appear irreverent, 
 it would not be so bad as in this treatise ; in which, 
 whilst treating of Nobility, I ought to appear Noble, 
 and not vile. 
 
 And firstly I will prove that I do not presume 
 against the authority of the Philosopher ; then I will 
 prove that I do not presume against Imperial 
 Majesty. 
 
 I say, then, that when the Philosopher says, 
 " that which appears to the most is impossible to be 
 entirely false/' I do not mean to speak of the 
 
I 9 2 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 external appearance, that is, the sensual, but of that 
 which appears within, the rational ; since the 
 sensual appearance, according to most people, is 
 many times most false, especially in the common 
 things appreciable by the senses, wherein the sense 
 is often deceived. Thus we know that to most 
 people the Sun appears of the width of a foot in 
 diameter ; and this is most false, for, according 
 to the inquiry and the discovery which human 
 reason has made with its skill, the diameter of 
 the body of the Sun is five times as much as that 
 of the Earth and also one-half time more, since 
 the Earth in its diameter is six thousand five 
 hundred miles, the diameter of the Sun, which to 
 the sense of sight presents the appearance of the 
 width of one foot, is thirty-five thousand seven 
 hundred and fifty miles. Wherefore it is evident 
 that Aristotle did not understand or judge it by the 
 appearance which it presents to the sense of sight. 
 And therefore, if I intend only to oppose false trust 
 in appearance according to the senses, that is not 
 done against the intention of the Philosopher, and 
 therefore I do not offend against the reverence which 
 is due to him. 
 
 And that I intend to confute the appearance 
 according to the sense is manifest ; for those people 
 who judge thus, judge only by what they feel or 
 think of those things which fortune can give and 
 take away. For, because they see great alliances 
 made and high marriages to take place, and the 
 wonderful palaces, the large possessions, great lord- 
 ships, they believe that all those things are the 
 causes of Nobility nay, they believe them to be 
 Nobility itself. For if they could judge with any 
 appearance of reason, they would say the contrary, 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 193 
 
 that is, that Nobility is the cause of these things, as 
 will be seen in the sequel of this treatise. And 
 even as it may be seen that I speak not against 
 the reverence due to the Philosopher whilst con- 
 futing this error, so I speak not against the rever- 
 ence due to the Empire ; and the reason I intend 
 to show. But when he reasons or argues before the 
 adversary, the Rhetorician ought to use much caution 
 in his speech, in order that the adversary may not 
 derive thence material wherewith to disturb the 
 Truth. I, who speak in this treatise in the presence 
 of so many adversaries, cannot spe.ak briefly ; where- 
 fore, if my digressions should be long, let no one 
 marvel. 
 
 I say, then, that, in order to prove that I am not 
 irreverent to the Majesty of the Empire, it is requi- 
 site, in the first place, to see what reverence is. I 
 say that reverence is no other than a confession of 
 due submission by an evident sign ; and, having 
 seen this, it remains to distinguish between them. 
 Irreverent expresses privation, not reverent expresses 
 negation ; and, therefore, irreverence is to disavow 
 the due submission by a manifest sign. The want 
 of reverence is to refuse submission as not due. 
 A man can deny or refuse a thing in a double 
 sense. In one way, the man can deny offending 
 against the Truth when he abstains from the due 
 confession, and this properly is to disavow. In 
 another way, the man can deny offending against 
 the Truth when he does not confess that which is 
 not, and this is proper negation ; even as for the 
 man to deny that he is entirely mortal is to deny 
 properly speaking. Wherefore, if I deny or refuse 
 reverence due to the Imperial Authority, I am not 
 irreverent, but I am not reverent ; which is not 
 
I 9 4 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 against reverence, forasmuch as it offends not that 
 Imperial Authority ; even as not to live does not 
 offend Life, but Death, which is privation of that 
 Life, offends ; wherefore, to die is one thing and 
 not to live is another thing, for not to live is in the 
 stones. And since Death expresses privation, which 
 cannot be except in decease of the subject, and the 
 stones are not the subject of Life, they should not 
 be called dead, but not living. In like manner, I, 
 who in this case ought not to have reverence to the 
 Imperial Authority, am not irreverent if I deny or 
 refuse it, but I am not reverent, which is neither 
 boldness, nor presumption, nor a thing to be blamed. 
 But it would be presumption to be reverent, if it 
 could be called reverence, since it would fall into 
 greater and more true irreverence, that is, into irre- 
 verence of Nature and of Truth, as will be seen in 
 the sequel. Against this error that Master of Philo- 
 sophers, Aristotle, guards, in the beginning of the 
 book of Ethics, when he says : " If the friends are 
 two, and one is the Truth, their one mind is the 
 Truth's." If I have said that I am not reverent, 
 that is, to deny reverence, or by a manifest sign 
 to deny or refuse a submission not due. It is 
 to be seen how this is to deny and not to disavow, 
 that is to say, it remains to be seen how, in this 
 case, I am not rightfully subject to the Imperial 
 Majesty. It must be a long argument wherewith I 
 intend to prove this in the chapter next following. 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 195 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 To see how in this case, that is, in approving or in 
 not approving the opinion of the Emperor, I am 
 not held in subjection to him, it is necessary to 
 recall to mind that which has been argued pre- 
 viously concerning the Imperial Office, in the fourth 
 chapter of this treatise, namely, that to promote the 
 perfection of human Life, Imperial Authority was 
 designed ; and that it is the director and ruler of all 
 our operations, and justly so, for however far our 
 operations extend themselves, so far the Imperial 
 Majesty has jurisdiction, and beyond those limits it 
 does not reach. But as each Art and Office of man- 
 kind is restricted by the Imperial Office within 
 certain limits, so this Imperial Office is confined 
 by God within certain bounds. And it is not to be 
 wondered at, for the Office and the Arts of Nature 
 in all her operations we see to be limited. For if 
 we wish to take Universal Nature, it has jurisdiction 
 as far as the whole World, I say as far as Heaven 
 and Earth extend ; and this within a certain limit, 
 as is proved by the third chapter of the book on 
 Physics, and by the first chapter, of Heaven and the 
 World. Then the jurisdiction of Univeral Nature 
 is limited within a certain boundary, and conse- 
 quently the individual; of which also He is the 
 Limiter who is limited by nothing, that is, the First 
 Goodness, that is, God, who alone with infinite capa- 
 city comprehends the Infinite. And, that we may 
 see the limits of our operations, it is to be known 
 that those alone are our operations which are sub- 
 ject to Reason and to Will ; for, if in us there is the 
 digestive operation, that is not human, but natural. 
 
 G 2 
 
196 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 And it is to be known that our Reason is ordained 
 to four operations, separately to be considered ; for 
 those are operations which Reason only considers and 
 does not produce, neither can produce, any one of 
 them, such as are the Natural facts and the Super- 
 natural and the Mathematics. And those are opera- 
 tions which it considers and does in its own proper 
 act which are called rational, such as are the arts of 
 speech. And those are operations which it considers 
 and does in material beyond itself, such as are the 
 Mechanical Arts. And all these operations, although 
 the considering them is subject to our will, they in 
 their essential form are not subject to our will ; for 
 although we might will that heavy things should 
 mount upwards naturally, they would not be able 
 to ascend ; and although we might will that the 
 syllogism with false premisses should conclude with 
 demonstration of the Truth, it could not so conclude ; 
 and although we might will that the house should 
 stand as firmly when leaning forward as when upright, 
 it could not be ; since of those operations we are 
 not properly the factors, we are their discoverers ; 
 Another ordained them and made them, the great 
 Maker, who alone can Will and Do All God. 
 
 There also are operations which our Reason con- 
 siders and which lie in the act of the Will, such as 
 to offend and to rejoice ; such as to stand firm in 
 the battle and to fly from it ; such as to be chaste 
 and to be lewd ; these are entirely subject to our 
 will, and therefore we are called from them good 
 and evil, because such acts are entirely our own ; 
 for so far as our will can obtain power, so far do our 
 operations extend. And since in all these voluntary 
 operations there is some equity to preserve and some 
 iniquity to shun which equity may be lost through 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 197 
 
 two causes, either through not knowing what it is, 
 or through not wishing to follow it the written 
 Reason, the Law, was invented, both to point it out 
 to us and to command its observance. Wherefore 
 Augustine says : " If men could know this, that is, 
 Equity, and knowing it would obey it, the written 
 Reason, the Law, would not be needful/' And there- 
 fore it is written in the beginning of the old Digests 
 or Books of the Civil Law : " The written Reason 
 is the Art of Goodness and of Equity." To write 
 this, to show forth and to enforce this, is the business 
 of that Official Post of which one speaks, that of the 
 Emperor, to whom, as has been said, in so far as 
 our own operations extend, we are subject, and no 
 farther. For this reason in each Art and in each 
 trade the artificers and the scholars are and ought 
 to be subject to the chief and to the master of their 
 trades and Art : beyond their callings the subjection 
 ceases, because the superiority ceases. So that it is 
 possible to speak of the Emperor in this manner, if 
 we will represent his office figuratively, and say that 
 he may be the rider of the Human Will, of which 
 horse how it goes without its rider through the field 
 is evident enough, and especially in miserable Italy, 
 left without any means for its right government. 
 And it is to be considered that in proportion as a 
 thing is more fit for the Master's art, so much the 
 greater is the subjection ; for the cause being multi- 
 plied, so is the effect multiplied. Wherefore it is to 
 be known that there are things which are such pure 
 or simple Arts that Nature is their instrument ; 
 even as rowing with an oar, where the Art makes its 
 instrument by impulsion, which is a natural move- 
 ment ; as in the threshing of the corn, where the Art 
 makes its instrument, which is a natural quality. 
 
198 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 And in this especially a man ought to be subject to 
 the chief and master of the Art. And there are 
 things in which Art is the instrument of Nature, and 
 these are lesser Arts ; and in these the artificers are 
 less subject to their chief, as in giving the seed to 
 the Earth, where one must await the will of Nature ; 
 as to sail out of the harbour or port, where one must 
 await the natural disposition of the weather ; and 
 therefore we often see in these things contention 
 amongst the artificers, and the greater to ask counsel 
 of the lesser. And there are other things which are 
 not Arts, but appear to have some relationship with 
 them ; and therefore men are often deceived ; and in 
 these the scholars are not subject to a master, neither 
 are they bound to believe in him so far as regards 
 the Art. Thus, to fish seems to have some relation- 
 ship with navigation ; and to know the virtue of the 
 herb or grass seems to have some relationship with 
 agriculture ; for these Arts have no general rule, since 
 fishing may be below the Art of hunting, and beneath 
 its command ; to know the virtue of the herb may 
 be below the science of medicine, or rather below its 
 most noble teaching. 
 
 Those things which have been argued concerning 
 the other Arts in like manner may be seen in the 
 Imperial Art, for there are rules in those Arts which 
 are pure or simple Arts, as are the laws of marriage, 
 of servants, of armies, of successors in offices of 
 dignity ; and in all these we may be entirely subject 
 to the Emperor without doubt and without any 
 suspicion whatever. There are other laws which are 
 the followers of Nature, such as to constitute a man 
 of sufficient age to fill some office in the administra- 
 tion ; and to such a law as this we are entirely 
 subject ; there are many others which appear to have 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 199 
 
 some relationship with the Imperial Art ; and here 
 he was and is deceived who believes that the Im- 
 perial judgment in this part may be authentic, as 
 of youth, whose nature is laid down by no Imperial 
 judgment, as it were, of the Emperor. Render, there- 
 fore, unto God that which is God's. Wherefore it is 
 not to be believed, nor to be allowed, because it was 
 said by Nero the Emperor that youth is beauty and 
 strength of body; but credit would be given to the 
 philosopher who should say that youth is the crown 
 or summit of the natural life. And therefore it is 
 evident that to define Nobility is not the function of 
 the Art Imperial ; and if it is not in the nature of the 
 Art, when we are treating of Nobility we are not 
 subject to it ; and if we are not subject, we are not 
 bound to yield reverence therein ; and this is the 
 conclusion we have sought. 
 
 Now, therefore, with all freedom, with all liberty of 
 mind, it remains to strike to the heart the vicious 
 opinions, thereby causing them to fall to earth, in 
 order that the Truth by means of this my victory 
 may hold the field in the mind of him for whom it 
 is good that this Light should shine clear. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 SINCE the opinions of others concerning Nobility 
 have now been brought forward, and since it has 
 been shown that it is lawful for me to confute those 
 opinions, I shall now proceed to discourse concerning 
 that part of the Song which confutes those opinions, 
 beginning, as has been said above : "Whoever shall 
 define The man a living tree." And therefore it 
 .it to be. known that in the opinion of the Emperor, 
 
200 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 although it states it defectively in one part, that is, 
 where he spoke of "generous ways," he alluded to 
 the manners of the Nobility ; and therefore the Song 
 does not intend to reprove that part : the other 
 part, which is entirely opposed to the nature of 
 Nobility, it does intend to confute, which cites two 
 things when it says: " Descent of wealth," "The 
 wealth has long been great," that is, time and riches, 
 which are entirely apart from Nobility, as has been 
 said, and as will be shown farther on ; and, therefore, 
 in this confutation two divisions are made : in the 
 first we deny the Nobility of riches, then confute the 
 idea that time can cause Nobility. The second part 
 begins : " They will not have the vile Turn noble." 
 
 It is to be known that, riches being reproved, not 
 only is the opinion of the Emperor reproved in that 
 part which alludes to the riches, but also entirely that 
 opinion of the common people, which was founded 
 solely upon riches. The first part is divided into 
 two : in the first it says in a general way that the 
 Emperor was erroneous in his definition of Nobility ; 
 secondly, it shows the reason why or how that is ; 
 and this begins that second part, " For riches make 
 no Nobleman." 
 
 I say, then, " Whoever shall define The man a living 
 tree," that, firstly, he will speak untruth, inasmuch 
 as he says " tree," and " less than truth," inasmuch 
 as he says " living," and does not say rational, which 
 is the difference whereby Man is distinguished from 
 the Beast. Then I say that in this way he was 
 erroneous in his definition, he who held Imperial 
 Office, not saying Emperor, but "one raised to 
 Empire," to indicate, as has been said above, that 
 this question is beyond the bounds of the Imperial 
 Office. In like manner I say that he errs who 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 201 
 
 places a false subject under Nobility, that is, "descent 
 of wealth," and then proceeds to a defective form, or 
 rather difference, that is, " generous ways," which do 
 not contain any essential part of Nobility, but only a 
 small part, as will appear below. And it is not to be 
 omitted, although the text may be silent, that my 
 Lord the Emperor in this part did not err in the 
 parts of the definition, but only in the mode of the 
 definition, although, according to what fame reports of 
 him, he was a logician and a great scholar ; that is / 
 to say, the definition of Nobility can be made more 
 sufficiently by the effects than by the principles or 
 premisses, since it appears to have the place of a first 
 principle or premiss, which it is not possible to notify 
 by first things, but by subsequent things. Then, 
 when I say, " For riches make not worth," I show 
 how they cannot possibly be the cause of Nobility, 
 because they are vile. And I prove that they have 
 not the power to take it away, because they are dis- 
 joined so much from Nobility. And I prove these 
 to be vile by an especial and most evident defect ; 
 and I do this when I say, " How vile and incom- 
 plete." Finally, I conclude, by virtue of that which 
 is said above : 
 
 And hence the upright mind, 
 
 To its own purpose true, 
 Stands firm although the flood of wealth 
 
 Sweep onward out of view ; 
 
 which proves that which is said above, that those 
 riches are disunited from Nobility by not following 
 the effect of union with it. Where it is to be known 
 that, as the Philosopher expresses it, all the things 
 which make anything must first exist perfectly within 
 the being of the thing out of which that other thing 
 
202 THE BANQUET OF DANTE AL1GHIERI. 
 
 is made. Wherefore he says in the seventh chapter 
 of the Metaphysics : " When one thing is generated 
 from another, it is generated of that thing by being 
 in that Being." 
 
 Again, it is to be known that each thing which 
 becomes corrupt is thus corrupted by some change 
 or alteration, and each thing which is changed or 
 altered must be conjoined with the cause of the 
 change, even as the Philosopher expresses it in the 
 seventh chapter of the book on Physics and in the 
 first chapter on Generation. These things being 
 propounded, I proceed thus, and I say that riches, 
 as another man believed, cannot possibly bestow 
 Nobility, and to prove how great is the difference 
 between them I say that they are unable to take 
 Nobility away from him who possesses it. To 
 bestow it they have not the power, since by nature 
 they are vile, and because of their vileness they are 
 opposed to Nobility. And here by vileness one 
 means baseness, through degeneracy, which is directly 
 opposite to Nobility : for the one opposite thing 
 cannot be the maker of the other, neither is it 
 possible to be, for the reason given above, which is 
 briefly added to the text, saying, " No painter gives 
 a form That is not of his knowing." Wherefore 
 no painter would be able to depict any figure or 
 form if he could not first design what such figure or 
 form ought to be. 
 
 Again, riches cannot take it away, because they 
 are so far from Nobility ; and, for the reason pre- 
 viously narrated, that which alters or corrupts any- 
 thing must be conjoined with that thing, and there- 
 fore it is subjoined : " No tower leans above a 
 stream That far away is flowing," which means 
 nothing more than to accord with that which has 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 203 
 
 been previously said, that riches cannot take Nobility 
 away, saying that Nobility is, as it were, an upright 
 tower and riches a river flowing swiftly in the 
 distance. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 IT now remains only to prove how vile riches are. 
 and how disjoined and far apart they are from 
 Nobility ; and this is proved in two little parts of 
 the text, to which at present it is requisite to pay 
 attention, and then, those being explained, what I 
 have said will be evident, namely, that riches are 
 vile and far apart from Nobility, and hereby the 
 reasons stated above against riches will be perfectly 
 proved. 
 
 I say then, " How vile and incomplete Wealth 
 is," and to make evident what I intend to say it is 
 to be known that the vileness or baseness of each 
 thing is derived from the imperfection of that thing, 
 and Nobility from its perfection : wherefore in pro- 
 portion as a thing is perfect, it is noble in its nature ; 
 in proportion as it is imperfect, it is vile. And 
 therefore, if riches are imperfect, it is evident that 
 they are vile or base. And that they are imperfect, 
 the text briefly proves when it says : " However 
 great the heap may be, It brings no peace, but 
 care ; " in which it is evident, not only that they are 
 imperfect, but most imperfect, and therefore they 
 are most vile ; and Lucan bears witness to this 
 when he says, speaking of those same riches : " With- 
 out strife or contention or opposition, the Laws 
 would perish, and you, Riches, the basest part of 
 
204 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 things, you move or are the cause of Battles." It is 
 possible briefly to see their imperfection in three 
 things quite clearly: firstly, in the indiscriminate 
 manner in which they fall to a person's lot ; secondly, 
 in their dangerous increase ; thirdly, in their hurtful 
 possession. 
 
 And, firstly, that which I demonstrate concerning 
 this is to clear up a doubt which seems to arise, 
 for, since gold, pearls, and lands, may have in their 
 essential being perfect form and act, it does not seem 
 true to say that they are imperfect. And therefore 
 one must distinguish that inasmuch as by themselves, 
 of them it is considered, they are perfect things, and 
 they are not riches, but gold and pearls ; but inas- 
 much as they are appointed to the possession of man 
 they are riches, and in this way they are full of im- 
 perfection ; which is not an unbecoming or impos- 
 sible thing, considered from different points of 
 view, to be perfect and imperfect. I say that their 
 imperfection firstly may be observed in the indis- 
 cretion, or unwisdom, or folly, of their arrival, in 
 which no distributive Justice shines forth, but com- 
 plete iniquity almost always ; which iniquity is the 
 proper effect of imperfection. For if the methods 
 or ways by which they come are considered, all may 
 be gathered together in three methods, or kinds of 
 ways : for, either they come by simple chance, as 
 when without intention or hope they come upon some 
 discovery not thought of; or they come by fortune 
 which is aided by law or right, as by will, or 
 testament, or succession ; or they come by fortune, 
 the helper of the Law, as by lawful or unlaw- 
 ful provision ; lawful, I say, when by art, or skill, 
 or by trade, or deserved kindness ; unlawful, I say, 
 when either by theft or rapine. And in each one of 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 205 
 
 these three ways, one sees that inequitable character 
 of which I speak, for more often to the wicked than 
 to the good the hidden treasures which are dis- 
 covered present themselves ; and this is so evident, 
 that it has no need of proof. I saw the place in the 
 side of a hill, or mountain, in Tuscany, which is called 
 Falterona, where the most vile peasant of all the 
 country, whilst digging, found more than a bushel 
 of the finest Santelena silver, which had awaited 
 him perhaps for more than a thousand years. 
 And in order to see this iniquity, Aristotle 
 said that in proportion as the Man is subject 
 to the Intellect, so much the less is he the 
 slave of Fortune. And I say that oftener to the 
 wicked than to the good befall legal inheritance 
 and property by succession ; and concerning this I 
 do not wish to bring forward any proof, but let each 
 one turn his eyes round his own immediate neigh- 
 bourhood, and he will see that concerning which I 
 am silent that I may not offend or bring shame to 
 some one. Would to God that might be which was 
 demanded by the Man of Provence, namely, that 
 the man who is not the heir of goodness should lose 
 the inheritance of wealth. And I say that many 
 times to the wicked more than to the good comes 
 rich provision, for the unlawful never comes to the 
 good, because they refuse it ; and what good man 
 ever would endeavour to enrich himself by force or 
 fraud ? That would be impossible, for by the mere 
 choice of the enterprise he would no more be good. 
 And the lawful gains of wealth but rarely fall to the 
 lot of the good, because, since much anxiety or 
 anxious care is required therein, and the solicitude of 
 the good is directed to greater things, the good man 
 is rarely solicitous enough to seek them. Wherefore 
 
206 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 it is evident that in each way these riches fall 
 unjustly or inequitably ; and therefore our Lord 
 called them wicked or unrighteous when He said, 
 " Make to yourselves friends of the Mammon of 
 unrighteousness," inviting and encouraging men to be 
 liberal with good gifts, which are the begetters of 
 friends. And what a beautiful exchange he makes 
 who gives freely of these most imperfect things in 
 order to have and to acquire perfect things, such as 
 are the hearts of good and worthy men ! This 
 exchange it is possible to make every day. Cer- 
 tainly this is a new commerce, different from the 
 others, which, thinking to win one man by generosity, 
 has won thereby thousands and thousands. Who lives 
 not again in the heart of Alexander because of his 
 royal beneficence ? Who lives not again in the good 
 King of Castile, or Saladin, or the good Marquis of 
 Monferrat, or the good Count of Toulouse, or Bel- 
 tramo dal Bornio, or Galasso da Montefeltro, when 
 mention is made of their noble acts of courtesy and 
 liberality ? Certainly not only those who would do 
 the same willingly, had they the power, but those even 
 who would die before they would do it, bear love to 
 the memory of these good men. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 As has been said, it is possible to see the imperfec- 
 tion of riches not only in their indiscriminate advent, 
 but also in their dangerous increase ; and that in 
 this we may perceive their defect more clearly, the 
 text makes mention of it, saying of those riches, 
 " However great the heap may be It brings no 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 207 
 
 peace, but care ; " they create more thirst and render 
 increase more defective and insufficient. And here it 
 is requisite to know that defective things may fail in 
 such a way that on the surface they appear complete, 
 but, under pretext of perfection, the shortcoming is 
 concealed. But they may have those defects so 
 entirely revealed that the imperfection is seen openly 
 on the surface. And those things which do not 
 reveal their defects in the first place are the most 
 dangerous, since very often it is not possible to be 
 on guard against them ; even as we see in the 
 traitor who, before our face, shows himself friendly, 
 so that he causes us to have faith in him, and 
 under pretext of friendship, hides the defect of 
 his hostility. And in this way riches, in their in- 
 crease, are dangerously imperfect, for, submitting to 
 our eyes this that they promise, they bring just the 
 contrary. The treacherous gains always promise 
 that, if collected up to a certain amount, they will 
 make the collector full of every satisfaction ; and 
 with this promise they lead the Human Will into 
 the vice of Avarice. And, for this reason, Boethius 
 calls them, in his book of Consolations, dangerous, 
 saying, " Oh, alas ! who was that first man who dug 
 up the precious stones that wished to hide them- 
 selves, and who dug out the loads of gold once 
 covered by the hills, dangerous treasures ? " 
 
 The treacherous ones promise, if we will but look, 
 to remove every want, to quench all thirst, to bring 
 satisfaction and sufficiency ; and this they do to 
 every man in the beginning, confirming promise to 
 a certain point in their increase, and then, as soon 
 as their pile rises, in place of contentment and re- 
 freshment they bring on an intolerable fever-thirst ; 
 and beyond sufficiency, they extend their limit, 
 
208 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 create a desire to amass more, and, with this, fear 
 and anxiety far in excess of the new gain. 
 
 Then, truly, they bring no peace, but more care, 
 more trouble, than a man had in the first place when 
 he was without them. And therefore Tullius says, 
 in that book on Paradoxes, when execrating riches : 
 " I at no time firmly believed the money of those 
 men, or magnificent mansions, or riches, or lord- 
 ships, or voluptuous joys, with which especially they 
 are shackled, to be amongst things good or desirable, 
 since I saw certain men in the abundance of them 
 especially desire those wherein they abounded ; 
 because at no time is the thirst of cupidity quenched ; 
 not only are they tormented by the desire for the 
 increase of those things which they possess, but also 
 they have torment in the fear of losing them." 
 And all these are the words of Tullius, and even 
 thus they stand in that book which has been men- 
 tioned. 
 
 And, as a stronger witness to this imperfection, 
 hear Boethius, speaking in his book of Consolation : 
 " If the Goddess of Riches were to expand and mul- 
 tiply riches till they were as numerous as the sands 
 thrown up by the sea when tost by the tempest, or 
 countless as the stars that shine, still Man would 
 weep." 
 
 And because still further testimony is needful to 
 reduce this to a proof, note how much Solomon and 
 his father David exclaim against them, how much 
 against them is Seneca, especially when writing to 
 Lucilius, how much Horace, how much Juvenal, and, 
 briefly, how much every writer, every poet, and how 
 much Divine Scripture. All Truthful cries aloud 
 against these false enticers to sin, full of all defect. 
 Call to mind also, in aid of faith, what your own 
 
 ' 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 209 
 
 eyes have seen, what is the life of those men who 
 follow after riches, how far they live securely when 
 they have piled them up, what their contentment is, 
 how peacefully they rest. 
 
 What else daily endangers and destroys cities, 
 countries, individual persons, so much as the fresh 
 heaping up of wealth in the possession of some man ? 
 His accumulation wakens new desires, to the fulfil- 
 ment of which it is not possible to attain without 
 injury to some one. 
 
 And what else does the Law, both Canonical and 
 Civil, intend to rectify except cupidity or avarice, 
 which grows with its heaps of riches, and which 
 the Law seeks to resist or prevent. Truly, the 
 Canonical and the Civil Law make it sufficiently 
 clear, if the first sections of their written word are 
 read. How evident it is, nay, I say it is most 
 evident, that these riches are, in their increase, 
 entirely imperfect ; when, being amassed, naught else 
 but imperfection can possibly spring forth from them. 
 And this is what the text says. 
 
 But here arises a doubtful question, which is not to 
 be passed over without being put and answered. 
 Some calumniator of the Truth might be able to 
 say that if, by increasing desire in their acquisition, 
 riches are imperfect and therefore vile, for this 
 reason science or knowledge is imperfect and vile, 
 in the acquisition of which the desire steadily in- 
 creases, wherefore Seneca says, " If I should have 
 one foot in the grave, I should still wish to learn." 
 
 But it is not true that knowledge is vile through 
 imperfection. By distinction of the consequences, 
 increase of desire is not in knowledge the cause of 
 vileness. That it is perfect is evident, for the 
 Philosopher, in the sixth book of the Ethics, says 
 
210 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 that science or knowledge is the perfect reason of 
 certain things. To this question one has to reply 
 briefly ; but in the first place it is to be seen whether 
 in the acquisition of Knowledge the desire for it is 
 enlarged in the way suggested by the question, and 
 whether the argument be rational. Wherefore I say 
 that not only in the acquisition of knowledge and 
 riches, but in each and every acquisition, human 
 desire expands, although in different ways ; and the 
 reason is this : that the supreme desire of each thing 
 bestowed by Nature in the first place is to return to 
 its first source. And since God is the First Cause 
 of our Souls, an'd the Maker of them after His Own 
 Image, as it is written, " Let us make Man in Our 
 Image, after Our likeness," the Soul especially desires 
 to return to that First Cause. As a pilgrim, who 
 goes along a path where he never journeyed before, 
 may believe every house that he sees in the distance 
 to be his inn, and, not finding it to be so, may direct 
 his belief to the next, and so travel on from house to 
 house until he reach the inn, even so our Soul, as 
 soon as it enters the untrodden path of this life, 
 directs its eyes to its supreme good, the sum of its 
 day's travel to good ; and therefore whatever thing 
 it sees which seems to have in itself some goodness, 
 it thinks to be the supreme good. And because its 
 knowledge at first is imperfect, owing to want of ex- 
 perience and want of instruction, good things that 
 are but little appear great to it ; and therefore in 
 the first place it begins to desire those. So we see 
 little children desire above all things an apple ; and 
 then, growing older, they desire a little bird ; and 
 then, being older, desire a beautiful garment ; and 
 then a horse, and then a wife, and then moderate 
 wealth, and then greater wealth, and then still 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 211 
 
 more. And this happens because in none of these 
 things that is found for which search is made, and 
 as we live on we seek further. Wherefore it is 
 possible to see that one desirable thing stands under 
 the other in the eyes of our Soul in a way almost 
 pyramidal, for the least first covers the whole, and is 
 as it were the point of the desirable good, which is 
 God, at the basis of all ; so that the farther it 
 proceeds from the point towards the basis, so much 
 the greater do the desirable good things appear ; 
 and this is the reason why, by acquisition, human 
 desires become broader the one after the other. 
 
 But, thus this pathway is lost through error, even 
 as in the roads of the earth ; for as from one city to 
 another there is of necessity an excellent direct road, 
 and often another which branches from that, the 
 branch road goes into another part, and of many 
 others some do not go all the way, and some go 
 farther round ; so in Human Life there are different 
 roads, of which one is the truest, and another the 
 most misleading, and some are less right, and some less 
 wrong. And as we see that the str.aightest road to 
 the city satisfies desire and gives rest after toil, and 
 that which goes in the opposite direction never 
 satisfies and never can give rest, so it happens in 
 our Life. The man who follows the right path 
 attains his end, and gains his rest. The man who 
 follows the wrong path never attains it, but with 
 much fatigue of mind and greedy eyes looks always 
 before him. 
 
 Wherefore, although this argument does not en- 
 tirely reply to the question asked above, at least it 
 opens the way to the reply, which causes us to see 
 that each desire of ours does not proceed in its ex- 
 pansion in one way alone. But because this chapter 
 
212 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGH1ERI. 
 
 is somewhat prolonged, we will reply in a new 
 chapter to the question, wherein may be ended the 
 whole disputation which it is our intention to make 
 against riches. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IN reply to the question, I say that it is not pos- 
 sible to affirm properly that the desire for know- 
 ledge does increase, although, as has been said, it 
 does expand in a certain way. For that which 
 properly increases is always one ; the desire for 
 knowledge is not always one, but is many ; and one 
 desire fulfilled, another comes ; so that, properly 
 speaking, its expansion is not its increase, but it is 
 advance of a succession of smaller things into great 
 things. For if I desire to know the principles of 
 natural things, as soon as I know these, that desire 
 is satisfied and there is an end of it. If I then 
 desire to know the why and the wherefore of each 
 one of these principles, this is a new desire alto- 
 gether. Nor by the advent of that new desire am I 
 deprived of the perfection to which the other might 
 lead me. Such an expansion as that is not the 
 cause of imperfection, but of new perfection. That 
 expansion of riches, however, is properly increased 
 which is always one, so that no succession is seen 
 therein, and therefore no end and no perfection. 
 
 And if the adversary would say, that if the desire 
 to know the first principles of natural things is one 
 thing, and the desire to know what they are is 
 another, so is the desire for a hundred marks one 
 thing, and the desire for a thousand marks is another, 
 I reply that it is not true ; for the hundred is part 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 213 
 
 of the thousand and is related to it, as part of a line 
 to the whole of the line along which one proceeds 
 by one impulse alone ; and there is no succession 
 there, nor completion of motion in any part. But 
 to know what the principles of natural things are is 
 not the same as to know what each one of them is ; 
 the one is not part of the other, and they are related 
 to each other as diverging lines along which one 
 does not proceed by one impulse, but the completed 
 movement of the one succeeds the completed move- 
 ment of the other. And thus it appears that, because 
 of the desire for knowledge, knowledge is not to be 
 called imperfect in the same way as riches are to be 
 called imperfect, on account of the desire for them, 
 as the question put it ; for in the desire for know- 
 ledge the desires terminate successively with the 
 attainment of their aims ; and in the desire for riches, 
 NO ; so that the question is solved. 
 
 Again, the adversary may calumniate, saying that, 
 although many desires are fulfilled in the acquisition 
 of knowledge, the last is never attained, which is the 
 imperfection of that one desire, which does not gain 
 its end ; and that will be both one and imperfect. 
 
 Again one here replies that it is not a truth which 
 is brought forward in opposition, that is, that the 
 last desire is never attained ; for our natural desires, 
 as is proved in the third treatise of this book, are all 
 tending to a certain end ; and the desire for know- 
 ledge is natural, so that this desire compasses a 
 certain end, although but few, since they walk in 
 the" wrong path, accomplish the day's journey. And 
 he who understands the Commentator in the third 
 chapter, On the Soul, learns this of him ; and there- 
 fore Aristotle says, in the tenth chapter of the Ethics, 
 against Simonides the Poet, that man ought to draw 
 
214 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 near to Divine things as much as is possible ; wherein 
 he shows that our power tends towards a certain end. 
 And in the first book of the Ethics he says that the 
 disciplined Mind demands certainty in its knowledge 
 of things in proportion as their nature received 
 certainty, in which he proves that not only on the 
 side of the man desiring knowledge, but on the side 
 of the desired object of knowledge, attention ought 
 to be given ; and therefore St. Paul says : " Not 
 much knowledge, but right knowledge in modera- 
 tion." So that in whatever way the desire for 
 knowledge is considered, either generally or particu- 
 larly, it comes to perfection. 
 
 And since knowledge is a noble perfection, and 
 through the desire for it its perfection is not lost, 
 as is the case with the accursed riches, we must 
 note briefly how injurious they are when possessed, 
 and this is the third notice of their imperfection. 
 It is possible to see that the possession of them is 
 injurious for two reasons : one, that it is the cause 
 of evil ; the other, that it is the privation of good. 
 It is the cause of evil, which makes the timid pos- 
 sessor wakeful, watchful, and suspicious or hateful. 
 
 How great is the fear of that man who knows he 
 carries wealth about him, when walking abroad, 
 when dwelling at home, when not only wakeful or 
 watching, but when sleeping, not only the fear that 
 he may lose his property, but fear for his life because 
 he possesses these riches ! Well do the miserable 
 merchants know, who travel through the World, that 
 the leaves which the wind stirs on the trees cause 
 them to tremble when they are bearing their wealth 
 with them ; and when they are without it, full of 
 confidence they go singing and talking, and thus 
 make their journey shorter ! Therefore the Wise 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 215 
 
 Man says : " If the traveller enters on his road 
 empty, he can sing in the presence of thieves." 
 And this Lucan desires to express in the fifth book, 
 when he praises the safety of poverty : " O, the 
 safe and secure liberty of the poor Life ! O, narrow 
 dwelling-places and thrift ! O, not again deem 
 riches to be of the Gods ! In what temples and 
 within what palace walls could this be, that is to 
 have no fear, in some tumult or other, of striking the 
 hand of Caesar ? " 
 
 And Lucan says this when he depicts how Caesar 
 came by night to the little house of the fisher 
 Amyclas to cross the Adriatic Sea. And how 
 great is the hatred that each man bears to the 
 possessor of riches, either through envy, or from 
 the desire to take possession of his wealth ! So 
 true it is, that often and often, contrary to due filial 
 piety, the son meditates the death of the father ; 
 and most great and most evident experience of this 
 the Italians can have, both on the banks of the 
 Po and on the banks of the Tiber. And therefore 
 Boethius in the second chapter of his Consolations 
 says : " Certainly Avarice makes men hateful." 
 
 Nay, their possession is privation of good, for, 
 possessing those riches, a man does not give freely 
 with generosity, which is a virtue, which is a per- 
 fect good, and which makes men magnificent and 
 beloved ; which does not lie in possession of those 
 riches, but in ceasing to possess them. Wherefore 
 Boethius in the same book says : " Then money is 
 good when, bartered for other things, by the use of 
 generosity one no longer possesses it." Wherefore 
 the baseness of riches is sufficiently proved by all 
 these remarks of his ; and therefore the man with an 
 upright desire and true knowledge never loves them ; 
 
216 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 and, not loving them, he does not unite himself to 
 them, but always desires them to be far from himself, 
 except inasmuch as they are appointed to some 
 necessary service ; and it is a reasonable thing, since 
 the perfect cannot be united with the imperfect. So 
 we see that the curved line never joins the straight 
 line, and if there be any conjunction, it is not of line 
 to line, but of point to point. And thus it follows 
 that the Mind which is upright in desire, and truth- 
 ful in knowledge, is not disheartened at the loss of 
 wealth : as the text asserts at the end of that part. 
 And by this the text intends to prove that riches 
 are as a river flowing in the distance past the upright 
 tower of Reason, or rather of Nobility ; and that 
 these riches cannot take Nobility away from him 
 who has it. And in this manner in the present 
 Song it is argued against riches. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 HAVING confuted the error of other men in that part 
 wherein it was advanced in support of riches, it 
 remains now to confute it in that part where Time 
 is said to be a cause of Nobility, saying, " Descent of 
 wealth ; " and this reproof or confutation is made in 
 that part which begins : " They will not have the 
 vile Turn noble." And in the first place one confutes 
 this by means of an argument taken from those men 
 themselves who err in this way ; then, to their greater 
 confusion, this their argument is also destroyed ; and 
 it does this when it says, " It follows then from this." 
 Finally it concludes, their error being evident, and it 
 being therefore time to attend to the Truth : and it 
 does this when it says, " Sound intellct reproves." 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 217 
 
 I say, then, "They will not have the vile Turn 
 noble." Where it is to be known that the opinion 
 of these erroneous persons is, that a man who is a 
 peasant in the first place can never possibly be 
 called a Nobleman ; and the man who is the son of 
 a peasant in like manner can never be Noble ; and 
 this breaks or destroys their own argument when 
 they say that Time is requisite to Nobility, adding 
 that word "descent." For it is impossible by pro- 
 cess of Time to come to the generation of Nobility 
 in this way of theirs, which declares it to be impos- 
 sible for the humble peasant to become Noble by 
 any work that he may do, or through any accident ; 
 and declares the mutation of a peasant father into a 
 Noble son to be impossible. For if the son of the 
 peasant is also a peasant, and his son again is also a 
 peasant, and so always, it will never be possible to 
 discover the place where Nobility can begin to be 
 established by process of Time. 
 
 And if the adversary, wishing to defend himself, 
 should say that Nobility will begin at that period of 
 Time when the low estate of the ancestors will be 
 forgotten, I reply that this goes against themselves, 
 for even of necessity there will be a transmutation of 
 peasant into Noble, from one man into another, or 
 from father to son, which is against that which they 
 propound. 
 
 And if the adversary should defend himself per- 
 tinaciously, saying that indeed they do desire that 
 it should be possible for this transmutation to take 
 place when the low estate of the ancestors passes 
 into oblivion, although the text takes no notice of 
 this, it is right that the Commentary should reply 
 to it. And therefore I reply thus : that from this 
 which they say there follow four very great diffi- 
 
*2i8 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 culties, so that it cannot possibly be a good 
 argument. One is, that in proportion as Human 
 Nature might become better, the slower would be the 
 generation of Nobility, which is a very great incon- 
 venience ; since in proportion as a thing is honoured 
 for its excellence, so much the more is it the cause 
 of goodness ; and Nobility is reckoned amongst the 
 good. What this means is shown thus : If Nobi- 
 lity, which I understand as a good thing, should be 
 generated by oblivion, Nobility would be generated 
 in proportion to the speediness with which men 
 might be forgotten, for so much the sooner would 
 oblivion descend upon all. Hence, in proportion as 
 men might be forgotten, so much the sooner would 
 they be Noble ; and, on the contrary, in proportion 
 to the length of time during which they were held in 
 remembrance, so much the longer it would be before 
 they could be ennobled. 
 
 The second difficulty is, that in nothing apart 
 from men would it be possible to make this distinc- 
 tion, that is to say, Noble or Vile, which is very 
 inconvenient ; since, in each species of things we see 
 the image of Nobility or of Baseness, wherefore we 
 often call one horse noble and one vile ; and one 
 falcon noble and one vile ; and one pearl noble and 
 one vile. And that it would not be possible to make 
 this distinction is thus proved ; if the oblivion of the 
 humble ancestors is the cause of Nobility, or rather 
 the baseness of the ancestors never was, it is not 
 possible for oblivion of them to be, since oblivion is 
 a destruction of remembrance, and in those other 
 animals, and in plants, and in minerals, lowness and 
 loftiness are not observed, since in one they are 
 natural or innate and in an equal state, and Nobility 
 cannot possibly be in their generation, and likewise 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 
 
 ' i 
 neither can vileness nor baseness ; since one regards 
 
 the one and the other as habit and privation, which 
 are possible to occur in the same subject ; and there- 
 fore in them it would not be possible for a distinction 
 to exist between the one and the other. 
 
 And if the adversary should wish to say, that in 
 other things Nobility is represented by the goodness 
 of the thing, but in a man it is understood because 
 there is no remembrance of his humble or base 
 condition, one would wish to reply not with words, 
 but with the sword, to such bestiality as it would be 
 to give to other things goodness as a cause for 
 Nobility, and to found the Nobility of men upon 
 forgetfulness or oblivion as a first cause. 
 
 The third difficulty is, that often the person or 
 thing generated would come before the generator, 
 which is quite impossible ; and it is possible to prove 
 this thus : Let us suppose that Gherardo da Cammino 
 might have been the grandson of the most vile 
 peasant who ever drank of the Sile or of the 
 Cagnano, and that oblivion had not yet overtaken 
 his grandfather ; who will be bold enough to say that 
 Gherardo da Cammino was a vile man ? and who will 
 not agree with me in saying that he was Noble ? 
 Certainly no one, however presumptuous he may 
 wish to be, for he was so, and his memory will 
 always be treasured. If oblivion had not yet over- 
 taken his ancestor, as is proposed in opposition, so 
 that he might be great through Nobility, and the 
 Nobility in him might be seen so clearly, even as 
 one does see it, then it would have been first in him 
 before the founder of his Nobility could have existed ; 
 and this is impossible in the extreme. 
 
 The fourth difficulty is, that such a man, the sup- 
 posed grandfather, would have been held Noble after 
 
220 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 he was dead who was not Noble whilst alive ; and a 
 more inconvenient thing could not be. One proves 
 it thus : Let us suppose that in the age of Dardanus 
 there might be a remembrance of his low ancestors, 
 and let us suppose that in the age of Laomedon this 
 memory might have passed away, and that oblivion 
 had overtaken it. According to the adverse opinion, 
 Laomedon was Noble and Dardanus was vile, each in 
 his lifetime. We, to whom the remembrance of the 
 ancestors of Dardanus has not come, shall we say 
 that Dardanus living was vile, and dead a Noble ? 
 And is not this contrary to the legend which says 
 that Dardanus was the son of Jupiter (for such is the 
 fable, which one ought not to regard whilst disputing 
 philosophically) ; and yet if the adversary might wish 
 to find support in the fable, certainly that which the 
 fable veils destroys his arguments. And thus it is 
 proved that the argument, which asserted that oblivion 
 is the cause of Nobility, is false. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 SINCE, by their own argument, the Song has confuted 
 them, and proved that Time is not requisite to 
 Nobility, it proceeds immediately to confound their 
 premisses, since of their false arguments no rust 
 remains in the mind which is disposed towards 
 Truth ; and this it does when it says, " It follows 
 then from this." Where it is to be known that if 
 it is not possible for a peasant to become a Noble, or 
 for a Noble son to be born of a humble father, as is 
 advanced in their opinion, of two difficulties one 
 must follow. 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 221 
 
 The first is, that there can be no Nobility ; the 
 other is, that the World may have been always full 
 of men, so that from one alone the Human Race can- 
 not be descended ; and this it is possible to prove. 
 
 If Nobility is not generated afresh, and it has 
 been stated many times that such is the basis of 
 their opinion, the peasant man not being able to 
 beget it in himself, or the humble father to pass it 
 on to his son, the man always is the same as he was 
 born ; and such as the father was born, so is the 
 son born ; and so this process from one condition 
 onwards is reached even by the first parent ; for such 
 as was the first father, that is, Adam, so must the 
 whole Human Race be, because from him to the 
 modern nations it will not be possible to find, 
 according to that argument, any change whatever. 
 Then, if Adam himself was Noble, we are all Noble ; 
 if he was vile, we are all vile or base ; which is no 
 other than to remove the distinction between these 
 conditions, and thus it is to remove the conditions. 
 
 And the Song states this, which follows from 
 what is advanced, saying, "That all are high or 
 base." And if this is not so, then any nation is to 
 be called Noble, and any is to be called vile, of ne- 
 cessity. Transmutation from vileness into Nobility 
 being thus taken away, the Human Race must be 
 descended from different ancestors, that is, some 
 from Nobles and some from vile persons, and so the 
 Song says, "Or that in Time there never was 
 Beginning to our race," that is to say, one beginning ; 
 it does not say beginnings. And this is most false 
 according to the Philosopher, according to our Faith, 
 which cannot lie, according to the Law and ancient 
 belief of the Gentiles. For although the Philosopher 
 does not assert the succession from one first man, 
 
222 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 yet he would have one essential being to be in all 
 men, which cannot possibly have different origius. 
 And Plato would have that all men depend upon 
 one idea alone, and not on more or many, which is 
 to give them only one beginning. And undoubtedly 
 Aristotle would laugh very loudly if he heard of 
 two species to be made out of the Human Race, as 
 of horses and asses ; and (may Aristotle forgive me) 
 one might call those men asses who think in this 
 way. For according to our Faith (which is to be 
 preserved in its entirety) it is most false, as Solomon 
 makes evident where he draws a distinction between 
 men and the brute animals, for he calls men "all 
 the sons of Adam," and this he does when he says : 
 'Who knows if the spirits of the sons of Adam 
 mount upwards, and if those of the beasts go down- 
 wards ? " And that it is false according to the 
 Gentiles, let the testimony of Ovid in the first 
 chapter of his Metamorphoses prove, where he treats 
 of the constitution of the World according to the 
 Pagan belief, or rather belief of the Gentiles, saying : 
 " Man is born " he did not say " Men ; " he said, 
 " Man is born," or rather, " that the Artificer of all 
 things made him from Divine seed, or that the new 
 earth, but lately parted from the noble ether, re- 
 tained seeds of the kindred Heaven, which, mingled 
 with the water of the river, formed the son of Japhet 
 into an image of the Gods, who govern all." Where 
 evidently he asserts the first man to have been one 
 alone ; and therefore the Song says, " But that I 
 cannot hold," that is, to the opinion that man had 
 not one beginning ; and the Song subjoins, " Nor yet 
 if Christians they." And it says Christians, not 
 Philosophers, or rather Gentiles, whose opinion also 
 is adverse, because the Christian opinion is of 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 223 
 
 greater force, and is the destroyer of all calumny, 
 thanks to the supreme light of Heaven, which illu- 
 minates it. 
 
 Then when I say, " Sound intellect reproves their 
 words As false, and turns away," I conclude this error 
 to be confuted, and I say that it is time to open the 
 eyes to the Truth ; and this is expressed when I say, 
 "And now I seek to tell, As it appears to me." It 
 is now evident to sound minds that the words of 
 those men are vain, that is, without a crumb or 
 particle of Truth ; and I say sound not without 
 cause. Our intellect may be said to be sound or 
 unsound. And I say intellect for the noble part of 
 our Soul, which it is possible to designate by the 
 common word " Mind." It may be called sound or 
 healthy, when it is not obstructed in its action by 
 sickness of mind or body, which is to know what 
 things are, as Aristotle expresses it in the third 
 chapter on the Soul. 
 
 For, owing to the sickness of the Soul, I have seen 
 three horrible infirmities in the minds of men. 
 
 One is caused by natural vanity, for many men 
 are so presumptuous that they believe they know 
 everything, and, owing to this, they assert things to 
 be facts which are not facts. Tullius especially 
 execrates this vice in the first chapter of the Offices, 
 and St. Thomas in his book against the Gentiles, 
 saying : " There are many men, so presumptuous in 
 their conceit, who believe that they can compass all 
 things with their intellect, deeming all that appears 
 to them to be true, and count as false that which 
 does not appear to them." Hence it arises that 
 they never attain to any knowledge ; believing them- 
 selves to be sufficiently learned, they never inquire, 
 they never listen ; they desire to be inquired of, and 
 
224 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 when a question is put, bad enough is their reply. 
 Of those men Solomon speaks in Proverbs : " Seest 
 thou a man that is hasty in his words ? there is 
 more hope of a fool than of him." 
 
 Another infirmity of mind is caused by natural 
 weakness or smallness, for many men are so vilely 
 obstinate or stubborn that they cannot believe that 
 it is possible either for them or for others to know 
 things ; and such men as these never of themselves 
 seek knowledge, nor ever reason ; for what other men 
 say, they care not at all. And against these men 
 Aristotle speaks in the first book of the Ethics, de- 
 claring those men to be insufficient or unsatisfactory 
 hearers of Moral Philosophy. Those men always 
 live, like beasts, a life of grossness, the despair of all 
 learning. 
 
 The third infirmity of mind is caused by the 
 levity of nature ; for many men are of such light 
 fancy that in all their arguments they go astray, 
 and even when they make a syllogism and have 
 concluded, from that conclusion they fly off into 
 another, and it seems to them most subtle argument. 
 They start not from any true beginning, and truly 
 they see nothing true in their imagination. Of those 
 men the Philosopher says that it is not right to 
 trouble about them, or to have business with them, 
 saying, in the first book of Physics, that against him 
 who denies the first postulate it is not right to 
 dispute. And of such men as these are many idiots, 
 who may not know their ABC, and who would 
 wish to dispute in Geometry, in Astrology, and in 
 the Science of Physics. 
 
 Also through sickness or defect o body, it is 
 possible for the Mind to be unsound or sick ; even 
 as through some primal defect at birth, as with those 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 225 
 
 who are born fools, or through alteration in the 
 brain, as with the madmen. And of this mental 
 infirmity the Law speaks when it says : " In him 
 who makes a Will or Testament, at the time when 
 he makes the Will or Testament, health of mind, not 
 health of body, is required." 
 
 But to those intellects which from sickness of 
 mind or body are not infirm, but are free, diligent, 
 and whole in the light of Truth, I say it must be 
 evident that the opinion of the people, which has 
 been stated above, is vain, that is, without any 
 value whatever, worthless. 
 
 Afterwards the Song subjoins that I thus judge 
 them to be false and vain ; and this it does when it 
 says, " Sound intellect reproves their words As false, 
 and turns away." And afterwards I say that it is 
 time to demonstrate or prove the Truth ; and I say 
 that it is now right to state what kind of thing true 
 Nobility is, and how it is possible to know the 
 man in whom it exists ; and I speak of this where I 
 say: 
 
 And now I seek to tell 
 As it appears to me, 
 
 What is, whence comes, what signs attest 
 A true Nobility. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " THE King shall rejoice in God, and all those shall 
 be praised who swear by him, for closed is the 
 mouth of those who speak wicked things." These 
 words I can here propound in all truth ; because 
 each true King ought especially to love the Truth. 
 Wherefore it is written in the Book of Wisdom, 
 
 H 
 
226 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 " Love the Light of Wisdom, you, who stand before, 
 the people," and the Light of Wisdom is this 
 same Truth. I say, then, every King shall rejoice 
 that the most false and most injurious opinion 
 of the wicked and deceitful men who have up 
 to this time spoken iniquitously of Nobility is 
 confuted. 
 
 It is now requisite to proceed to the discussion 
 of the Truth according to the division made 
 above, in the third chapter of the present treatise. 
 This second part, then, which begins, " I say 
 that from one root Each Virtue firstly springs," 
 intends to describe this Nobility according to the 
 Truth, and this part is divided into two : for 
 in the first the intention is to prove what this 
 Nobility is ; and in the second how it is possible to 
 recognize him in whom it dwells, and this second 
 part begins, " Such virtue shows its good." The first 
 part, again, has two parts ; for in the first certain 
 things are sought for which are needful in order to 
 perceive the definition of Nobility ; in the second, 
 one looks for its definition, and this second part 
 begins, " Where virtue is, there is A Nobleman." 
 
 That we may enter perfectly into the treatise, 
 two things are to be considered in the first place. 
 The one is, what is meant by this word Nobility, 
 taken alone, in its simple meaning ; the other is, in 
 what path it is needful to walk in order to search 
 out the before-named definition. I say, then, that, if 
 we will pay attention to the common use of speech, 
 by this word Nobility is understood the perfection of 
 its own nature in each thing; wherefore it is pre- 
 dicated not only of the man, but also of all things ; 
 for the man calls a stone noble, a plant or tree 
 noble, a horse noble, a falcon noble, whatever is seen 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 
 
 227 
 
 to be perfect in its nature. And therefore Solomon 
 says in Ecclesiastes, " Blessed is the land whose 
 King is Noble;" which is.no other than saying, 
 whose King is perfect according to the perfection of 
 the mind and body ; and he thus makes this evident 
 by that which he says previously, when he writes, 
 " Woe unto the land whose King is a child." For 
 that is not a perfect man, and a man is a child, if not 
 by age, yet by his disordered manners and by the 
 evil or defect of his life, as the Philosopher teaches 
 in the first book of the Ethics. 
 
 There are some foolish people who believe that by 
 this word Noble is meant that which is to be named 
 and known by many men ; and they say that it 
 comes from a verb which stands for to knozv, that is, 
 nosco. But this is most false, for, if this could be, 
 those things which were most named and best 
 known in their species would in their species be the 
 most noble. Thus the obelisk of St. Peter would be 
 the most noble stone in the world ; and Asdente, 
 the shoemaker of Parma, would be more Noble than 
 any one of his fellow-citizens ; and Albuino della 
 Scala would be. more Noble than Guido da Castello 
 di Reggio. Each one of those things is most false, 
 and therefore it is most false that nobile (noble) 
 can come from cognosce, to know. It comes from 
 non vile (not vile) ; wherefore nobile (noble) is as it 
 were non vile (not vile). 
 
 This perfection the Philosopher means in the 
 seventh chapter of Physics, when he says : " Each 
 thing is especially perfect when it touches and joins 
 its own proper or relative virtue ; and then it is 
 especially perfect according to its nature. It is, 
 then, possible to call the circle perfect when it is 
 truly a circle, that is, when it is joined with its own 
 
 H 2 
 
228 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 proper or relative virtue, it is then complete in its 
 nature, and it may then be called a noble circle." 
 This is when there is a point in it which is equally 
 distant from the circumference. That circle which 
 has the figure of an egg loses its virtue and it is not 
 Noble, nor that circle which has the form of an 
 almost full moon, because in that its nature is not 
 perfect. And thus evidently it is possible to see 
 that commonly, or in a general sense, this word 
 Nobility, expresses in all things perfection of their 
 nature, and this is that for which one seeks primarily 
 in order to enter more clearly into the discussion of 
 that part which it is intended to explain. 
 
 Secondly, it remains to be seen how one must 
 proceed in order to find the definition of Human 
 Nobility to which the present argument leads. I 
 say, then, that since in those things which are of one 
 species, as are all men, it is not possible by essential 
 first principles to define their highest perfection, it is 
 necessary to know and to define that by their effects. 
 Therefore one reads in the Gospel of St. Matthew, 
 when Christ speaks, " Beware of false prophets : by 
 their fruits ye shall know them." And in a direct 
 way the definition we seek is to be seen by the 
 fruits, which are the moral and intellectual virtues of 
 which this Nobility is the seed, as in its definition 
 will be fully evident. 
 
 And these are those two things we must see 
 before one can proceed to the others, as is said in 
 the previous part of this chapter. 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 229 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 SINCE those two things which it seemed needful to 
 understand before the text could be proceeded with 
 have been seen and understood, it now remains to 
 proceed with the text and to explain it, and the text 
 then begins : 
 
 I say that from one root 
 
 Each Virtue firstly springs, 
 Virtue, I mean, that Happiness 
 
 To man, by action, brings. 
 
 And I subjoin : 
 
 This, as the Ethics teach, 
 Is habit of right choice ; 
 
 placing the whole definition of the Moral Virtues as 
 it is defined by the Philosopher in the second book 
 of Ethics, in which two things principally are under- 
 stood. One is, that each Virtue comes from one first 
 principle or original cause ; the other is, that by 
 " Each Virtue " I mean the Moral Virtues, and this is 
 evident from the words, "This, as the Ethics teach." 
 
 Hence it is to be known that our most right and 
 proper fruits are the Moral Virtues, since on every side 
 they are in our power ; and these are differently dis- 
 tinguished and enumerated by different philosophers. 
 But it seems to me right to omit the opinion of other 
 men in that part where the divine opinion of Aristotle 
 is stated by word of mouth ; and therefore, wishing 
 to describe what those Moral Virtues are, I will 
 pass on, briefly discoursing of them according to 
 his opinion. 
 
 There are eleven Virtues named by the said Philo- 
 
230 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 sopher. The first is called Courage, which is sword 
 and bridle to moderate our boldness and timidity in 
 things which are the ruin of our life. The second is 
 Temperance, which is the law and bridle of our 
 gluttony and of our undue abstinence in those things 
 requisite for the preservation of our life. The third 
 is Liberality, which is the moderator of our giving 
 and of our receiving things temporal. The fourth is 
 Magnificence, which is the moderator of great expen- 
 ditures, making and supporting those within certain 
 limits. The fifth is Magnanimity, which is the 
 moderator and acquirer of great honours and fame. 
 The sixth is the Love of Honour, which is the 
 moderator and regulator to us of the honours of this 
 World. The seventh is Mildness, which moderates 
 our anger and our excessive or undue patience 
 against our external misfortunes. The eighth is 
 Affability, which makes us live on good terms with 
 other men. The ninth is called Truth, which makes 
 us moderate in boasting ourselves over and above 
 what we are, and in depreciating ourselves below 
 what we are in our speech. The tenth is called 
 Eutrapelia, pleasantness of intercourse, which makes 
 us moderate in joys or pleasures, causing us to use 
 them in due measure. The eleventh is Justice, 
 which teaches us to love and to act with uprightness 
 in all things. 
 
 And each of these Virtues has two collateral 
 enemies, that is to say, vices ; one in excess and one 
 in defect. And these Moral Virtues are the centres 
 or middle stations between them, and those Virtues 
 all spring from one root or principle, that is to say, 
 from the habit of our own good choice. Wherefore, 
 in a general sense, it is possible to say of all, that 
 they are a habit of choice standing firm in due 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 231 
 
 moderation ; and these are those which make a man 
 happy in their active operation, as the Philosopher 
 says in the first book of the Ethics when he defines 
 Happiness, saying that Happiness is virtuous action 
 in a perfect life. 
 
 By many, Prudence, that is, good, judgment or 
 wisdom, is well asserted to be a Moral Virtue. But 
 Aristotle numbers that amongst the Intellectual 
 Virtues, although it is the guide of the moral, and 
 points out the way by which they are formed, and 
 without it they could not be. Verily, it is to be 
 known that we can have in this life two happinesses 
 or felicities by following two different roads, both 
 good and excellent, which lead us to them : the one 
 is the Active Life and the other is the Contemplative 
 Life, w r hich (although by the Active Life one may 
 attain, as has been said, to a good state of Happiness) 
 leads us to supreme Happiness, even as the Philo- 
 sopher proves in the tenth book of the Ethics ; and 
 Christ affirms it with His own Lips in the Gospel of 
 Luke, speaking to Martha, when replying to her: 
 "Martha, Martha, thou art anxious and troubled 
 about many things : verily, one thing alone is need- 
 ful/' meaning, that which thou hast in hand ; and He 
 adds : " Mary has chosen the better part, which shall 
 not be taken away from her." And Mary, according 
 to that which is previously written in the Gospel, 
 sitting at the feet of Christ, showed no care for the 
 service of the house, but listened only to the words 
 of the Saviour. 
 
 For if we will explain this in the moral sense, 
 our Lord wished to show thereby that the Con- 
 templative Life was supremely good, although the 
 Active Life might be good ; this is evident to him 
 who will give his mind to the words of the Gospel. 
 
232 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 It would be possible, however, for any one to say, 
 in argument against me : Since the happiness of 
 the Contemplative Life is more excellent than 
 that of the Active Life, and both may be, and are, 
 the fruit and end of Nobility, why not rather have 
 proceeded in the argument along the line of the 
 Intellectual Virtues than of the Moral ? To this it 
 is possible to reply briefly, that in all instruction it 
 is desirable to have regard to the capability of the 
 learner, and to lead him by that path which is 
 easiest to him. Wherefore, since the Moral Virtues 
 appear to be, and are, more general and more required 
 than the others, and are more seen in outward 
 appearances, it was more convenient and more use- 
 ful to proceed along that path than by the other ; 
 for thus indeed we shall attain to the knowledge of 
 the bees by arguing of profit from the wax, as well 
 as by arguing of profit from the honey, for both the 
 one and the other proceed from them. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 IN the preceding chapter has been determined 
 how each Moral Virtue comes from one root, or 
 first principle, that is, a good habit of choice ; 
 and the present text bears upon that, until the 
 part which begins : " Nobility by right." In this 
 part, then, it proceeds, by a way that is allow- 
 able, to teach that each Virtue mentioned above, 
 taken singly, or otherwise generally, proceeds from 
 Nobility as an effect from its cause, and it is 
 founded upon a philosophical proposition, which 
 says that, when two things are found to meet 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 233 
 
 in one, both these things must be reduced to a 
 third, or one to the other, as an effect to a cause : 
 because one thing having stood first and of itself, it 
 cannot exist except it be from one ; and if those 
 two could not be both the effect of a third, or else 
 one the effect of the other, each would have had a 
 separate first cause, which is impossible. It says, 
 then, that 
 
 Such virtue shows its good 
 
 To others' intellect, 
 For when two things agree in one, 
 
 Producing one effect, 
 
 One must from other come, 
 
 Or each one from a third, 
 If each be as each, and more, then one 
 
 From the other is inferred. 
 
 Where it is to be known that here one does not 
 proceed by an evident demonstration ; as it would 
 be to say that the cold is the generative principle 
 of water, when we see the clouds ; but certainly by a 
 beautiful and suitable induction. For if there are 
 many laudable things in us, and one is the principle 
 or first cause of them all, reason requires each to 
 be reduced to that first cause, which comprehends 
 more things ; and this ought more reasonably to be 
 called the principle of those things than that which 
 comprehends in itself less of their principle. For 
 as the trunk of a tree, which contains or encloses 
 all the other branches, ought to be called the first 
 beginning and cause of those branches, and not 
 those branches the cause of the trunk, so Nobility, 
 which comprehends each and every Virtue (as the 
 cause contains the effect) and many other actions or 
 operations of ours which are praiseworthy, it ought 
 
234 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 to be held for such ; that the Virtue may be reduced 
 to it, rather than to the other third which is in us. 
 Finally it says that the position taken (namely, 
 that each Moral Virtue comes from one root, and 
 that such Virtue and Nobility unite in one thing, as 
 is stated above, and that therefore it is requisite 
 to reduce the one to the other, or both to a third ; 
 and that if the one contains the value of the other and 
 more, from that it proceeds rather than from the other 
 third) may be considered as a rule established and 
 set forth, as v/as before intended. 
 
 And thus ends this passage and this present part. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 SINCE in the preceding part are discussed three 
 certain definite things which were necessary to be 
 seen before we define, if possible, this good thing of 
 which we speak, it is right to proceed to the follow- 
 ing part, which begins : " Where Virtue is, there is 
 A Nobleman." And it is desirable to reduce this into 
 two parts. In the first a certain thing is proved, 
 which before has been touched upon and left un- 
 proved ; in the second, concluding, the definition 
 sought is found ; and this second part begins : 
 " Comes virtue from what's noble, as From black 
 comes violet." 
 
 In evidence of the first part, it is to be recalled to 
 mind that it says previously that, if Nobility is worth 
 more and extends farther than Virtue, Virtue rather 
 will proceed from it, which this part now proves, 
 namely, that Nobility extends farther, and produces 
 a copy of Heaven, saying that wherever there is 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 235 
 
 Virtue there is Nobility. And here it is to be 
 known that (as it is written in the Books of the 
 Law, and is held as a Rule of the Law) in those 
 things which of themselves are evident there is no 
 need of proof ; and nothing is more evident than 
 that Nobility exists wherever there is Virtue, and 
 each thing, commonly speaking, that we see perfect 
 according to its nature is worthy to be called Noble. 
 It says then : " So likewise that is Heaven Wherein 
 a star is hung, But Heaven may be starless." So 
 there is Nobility wherever there is Virtue, and not 
 Virtue wherever there is Nobility. And with a 
 beautiful and suitable example ; for truly it is a 
 Heaven in which many and various stars shine. In 
 this Nobility there shine the Moral and the Intellec- 
 tual Virtues : there shine in it the good dispositions 
 bestowed by nature, piety, and religion ; the praise- 
 worthy passions, as Modesty and Mercy and many 
 others ; there shine in it the good gifts of the body, 
 that is to say, beauty, strength, and almost perpetual 
 health ; and so many are the stars which stud its 
 Heaven that certainly it is not to be wondered at if 
 they produce many and divers effects in Human 
 Nobility; such are the natures and the powers of 
 those stars, assembled and contained within one 
 simple substance, through the medium of which 
 stars, as through different branches, it bears fruit in 
 various ways. Certainly, with all earnestness, I 
 make bold to say that Human Nobility, so far as 
 many of its fruits are considered, excels that of the 
 Angel, although the Angelic may be more Divine in 
 its unity. 
 
 Of this Nobility of ours, which fructifies into such 
 fruits and so numerous, the Psalmist had perception 
 when he composed that Psalm which begins : " O 
 
236 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 Lord our God, how admirable is Thy Name through 
 all the Earth ! " where he praises man, as if wonder- 
 ing at the Divine affection for this Human Creature, 
 saying: "What is man, that Thou, God, dost visit 
 him ? Thou hast made him a little lower than the 
 Angels ; Thou hast crowned him with glory and 
 honour, and placed him over the works of Thy 
 hands." Then, truly, it was a beautiful and suitable 
 comparison to compare Heaven with Human Nobility. 
 Then, when the Song says, " In women and the 
 young A modesty is seen, Not virtue, noble yet," 
 it proves that Nobility extends into parts where 
 Virtue is not ; and it says, " noble yet," alluding to 
 Nobility as indeed a true safeguard, being where 
 there is shame or modesty, that is to say, fear of 
 dishonour, as it is in maidens and youths, where 
 shame or modesty is good and praiseworthy ; which 
 shame or modesty is not virtue, but a certain good 
 passion. And it says, " In women and the young," 
 that is to say, in youths ; because, as the Philoso- 
 pher expresses it in the fourth book of the Ethics, 
 shame, bashfulness, modesty, is not praiseworthy nor 
 good in the old nor in men of studious habits, 
 because to them it is fit that they beware of those 
 things which would lead them to shame. In youths 
 and maidens such caution is not so much required, 
 and therefore in them the fear of receiving dis- 
 honour through some fault is praiseworthy. It 
 springs from Nobility, and it is possible to account 
 their timid bashfulness to be Nobility. Baseness 
 and ignoble ways produce impudence : wherefore it 
 is a good and excellent sign of Nobility in children 
 and persons of tender years when, after some fault, 
 their shame is painted in their face, which blush of 
 shame is then the fruit of true Nobility. 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 237 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 WHEN it proceeds to say, " Comes virtue from what's 
 noble, as From black comes violet," the text advances 
 to the desired definition of Nobility, by which one 
 may see what this Nobility is of which so many 
 people speak erroneously. It says then, drawing a 
 conclusion from that which has been said before, 
 that each Virtue, or rather its generator, that is to 
 say, the habit of right choice, which stands firm in 
 due moderation, will spring forth from this, that is, 
 Nobility. And it gives an example in the colours, 
 saying, as from the black the violet, so this Virtue 
 springs from Nobility. The violet is a mixed colour 
 of purple and black, but the black prevails, and the 
 colour is named from it. And thus the Virtue is a 
 mixed thing of Nobility and Passion ; but, because 
 Nobility prevails, the Virtue takes its name from it, 
 and is called Goodness. Then afterwards it argues, 
 by that which has been said, that no man ought to 
 say boastfully, " I am of such and such a race or 
 family ; " nor ought he to believe that he is of this 
 Nobility unless the fruits of it are in him. And 
 immediately it renders a reason, saying that those 
 who have this Grace, that is to say, this Divine thing, 
 are almost Gods as it were, without spot of vice, 
 and no one has the power to bestow this except 
 God alone, with whom there is no respect of persons, 
 even as Divine Scripture makes manifest. And it 
 does not appear too extravagant when it says, "They 
 are as Gods/' for as it is argued previously in the 
 seventh chapter of the third treatise, even as there 
 are men most vile and bestial so are men most 
 Noble and Divine. And this Aristotle proves in the 
 
238 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 seventh chapter of Ethics by the text of Homer the 
 poet ; therefore, let not those men who are of the 
 Uberti of Florence, nor those of the Visconti of 
 :m, say, " Because I am of such a family or race, 
 I am Noble," for the Divine seed falls not into a race 
 of men, that is, into a family; but jt falls into^ indi- 
 vidual persons, and, as will be proved below, the 
 family does not make individual persons Noble, but 
 the individual persons make the family Noble. 
 
 Then when it says, " God only gives it to the Soul," 
 the argument is of the susceptive, that is, of the 
 subject whereon this Divine gift descends, which is 
 indeed d Divine gift, according to the word of the 
 Apostle : " Every good gift and every perfect gift 
 comes from above, proceeding from the Father of 
 Light." It says then that God alone imparts this 
 Grace to the Soul that He sees pure, within the Soul 
 of that man whom He sees to be perfectly prepared 
 and fit to receive in his own proper person this 
 Divine action; for, according as the Philosopher 
 says in the second chapter Of the Soul, things 
 must be prepared for their agents and qualified 
 to receive their acts ; wherefore if the Soul is im- 
 perfectly prepared, it is not qualified to receive this 
 blessed and Divine infusion, even as a precious 
 stone, if it is badly cut or prepared, wherever it is 
 imperfect, cannot receive the celestial virtue ; even as 
 that noble Guido Guinizzelli said, in a Song of his 
 which begins : " To gentle hearts Love ever will 
 repair." It is possible for the Soul to be unqualified 
 through some defect of temper, or perhaps through 
 some sinister circumstances of the time in which the 
 person lives, and into a Soul so unhappy as this the 
 Divine radiance never shines. And it may be said 
 of such men as these, whose Souls are deprived of 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 239 
 
 this Light, that they are as deep valleys turned 
 towards the North, or rather subterranean caves 
 wherein the light of the Sun never enters unless it be 
 reflected from another part which has caught its rays. 
 Finally, it deduces, from that which has been 
 previously said, that the Virtues are the fruit of 
 Nobility, and that God places that Nobility in the 
 Soul which has a good foundation. For to some, 
 that is, to those who have intellect, who are but few, 
 it is evident that human Nobility is no other than 
 the seed of Happiness. 
 
 That seed of Happiness 
 
 Falls in the hearts of few, 
 Planted by God within the Souls 
 
 Spread to receive His dew ; 
 
 that is to say, whose body is in every part perfectly 
 prepared, ordered, or qualified. 
 
 For if the Virtues are the fruit of Nobility, and 
 Happiness is pleasure or sweetness acquired through 
 or by them, it is evident that this Nobility is the 
 seed of Happiness, as has been said. And if one 
 considers well, this definition comprehends all the 
 four arguments, that is to say, the material, the 
 formal, the efficient, and the final : material, inas- 
 much as it says, "to the Soul spread to receive," 
 which is the material and subject of Nobility ; 
 formal, inasmuch as it says, " That seed ; " efficient, 
 inasmuch as it says, " Planted by God within the 
 Soul ; " final, inasmuch as it says, " of Happiness," 
 Heaven's blessing. And thus is defined this our good 
 gift, which descends into us in like manner from 
 the Supreme and Spiritual Power, as virtue into a 
 precious stone from a most noble celestial body. 
 
240 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THAT we may have more perfect knowledge of 
 Human Goodness, as it is the original cause in us 
 of all good that can be called Nobility, it is requisite 
 to explain clearly in this especial chapter how this 
 Goodness descends into us. 
 
 In the first place, it comes by the Natural way, 
 and then by the Theological way, that is to say, the 
 Divine and Spiritual. In the first place, it is to be 
 known that man is composed of Soul and body ; 
 but that Goodness or Nobility is of the Soul, as has 
 been said, and is after the manner of seed from the 
 Divine Virtue. By different philosophers it has 
 been differently argued concerning the difference in 
 our Souls ; for Avicenna and Algazel were of opinion 
 that Souls of themselves and from their beginning 
 were Noble or Base. Plato and some others were 
 of opinion that they proceeded by the stars, and 
 were Noble more or less according to the nobility of 
 the star. Pythagoras was of opinion that all were 
 of one nobility, not only human Souls, but with 
 human Souls those of the brute animals and of the 
 trees and the forms of minerals ; and he said that 
 all the difference in the bodies is form. If each one 
 were to defend his opinion, it might be that Truth 
 would be seen to be in all. But since on the surface 
 they seem somewhat distant from the Truth, one 
 must not proceed according to those opinions, but 
 according to the opinion of Aristotle and of the 
 Peripatetics. And therefore I say that when the 
 human seed falls into its receptacle, that is, into the 
 matrix, it bears with it the virtue or power of the 
 generative Soul, and the virtue or power of Heaven, 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 241 
 
 and the virtue or power of the aliments united or 
 bound together, that is the involution or complex 
 nature of the seed. It matures and prepares the 
 material for the formative power or virtue which the 
 generating Soul bestows ; and the formative power 
 or virtue prepares the organs for the celestial virtue 
 or power, which produces, from the power of the 
 seed, the Soul in life ; which, as soon as produced, 
 receives from the power of the Mover of the Heaven 
 the passive intellect or mind, which potentially 
 brings together in itself all the universal forms 
 according as they are in its producer, and so much 
 the less in proportion as it is farther removed from 
 the first Intelligence. 
 
 Let no one marvel if I speak what seems difficult 
 to understand ; for to myself it seems a miracle how 
 it is possible even to arrive at a conclusion concern- 
 ing it, and to perceive it with the intellect. It is 
 not a thing to reveal in language, especially the 
 language of the Vulgar Tongue ; wherefore I will 
 say, even as did the Apostle : " Oh, great is the 
 depth of the riches of Wisdom of God : how incom- 
 prehensible are Thy judgments, and Thy ways past 
 finding out ! " And since the complex nature of 
 the seed may be better and less good, and the 
 disposition of the receiver of the seed may be better 
 and less good, and the disposition of the dominant 
 Heaven to this effect may be good and better and 
 best, which varies in the constellations, which are 
 continually transformed ; it befalls that from the 
 human seed and from these virtues or powers the 
 Soul is produced more or less pure ; and according 
 to its purity there descends into it the virtue or 
 power of the possible or passive intellect, as it is 
 called, and as it has been spoken of, And if ifc 
 
242 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI, 
 
 happen that through the purity of the receptive Soul 
 the intellectual power is indeed separate and absolute, 
 free from all corporeal shadow, the Divine Goodness 
 multiplies in it, as in a thing sufficient to receive 
 that good gift ; and then it multiplies in the Soul of 
 this intelligent being, according as it can receive it ; 
 and this is that seed of Happiness of which we 
 speak at present. And this is in harmony with the 
 opinion of Tullius in that book on Old Age when, 
 speaking personally of Cato, he says : " For this 
 reason a celestial spirit descended into us from the 
 highest habitation, having come into a place which 
 is adverse to the Divine Nature and to Eternity." 
 And in such a Soul as this there is its own individual 
 power, and the intellectual power, and the Divine 
 power ; that is to say, that influence which has been 
 mentioned. Therefore it is written in the book On 
 Causes: "Each Noble Soul has three operations, that 
 is to say, the animal, the intellectual, and the 
 Divine." And there are some men who hold such 
 opinions that they say, if all the preceding powers 
 were to unite in the production of a Soul in their 
 best disposition, arrangement, order, that into that 
 Soul would descend so much of the Deity that it 
 would be as it were another God Incarnate ; and 
 this is almost all that it is possible to say concerning 
 the Natural way. 
 
 By the Theological way it is possible to say that, 
 when the Supreme Deity, that is, God, sees His 
 creature prepared to receive His good gift, so freely 
 He imparts it to His creature in proportion as it 
 is prepared or qualified to receive it. And because 
 these gifts proceed from ineffable Love, and the Divine 
 Love is appropriate to the Holy Spirit, therefore it 
 is that they are called the gifts of the Holy Spirit, 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 243 
 
 which, even as the Prophet Isaiah distinguishes 
 them, are seven, namely, Wisdom, Intelligence, 
 Counsel, Courage, Knowledge, Pity, and the Fear 
 of God. O, good green blades, and good and 
 wonderful the seed ! 
 
 And O, admirable and benign Sower of the 
 seed, who dost only wait for human nature to 
 prepare the ground for Thee wherein to sow ! O, 
 blessed are those who till the land to fit it to 
 receive such seed ! 
 
 Here it is to be known that the first noble shoot 
 which germinates from this seed that it may be 
 fruitful, is the desire or appetite of the mind, which 
 in Greek is called "hormen;" and if this is not 
 well cultivated and held upright by good habits, 
 the seed is of little worth, and it would be better 
 if it had not been sown. 
 
 And therefore St. Augustine urges, and Aristotle 
 also in the second book of Ethics, that man should 
 accustom himself to do good, and to bridle in his 
 passions, in order that this shoot which has been 
 mentioned may grow strong through good habits, 
 and be confirmed in its uprightness, so that it may 
 fructify, and from its fruit may issue the sweetness 
 of Human Happiness. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 IT is the commandment of the Moral Philosophers 
 that, of the good gifts whereof they have spoken, 
 Man ought to put his thought and his anxious care 
 into the effort to make them as useful as possible 
 to the receiver. Wherefore I, wishing to be obedient 
 
244 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 to such a mandate, intend to render this my BANQUET 
 [Convito] as useful as possible in each one of its 
 parts. And because in this part it occurs to me 
 to be able to reason somewhat concerning the 
 sweetness of Human Happiness, I consider that 
 there could not be a more useful discourse, especially 
 to those who know it not ; for as the Philosopher 
 says in the first book of Ethics, and Tullius in that 
 book Of the Ends of Good and Evil, he shoots badly 
 at the mark who sees it not. Even thus a man can 
 but ill advance towards this sweet joy who does 
 not begin with a perception of it. Wherefore, since 
 it is our final rest for which we live and labour as 
 we can, most useful and most necessary it is to see 
 this mark in order to aim at it the bow of this our 
 work. And it is most essential to make it inviting 
 to those who do not see the mark when simply 
 pointed out. Leaving alone, then, the opinion which 
 Epicurus the philosopher had concerning it, and 
 that which Zeno likewise had, I intend to come 
 summarily to the true opinion of Aristotle and of 
 the other Peripatetics. As it is said above, of the 
 Divine Goodness sown and infused in us, from the 
 original cause of our production, there springs up a 
 shoot, which the Greeks term "hormen," that is to 
 say, the natural appetite of the soul. 
 
 And as it is with the blades of corn which, when 
 they first shoot forth, have in the beginning one 
 similar appearance, being in the grass-like stage, 
 and then, by process of time, they become un- 
 like, so this Natural appetite, which springs from 
 the Divine Grace, in the beginning appears as it 
 were not unlike that which comes nakedly from 
 Nature ; but with it, even as the herbage born of 
 various grains of corn, it has the same appearance, 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 245 
 
 as it were : and not only in the blades of corn, 
 but in men and in beasts there is the same simi- 
 litude. And it appears that every animal, as soon 
 as it is born, both rational and brute beast, loves 
 itself, and fears and flies from those things which 
 are adverse to it, and hates them, then proceeding 
 as has been said. And there begins a difference 
 between them in the progress of this Natural appetite, 
 for the one keeps to one road, and the other to 
 another ; even as the Apostle says : " Many run to 
 the goal, but there is but one who reaches it." 
 Even thus these Human appetites from the begin- 
 ning run through different paths, nd there is one 
 path alone which leads us to our peace ; and there- 
 fore, leaving all the others alone, it is for the treatise 
 to follow the course of that one who begins well. 
 
 I say, then, that from the beginning a man loves 
 himself, although indistinctly ; then comes the dis- 
 tinguishing of those things which to him are more or 
 less ; to be more or less loved or hated ; and he 
 follows after and flies from either more or less 
 according as the right habit distinguishes, not only 
 in the other things which he loves in a secondary 
 manner, for he even distinguishes in himself which 
 thing he loves principally ; and perceiving in him- 
 self divers parts, those which are the noblest in him 
 he loves most. But, since the noblest part of man 
 is the Mind, he loves that more than the Body ; 
 and thus, loving himself principally, and through 
 himself other things, and of himself loving the better 
 part most, it is evident that he loves the Mind more 
 than the Body or any other thing ; and the Mind it 
 is that, naturally, more than any other thing he 
 ought to love. 
 
 Then, if the Mind always delights in the use of 
 
246 THE BANQUET OF DAN7"E ALIGHIERI. 
 
 the beloved thing, which is the fruit of love, the use 
 of that thing which is especially beloved is especially 
 delightful : the use of our Mind is especially delight- 
 ful to us, and that which is especially delightful to us 
 becomes our Happiness and our Beatitude, beyond 
 which there is no greater delight or pleasure, nor any 
 equal to it, as may be seen by him who looks well at 
 the preceding argument. 
 
 And no one ought to say that every appetite is 
 Mind ; for here one understands Mind solely as that 
 which belongs to the Rational part, that is, the Will 
 and the Intellect ; so that if any one should wish to 
 call Mind the appetite of the Senses, here it has no 
 place, nor can it have any abiding ; for no one doubts 
 that the Rational appetite is more noble than the 
 Sensual, and therefore more to be loved ; and so is 
 this of which we are now speaking. 
 
 The use of our Mind is double, that is to say, 
 Practical and Speculative (it is Practical insomuch 
 as it has the power of acting) ; both the one and 
 the other are delightful in their use, but that of 
 Contemplation is the most pleasing, as has been said 
 above. The use of the Practical is to act in or 
 through us virtuously, that is to say, honestly or 
 uprightly, with Prudence, with Temperance, with 
 Courage, and with Justice. The use of the Specula- 
 tive is not to work or act through us, but to consider 
 the works of God and of Nature. This and the 
 other form our Beatitude and Supreme Happiness, 
 which is the sweetness of the before-mentioned seed, 
 as now clearly appears. To this often such seed 
 does not attain, through being ill cultivated, or 
 through its tender growing shoots being perverted. 
 In like manner it is quite possible, by much correc- 
 tion and cultivation of him into whom this seed does 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 
 
 not fall primarily, to induce it by the process of 
 steady endeavour after goodness, so that it\may 
 attain to the power of bearing this fruit. AnH it 
 is, as it were, a method of grafting the nature of 
 another upon a different stock. 
 
 No man, therefore, can hold himself excused ; for 
 if from his natural root the man does not produce 
 sweet fruit, it is possible for him to have it by the pro- 
 cess of grafting ; and in fact there would be as many 
 who should be grafted as those are who, sprung from 
 a good root, allow themselves to grow degenerate. 
 
 Of the two ways of goodness, one is more full of 
 bliss than the other, as is the Speculative, which 
 is the use of our noblest part without any alloy, 
 and which, for the root, Love, as has been said, is 
 especially to be loved as the intellect. And in this 
 life it is not possible to have the use of this part 
 perfectly, which is to see God, who is the Supreme 
 Being to be comprehended by the Mind, except inas- 
 much as the intellect considers Him and beholds 
 Him through His effects, His Works. And that we 
 may seek this Beatitude as the supreme, and not 
 the other, that is, that of the Active Life, the Gospel 
 of St. Mark teaches us, if we will look at it well. 
 
 Mark says that Mary Magdalene, and Mary the 
 mother of James, and Mary Salome went to find the 
 Saviour in the Tomb, and they found Him not, but 
 they found a youth clothed in white, who said to 
 them : " You seek the Saviour, and I tell you that 
 He is not here ; and therefore be not affrighted, but 
 go and tell His disciples and Peter that He goeth 
 before you into Galilee ; and there ye shall see Him, 
 as He said unto you." By these three women may 
 be understood the three sects of the Active Life, that 
 is to say, the Epicureans, the Stoics, and the Peri- 
 
248 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 patetics, who go to the Tomb, that is to say, to the 
 present World, which is the receptacle of corruptible 
 things, and seek for the Saviour, that is, Beatitude, 
 and they find it not ; but they find a youth in white 
 garments, who, according to the testimony of 
 Matthew, and also of the other Evangelists, was an 
 Angel of God. And therefore Matthew said : " The 
 Angel of the Lord descended from Heaven, and 
 came and rolled back the stone from the door, and 
 sat upon it. His countenance was like lightning, 
 and his raiment white as snow." The Angel is this 
 Nobility of ours which comes from God, as it has 
 been said, of which our argument speaks, and says to 
 each one of these sects, that is, to whoever seeks 
 perfect Happiness in the Active Life, that it is not 
 here ; but go and tell the disciples and Peter, that is, 
 tell those who seek for it and those who are gone 
 astray like Peter, who had denied Him, that He will 
 go before them into Galilee ; meaning that the Beati- 
 tude or Happiness will go before us into Galilee, that 
 is, into Contemplation ; Galilee is as much as to say, 
 Whiteness. Whiteness is a colour full of material 
 light, more so than any other ; and thus, Contempla- 
 tion is more full of Spiritual light than any other 
 thing which is below. 
 
 And it says, " He will go before you," but it does 
 not say, " He will be with you," to make us under- 
 stand that in our contemplation God always goes 
 before. Nor is it ever possible to us to attain to 
 Him here, to Him, our Supreme Bliss. And it says, 
 " There shall ye see Him, as He said unto you ;" that 
 is to say, there you w r ill receive of His Sweetness, 
 that is, of the Happiness as it is promised to you 
 here, as it is established that you may receive it 
 
 And thus it appears that our Beatitude, this 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 249 
 
 Happiness of which we speak, first we are able to 
 find imperfect in the Active Life, that is, in the 
 operations of the Moral Virtues, and then almost 
 perfect in the operations of the Intellectual Virtues ; 
 which two operations are speedy and most direct 
 ways to lead to the Supreme Bliss, which it is not 
 possible to have here below, even as appears by that 
 which has been said. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 SINCE the definition of Nobility is sufficiently 
 demonstrated, and since in all its parts it has 
 been made as explicit as possible, so that w r e can 
 now see who is the Nobleman, it seems right to 
 proceed to the part of the text which begins, " Souls 
 whom this Grace adorns," in whom appear the signs 
 by which it is possible to know the Noble Man. 
 
 This part is divided into two. In the first it 
 affirms that this Nobility is resplendent, and that it 
 shines forth manifestly during the whole life of the 
 Noble Man ; in the second it appears specifically in 
 its glory, and this second part begins, " In Childhood 
 they obey." With regard to the first part, it is to 
 be known that this Divine seed, which has been 
 previously spoken of, germinates immediately in our 
 Soul, combining with and changing its form with 
 each form of the Soul, according to the exigency of 
 that power. It germinates, then, as the Vegetative, 
 as the Sensitive, and as the Rational, and it 
 branches out through the virtues or powers of all of 
 them, guiding all those to their perfection, and sus- 
 taining itself in them always, even to the point when, 
 
250 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 with that part of our Soul which never dies, it returns 
 to the highest and the most glorious Sower of the 
 seed in Heaven ; and it expresses this in that first 
 part which has been mentioned. Then when it says, 
 " In Childhood they obey, Are gentle, modest," it 
 shows how we can recognize the Noble Man by the 
 apparent signs, which are the Divine operation of 
 this goodness. And this part is divided into four, 
 as it is made to represent four different ages, such 
 as Adolescence, Youth, Old Age, and Extreme 
 Old Age. The second part begins, " Are temperate 
 in Youth ; " the third begins, " Are prudent in their 
 Age ; " the fourth begins, " The fourth part of their 
 life." Herein is contained the purpose of this part 
 in general, with regard to which it is desirable to 
 know that each effect, inasmuch as it is an effect, 
 receives the likeness of its cause in proportion as it 
 is capable of retaining it. 
 
 Wherefore, since our life, as has been said, and 
 also the life of every living creature here below, is 
 caused by Heaven, Heaven is revealed in all such 
 effects as these, not, indeed, with the complete circle, 
 but with part of it, in them. Thus its movement 
 must be not only with them, but beyond them, and as 
 one arch of life retains (and I say retains, not only of 
 men, but also of other living creatures) almost all the 
 lives, ascending and descending, they must be, as it 
 were, similar in appearance to the form of the arch. 
 Returning, then, to our course of life which at present 
 we are seeking to understand, I say that it proceeds 
 after the manner of this arch, ascending and de- 
 scending. And it is to be known that the ascent of 
 this arch should be equal to its descent, if the 
 material of the seed from which we spring, so com- 
 plex in its nature, did not impede the law of Human 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 251 
 
 Nature. But since the humid root is of better 
 quality more or less, and stronger to endure in one 
 effect more than in another, being subject to the 
 nutriment of the heat, which is our life, it happens 
 that the arch of the life of one man is of less or 
 of greater extent than that of another, life being 
 shortened by a violent death or by some accidental 
 injury ; but that which is called natural by the people 
 is that span of which it is said by the Psalmist, 
 " Thou settest up a boundary which it is not possible 
 to pass." And since the Master among those here 
 living, Aristotle, had perception of this arch of which 
 we now speak, and seems to be of opinion that our life 
 should be no other than one ascent and one descent, 
 therefore he says, in that chapter where he treats of 
 Youth and of Old Age, that Youth is no other than 
 an increase of life. Where the top of this arch may 
 be, it is difficult to know, on account of the inequality 
 which has been spoken of above, but for the most 
 part I believe between the thirtieth and the fortieth 
 year, and I believe that in the perfectly natural 
 man it is at the thirty-fifth year. And . this reason 
 has weight with me : that our Saviour Jesus Christ 
 was a perfect natural man, who chose to die in the 
 thirty-fourth year of His age ; for it was not suitable 
 for the Deity to have place in the descending 
 segment ; neither is it to be believed that He would 
 not wish to dwell in this life of ours even to the 
 summit of it, since He had been in the lower part 
 even from childhood. And the hour of the day of 
 His death makes this evident, for He willed that to 
 conform with His life ; wherefore Luke says that it 
 was about the sixth hour when He died, that is to 
 say, the height or supreme point of the day ; where- 
 fore it is possible to comprehend by that, as it were, 
 
252 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 that at -the thirty-fifth year of Christ was the height 
 or supreme point of His age. Truly this arch is not 
 half distinguished in the Scriptures, but if we follow 
 the four connecting links of the differing qualities 
 which are in our composition, to each one of which 
 appears to be appropriated one part of our age, it is 
 divided into four parts, and they are called the four 
 ages. The first is Adolescence, which is appropriated 
 to the hot and moist ; the second is Youth, which 
 is appropriated to the hot and dry ;- the third is Old 
 Age, which is appropriated to the cold and dry; the 
 fourth is Extreme Old Age, which is appropriated to 
 the cold and moist, as Albertus Magnus writes in 
 the fourth chapter of the Metaura. And these parts 
 or divisions are made in a similar manner in the 
 year in Spring, in Summer, in Autumn, and in 
 Winter. And it is the same in the day even to the 
 third hour, and then even to the ninth, leaving the 
 sixth in the middle of this part, or division, for the 
 reason which is understood, and then even to ves- 
 pers, and from vespers onwards. And therefore the 
 Gentiles said that the chariot of the Sun had four 
 horses ; they called the first Eoo, the second Piroi, 
 the third Eton, the fourth Phlegon, even as Ovid 
 writes in the second book of the Metamorphoses 
 concerning the parts or divisions of the day. 
 
 And, briefly, it is to be known that, as it has been 
 said above in the sixth chapter of the third treatise, 
 the Church makes use of the hours temporal in the 
 division of the day, which hours are twelve in each 
 day, long or short according to the amount of sun- 
 light ; and because the sixth hour, that is, the mid- 
 day, is the most noble of the whole day, and has in 
 it the most virtue, the Offices of the Church are 
 approximated thereto in each side, that is, from the 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 253 
 
 prime, and thence onwards as much as possible ; 
 and therefore the Office of prime, that is, the tertius, 
 is said at the end of that part, and that of the third 
 part and of the fourth is said at the beginning ; and 
 therefore, before the clock strikes in a division of the 
 day, it is termed half-third or mid-tertius ; or mid- 
 nones, when in that division the clock has struck, 
 and thus mid-vespers. 
 
 And, therefore, let each one know that the right 
 and lawful nones ought always to strike or sound at 
 the beginning of the seventh hour of the day, and let 
 this suffice to the present digression. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 RETURNING to the proposition, I say that Human 
 Life is divided into, four ages or stages. The first is 
 called Adolescence, that is, the growth or increase of 
 life ; the second is called Youth, that is, the age 
 which can give perfection, and for this reason one 
 understands this Youth to be perfect, because no man 
 can give except of that which he has ; the third is 
 called Old Age ; the fourth is called Senility, Extreme 
 Old Age, as has been said above. 
 
 Of the first no one doubts, but each wise man 
 agrees that it lasts even to the twenty-fifth year ; 
 and up to that time our Soul waits for the 
 increase and the embellishment of the body. While 
 there are many and very great changes in the person, 
 the rational part cannot possess perfectly the pov/er 
 of discretion ; wherefore, the Civil Law wills that, 
 previous to that age, a man cannot clo certain things 
 without a guardian of perfect age. 
 
254 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALTGHIERL 
 
 Of the second, which is the height of our life, the 
 time is variously taken by many. But leaving that 
 which philosophers and medical men write concerning 
 it, and returning to the proper argument, we may 
 say that, in most men in whom one can and ought 
 to be guided by natural judgment, that age lasts for 
 twenty years. And the reason which leads me to this 
 conclusion is, that the height or supreme point of our 
 arc or bow is in the thirty-fifth year ; just so much 
 as this age has of ascent, so much it ought to have 
 of descent ; and this ascent passes into descent, as it 
 were, at the point, the centre, where one would hold 
 the bow in the hand, at which place a slight flexion 
 may be discerned. We are of opinion, then, that 
 Youth is completed in the forty-fifth year. 
 
 And as Adolescence is in the twenty-five years 
 which proceed mounting upwards to Youth : so the 
 descent, that is, Old Age, is an equal amount of 
 time which succeeds to Youth ; and thus Old Age 
 terminates in the seventieth year. 
 
 But because Adolescence does not begin at the 
 beginning of life taking it in the way which has 
 been said but about eight months from birth ; and 
 because our life strives to ascend, and curbs itself 
 in the descent ; because the natural heat is lessened 
 and can do little, and the moist humour is increased, 
 not in quantity, but in quality, so that it is less able 
 to evaporate and be consumed ; it happens that beyond 
 Old Age there remains of our life an amount, perhaps, 
 of about ten years, a little more or a little less ; and 
 this time of life is termed Extreme Old Age, or 
 Senility. Wherefore we know of Plato (of whom 
 one may well say that he was a son of Nature, both 
 because of his perfection and because of his coun- 
 tenance, which caused Socrates to love him when 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 255 
 
 first he saw him), that he lived eighty and one years, 
 according to the testimony of Tullius in that book 
 On Old Age. And I believe that if Christ had 
 not been crucified, and if He might have lived the 
 length of time which His life according to nature 
 could have passed over, at eighty and one years He 
 would have been transformed from the mortal body 
 into the eternal. 
 
 Truly, as has been said above, these ages may be 
 longer or shorter according to our complexion or 
 temper and our constitution or composition ; but, as 
 they are, it seems to me that I observe this propor- 
 tion in all men, as has been said, that is to say, that 
 in such men the ages may be made longer or shorter 
 according to the integrity of the whole term of the 
 natural life. 
 
 Throughout all these ages this Nobility of which 
 we speak manifests its effects in different ways in 
 the ennobled Soul ; and it is that which this part of 
 the Song, concerning which we write at present, 
 intends to demonstrate. Where it is to be known 
 that our good and upright nature makes forward 
 progress in us in the reasoning powers, as we 
 see the nature of the plants make forward pro- 
 gress ; and therefore it is that different manners and 
 different deportment are to be held reasonable at 
 one age rather than at another. The ennobled Soul 
 proceeds in due order along a single path, employing 
 each of its powers in its time and season, or even as 
 they are all ordained to the final production of the 
 perfect fruit. And Tullius is in harmony with this 
 in his book On Old Age. And putting aside the 
 figurative sense which Virgil holds in the ,/Eneid 
 concerning this different progress of the ages, and 
 letting that be which Egidius the hermit mentions in 
 
256 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 the first part On the Government of Princes, and 
 letting that be to which Tullius alludes in his book 
 Of Offices, and following that alone which Reason 
 can see of herself, I say that this first age is the door 
 and the path through which and along which we 
 enter into our good life, And this entrance must of 
 necessity have certain things which the good Nature, 
 which fails not in things necessary, gives to us ; as we 
 see that she gives to the vine the leaves for the pro- 
 tection of the fruit, and the little tendrils which 
 enable it to twine round its supports, and thus bind 
 up its weakness, so that it can sustain the weight of 
 its fruit. Beneficent Nature gives, then, to this age 
 four things necessary to the entrance into the City of 
 the Good Life. The first is Obedience, the second 
 Suavity, the third Modesty, the fourth Beauty of the 
 Body, even as the Song says in the first section of 
 this part. It is, then, to be known that like one who 
 has never been in a city, who would not know how 
 to find his way about the streets without instruction 
 from one who is accustomed to them, even so the 
 adolescent who enters into the Wood of Error of this 
 life would not know how to keep to the good path 
 if it were not pointed out to him by his elders. 
 Neither would the instruction avail if he were not 
 obedient to their commands, and therefore at this 
 age obedience is necessary. Here it might be pos- 
 sible for some one to speak thus : Then, is that man 
 to be called obedient who shall follow evil guidance 
 as well as he who shall believe the good ? I reply 
 that this would not be obedience, but transgression. 
 For if the King should issue a command in one way 
 and the servant give forth the command in another, 
 it would not be right to obey the servant, for that 
 would be to disobey the King ; and thus it would be 
 
THE FO UR TH TREA TISE. 2 5 7 
 
 transgression. And therefore Solomon says, when 
 he intends to correct his son, and this is his first 
 commandment : " Listen, my son, to the instruction 
 of thy father." And then he seeks to remove him 
 immediately from the counsel and teaching of the 
 wicked man, saying, " My son, if sinners entice thee, 
 consent thou not." 
 
 Wherefore, as soon as he is born, the son clings to 
 the breast of the mother ; even so soon as some 
 light of the Mind appears in him, he ought to turn to 
 the correction of the father, and the father to instruc- 
 tion. And let the father take heed that he himself 
 does not set him an example in work or action 
 that is contrary to the words of the correction ; for 
 naturally we see each son look more to the foot- 
 prints of the paternal feet than to those of other men. 
 And therefore the Law, which provides for this, says 
 and commands that the life of the father should 
 appear to his sons always honourable and upright 
 Thus it appears that obedience was necessary in this 
 age ; and therefore Solomon writes in the Book of 
 Proverbs, that he who humbly and obediently sus- 
 tains his just reproofs from the corrector shall be 
 glorious. And he says " shall be," to cause men to 
 understand that he speaks to the adolescent, who 
 cannot be so in his present age. And if any one 
 should reflect on me because I have said obedience is 
 due to the father and not to other men, I say that 
 to the father all other obedience ought to be referred ; 
 wherefore the Apostle says to the Colossians : " Sons, 
 obey your fathers in all things, for such is the will of 
 God." And if the father be not in this life, the son 
 ought to refer to that which is said by the father in 
 his last Will as a father ; and if the father die intes- 
 tate, the son ought to refer to him to whom the Law 
 
 I 
 
258 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 commits his authority ; and then ought the masters 
 and elders to be obeyed, for this appears to be a 
 reasonable charge laid upon the son by the father, or 
 by him who stands in the father's place. 
 
 But because this present chapter has been long, on 
 account of the useful digressions which it contains, in 
 another chapter other things shall be discussed. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 NOT only this Soul, naturally good in Adolescence, is 
 obedient, but also gentle ; which is the other thing 
 necessary in this age to make a good entrance 
 through the portal of Youth. 
 
 It is necessary, since we cannot have a perfect 
 life without friends, as Aristotle expresses it in the 
 eighth book of Ethics ; and the seed of the greater 
 number of friendships seems to be sown in the first 
 age of life, because in it a man begins to be gracious 
 or the contrary. Such graciousness is acquired by 
 gentle rules of conduct, as are sweet and courteous 
 speech, gentle service courteously rendered, and 
 actions kindly done or performed. And therefore 
 Solomon says to the adolescent son : " Surely God 
 scorneth the scorners ; but He giveth grace unto the 
 lowly." And elsewhere he says : " Put away from 
 thee a froward mouth, and perverse lips put far 
 from thee." Wherefore it appears that, as has been 
 said, this suavity or affability is necessary. 
 
 Likewise to this age the passion of modesty is 
 necessary ; and therefore the nature which is good 
 and noble shows it in this age, even as the Song 
 says. And since modesty is the clearest sign, in 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 259 
 
 Adolescence, of Nobility, because there it is especially 
 necessary to the good foundation of our life, at 
 which the noble nature aims, it is right to speak of 
 it somewhat. By modesty I mean three passions 
 or strong feelings necessary to the foundation of our 
 good life : the one is wonder, the next is modesty, 
 the third is shame, although the common people do 
 not discern this distinction. And all three of these 
 are necessary to this life, for this reason : at this age 
 it is requisite to be reverent and desirous for know- 
 ledge ; at this age it is necessary or requisite to be 
 self-controlled, so as not to transgress or pass beyond 
 due bounds ; at this age it is necessary to be 
 penitent for a fault, so as not to grow accustomed 
 to doing wrong. And all these things the aforesaid 
 passions or strong feelings do, which vulgarly are 
 called shame ; for wonder is an amazement of the 
 mind at beholding great and wonderful things, at 
 hearing them, or feeling them in some way or other ; 
 for, inasmuch as they appear great, they excite 
 reverence in him who sees them ; inasmuch as they 
 appear wonderful, they make him who perceives 
 them desirous of knowledge concerning them. And 
 therefore the ancient Kings in their palaces or habita- 
 tions set up magnificent works in gold and in marble 
 and works of art, in order that those who should see 
 them should become astonished, and therefore reverent 
 inquirers into the honourable conditions of the King. 
 Therefore Statins, the sweet Poet, in the first part of 
 the Theban History, says that, when Adrastus, King 
 of the Argives, saw Polynices covered with the skin 
 of a lion, and saw Tydeus covered with the hide of 
 a wild boar, and recalled to mind the reply that 
 Apollo had given concerning his daughters, he 
 became amazed, and therefore more reverent and 
 
 I 2 
 
260 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERl. 
 
 more desirous for knowledge. Modesty is a shrink- 
 ing, a drawing-back of the mind from unseemly 
 things, with the fear of falling into them ; even as 
 we see in virgins and in good women, and in 
 adolescent or young men, who are so modest that 
 not only when they are tempted to do wrong, and 
 urged to do so, but even when some fancied joy 
 flashes across the mind, the feeling is depicted in 
 the face, which either grows pale with fear, or flushes 
 rosy-red. Wherefore the before-mentioned poet, in 
 the first book of the Thebaid already quoted, says 
 that when Acesta the nurse of Argia and Deiphile, 
 the daughters of King Adrastus, led them before the 
 eyes of their holy father into the presence of the 
 two pilgrims, that is to say, Polynices and Tydeus, 
 the virgins grew pale and blushed rosy-red, and 
 their eyes shunned the glance of any other person, 
 and they kept them fixed on the paternal face alone, 
 as if there were safety. This modesty how many 
 errors does it bridle in, or repress ? On how many 
 immodest questions and impure things does it 
 impose silence ! How much dishonest greed does 
 it repress ! In the chaste woman, against how many 
 evil temptations does it rouse mistrust, not only in 
 her, but also in him who watches over her ! How 
 many unseemly words does it restrain ! for, as 
 Tullius says in the first chapter of the Offices : *' No 
 action is unseemly which is not unseemly in the 
 naming." And furthermore, the Modest and Noble 
 Man never could speak in such a manner that to a 
 woman his words would not be decent and such as 
 she could hear. Alas, how great is the evil in 
 every man who seeks for honour, to mention things 
 which would be deemed evil in the mouth of any 
 woman ! 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 261 
 
 Shame is a fear of dishonour through fault com- 
 mitted, and from this fear there springs up a penitence 
 for the fault, which has in itself a bitter sorrow or 
 grief, which is a chastisement and preservative against 
 future wrong-doing. Wherefore this same poet says, 
 in that same part, that when Polynices was questioned 
 by King Adrastus concerning his life, he hesi- 
 tated at first through shame to speak of the crime 
 which he had committed against his father, and also 
 for the sins of GEdipus, his father, which appeared to 
 remain in the shame of the son ; therefore he named 
 not his father, but his ancestors, and his country, 
 and his mother ; and therefore it does indeed appear 
 that shame is necessary to that age. And the 
 noble nature reveals in this age, not only obedience, 
 gentleness, affability, and modesty, but it shows 
 beauty and agility of body, even as the Song ex- 
 presses : " To furnish Virtue's person with The graces 
 it may need." Here it is to be known that this work 
 of beneficent Nature is also necessary to our good life, 
 for our Soul must work in the greater part of all its 
 operations with a bodily organ ; and then it works 
 well when the body through all its parts is well pro- 
 portioned and appointed. And when it is well pro- 
 portioned and appointed, then it is beautiful through- 
 out and in all its parts ; for the due ordering or pro- 
 portion of our limbs produces a pleasing impression 
 of I know not what of wonderful harmony ; and the 
 good disposition, that is to say, the health of mind 
 and body, throws over all a colouring sweet to behold. 
 And thus to say that the noble nature takes heed for 
 the graces of the body, and makes it fair and har- 
 monious, is tantamount to saying that it prepares it 
 and renders it fit to attain the perfection ordained for 
 it : and those other things which have been discussed 
 
262 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 seem to be requisite to Adolescence, which the noble 
 Mind, that is to say, the noble Nature, furnishes forth 
 to it in the first years of life, as growth of the seed 
 sown therein by the Divine Providence. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 SINCE the first section of this part, which shows how 
 we can recognize the Noble Man by apparent signs, 
 is reasoned out, it is right to proceed to the second 
 section, which begins : " Are temperate in Youth, And 
 resolutely strong." 
 
 It says, then, that as the noble Nature in Adoles- 
 cence or the Spring-time of Youth appears obedient, 
 gentle, and modest, the beautifier of its person, so in 
 Youth it is temperate, strong, and loving, courteous 
 and loyal ; which five things appear to be, and are, 
 necessary to our perfection, inasmuch as we have 
 respect unto ourselves. And with regard to this it 
 is desirable to know that just as the noble Nature 
 prepares in the first age, it is prepared and ordained 
 by the care or foresight of Universal Nature, which 
 ordains and appoints the particular Nature where- 
 ever existing, to attain its perfection. 
 
 This perfection of ours may be considered in a 
 double sense. It is possible to consider it as it has 
 respect to ourselves, and we ought to possess this in 
 our Youth, which is the culminating point of our life. 
 It is possible to consider it as it has respect to 
 others, and since in the first place it is necessary to 
 be perfect, and then to communicate the perfection 
 to others, it is requisite to possess this secondary 
 perfection after this age, that is to say, in Old Age, 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 263 
 
 as will be said subsequently. Here, then, it is need- 
 ful to recall to mind that which was argued in the 
 twenty-second chapter of this treatise concerning 
 the appetite or impulse which is born in us. This 
 appetite or impulse never does aught else but to 
 pursue and to flee, and whenever it pursues that 
 which is to be pursued, and as far as is right, and 
 flies from that which is to be fled from, and as much 
 as is right, then is the man within the limits of his 
 perfection. Truly, this appetite or natural impulse 
 must have Reason for its rider ; for as a horse at 
 liberty, however noble it may be by nature, by itself 
 without the good rider does not conduct itself well, 
 even thus this appetite, however noble it may be, 
 must obey Reason, which guides it with the bridle 
 and spur, as the good knight uses the bridle when 
 he hunts. And that bridle is termed Temperance, 
 which marks the limit up to which it is lawful to 
 pursue ; he uses the spur in flight to turn the horse 
 away from the place from which he would flee away ; 
 and this spur is called Courage, or rather Magnan- 
 imity, a Virtue that points out the place at which it 
 is right to stop, and to resist evil even to mortal 
 combat. And thus Virgil, our greatest Poet, re- 
 presents ^Eneas as under the influence of powerful 
 self control in that part of the ^Eneid wherein this 
 age is typified, which part comprehends the fourth 
 and the fifth and the sixth books of the ^Eneid. 
 And what self-restraint was that when, having re- 
 ceived from Dido so much pleasure, as will be 
 spoken of in the seventh treatise, and enjoying so 
 much delectation with her, he departed, in order to 
 follow the upright and praiseworthy path fruitful of 
 good works, even as it is written in the fourth book 
 of the JEneid ! What impetus was that when 
 
264 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGH1ERL 
 
 /Eneas had the fortitude alone with Sybilla to enter 
 into Hades, to search for the Soul of his father 
 Anchises, in the face of so many dangers, as it is 
 shown in the sixth book of the ^Eneid. Wherefore 
 it appears that in our Youth, in order to be in our 
 perfection, we must be Temperate and Brave. The 
 good disposition secures this for us, even as the Song 
 expressly states. 
 
 Again, at this age it is necessary to its perfection 
 to be Loving ; because at this age it is requisite to 
 look behind and before, as being midway over the 
 arch. The youth ought to love his elders, from 
 whom he has received his being, and his nutriment, 
 and his instruction, so that he may not appear un- 
 grateful. He ought to love his juniors, since, in 
 loving them, he gives them of his good gifts, for 
 which in after-years, when the younger friends are 
 prospering, he may be supported and honoured by 
 them. And the poet named above, in the fifth book 
 before-mentioned, makes it evident that ^Eneas pos- 
 sessed this loving disposition, when he left the aged 
 Trojans in Sicily, recommended to Acestes, and set 
 them free from the fatigues of the voyage ; and 
 when he instructed, in the same place, Ascanius his 
 son, with the other young men, in jousting or in 
 feats of arms ; wherefore it appears that to this age 
 Love is necessary, even as the Song says. 
 
 Again, to this age Courtesy is necessary, for, 
 although to every age it is right or beautiful to be 
 possessed of courteous manners, to this age it is espe- 
 cially necessary, because, on the contrary, Old Age, 
 with its gravity and its severity, cannot possess cour- 
 tesy, if it has been wanting in this youthful period of 
 life ; and with Extreme Old Age it is the same in a 
 greater degree. And that most noble poet, in the 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 265 
 
 sixth book before-mentioned, proves that yEneas pos- 
 sessed this courtesy, when he says that ^Eneas, then 
 King, in order to pay honour to the dead body of 
 Misenus, who had been the trumpeter of Hector, and 
 afterwards accompanied ^Eneas, made himself ready 
 and took the axe to assist in cutting the logs for 
 the fire which must burn the dead body, as was their 
 custom. Wherefore this courtesy does indeed appear 
 to be necessary to Youth ; and therefore the noble 
 Soul reveals it in that age, as has been said. 
 
 Again, it is necessary to this age to be Loyal. 
 Loyalty is to follow and to put in operation that which 
 the Laws command, and this especially is necessary 
 in the young man ; because the adolescent, as it has 
 been said, on account of his minority, merits ready 
 pardon ; the old man, on account of greater expe- 
 rience, ought to be just, but not a follower of the Law 
 except inasmuch as his upright judgment and the Law 
 are at one as it were ; and almost without any Law 
 he ought to be able to follow the dictates of his own 
 just mind. The young man is not able to do this, 
 and it is sufficient that he should obey the Law, and 
 take delight in that obedience ; even as the before- 
 said poet says, in the fifth book previously mentioned, 
 that -^Eneas did when he instituted the games in 
 Sicily on the anniversary of his father's death, for 
 what he promised for the victories he loyally gave to 
 each victor, according to their ancient custom, which 
 was their Law. 
 
 Wherefore, it is evident that, to this age, Loyalty, 
 Courtesy, Love, Courage, and Temperance are neces- 
 sary, even as the Song says, which at present I have 
 reasoned out ; and therefore the noble Soul reveals 
 them all. 
 
266 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERI. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 THAT section which the text puts forward having 
 been reasoned out and made sufficiently clear, show- 
 ing the qualities of uprightness which the noble 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 noble Nature reveals and ought to possess 
 in the third age, that is to say, Old Age. And it says 
 that the noble 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 ma- 
 turity, 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 him- 
 self, 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 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 267 
 
 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, per- 
 ceiving himself to be placed as ruler over the people, 
 asked of God, 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 passes 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 
 
268 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 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 God 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 God, that 
 is, to those unhappy ones to whom the Divine pro- 
 tection 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 govern- 
 ment 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 dis- 
 cussed, 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 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 269 
 
 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 them- 
 selves 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 dis- 
 course kindly at an age when he is listened to. And 
 this age also has with it a shadow of authority, for 
 
270 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 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 
 ^Eacus the King for help in the war which Athens 
 had with the Cretans. He shows that ^Eacus, an 
 old man, was prudent when, having, through pesti- 
 lence caused by corruption of the air, lost almost all 
 his people, he wisely had recourse to God, and 
 besought of Him the restoration of the dead ; and 
 for his wisdom, which in patience possessed him and 
 caused him to turn to God, his people were restored 
 to him in greater number than before. He shows 
 that he was just, when he says that ^Eacus was the 
 divider and the distributor of his deserted land to his 
 new people. He shows that ^Eacus was generous 
 or liberal when he said to Cephalus, after his request 
 for aid : " O Athens ! ask me not to render assist- 
 ance, 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 
 
THE FO UR TH TREA TISE. 2 7 t 
 
 shows that ^Eacus was affable when he described, in 
 a long speech to Cephalus, the history of the pesti- 
 lence 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 noble Nature reveals 
 them in it, even as the Song says. And that the 
 example given may be the more memorable, ^Eacus 
 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 God," by which the text intends to 
 show what the noble 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 God 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, 
 
272 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 and gently, with feeble steering, enters port. Even 
 thus we ought to strike the sails of our worldly 
 affairs, and turn to God 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 noble Soul; and they do thus because of 
 his good works and acts of contemplation, which 
 were of old rendered unto God 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 noble Soul renders itself unto God, 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 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 273 
 
 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 
 noble Italian Guido da Montefeltro. These noble 
 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 God asks 
 of us no more than the religious heart. And there- 
 fore St. Paul says to the Romans : " For he is not 
 a Jew which is one outwardly; neither is that cir- 
 cumcision which is outward in the flesh. But he 
 is a Jew which is one inwardly ; and circumcision 
 is that of the heart, in the spirit, and not in the 
 letter ; whose praise is not of men, but of God." 
 
 And the Noble 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 
 Noble 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 Noble Soul does like the 
 good merchant, who, when he draws near to his 
 port, examines his cargo, and says: "If I had not 
 passed along such a highway as that, I should not 
 possess this treasure, and I should not have where- 
 
274 THE BANQUET OF DANTE AL1GHIERL 
 
 with to rejoice in my city, to which I am approach* 
 ing ; " 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 Noble 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 pre- 
 viously 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 Noble Soul turning to 
 God in the beginning of Extreme Old Age. And 
 what earthly man was more worthy to typify God 
 than Cato ? None, of a certainty. And what does 
 Martia 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 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 275 
 
 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 Noble Soul, knowing well that it has no 
 longer the power to produce, that is, feeling all its 
 members to have grown feeble, turns to God, 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 Noble Soul 
 says to God, " O my Lord, give me now repose 
 and rest ; " the Soul says, " Give me at least whatso- 
 ever 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 Noble Soul is 
 stirred and desires to depart from this life as the 
 spouse of God, and wishes to show that God 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 Nobility ; because in him Nobility reveals 
 them all, through all the ages of his life. 
 
THE BANQUET QF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 SINCE the Song has demonstrated those signs which 
 in each age or period of life appear in the Noble 
 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 Nobility, and it says : u How many 
 are deceived ! " They are deceived who, because they 
 are of ancient and famous lineage, and because they 
 are descended of excellent and Noble fathers, believe 
 themselves to be Noble, yet have in themselves no 
 Nobility. 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: " What- 
 ever I may be, I recall to mind and I represent my 
 elders, who deserved the Office of Prefecture because 
 of their Nobility, and they merited the honour of 
 investiture at the coronation of the Emperor, and 
 they merited the honour of receiving the Rose of 
 Gold from the Romah 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 
 Nobility 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 Noble ; 
 but this is opposed to the opinion of those who 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 
 
 assert that our race is the most Noble 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 
 Noble, 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 dis- 
 similarity 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 fals 
 
278 THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 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. Where- 
 fore, 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 Noble, but it is in a certain way. Where- 
 fore 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 Noble. Wherefore it is to be known, that as 
 
THE FOURTH TREATISE. 279 
 
 in order to make a white heap the white grains must 
 be most numerous, so to make a Noble race the Noble 
 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 substitute, 
 grain by grain, red maize, till, finally, the whole heap 
 or mass would change colour, so would it be pos- 
 sible for the good men of the Noble 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 Noble, 
 but vile, or base. 
 
 And let this be a sufficient answer to the second 
 question. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 As it has been shown previously in the third chapter 
 of this treatise, this Song has three principal 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, 
 passes 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 principal 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 
 
28o THE BANQUET OF DANTE ALIGHIERL 
 
 workman, at the end of his work, ought to ennoble 
 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 fol- 
 lower 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, whp, to a 
 book of his, which he wrote to the confusion of all 
 those who go astray from our Faith, gave the title 
 " 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 fiLsop the poet says in the first 
 fable, a little grain of corn is of far more worth to a 
 cock 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 
 noble 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 FOURTH TREATISE. 281 
 
 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." 
 
 Nobility is her Friend. For so much does the 
 one love the other, that Nobility 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 title 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 where- 
 from 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 passage 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 
 
284 NOTE ON THE DATE OF THE CON VI TO. 
 
 1300. He was befriended by Guido da Polenta in 
 Ravenna, by Uguccione della Faggiola 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 passed away in 1313 
 when that Emperor died in Buonconvento. Dante re- 
 mained in exile. In 1321 his patron, Guido Novello da 
 Polenta, sent him on an embassy 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 i4th of September in that 
 year, 1321. This reference to long exile leads to an in- 
 ference that the First Treatise was written much later than 
 1300. 
 
 But, again, there is a passage in the third chapter of the 
 Fourth Treatise (on page 171 of this volume) that points 
 to an earlier date. Frederick of Suabia is named as the 
 Emperor who 
 
 held, 
 
 As far as he could see, 
 Descent of wealth, and generous ways, 
 To make Nobility. 
 
 Dante calls him "the last Emperor of the Romans," and 
 adds, " I say last with respect to the present time, not- 
 withstanding that Rudolf, and Adolphus, and Albert were 
 elected after his death and from his descendants." This last 
 of the Romans was that famous Frederick II., who died 
 in 1250, and of whom Dante said in his Treatise on the 
 Language of the People : " The illustrious heroes, Frederick 
 Caesar and his son Manfredi, followed after elegance and 
 scorned what was mean j so that all the best compositions 
 of the time came out of their Court. Thus, because their 
 royal throne was in Sicily, all the poems of our predecessors 
 in the Vulgar Tongue were called Sicilian." Rudolf I. of 
 
NOTE ON THE DATE OF THE CONV1TO. 285 
 
 Hapsburg, founder of the Imperial House of Austria, was 
 elected Emperor in 1273, after a time of confusion and 
 nominal rule. He died in 1291, and, instead of his son 
 Albert, Adolphus of Nassau was next elected Emperor. 
 But in June 1298 Albert obtained election; Adolphus was 
 deposed, and was soon afterwards killed in battle with his 
 rival. Albert was murdered on the 6th of May, 1308, and, 
 after an interregnum of seven months, he was succeeded by 
 Henry VII. of Luxembourg. Now, Dante's list does not go 
 on from Albert to Henry. It is assumed, therefore, that 
 this passage must have been written before the end of the 
 year 1308. 
 
 There is another passage at the close of chapter vi. of 
 the Fourth Treatise (on page 186 in this volume) that 
 points to a like inference of date. Dante writes: "Ye 
 enemies of God, look to your flanks, ye who have seized 
 the sceptres of the kingdoms of Italy. And I say to you, 
 Charles, and to you, Frederick, Kings, and to you, ye other 
 Princes and Tyrants, see who sits by the side of you in 
 council." The Charles and Frederick here addressed were 
 Charles II. of Anjou, King of Naples, and Frederick of 
 Aragon, King of Sicily; and King Charles died in the 
 year 1310. 
 
 It has been inferred, therefore, that the four treatises of 
 the Con vito were not written consecutively. The Second 
 Treatise may have been begun some time after the death of 
 Beatrice, in 1290, time being allowed after 1290 for the 
 completion of the Vita Nuova and a period of devotion 
 to philosophic studies. That Second Treatise having been 
 first written, the Treatise on Nobility, the Fourth, may have 
 next followed ; and this may have been written before the 
 end of the year 1298. The Third Treatise may have been 
 written later, and made to connect the Second and the 
 Fourth. The First Treatise, or General Introduction, which 
 has in it clear indication of a later date, may have been 
 written last, when the whole design was brought into shape. 
 
286 NOTE ON THE DATE OF THE CONVITO. 
 
 Various reasons have been used for dating this final arrange- 
 ment of the plan for an Ethical survey of human knowledge 
 in fifteen treatises, and the suggested date is the year 1314. 
 The whole work seems to have been planned. Besides the 
 references to the Fifteenth Treatise, there is a glance forward 
 to the matter of the Seventh Treatise in the twenty-sixth 
 chapter of the Fourth. 
 
 The question of date is not of great importance, and this 
 may console us though we know that it can never be settled. 
 Here it is only touched upon to show the significance of one 
 or two historical ailusk>ns v in "the book. 
 
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