The Theme in the Work
Paradise is the canticle in which knowing and seeing become the same thing, and the poem warns early that method has limits. In canto II, Beatrice answers Dante's explanation of the spots of the Moon with a sentence about reason, which has short wings behind the senses:
certo non ti dovrien punger li strali / d’ammirazione omai, poi dietro ai sensi / vedi che la ragione ha corte l’ali, surely the arrows of admiration should no longer prick you, since you see that, behind the senses, reason has short wings.
What is seen is measured: she refutes the pilgrim by proof and by experience. But knowledge does not end in demonstration, and canto IV gives the theory of asking, the doubt that springs at the foot of the true and pushes man from hill to hill:
Nasce per quello, a guisa di rampollo, / a piè del vero il dubbio; ed è natura / ch’al sommo pinge noi di collo in collo, from this, like a shoot, doubt springs at the foot of the true; and it is nature that pushes us to the summit from hill to hill.
In the Sun, knowledge takes on a face. The crown of twelve wise men of Thomas Aquinas gathers thinkers from different ages and positions, and among them is the one that commentators give as Thomas's own adversary, Siger, called eternal light and remembered for syllogizing truths that aroused envy:
essa è la luce etterna di Sigieri, / che, leggendo nel Vico de li Strami, / silogizzò invidïosi veri, that is the eternal light of Siger, who, lecturing on Straw Street, syllogized truths that aroused envy.
Canto XIII gives the method. The difference among men does not offend the model, because it comes from the matter that receives the mark, and Solomon is unmatched only in kingly prudence. The rule of conduct is lead on the feet: before affirming or denying, distinguish.
E questo ti sia sempre piombo a’ piedi, / per farti mover lento com’ uom lasso / e al sì e al no che tu non vedi, and let this always be lead at your feet, to make you move slowly like a weary man, both toward the yes and toward the no that you do not see.
In XIX, the Eagle refuses the judge's seat to one who wants to judge from a thousand miles away with the sight of a span:
Or tu chi se’, che vuo’ sedere a scranna, / per giudicar di lungi mille miglia / con la veduta corta d’una spanna?, now, who are you, who would sit on the bench to judge from a thousand miles away with the short sight of a span?
In XXVIII, Dante is puzzled that the circles nearest the point are the fastest, and Beatrice says he was measuring the wrong thing. The rule of Paradise is that beatitude is founded in the act of seeing:
Quinci si può veder come si fonda / l’esser beato ne l’atto che vede, / non in quel ch’ama, che poscia seconda; / e del vedere è misura mercede, / che grazia partorisce e buona voglia: / così di grado in grado si procede, from here one can see how beatitude is founded in the act of seeing, and not in the act of loving, which follows afterward; and from seeing the measure is the merit that grace and good will bring forth: thus one proceeds from degree to degree.
Even a pope and doctor of the Church laughed at himself when he opened his eyes and saw the choirs as they were. Earthly knowledge corrects itself when it sees. In canto XXXIII the same movement reaches its limit: Dante wanted to see how the human image fits into the divine circle, but his own wings were not enough for that.
tal era io a quella vista nova: / veder voleva come si convenne / l’imago al cerchio e come vi s’indova; / ma non eran da ciò le proprie penne: / se non che la mia mente fu percossa / da un fulgore in che sua voglia venne, such was I before that new sight: I wanted to see how the image fits the circle and how it lodges there; but my own wings were not for that, until my mind was struck by a flash in which its will came.
Having traversed the path, the knowledge of Paradise is not an accumulation of propositions. It is a disposition: one asks, one examines, one distinguishes, and at the end the intellect recognizes the point where the will arrives where the reckoning cannot reach.
Who Embodies It
Beatrice teaches by principle and by experience. Thomas Aquinas teaches how to distinguish. Bonaventure teaches how to judge one's own house. Dante is the student who asks. Saint Peter is the examiner who asks for the coin in the purse.
Where It Appears
- Canto II: Beatrice refutes Dante's explanation of the spots of the Moon with an argument and an experiment with three mirrors.
- Canto IV: Dante gives the theory of asking, the doubt that springs at the foot of the true and pushes man from hill to hill.
- Canto IX: Dante invents verbs from the pronoun to say what he lacks, to enter the soul as it enters him.
- Canto X: Thomas names the crown of the wise, of the light that tradition reads as Solomon, unrivaled, and Siger, who syllogized envied truths.
- Canto XII: Bonaventure names the companions of the second crown, among them Hugh of Saint Victor, Nathan, Chrysostom, Anselm and Joachim.
- Canto XIII: Thomas separates knowledge from kingly prudence and bids Dante put lead on his feet before affirming or denying.
- Canto XIX: The Eagle denies the mortal the judge's seat and the sight that reaches the bottom of eternal justice.
- Canto XXIV: Dante defends before Peter that the rain of the Spirit is the syllogism that concluded faith in him.
- Canto XXVIII: Beatrice measures the circle by its power, teaches that beatitude is born of seeing, and tells that Gregory laughed at himself.
- Canto XXXIII: Dante sees the universe gathered into a volume by love and confesses that memory and tongue yield to the excess.
Where the Readings Diverge
The text supports two readings of how much knowledge is worth in Paradise. In the first, it is the legitimate way: Beatrice argues, Thomas distinguishes, Dante syllogizes, and reason has its place within faith. In the second, the poem diminishes knowledge from above: reason has short wings, the trembling hand works short of the idea, Gregory laughs at himself, and in the end the geometer does not find the principle he lacks. The two coexist, and canto XXVIII joins them in the rule that one sees first and loves afterward.