type of God than the Sun, which illuminates with visible light itself first, and then all the celestial and elemental bodies. Thus, God illuminates 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 accidental. 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 creature 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 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 encircles 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 distinct. 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 elsewhere 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 platonic, 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 distinguishes the other things, as has been said, seeing Himself to be the cause of all. Oh, most noble and most excellent heart, which is at peace in the 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 necessary. 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,” 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 following 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 whatever.
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 Intelligences, 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 contemplation, 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 Intelligences through continual contemplation, and afterwards in the human intellect through interpreted contemplation. But the man who has her for his Lady is ever to be termed a Philosopher, notwithstanding 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 Intelligence 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 somewhat 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, 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 wonderful 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 Heartward 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 contemplation 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.
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; wherefore 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 interposing 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 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 become 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, combated with his own best friend, even with the above-named Plato, his dearest friend after Philosophy. 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 this, the text presently 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 Philosopher says, in the first book of Metaphysics, that 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 company, 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 Miracle,” 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 we mount to become Philosophers in that celestial Athens where Stoics, Peripatetics, and Epicureans, 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 demonstrations, whereby one sees the Truth most certainly; but her persuasions are in her smile, in which persuasions 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 smile. 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 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 Knowledge is unhappy,” that is to say, he suffers the privation of happiness. From the habit of Wisdom 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 intellect 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 certainly they do not see, and with all faith they believe to be. And even what they are we cannot understand; 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 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 perfection, 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. Wherefore, 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 knowledge, and hereby is this doubtful question solved.
Then when I say, “Rain from her beauty little 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 Philosophy. 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 Philosophy, 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 Philosophy. 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 herself which is called Moral Philosophy. And I subjoin that by gazing at her (I say, at Wisdom) in that 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, saying 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 friendship 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 cannot 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 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 is intended for a refrain, can be explained easily enough by the Literal exposition, except inasmuch as it says that I there called this Lady “disdainful 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.
* * * * *
The Fourth 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,
Containing 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.
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
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.
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.
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 Pythagoras says, “In friendship many become one.”
And the things which are united naturally communicate 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 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 especially 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 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, Philosophy, 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 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 appearance is contrary to the Truth; and how this can be, how one self-same thing can be sweet and appear bitter, or rather be clear and appear obscure, may there be seen clearly enough.
Afterwards when I say, “And since time suits,” I say, even as has been said, what that is whereof I 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 movement, 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 informing 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 revolution 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 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 therefore 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. And therefore Solomon says in Ecclesiastes: “There is a time to speak, and a time to be silent.” Wherefore I, feeling within myself that my disposition to speak 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: “Behold, 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 diligently 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.”
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 “subtle,” with regard to the meaning of the words, which proceed with subtle argument and disputation.
And I subjoin: “hold false and vile The judgment;” 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 of 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 only 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.
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 deceived! My Song, Against the strayers.” And after these general parts, it will be right to make other divisions, in order to make the meaning of the demonstration 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 confuted; 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 might be, replied that “it was ancient wealth, and good manners.”
And 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.
CHAPTER IV.
The radical foundation of Imperial Majesty, according to the Truth, is the necessity of Human Civilization, 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 neighbourhoods, 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 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 Command. 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 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 acquiring 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 AEneid, 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 duration; to them I have given boundless Empire.” Force, then, was not the moving cause, as he believed who was cavilling; but there was 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 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 mysteriously, 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, 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 disposition; 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 Providence 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, AEneas 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 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 Mathematicians 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 presumption, 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 opportunity of the advancing tract of time. If we consider, 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 Quinctius Cincinnatus, who, taken from the plough and made dictator, after the time of office had expired, spontaneously refusing its continuance, followed his plough again? Who will say of Camillus, 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 inspiration? 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 with His own hands when a new citizen of humble station, Tullius, defended, against such a citizen as Catiline, the Roman liberty? Yes, surely. Wherefore 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 argument 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 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 ligature; 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 evident that his words are a supreme and chief Authority. That Aristotle is most worthy of faith and obedience, 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 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 profession 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 nevertheless 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 uprightness, 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 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 enjoyment, voluntade, but I write it with a _p_, 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 seeing 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 companion, 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 perfection, and especially Aristotle. And since Aristotle began to reason while walking hither and thither, they were called, he, I say, and his companions, Peripatetics, 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 themselves to this sect are called Peripatetics, and these people hold the doctrine of the government of the World through all its parts: and it may be termed a catholic opinion, as it were. Wherefore it is possible to see that Aristotle 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 Philosophic 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.”
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, and count how many times a day this aim of human life is indicated to you by your councillors. Better would it be for you, like swallows, to fly low down than, like kites, to make lofty circles over carrion.
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 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 descended 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 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 straightforward; 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 lays this 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 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 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 arrogant, 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 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 lordships, 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, 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 confuting this error, so I speak not against the reverence 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 speak briefly; wherefore, 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 requisite, 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 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 irreverence of Nature and of Truth, as will be seen in the sequel. Against this error that Master of Philosophers, 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.
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 previously 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 mankind 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 Universal Nature is limited within a certain boundary, and consequently 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 capacity 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 subject to Reason and to Will; for, if in us there is the digestive operation, that is not human, but natural. 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 Supernatural and the Mathematics. And those are operations 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 considers 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 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 therefore 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 multiplied, 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 movement; as in the threshing of the corn, where the Art makes its instrument, which is a natural quality. 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 relationship 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 administration; and to such a law as this we are entirely subject; there are many others which appear to have some relationship with the Imperial Art; and here he was and is deceived who believes that the Imperial 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, therefore, 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 is to be known that in the opinion of the Emperor, 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 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 disjoined 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 incomplete.” 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 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 previously narrated, that which alters or corrupts anything must be conjoined with that thing, and therefore 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 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 XI.
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 proportion 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: “Without strife or contention or opposition, the Laws would perish, and you, Riches, the basest part of 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 inasmuch as they are appointed to the possession of man they are riches, and in this way they are full of imperfection; which is not an unbecoming or impossible thing, considered from different points of view, to be perfect and imperfect. I say that their imperfection firstly may be observed in the indiscretion, or unwisdom, or folly, of their arrival, in which no distributive Justice shines forth, but complete 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 unlawful 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 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 discovered 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 neighbourhood, 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 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. Certainly 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 Beltramo 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 imperfection 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 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 increase, 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 themselves, 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 refreshment they bring on an intolerable fever-thirst; and beyond sufficiency, they extend their limit, 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 lordships, 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 mentioned.
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 multiply 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 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 fulfilment 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 increases, 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 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, and 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 experience 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 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 straightest 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 entirely 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 expansion in one way alone. But because this chapter 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 possible to affirm properly that the desire for knowledge does increase, although, as has been said, it does expand in a certain way. For that which properly