Returning to the proposition, I say that Human Life is divided into four ages or stages. The first is called Adolescence, that is, the growth or increase of life; the second is called Youth, that is, the age which can give perfection, and for this reason one understands this Youth to be perfect, because no man can give except of that which he has; the third is called Old Age; the fourth is called Senility, Extreme Old Age, as has been said above.
Of the first no one doubts, but each wise man agrees that it lasts even to the twenty-fifth year; and up to that time our Soul waits for the increase and the embellishment of the body. While there are many and very great changes in the person, the rational part cannot possess perfectly the power of discretion; wherefore, the Civil Law wills that, previous to that age, a man cannot do certain things without a guardian of perfect age.
Of the second, which is the height of our life, the time is variously taken by many. But leaving that which philosophers and medical men write concerning it, and returning to the proper argument, we may say that, in most men in whom one can and ought to be guided by natural judgment, that age lasts for twenty years. And the reason which leads me to this conclusion is, that the height or supreme point of our arc or bow is in the thirty-fifth year; just so much as this age has of ascent, so much it ought to have of descent; and this ascent passes into descent, as it were, at the point, the centre, where one would hold the bow in the hand, at which place a slight flexion may be discerned. We are of opinion, then, that Youth is completed in the forty-fifth year.
And as Adolescence is in the twenty-five years which proceed mounting upwards to Youth: so the descent, that is, Old Age, is an equal amount of time which succeeds to Youth; and thus Old Age terminates in the seventieth year.
But because Adolescence does not begin at the beginning of life—taking it in the way which has been said—but about eight months from birth; and because our life strives to ascend, and curbs itself in the descent; because the natural heat is lessened and can do little, and the moist humour is increased, not in quantity, but in quality, so that it is less able to evaporate and be consumed; it happens that beyond Old Age there remains of our life an amount, perhaps, of about ten years, a little more or a little less; and this time of life is termed Extreme Old Age, or Senility. Wherefore we know of Plato (of whom one may well say that he was a son of Nature, both because of his perfection and because of his countenance, which caused Socrates to love him when first he saw him), that he lived eighty and one years, according to the testimony of Tullius in that book On Old Age. And I believe that if Christ had not been crucified, and if He might have lived the length of time which His life according to nature could have passed over, at eighty and one years He would have been transformed from the mortal body into the eternal.
Truly, as has been said above, these ages may be longer or shorter according to our complexion or temper and our constitution or composition; but, as they are, it seems to me that I observe this proportion in all men, as has been said, that is to say, that in such men the ages may be made longer or shorter according to the integrity of the whole term of the natural life.
Throughout all these ages this Nobility of which we speak manifests its effects in different ways in the ennobled Soul; and it is that which this part of the Song, concerning which we write at present, intends to demonstrate. Where it is to be known that our good and upright nature makes forward progress in us in the reasoning powers, as we see the nature of the plants make forward progress; and therefore it is that different manners and different deportment are to be held reasonable at one age rather than at another. The ennobled Soul proceeds in due order along a single path, employing each of its powers in its time and season, or even as they are all ordained to the final production of the perfect fruit. And Tullius is in harmony with this in his book On Old Age. And putting aside the figurative sense which Virgil holds in the Æneid concerning this different progress of the ages, and letting that be which Egidius the hermit mentions in the first part On the Government of Princes, and letting that be to which Tullius alludes in his book Of Offices, and following that alone which Reason can see of herself, I say that this first age is the door and the path through which and along which we enter into our good life, And this entrance must of necessity have certain things which the good Nature, which fails not in things necessary, gives to us; as we see that she gives to the vine the leaves for the protection of the fruit, and the little tendrils which enable it to twine round its supports, and thus bind up its weakness, so that it can sustain the weight of its fruit. Beneficent Nature gives, then, to this age four things necessary to the entrance into the City of the Good Life. The first is Obedience, the second Suavity, the third Modesty, the fourth Beauty of the Body, even as the Song says in the first section of this part. It is, then, to be known that like one who has never been in a city, who would not know how to find his way about the streets without instruction from one who is accustomed to them, even so the adolescent who enters into the Wood of Error of this life would not know how to keep to the good path if it were not pointed out to him by his elders. Neither would the instruction avail if he were not obedient to their commands, and therefore at this age obedience is necessary. Here it might be possible for some one to speak thus: Then, is that man to be called obedient who shall follow evil guidance as well as he who shall believe the good? I reply that this would not be obedience, but transgression. For if the King should issue a command in one way and the servant give forth the command in another, it would not be right to obey the servant, for that would be to disobey the King; and thus it would be transgression. And therefore Solomon says, when he intends to correct his son, and this is his first commandment: "Listen, my son, to the instruction of thy father." And then he seeks to remove him immediately from the counsel and teaching of the wicked man, saying, "My son, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not."
Wherefore, as soon as he is born, the son clings to the breast of the mother; even so soon as some light of the Mind appears in him, he ought to turn to the correction of the father, and the father to instruction. And let the father take heed that he himself does not set him an example in work or action that is contrary to the words of the correction; for naturally we see each son look more to the footprints of the paternal feet than to those of other men. And therefore the Law, which provides for this, says and commands that the life of the father should appear to his sons always honourable and upright. Thus it appears that obedience was necessary in this age; and therefore Solomon writes in the Book of Proverbs, that he who humbly and obediently sustains his just reproofs from the corrector shall be glorious. And he says "shall be," to cause men to understand that he speaks to the adolescent, who cannot be so in his present age. And if any one should reflect on me because I have said obedience is due to the father and not to other men, I say that to the father all other obedience ought to be referred; wherefore the Apostle says to the Colossians: "Sons, obey your fathers in all things, for such is the will of God." And if the father be not in this life, the son ought to refer to that which is said by the father in his last Will as a father; and if the father die intestate, the son ought to refer to him to whom the Law commits his authority; and then ought the masters and elders to be obeyed, for this appears to be a reasonable charge laid upon the son by the father, or by him who stands in the father's place.
But because this present chapter has been long, on account of the useful digressions which it contains, in another chapter other things shall be discussed.
Not only this Soul, naturally good in Adolescence, is obedient, but also gentle; which is the other thing necessary in this age to make a good entrance through the portal of Youth.
It is necessary, since we cannot have a perfect life without friends, as Aristotle expresses it in the eighth book of Ethics; and the seed of the greater number of friendships seems to be sown in the first age of life, because in it a man begins to be gracious or the contrary. Such graciousness is acquired by gentle rules of conduct, as are sweet and courteous speech, gentle service courteously rendered, and actions kindly done or performed. And therefore Solomon says to the adolescent son: "Surely God scorneth the scorners; but He giveth grace unto the lowly." And elsewhere he says: "Put away from thee a forward mouth, and perverse lips put far from thee." Wherefore it appears that, as has been said, this suavity or affability is necessary.
Likewise to this age the passion of modesty is necessary; and therefore the nature which is good and noble shows it in this age, even as the Song says. And since modesty is the clearest sign, in Adolescence, of Nobility, because there it is especially necessary to the good foundation of our life, at which the noble nature aims, it is right to speak of it somewhat. By modesty I mean three passions or strong feelings necessary to the foundation of our good life: the one is wonder, the next is modesty, the third is shame, although the common people do not discern this distinction. And all three of these are necessary to this life, for this reason: at this age it is requisite to be reverent and desirous for knowledge; at this age it is necessary or requisite to be self-controlled, so as not to transgress or pass beyond due bounds; at this age it is necessary to be penitent for a fault, so as not to grow accustomed to doing wrong. And all these things the aforesaid passions or strong feelings do, which vulgarly are called shame; for wonder is an amazement of the mind at beholding great and wonderful things, at hearing them, or feeling them in some way or other; for, inasmuch as they appear great, they excite reverence in him who sees them; inasmuch as they appear wonderful, they make him who perceives them desirous of knowledge concerning them. And therefore the ancient Kings in their palaces or habitations set up magnificent works in gold and in marble and works of art, in order that those who should see them should become astonished, and therefore reverent inquirers into the honourable conditions of the King. Therefore Statius, the sweet Poet, in the first part of the Theban History, says that, when Adrastus, King of the Argives, saw Polynices covered with the skin of a lion, and saw Tydeus covered with the hide of a wild boar, and recalled to mind the reply that Apollo had given concerning his daughters, he became amazed, and therefore more reverent and more desirous for knowledge. Modesty is a shrinking, a drawing-back of the mind from unseemly things, with the fear of falling into them; even as we see in virgins and in good women, and in adolescent or young men, who are so modest that not only when they are tempted to do wrong, and urged to do so, but even when some fancied joy flashes across the mind, the feeling is depicted in the face, which either grows pale with fear, or flushes rosy-red. Wherefore the before-mentioned poet, in the first book of the Thebaid already quoted, says that when Acesta the nurse of Argia and Deiphile, the daughters of King Adrastus, led them before the eyes of their holy father into the presence of the two pilgrims, that is to say, Polynices and Tydeus, the virgins grew pale and blushed rosy-red, and their eyes shunned the glance of any other person, and they kept them fixed on the paternal face alone, as if there were safety. This modesty—how many errors does it bridle in, or repress? On how many immodest questions and impure things does it impose silence! How much dishonest greed does it repress! In the chaste woman, against how many evil temptations does it rouse mistrust, not only in her, but also in him who watches over her! How many unseemly words does it restrain! for, as Tullius says in the first chapter of the Offices: "No action is unseemly which is not unseemly in the naming." And furthermore, the Modest and Noble Man never could speak in such a manner that to a woman his words would not be decent and such as she could hear. Alas, how great is the evil in every man who seeks for honour, to mention things which would be deemed evil in the mouth of any woman!
Shame is a fear of dishonour through fault committed, and from this fear there springs up a penitence for the fault, which has in itself a bitter sorrow or grief, which is a chastisement and preservative against future wrong-doing. Wherefore this same poet says, in that same part, that when Polynices was questioned by King Adrastus concerning his life, he hesitated at first through shame to speak of the crime which he had committed against his father, and also for the sins of Oedipus, his father, which appeared to remain in the shame of the son; therefore he named not his father, but his ancestors, and his country, and his mother; and therefore it does indeed appear that shame is necessary to that age. And the noble nature reveals in this age, not only obedience, gentleness, affability, and modesty, but it shows beauty and agility of body, even as the Song expresses: "To furnish Virtue's person with The graces it may need." Here it is to be known that this work of beneficent Nature is also necessary to our good life, for our Soul must work in the greater part of all its operations with a bodily organ; and then it works well when the body through all its parts is well proportioned and appointed. And when it is well proportioned and appointed, then it is beautiful throughout and in all its parts; for the due ordering or proportion of our limbs produces a pleasing impression of I know not what of wonderful harmony; and the good disposition, that is to say, the health of mind and body, throws over all a colouring sweet to behold. And thus to say that the noble nature takes heed for the graces of the body, and makes it fair and harmonious, is tantamount to saying that it prepares it and renders it fit to attain the perfection ordained for it: and those other things which have been discussed seem to be requisite to Adolescence, which the noble Mind, that is to say, the noble Nature, furnishes forth to it in the first years of life, as growth of the seed sown therein by the Divine Providence.
Since the first section of this part, which shows how we can recognize the Noble Man by apparent signs, is reasoned out, it is right to proceed to the second section, which begins: "Are temperate in Youth, And resolutely strong."
It says, then, that as the noble Nature in Adolescence or the Spring-time of Youth appears obedient, gentle, and modest, the beautifier of its person, so in Youth it is temperate, strong, and loving, courteous and loyal; which five things appear to be, and are, necessary to our perfection, inasmuch as we have respect unto ourselves. And with regard to this it is desirable to know that just as the noble Nature prepares in the first age, it is prepared and ordained by the care or foresight of Universal Nature, which ordains and appoints the particular Nature where-ever existing, to attain its perfection.
This perfection of ours may be considered in a double sense. It is possible to consider it as it has respect to ourselves, and we ought to possess this in our Youth, which is the culminating point of our life. It is possible to consider it as it has respect to others, and since in the first place it is necessary to be perfect, and then to communicate the perfection to others, it is requisite to possess this secondary perfection after this age, that is to say, in Old Age, as will be said subsequently. Here, then, it is needful to recall to mind that which was argued in the twenty-second chapter of this treatise concerning the appetite or impulse which is born in us. This appetite or impulse never does aught else but to pursue and to flee, and whenever it pursues that which is to be pursued, and as far as is right, and flies from that which is to be fled from, and as much as is right, then is the man within the limits of his perfection. Truly, this appetite or natural impulse must have Reason for its rider; for as a horse at liberty, however noble it may be by nature, by itself without the good rider does not conduct itself well, even thus this appetite, however noble it may be, must obey Reason, which guides it with the bridle and spur, as the good knight uses the bridle when he hunts. And that bridle is termed Temperance, which marks the limit up to which it is lawful to pursue; he uses the spur in flight to turn the horse away from the place from which he would flee away; and this spur is called Courage, or rather Magnanimity, a Virtue that points out the place at which it is right to stop, and to resist evil even to mortal combat. And thus Virgil, our greatest Poet, represents Æneas as under the influence of powerful self control in that part of the Æneid wherein this age is typified, which part comprehends the fourth and the fifth and the sixth books of the Æneid. And what self-restraint was that when, having received from Dido so much pleasure, as will be spoken of in the seventh treatise, and enjoying so much delectation with her, he departed, in order to follow the upright and praiseworthy path fruitful of good works, even as it is written in the fourth book of the Æneid! What impetus was that when Æneas had the fortitude alone with Sybilla to enter into Hades, to search for the Soul of his father Anchises, in the face of so many dangers, as it is shown in the sixth book of the Æneid. Wherefore it appears that in our Youth, in order to be in our perfection, we must be Temperate and Brave. The good disposition secures this for us, even as the Song expressly states.
Again, at this age it is necessary to its perfection to be Loving; because at this age it is requisite to look behind and before, as being midway over the arch. The youth ought to love his elders, from whom he has received his being, and his nutriment, and his instruction, so that he may not appear ungrateful. He ought to love his juniors, since, in loving them, he gives them of his good gifts, for which in after-years, when the younger friends are prospering, he may be supported and honoured by them. And the poet named above, in the fifth book before-mentioned, makes it evident that Æneas possessed this loving disposition, when he left the aged Trojans in Sicily, recommended to Acestes, and set them free from the fatigues of the voyage; and when he instructed, in the same place, Ascanius his son, with the other young men, in jousting or in feats of arms; wherefore it appears that to this age Love is necessary, even as the Song says.
Again, to this age Courtesy is necessary, for, although to every age it is right or beautiful to be possessed of courteous manners, to this age it is especially necessary, because, on the contrary, Old Age, with its gravity and its severity, cannot possess courtesy, if it has been wanting in this youthful period of life; and with Extreme Old Age it is the same in a greater degree. And that most noble poet, in the sixth book before-mentioned, proves that Æneas possessed this courtesy, when he says that Æneas, then King, in order to pay honour to the dead body of Misenus, who had been the trumpeter of Hector, and afterwards accompanied Æneas, made himself ready and took the axe to assist in cutting the logs for the fire which must burn the dead body, as was their custom. Wherefore this courtesy does indeed appear to be necessary to Youth; and therefore the noble Soul reveals it in that age, as has been said.
Again, it is necessary to this age to be Loyal. Loyalty is to follow and to put in operation that which the Laws command, and this especially is necessary in the young man; because the adolescent, as it has been said, on account of his minority, merits ready pardon; the old man, on account of greater experience, ought to be just, but not a follower of the Law except inasmuch as his upright judgment and the Law are at one as it were; and almost without any Law he ought to be able to follow the dictates of his own just mind. The young man is not able to do this, and it is sufficient that he should obey the Law, and take delight in that obedience; even as the before-said poet says, in the fifth book previously mentioned, that Æneas did when he instituted the games in Sicily on the anniversary of his father's death, for what he promised for the victories he loyally gave to each victor, according to their ancient custom, which was their Law.
Wherefore, it is evident that, to this age, Loyalty, Courtesy, Love, Courage, and Temperance are necessary, even as the Song says, which at present I have reasoned out; and therefore the noble Soul reveals them all.
That section which the text puts forward having been reasoned out and made sufficiently clear, showing the qualities of uprightness which the noble Soul puts into Youth, we go on to pay attention to the third part, which begins, "Are prudent in their Age," in which the Song intends to show those qualities which the noble Nature reveals and ought to possess in the third age, that is to say, Old Age. And it says that the noble Soul in Old Age is prudent, is just, is liberal and cheerful, willing to speak kindly and for the good of others, and ready to listen for the same reason, that is to say, that it is affable. And truly these four Virtues are most suitable to this age. And, in order to perceive this, it is to be known that, as Tullius says in his book On Old Age, "Our life has a certain course, and one simple path, that of natural moral goodness; and to each part of our age there is given a season for certain things." Wherefore, as to Adolescence is given, as has been said above, that by means of which it may attain perfection and maturity, so to youth is given perfection and maturity in order that the sweetness of its perfect fruit may be profitable to the man himself and to others; for, as Aristotle says, man is a civil or polite animal, because it is required of him to be useful, not only to himself, but to others as well. Wherefore one reads of Cato, that he believed himself to be born not only to himself, but to his country and to all the world. Then after our own perfection, which is acquired in Youth, there must follow that which may give light not only to one's self, but to others as well; and a man ought to open and broaden like a rose as it were, which can no longer remain closed, and spread abroad the sweet odour which is bred within; and this ought to be the case in that third age which we have now in hand.
Then it must be Prudent, that is to say, Wise. And, in order to be this, a good memory of the things which have been seen is requisite, and a good knowledge of present things, and good foresight for things of the future. And, as the Philosopher says in the sixth book of Ethics, it is impossible for the man who is not good to be wise; and therefore he is not to be called a wise man who acts with cunning and with deception, but he is to be called an astute man. As no one would call him a wise man who might indeed know how to draw with the point of a knife in the pupil of the eye, even so he is not to be called a wise man who knows how to do a bad thing well, in the doing of which he must always first injure some other person. If we consider well, good counsel springs from Prudence, which leads or guides a man, and other men, to a good end in human affairs. And this is that gift which Solomon, perceiving himself to be placed as ruler over the people, asked of God, even as it is written in the Third Book of Kings; nor does the prudent man wait for counsel to be asked of him; but of himself, foreseeing the need for it, unasked he gives counsel or advice; like the rose, which not only to him who goes to her for her sweet odour freely gives it, but also to any one who passes near.
Here it would be possible for any doctor or lawyer to say: Then shall I carry my counsel or advice, and shall I give it even before it be asked of me, and shall I not reap fruit from my art or skill? I reply in the words of our Saviour: "Freely ye have received, freely give." I say, then, Master Lawyer, that those counsels which have no respect to thine art, and which proceed alone from that good sense or wisdom which God gave thee (which is the prudence of which we speak), thou oughtest not to sell to the sons or children of Him who has given it to thee. But those counsels which belong to the art which thou hast purchased, thou mayst sell; but not in such a way but that at any time the tenth part of them may be fitly set apart and given unto God, that is, to those unhappy ones to whom the Divine protection is all that is left.
Likewise at this age it is right to be Just, in order that the judgments and the authority of the man may be a light and a law to other men. And because this particular Virtue, that is to say, Justice, was seen by the ancient philosophers to appear perfect in men of this age, they entrusted the government of the cities to those men who had attained that age; and therefore the college of Rectors was called the Senate. Oh, my unhappy, unhappy country! how my heart is wrung with pity for thee whenever I read, whenever I write, anything which may have reference to Civil Government! But since in the last treatise of this book Justice will be discussed, to the present let this slight notice of it suffice.
Also at this age a man ought to be liberal, because a thing is then most suitable when it gives most satisfaction to the due requirements of its nature: nor to the due requirements of Liberality is it ever possible to give more satisfaction than at this age. For if we will look well at the argument of Aristotle in the fourth book of Ethics, and at that of Tullius in his book Of Offices, Liberality desires to be seasonable in place and time; so that the liberal man may not injure himself nor other men; which thing it is not possible to have without Prudence and without Justice, Virtues that previous to this age it is impossible to have or possess in perfection in the Natural way.
Alas! ye base-born ones, born under evil stars, ye who rob the widows and orphans, who ravish or despoil those who possess least, who steal from and occupy or usurp the homes of other men, and with that spoil you furnish forth feasts, women, horses, arms, robes, money; you wear wonderful garments, you build marvellous palaces; and you believe that you do deeds of great liberality: and this is no other than to take the cloth from the altar and to cover therewith the thief and his table! Not otherwise one ought to laugh, O tyrants, at your bounteous liberality than at the thief who should lead the invited guests into his house to his feast, and place upon his table the cloth stolen from the altar, with the ecclesiastical signs inwoven, and should not believe that other men might perceive the sacrilege. Hear, O ye obstinate men, what Tullius says against you in the book Of Offices: "Certainly there are many, desirous of being great and glorious, who rob some that they may give to others, believing themselves to be esteemed good men if they enrich their friends with what the Law allows. But this is so opposite or contrary to that which ought to be done, that nothing is more wrong."
At this age also a man ought to be Affable, to speak for the good of others, and to listen to such speech willingly, since it is good for a man to discourse kindly at an age when he is listened to. And this age also has with it a shadow of authority, for which reason it appears that the aged man is more likely to be listened to than a person in a younger period of life. And of most good and beautiful Truths it seems that a man ought to have knowledge after the long experience of life. Wherefore Tullius says, in that book On Old Age, in the person of Cato the elder: "To me is increased the desire and the delight to remain in conversation longer than I am wont." And that all four of these things are right and proper to this age, Ovid teaches, in the seventh chapter of Metamorphoses, in that fable where he writes how Cephalus of Athens came to Æacus the King for help in the war which Athens had with the Cretans. He shows that Æacus, an old man, was prudent when, having, through pestilence caused by corruption of the air, lost almost all his people, he wisely had recourse to God, and besought of Him the restoration of the dead; and for his wisdom, which in patience possessed him and caused him to turn to God, his people were restored to him in greater number than before. He shows that he was just, when he says that Æacus was the divider and the distributor of his deserted land to his new people. He shows that Æacus was generous or liberal when he said to Cephalus, after his request for aid: "O Athens! ask me not to render assistance, but take it yourself; doubt not the strength of the forces which this island possesses, nor the power of my state and realm; troops are not wanting to us, nay, we have them in excess for offence and defence; it is indeed a happy time to give you aid, and without excuse."
Alas, how many things are to be observed in this reply! but to a good, intelligent man it is sufficient for it to be placed here, even as Ovid puts it. He shows that Æacus was affable when he described, in a long speech to Cephalus, the history of the pestilence which destroyed his people, and the restoration of the same, which he tells readily.
It is clear enough, then, that to this age four things are suitable, because the noble Nature reveals them in it, even as the Song says. And that the example given may be the more memorable, Æacus says that he was the father of Telamon and Peleus and of Phocus, from which Telamon sprang Ajax and from Peleus Achilles.
Following the section which has been discussed, we have now to proceed to the last, that is, to that which begins, "The fourth part of their life Weds them again to God," by which the text intends to show what the noble Soul does in the last age, that is, in Extreme Old Age, that is, Senility. And it says that it does two things: the one, that it returns to God as to that port or haven whence it departed when it issued forth to enter into the sea of this life; the other is, that it blesses the voyage which it has made, because it has been upright, straight, and good, and without the bitterness of storm and tempest.
And here it is to be known that, even as Tullius says in that book On Old Age, the natural death is, as it were, a port or haven to us after our long voyage and a place of rest. And the Virtuous Man who dies thus is like the good mariner; for, as he approaches the port or haven, he strikes his sails, and gently, with feeble steering, enters port. Even thus we ought to strike the sails of our worldly affairs, and turn to God with all our heart and mind, so that one may come into that haven with all sweetness and all peace.
And in this we have from our own proper nature great instruction in gentleness, for in such a death as this there is no pain nor bitterness, but even as a ripe apple easily and without violence detaches itself from its branch, so our Soul without grief separates itself from the body wherein it has dwelt.
Aristotle, in his book On Youth and Old Age, says that the death which overtakes us in old age is without sadness. And as to him who comes from a long journey, before he enters into the gate of his city, the citizens thereof go forth to meet him, so do those citizens of the Eternal Life go forth to meet the noble Soul; and they do thus because of his good works and acts of contemplation, which were of old rendered unto God and withdrawn from worldly affairs and thoughts. Hear what Tullius says in the person of Cato the elder: "It seems to me that already I see, and I uplift myself in the greatest desire to see, your fathers, whom I loved, and not only those whom I knew myself, but also those of whom I have heard spoken." In this age, then, the noble Soul renders itself unto God, and awaits the end of this life with much desire; and to itself it seems that it goes out from the Inn to return home to the Father's mansion; to itself it seems to have reached the end of a long journey and to have reached the City; to itself it seems to have crossed the wide sea and returned into the port. O, miserable men and vile, who run into this port with sails unfurled; and there where you should find rest, are broken by the fury of the wind and wrecked in the harbour. Truly the Knight Lancelot chose not to enter it with sails unfurled, nor our most noble Italian Guido da Montefeltro. These noble Spirits indeed furled the sails after the voyage of this World, whose cares were rendered to Religion in their long old age, when they had laid down each earthly joy and labour. And it is not possible to excuse any man because of the bond of matrimony, which may hold him in his old age, from turning to Religion, even as he who adopts the habit of St. Benedict and St. Augustine and St. Francis and St. Dominic and the like mode of life, but also it is possible to turn to a good and true Religion whilst remaining in the bonds of matrimony, for God asks of us no more than the religious heart. And therefore St. Paul says to the Romans: "For he is not a Jew which is one outwardly; neither is that circumcision which is outward in the flesh. But he is a Jew which is one inwardly; and circumcision is that of the heart, in the spirit, and not in the letter; whose praise is not of men, but of God."
And the Noble Soul in this age blesses likewise the time that is past, and it may well bless it; because when Memory turns back to them, the Noble Soul remembers her upright deeds, without which it were not possible for her to come to the port whither she is hastening with such wealth nor with such gain. And the Noble Soul does like the good merchant, who, when he draws near to his port, examines his cargo, and says: "If I had not passed along such a highway as that, I should not possess this treasure, and I should not have wherewith to rejoice in my city, to which I am approaching;" and therefore he blesses the voyage he has made.
And that these two things are suitable to this age that great poet Lucan represents to us in the second book of his Pharsalia, when he says that Marcia returned to Cato, and entreated him that he would take her back in his fourth and Extreme Old Age, by which Marcia the Noble Soul is meant, and we can thus depict the symbol of it in all Truth. Marcia was a virgin, and in that state typifies Adolescence; she then espoused Cato, and in that state typifies Youth; she then bore sons, by whom are typified the Virtues which are becoming to young men, as previously described; and she departed from Cato and espoused Hortensius, by which it is typified that she quitted Youth and came to Old Age. She bore sons to this man also, by whom are typified the Virtues which befit Old Age, as previously said. Hortensius died, by which is typified the end of Old Age, and Marcia, made a widow, by which widowhood is typified Extreme Old Age, returned in the early days of her widowhood to Cato, whereby is typified the Noble Soul turning to God in the beginning of Extreme Old Age. And what earthly man was more worthy to typify God than Cato? None, of a certainty. And what does Marcia say to Cato? "Whilst there was blood in me [that is to say, Youth], whilst the maternal power was in me [that is, Age, which is indeed the Mother of all other Virtues or Powers, as has been previously shown or proved], I," says Marcia, "fulfilled all thy commandments [that is to say, that the Soul stood firm in obedience to the Civil Laws]." She says: "And I took two husbands," that is to say, I have been in two fruitful periods of life. "Now," says Marcia, "that I am weary, and that I am void and empty, I return to thee, being no longer able to give happiness to the other husband;" that is to say, that the Noble Soul, knowing well that it has no longer the power to produce, that is, feeling all its members to have grown feeble, turns to God, that is, to Him who has no need of members of the body. And Marcia says, "Give me the ancient covenanted privileges of the beds; give me the name alone of the Marriage Tie;" that is to say, the Noble Soul says to God, "O my Lord, give me now repose and rest;" the Soul says, "Give me at least whatsoever I may have called Thine in a life so long." And Marcia says, "Two reasons move or urge me to say this; the one is, that they may say of me, after I am dead, that I was the wife of Cato; the other is, that it may be said after me that thou didst not drive me away, but didst espouse me heartily." By these two causes the Noble Soul is stirred and desires to depart from this life as the spouse of God, and wishes to show that God was gracious to the creature that He made. O unhappy and baseborn men! you who prefer to depart from this life under the name of Hortensius rather than of Cato!
From Cato's name a grace comes into the close of the discourse which it was fit to make touching the signs of Nobility; because in him Nobility reveals them all, through all the ages of his life.
Since the Song has demonstrated those signs which in each age or period of life appear in the Noble Man, and by which it is possible to know him, and without which he cannot be, even as the Sun cannot be without light or the fire without heat, the text cries aloud to the People in the concluding part of this treatise on Nobility, and it says: "How many are deceived!" They are deceived who, because they are of ancient and famous lineage, and because they are descended of excellent and Noble fathers, believe themselves to be Noble, yet have in themselves no Nobility. And here arise two questions, to which it is right to attend at the end of this treatise. It would be possible for Manfredi da Vico, who but now is called Praetor and Prefect, to say: "Whatever I may be, I recall to mind and I represent my elders, who deserved the Office of Prefecture because of their Nobility, and they merited the honour of investiture at the coronation of the Emperor, and they merited the honour of receiving the Rose of Gold from the Roman Pontiff: I ought to receive from the People honour and reverence." And this is one question. The other is, that it would be possible for the scions of the families of San Nazzaro di Pavia and of the Piscitelli of Naples to say: "If Nobility is that which has been described, that is, that it is Divine seed graciously cast into the human Soul, and the progeny, or offshoots, have, as is evident, no Soul, it would not be possible to term any of its progeny or offshoots Noble; but this is opposed to the opinion of those who assert that our race is the most Noble in these cities."
To the first question Juvenal replies in the eighth Satire, when he begins with exclaiming, as it were: "What is the use of all these honours and of this glory which remain from the past, except that they serve as a mantle or cloak to him who may wish to cover himself with them, badly as he may live; except for him who talks of his ancestors, and points out their great and wonderful works, giving his own mind to miserable and vile actions?" And this satirical poet asks: "Who will call that man Noble, because of his good race, who is not worthy of his race? It is no other than to call the Dwarf a Giant." Then afterwards he says to such an one as this: "Between thee and the statue erected in memory of thine ancestor there is no other dissimilarity except that its head is of marble and thine is alive." And in this (with reverence I say it) I disagree with the poet, for the statue of marble or of wood or of metal, which has remained in memory of some worthy brave man, differs much in effect from the wicked descendant: because the statue always confirms a good opinion in those who have heard of the good renown or fame of him whose statue it is, and it begets good opinion in others. But the wicked son or nephew does quite the contrary: he weakens the good opinion of those who have heard of the goodness of his ancestors. For some one says to himself in his thought: "It cannot possibly be true, all this that has been said about this man's ancestors, since from their seed one sees an offshoot such as that." Wherefore he ought to receive not honour, but dishonour, who bears false or evil witness against the good. And therefore Tullius says that the son of the brave man ought to strive to bear good witness to the father. Wherefore, in my judgment, even as he who defames an excellent man deserves to be shunned by all people and not listened to, even so the vile man descended from good ancestors deserves to be banned by all; and the good man ought to close his eyes in order not to see that infamous man casting infamy upon the goodness which remains in Memory alone. And let this suffice at present to the first question that was moved.
To the second question it is possible to reply that a race of itself has no Soul; and indeed it is true that it is called Noble, but it is in a certain way. Wherefore it is to be known that every whole is composed of its parts, and there is a certain whole which has a simple essence in its parts, as in one man there is one essence in all and in each individual part; and this which is said to be in the part is said in the same way to be in the whole. There is another whole which has not a common essential form or essence with the parts, as a heap of corn; but there is a secondary essence which results from many grains, which possess in themselves a true and primary essence. And in such a whole as this they are said to be the qualities of the parts in a secondary way; wherefore it is called a white heap, because the grains whereof the heap is made are white. Truly this white appearance is more in the grains in the first place, and in the second place it results in the whole heap, and thus secondarily it is possible to call it white; and in such a way it is possible to call a race Noble. Wherefore it is to be known, that as in order to make a white heap the white grains must be most numerous, so to make a Noble race the Noble Men must be more numerous than the others, so that their goodness, with its good fame or renown, may cover the opposite quality which is within. And as from a white heap of corn it would be possible to pick up the wheat grain by grain, and substitute, grain by grain, red maize, till, finally, the whole heap or mass would change colour, so would it be possible for the good men of the Noble race to die out one by one, and the wicked ones to spring up therein, who would so change the name or fame thereof, that it would have to be called, not Noble, but vile, or base.
And let this be a sufficient answer to the second question.
As it has been shown previously in the third chapter of this treatise, this Song has three principal parts, whereof two have been reasoned or argued out, the first of which begins in the aforesaid chapter, and the second in the sixteenth (so that the first through thirteen, and the second through fourteen chapters, passes on to an end, without counting the Proem of the treatise on the Song, which is comprised in two chapters), in this thirtieth and last chapter we must briefly discuss the third principal part, which was made as a refrain and as a species of ornament for this Song; and it begins: "My Song, Against the strayers."
Here it is chiefly to be known that every good workman, at the end of his work, ought to ennoble and embellish it as much as possible, that it may leave his hands so much the more precious, and more worthy of fame. And this I endeavour to do in this part, not as a good workman, but as the follower of one.
I say, then, "My Song, Against the strayers." "Against the strayers" is a phrase, as, for example, from the good friar, Thomas of Aquinas, who, to a book of his, which he wrote to the confusion of all those who go astray from our Faith, gave the title "Contra Gentili," Against the Heathen. I say, then, that thou shalt go, which is as much as to say: "Thou art now perfect, and it is now time, not to stand still, but to go forward, for thy enterprise is great. And 'when you reach Our Lady, hide not from her that your end Is labour that would lessen wrong.'" Where it is to be observed that, as our Lord says, "We ought not to cast pearls before swine," because it is not to their advantage, and it is injury to the pearls; and, as Aesop the poet says in the first fable, a little grain of corn is of far more worth to a cock than a pearl, and therefore he leaves the pearl and picks up the grain of corn: reflecting on this, as a caution, I speak and give command to the Song that it reveal its high office where this Lady, that is, where Philosophy, will be found. And that most noble Lady will be found when her dwelling-place is found, that is, the Soul in which she finds her Inn. And this Philosophy dwells not in wise men alone, but likewise, as is proved above in another treatise, wherever the love for her inhabits, she is there. "And to such as these," I say to the Song, "thou mayst reveal thine office, because to them the purpose thereof will be useful, and by them its thoughts will be gathered in."
And I bid it say to this Lady, "I travel ever talking of your Friend."
Nobility is her Friend. For so much does the one love the other, that Nobility always seeks her, and Philosophy does not turn aside her most sweet glance to any other.
O, what a great and beautiful ornament is this which is given to her in the last part of this Song, by giving to her the title of Friend, the Friend of her whose own abode is in the most secret depths of the Divine Mind.
* * * * *
It is natural to suppose that Dante's death at Ravenna in 1321 caused the Convito, a work of his latter years, to be left unfinished. But there are arguments that have been especially dwelt upon by writers who regard the Convito as a work begun before the conception of the Divine Comedy, and dropped when the Poet's mind became intent upon that masterpiece.
One argument is that the Divine Comedy is nowhere mentioned or alluded to in the Convito. But as the place designed for the Convito is midway between the Vita Nuova, which preceded it, and the Divine Comedy, which was to follow, references to the poem which was not yet before the reader would have been a fault in art.
Another argument is drawn from the fourteenth chapter of the Second Treatise, where (on page 84 in this volume) the shadow in the Moon is ascribed to "the rarity of its body, in which the rays of the Sun can find no end wherefrom to strike back again as in the other parts." In the second canto of the Purgatorio, Beatrice opposes that opinion, whence it may be inferred that Dante had learnt better, and he speaks of this again in a later canto (the twenty-second) as a former opinion. This leads to an inference that the Second Treatise was written before 1300.
Attention is due also to a passage in the third chapter of the First Treatise (on pages 16 and 17 in this volume), in which Dante speaks of his long exile and poverty. The exile and the wanderings of Dante began after the year 1300. He was befriended by Guido da Polenta in Ravenna, by Uguccione della Faggiola in Lucca, by Malaspina in the Lunigiana, by Can Grande della Scala in Verona, by Bosone de' Raffaelli in Gubbio, by the Patriarch Pagano della Torre in Udine. In 1311, when the Emperor Henry of Luxembourg went to Italy, Dante had some hope of return, which passed away in 1313 when that Emperor died in Buonconvento. Dante remained in exile. In 1321 his patron, Guido Novello da Polenta, sent him on an embassy to Venice, in which he was unsuccessful. The sea way being blocked, he had to return by land, and he was struck by the malaria which caused his death by fever on the 14th of September in that year, 1321. This reference to long exile leads to an inference that the First Treatise was written much later than 1300.
But, again, there is a passage in the third chapter of the FourthTreatise (on page 171 of this volume) that points to an earlier date.Frederick of Suabia is named as the Emperor who
held,As far as he could see,Descent of wealth, and generous ways,To make Nobility.
Dante calls him "the last Emperor of the Romans," and adds, "I say last with respect to the present time, notwithstanding that Rudolf, and Adolphus, and Albert were elected after his death and from his descendants." This last of the Romans was that famous Frederick II., who died in 1250, and of whom Dante said in his Treatise on the Language of the People: "The illustrious heroes, Frederick Caesar and his son Manfredi, followed after elegance and scorned what was mean; so that all the best compositions of the time came out of their Court. Thus, because their royal throne was in Sicily, all the poems of our predecessors in the Vulgar Tongue were called Sicilian." Rudolf I. of Hapsburg, founder of the Imperial House of Austria, was elected Emperor in 1273, after a time of confusion and nominal rule. He died in 1291, and, instead of his son Albert, Adolphus of Nassau was next elected Emperor. But in June 1298 Albert obtained election; Adolphus was deposed, and was soon afterwards killed in battle with his rival. Albert was murdered on the 6th of May, 1308, and, after an interregnum of seven months, he was succeeded by Henry VII. of Luxembourg. Now, Dante's list does not go on from Albert to Henry. It is assumed, therefore, that this passage must have been written before the end of the year 1308.
There is another passage at the close of chapter vi. of the Fourth Treatise (on page 186 in this volume) that points to a like inference of date. Dante writes: "Ye enemies of God, look to your flanks, ye who have seized the sceptres of the kingdoms of Italy. And I say to you, Charles, and to you, Frederick, Kings, and to you, ye other Princes and Tyrants, see who sits by the side of you in council." The Charles and Frederick here addressed were Charles II. of Anjou, King of Naples, and Frederick of Aragon, King of Sicily; and King Charles died in the year 1310.
It has been inferred, therefore, that the four treatises of the Convito were not written consecutively. The Second Treatise may have been begun some time after the death of Beatrice, in 1290, time being allowed after 1290 for the completion of the Vita Nuova and a period of devotion to philosophic studies. That Second Treatise having been first written, the Treatise on Nobility, the Fourth, may have next followed; and this may have been written before the end of the year 1298. The Third Treatise may have been written later, and made to connect the Second and the Fourth. The First Treatise, or General Introduction, which has in it clear indication of a later date, may have been written last, when the whole design was brought into shape. Various reasons have been used for dating this final arrangement of the plan for an Ethical survey of human knowledge in fifteen treatises, and the suggested date is the year 1314. The whole work seems to have been planned. Besides the references to the Fifteenth Treatise, there is a glance forward to the matter of the Seventh Treatise in the twenty-sixth chapter of the Fourth.
The question of date is not of great importance, and this may console us though we know that it can never be settled. Here it is only touched upon to show the significance of one or two historical allusions in the book.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Banquet (Il Convito), by Dante Alighieri