Summary
That Dante’s sight failed is no surprise, Beatrice states, as he is seeing in her the (divine) eternal light reflected. She then rephrases Dante’s question, and begins the canto without Dante the pilgrim saying a word. Free will is “[t]he greatest gift” from God to creation, she explains, and people freely choose to make a pact with God. To break a vow freely chosen is thus a misuse of God’s greatest gift, and as such, humans must not “take vows lightly.” She points to the bad examples of Jephthah and Agamemnon and then concludes her speech by suggesting that Christians should be guided by the “Testaments” and “the shepherd of the Church.”
Dante writes that Beatrice spoke exactly as he has written it. When they fall silent, they are suddenly “sped into the second realm,” Mercury. Beatrice radiates joy, and the planet shines even brighter. Soon shades and souls come to them like fish at the surface of a pond. The souls shine with a “brilliant light,” and one speaks to Dante. Prodded by Beatrice, Dante asks the radiant soul about who it is, and it shines brighter, “concealed” in its own “rays” of light.
In the sixth canto, the shade reveals himself to be Justinian, who was once emperor of Rome. Justinian describes the changes in his Christian beliefs, and he then moves to describe some of the accomplishments of the “sacred standard” of Rome. In his speech, he covers hundreds of years of Roman history and Roman expansion, especially in terms of military conquest. He mentions Hannibal and Cleopatra, continuing to the period at which the empire acted out “His wrath,” i.e. God’s vengeance. He even comments upon Dante’s contemporaries, the Ghibellines and the Guelphs, and the politics of the Holy Roman Empire. To conclude, Justinian points to the sweetness of “living justice” and turns to tell Dante about Romeo Berenger, a man betrayed in life but now saved on Mercury.
Justinian begins the sixth canto with a strange song, mixing Hebrew and Latin; translated, it reads, “Hosanna, holy God of hosts, who by Thy brightness dost illuminate from above the happy fires of these realms.” As he sings, his lights wheel among the others, dancing. Again Beatrice reads Dante’s mind, noting that he is in doubt about whether “just revenge itself… deserves / just punishment.” Taking the example of Adam’s fall and Christ’s descent in response to it, Beatrice argues that, measured by Christ’s human nature, the punishment of the cross was just. But, measured by his divine nature, the punishment was unjust. Thus “just vengeance” can have diverse effects and meanings, and as such, there can be just punishment in response to just vengeance.
Pre-empting a new doubt, Beatrice continues to explain that this state of affairs was due to human sin causing humans to be mediated from “Eternal Beauty;” only God’s forgiveness of man’s own actions could return them to their divine imprint. Christ’s action combines both possibilities. The soul, still, has “unmediated” life from God, felt in its desire for “Him.”
In canto eight, Beatrice and Dante have risen to Venus; Beatrice now appears more beautiful. The lights on Venus come to them more swiftly than “[w]inds racing down from a cold cloud,” and one sings Hosanna. Another states that “‘All of us desire to bring you pleasure,’” and Dante responds by asking who the light is. It glows with joy, and tells Dante that he is Charles Martel, whom Dante knew. He died young and was unable to give guidance to Provence, Naples, and Hungary, where he would have been sovereign. Charles criticizes his greedy brother, and Dante asks how two brothers could be so dissimilar in disposition. Charles explains that men have predetermined ends, and that nature “which sets its seal / on mortal wax… / does not distinguish one house from another.” People who come to bad ends have strayed from their God-given end; it is only divine interference that causes siblings and parents to prefer and excel at different things.
Canto nine begins as Dante reports that Charles told him of future “deceptions” in his family but asked that he keep quiet about them. As Charles returns to the holy light, Dante turns to his readers and castigates them for not focusing on God. Another light appears and introduces itself as Cunizza da Romano, sister of Ezzelino da Romano, who was in the Inferno. She discusses herself, her brother, a nearby soul (Folco of Marseilles), and impending troubles in Italy. When she returns to dance with the other lights, Dante addresses Folco of Marseilles to see why, despite being able to read his thoughts, Folco insists Dante approach him verbally. Folco responds by describing his dwelling place on earth and refers to classical examples of those inflamed by love. He then clarifies that he feels no remorse for sin in heaven, but only happiness in the contemplation of the divine. Surprisingly, he tells Dante that the ruby light near him is Rahab, a prostitute from the Old Testament. She inhabits the highest ranks of Venus for helping Joshua, he says; he concludes by criticizing the Vatican’s failures.
Analysis
In canto five, Beatrice once again picks up the theme of guidance, carried over from the other two canticles of the Commedia. In addition, she uses Dante’s characteristic mix of biblical and classical examples to elucidate her argument, even as she points to the Church and the Bible as the primary “shepherds” of Christian life. Something important to note as well is Dante’s emphasis on the speed at which he and Beatrice ascend from sphere to sphere; unlike in the Purgatorio and the Inferno, which involved treacherous and difficult navigation, Dante’s travel in the Paradiso is pleasant and easy, mirroring the tonal and thematic shift towards a focus on joy and reward, comfort and love, rather than punishment.
The very first line of canto six sets up an important symbol, used variously throughout the Paradiso. Here, Dante uses the eagle as a symbol of the Roman empire, but it will appear later as a symbol of Christ. This symbolically links the development of the Christian Church with the Roman Empire, implicitly suggesting Dante’s support for the Holy Roman Empire. Yet we should also note that Justinian’s long speech connects the development of providence and divine vengeance with the development of the Roman empire, connecting Dante’s Christian epic back to Vergil’s Aeneid, which traces the development of Rome. Thus this Roman speech creates not only a political lineage but also a literary lineage; the two, in fact, seem entwined.
In canto seven, Beatrice’s response to Dante’s questions is somewhat tricky, just as the opening lines of the canto, spoken in many different tongues, are difficult for any reader to parse. Perhaps we might consider that Dante, here, is trying to show his reader that one can contend with difficult problems of interpretation by viewing things through different standards and different languages, just as Beatrice resolves Dante’s problem by looking at the crucifixion from the perspectives of Christ’s divine nature and his human nature.
This canto also introduces an image that recurs frequently throughout the poem. Dante frequently refers to the “imprint” of the divine, often in the context of wax. This image not only suggests the presence of the divine in nature and in the human, but its connection to wax helps to evoke the possibility that this divine imprint may find itself distorted or melted by non-divine forces.
Although we have seen, in other cantos, Dante’s use of the symbolism of the different spheres of heaven, it is during canto eight that he begins to make it more explicit. Just as Venus is connected to the pagan goddess of desire, Dante’s Venus is focused on those who “desire” to give Dante “pleasure.” But rather than sensual pleasure, this is the pleasure of intellectual discovery. Even Charles, who begins by describing his personal life, turns eventually to more abstract concepts about divine intervention in nature’s “seal” and the question of predetermination.
In canto nine, we should focus on the way Dante has turned the language of sexuality on its head. In a daring move, he glorifies Rahab and denigrates the Vatican. Indeed, he describes the Vatican’s failures as a sort of “adultery,” indicting them with the sort of "sinful" actions typically used to smear a woman's reputation. Thus Dante’s Venus notably shies away from heavy criticism of women’s sexuality; in its place, he chooses to turn a critical eye to the problems of the pope and others.
