THE NEXUS IN THE EYE:
PHYSICAL AND SPIRITUAL VISION IN DANTE’S DIVINA COMMEDIA - John C. Hancock
Submitted to Brigham Young
University in partial fulfillment
of graduation requirements
for University Honors
Comparative Literature
Department
March 2003
Advisor: V.S. Benfell Honors Dean: George
Tate
Signature: __________________ Signature: __________________
Table of Contents
Preface____________________________________________________________
iii
Acknowledgements___________________________________________________
v
Introduction_________________________________________________________1
Chapter 1. The Vision of
Man__________________________________________ 6
Dante’s Optical
Heritage______________________________________________ 6
Optics in the Early Works
of Dante____________________________________ 11
Rime and Vita
Nuova___________________________________________ 11
Il
Convivio____________________________________________________ 16
Monarchia____________________________________________________
19
Physical and Spiritual
Vision in the Divina Commedia_____________________ 20
A Survey of Contemporary Literature on
Medieval Optics and Dante____20
Fallen Vision_________________________________________________
22
Chapter 2. The Vision of
the Beloved___________________________________ 27
Mediated and Redeemed
Vision_______________________________________ 27
Maria_______________________________________________________
28
Lucia________________________________________________________
29
Beatrice______________________________________________________
32
Chapter 3. The Vision of
God ________________________________________ 40
Thomas Aquinas and the
Relationship between God and Man _____________ 40
Dante and the Relationship
between God and Man_______________________ 45
Conclusion
________________________________________________________ 50
Significant Quotations /
Table of Figures____________________________53 / 55
Works Cited and
Consulted__________________________________________ 58
PREFACE
THE NEXUS IN THE EYE:
PHYSICAL AND SPIRITUAL VISION IN DANTE’S DIVINA COMMEDIA
The recurring image of the eye in literature and in holy
writ captured my attention and gradually induced me to begin work on an honors
thesis. The more I investigated the
subject, the more I discovered that I was not alone in this interest. Once, as part of an assignment for a
pre-optometry class, I had the opportunity to peer through an ophthalmoscope to
see the human iris up close. The
optometrist told me to look well because, in his opinion, the iris is one of God’s
most beautiful creations. From both
scientific and artistic points of view, the eye is a creation of wonder and
beauty.
While my fascination with the eye was growing, I began to
meet people who had been deprived of the gift of physical vision. Nevertheless, I found within certain friends
of the visually impaired community a rare spiritual vision. It is hard to define the idea of spiritual
vision, except to say that perhaps it is connected to physical vision in a way
that thoughts are connected to actions.
Dante’s Divina Commedia underscores this and other important links
between physical and spiritual vision.
I was impressed
by the natural optimism of a woman who had every reason to curse life and
despair, but who chose to enjoy life to the fullest. Helen Keller’s enthusiasm sparked a new
resolve in me to see the world with spiritual eyes and to appreciate its
abundant beauty. Countless other
examples illustrate the relationship between physical and spiritual vision. Dante’s works, however, provide more than
ample space for this illustration and for creative interpretation.
Throughout the thesis I focus on questions concerning the
vision of man, the beloved, and God.
Each individual vision is in some way connected to the others. The physical manifestations of spirituality
often shine through the eye of the characters of the Divina Commedia. One of the main questions to unravel, then,
is this: what is the nature of the connection between physical and spiritual
vision? In the course of this study, I
hope to express some of the reasons why vision is a metaphor of the human soul
and why this metaphor is important for understanding life’s journey.
Acknowledgements
In many ways this project is meant to symbolize my
gratitude for those people who have shared their unique visions with me; the
countless individuals whose eyes shine with love and truth continue to inspire
me.
I am thankful for my friend Louise Nicholson, whose
cheerfulness and kindness manifest her acute spiritual vision. Her friendship teaches me to see the world in
a new way. I thank Stan Benfell for
working as my thesis advisor, and for guiding me through the fascinating paths
of the medieval world. I would also like
to thank Madison Sowell for his course on the Divina Commedia (Italian 460),
and George Tate for his help as an appraiser of my work in the honors
program.
I am indebted to the coordinators of the Honors Program,
especially Carolyn Tuitupou and Heather Price, for their patience and
encouragement. Daniel Johnson and Paul
Rosenvall assisted me with the images and text formatting. They truly helped me to reach my goals.
I am most thankful for my family. I thank my brother Jared for helping me to
formulate my ideas and organize the thesis.
I am thankful for Nathaniel and Annie for their support and interest in
my pursuits. I am thankful for my little
sister Abigail who has spent countless hours drawing with me and keeping me
company. I am thankful for my parents
Ralph and Julie, without whom none of this would be possible, and whose love
makes me feel like I can accomplish anything.
Finally, I dedicate this project to my future
“Beatrice.”
The Nexus in the Eye:
Physical and Spiritual Vision in Dante’s Divina Commedia
The light of the body is
the eye: therefore when thine eye is single, thy whole body is full of light:
but when thine eye is evil, the body is also full of darkness” (Luke 11:34).
Tigers have a special layer
of reflective material on their retina, the tapetum lucidum, which increases
their potential for vision in dimly lit places.
Under such conditions, the eyesight of tigers and other species of cats
is six times better than that of the average human being, enabling them to
locate and capture their prey. A wide
variety of disciplines cover the study of the eye, from biology and physics to
psychology and the humanities.
Nevertheless, most of these studies overlook an important aspect of the
eye, which is, the nature of the connection between physical and spiritual
vision. Fortunately, a pack of
intellectual tigers has peered into and illuminated this connection, leaving
distinct traces to follow.
Jesus taught that the light of the body is the eye. This revelation from the Sermon on the Mount
evokes centuries of scientific, philosophical, and religious inquiry about
optics, the nature of the eye, and spiritual vision. In the Republic Plato considered the eye to
be the most sun-like of the organs of the body (Plato 6.508b). In the opening lines of the Metaphysics,
Aristotle deemed ocular perception to be the best analogy for how humans
acquire and process knowledge (Aristotle 4).
St. Augustine and other theologians incorporated classical concepts of
vision into the Christian pursuit of truth and spiritual vision.
Knowledge of the eye has
expanded in modern times. Although
methods have changed considerably over the years, early studies in optics still
hold literary and scientific merit. In
the early fourteenth century, Dante Alighieri applied the science of optics to
an allegory of man’s journey toward God. Dante’s synthesis of corporeal and incorporeal
spheres in the Divina Commedia provides a solid framework for analyzing
questions of vision. Dante sheds light specifically on the pivotal role of the
eye in both physical and spiritual matters, but he also clarifies the medieval
dialogue between reason and revelation.
His epic poem reiterates the idea that the work of the eye is not
uniquely physical or empirical.
One of Dante’s major influences, St. Thomas Aquinas, also
wrote about light and the eye. Aquinas
dedicated several sections of the Summa theologiae (12.1-12.13) and the Summa
contra gentiles (51-62) to ruminations on the vision of God. In large measure, these sections prefigure
Dante’s beatific vision in the Paradiso, whereas other portions of Aquinas’
works set the stage for the punishments of the Inferno. Dante may have derived much of his knowledge
of the physics and physiology of the eye from other sources, such as Robert
Grosseteste, Roger Bacon, John Pecham, and Witelo, but the thought of Aquinas
is indispensable for understanding Dante’s conception of vision, especially the
vision of God. Likewise, the enduring
impact of Dante’s thought is evidence for the validity of his characteristic
blending of the material and the immaterial worlds.
In his book Medieval Optics
and Theories of Light in the Works of Dante, Simon Gilson situates Dante in the
tradition of optical scientists, philosophers, and theologians. Gilson exposes the roots of Dante’s
fascination with light and perspective, while challenging common explanations
of light imagery in the Commedia. In
recent years, scholars have also questioned the assumption that the dichotomy
between the body and the spirit has shaped medieval thought in the same way
that it has shaped modern thought. One
scholar in particular, Caroline Walker Bynum, has explored the doctrine of
resurrection in medieval Christianity.
In The Resurrection of the Body Bynum asserts (xviii)
it is only by studying
eschatological concepts of the body that we see how imprecise is the boundary
between spiritual and material in most Christian writing and how psychosomatic
is the medieval understanding of self.
In The Discarded Image, C.
S. Lewis raises similar questions that pertain to the medieval understanding of
self. He asks, for example, “How can the
soul, conceived as an immaterial substance, act upon matter at all?” (166)
Although the efforts of Lewis, Bynum, Gilson, and others have produced a more
complete comprehension of medieval vision, certain elements of this vision
require further elucidation. Indeed much
research has been conducted in the field of medieval optics, but to my
knowledge not enough has been said about why the eye is so often represented as
the nexus between physical and spiritual realms.
This project represents the
culmination of various analyses of the eye ranging from interpretations of
literary symbolism to investigations of ophthalmic and optometric
practices. The eye figures prominently
in literature as well as science, yet relatively few scholars (such as Richard
Kay, Robert Podurski, and Monica Rutledge) venture deep into the shady corners
in between. Notwithstanding the paucity
of research in this specific area, the works of Dante Alighieri do much to
highlight the apparent duality of the eye, revealing links between the physical
and spiritual worlds. A new optical
exegesis of Dante’s works, especially the Divina Commedia, contributes to an
evolving conception of medieval intellectual history and helps to explain why
physical and spiritual territories intersect at the eye.
The eye, the link between
what is seen and what is unseen, not only embodies thoughts, ideas, and
internal images, but also actions, creations, and external images. Dante’s works, replete with optical
allusions, extol the virtues of vision, light and the eye in connection with
the acquisition of spiritual understanding, and demonstrate the power of the eye
over physical reality. Various verses
cover kernels of optical doctrines, like eyelids that cover luminous eyes, but
Dante encourages his readers to look beneath this covering (DC 1.9.61-63). The veil of verses lifts as Dante the Pilgrim
draws closer to God until ultimately the words cannot replace vision. Thus, the poet invites his audience to open
their eyes and to experience a vision similar to his own (DC 3.10.7-8).
This thesis is divided into three main sections. The first section examines the vision of man,
with Dante the Pilgrim as the quintessential model. It contains a brief review of the history of
optical studies, as well as an overview of optics in Dante’s early works. It also includes a survey of contemporary
literature on the subject of physical and spiritual vision in the works of
Dante, particularly the Divina Commedia.
The second section moves to a higher level, namely, the vision of the
beloved. Dante’s vision of Beatrice
magnifies the relationship between the physical and spiritual realms, opening
the Pilgrim’s eyes to greater understanding and preparing them for the
theophany. Building on the thought of
Aquinas and the conclusion of the Paradiso, the third section ponders the
vision of God in his essence. The vision
of God represents the ultimate union, the point of light where the boundary
between physical and spiritual becomes indistinguishable.
Several pieces of artwork complement the subject matter
in each section. The images are intended
to draw attention to the importance of vision in Dante’s works and to avert the
eye from a perfunctory reading of text.
Much of Dante’s poetry is already ecphrastic, but these original images
speak to the eyes in a way that the text cannot. Of course, each drawing or painting
represents only a single example out of a multitude of visual
possibilities. In the process of
exercising artistic vision, perhaps the reader will consider these
possibilities and understand the text in a new and clearer light.
Chapter 1. The Vision of
Man
Dante’s Optical Heritage
The human eye is a miracle, but it was not meant to
remain entirely mysterious. The
ineffable beauty of the eye may defy even the best aesthetic descriptions, but
its structures and functions invite analysis and interpretation. In the introduction to his Metaphysics,
Aristotle asserted that: “Above all the other senses, sight helps us to
know things and reveals many distinctions” (4). The thirst for knowledge is
inevitably accompanied by a desire to understand how knowledge is gained, and
vision plays a decisive role in this process.
Epistemological questions such as those posed by
Aristotle create a background for approaching ancient, medieval and Renaissance
perceptions of the human eye. Even
before Aristotle, however, Plato theorized that the eye functioned actively in
the visual process, emitting rays of light that sensed objects much like
fingers. In Book VI of the Republic, the
character of Socrates agrees with his pupil Glaucon that the eye “is the most
sun-formed of the organs of the senses” (Plato 188). Aristotle rejects Plato’s theory of eye beams
in favor of an intermediary sort of vision (Lindberg, Science 338-42). Instead of the eye reaching out toward
surrounding objects, those objects emanate images toward the eye. The images then intermingle with the medium
between the object and the eye, and the eye receives the image in the visual
spirits. The visual spirits carry the
information to the mind for evaluation.
Aristotle’s theory of vision does not conform to the atomistic theories
of a totally passive eye that receives the emanations from objects, or eidola,
nor does it embrace the platonic theories of an active eye that sends out beams
like purified fire. Aristotle’s conduit
theory, a veritable “golden mean” of optics, proved to be highly influential in
subsequent currents of optical research.
Eventually the ideas of the
Greek philosophers reached the great libraries of the world, namely the library
of Alexandria, and from there the texts were copied and translated. Only a few decades before Plato, the great
physician Hippocrates began studying the anatomy and physiology of the
eye. In his writings Hippocrates
mentions the anatomy of animal eyes, but his knowledge of the human eye was
limited. The term ophthalmia was used to
describe eye diseases and inflammation.
Not long after Hippocrates, another Greek philosopher produced a
monumental work on the anatomy of the eye.
Herophilus wrote a book called The Book of the Eye, which no longer
exists except in fragments through other writings. Herophilus probably worked by dissection and
by graphic depictions of the human body, but his ideas are preserved mainly
through the records of another great luminary of antiquity. Claudius Galen (AD 130-200) was born in what
is modern-day Turkey, but he traveled, studied and practiced medicine in
Alexandria and Rome (Albert 26). Galen,
who was greatly influenced by both Herophilus and Plato, did not perform
dissections, except on cattle and monkeys, but he outlined the three-layered
structure of the eye, including the retina and optic nerve, the aqueous and
vitreous chambers, and the ocular muscles and the lens. Although his anatomical system contained many
errors, Galen became one of the principal authorities on optics in the Middle
Ages (Oyster 80). His theories on vision
closely resemble those of Aristotle. On
the other hand, Galen argued that a small portion of visual spirit exits the
eye in order to transform the surrounding air and produce vision. Thus, Galen’s idea of vision is still more
active than that of Aristotle, but less active than that of Plato (Lindberg,
Science 341). Of course, the Ancient
Egyptian and Chinese philosophers and physicians also conducted important
studies on the human eye.
In the ninth century A.D. Arab philosophers incorporated
Galen’s discoveries into their own research on the eye. Perhaps because of the high incidence of
eye-disease in the Near East, the practice of ophthalmology became a
distinguished pursuit. Abu Yusuf Ya qub
ibn Ishaq al-Kindi wrote a work entitled, in its Latin translation, De
aspectibus. His contemporary, Hunain ibn
Ishak (Joannitius, AD 808-873), was one of the first to diagram the various
structures of the eye based on Galen’s work.
He was a Christian physician from Baghdad who wrote Ten Treatises on the
Eye (Albert 29). His illustrations
reveal several misunderstandings, such as a spherical lens and a chamber
containing the “visual spirit.” This
latter invention reflects the influence of the Greeks and the belief that an
ether-like substance carried information from the eye to the mind. The great mathematician Ibn Al-Haytham
(Alhazen of Bosra, AD 965-1038) simplified the work of his predecessors by
subtracting the visual spirit and adding concepts of refraction and geometry,
inherited from Euclid (Optika, 280 BC) and Ptolemy (Optics, 2nd century AD), to
the study of the eye. As soon as
Alhazen’s works were translated into Latin, they were adopted and elaborated by
several scholars of the Middle Ages, namely Robert Grosseteste, Roger Bacon,
John Pecham, and Witelo (Oyster 81).
Other Arab scholars who influenced thinking about the eye include Ali
ibn Isa, Ammar, Abu Ruh, Gafiqi, Khalifah, Silah al-Din, and ibn Sina of
Avicenna (Albert 31).
The transition between early medieval Arabian optics and
late Renaissance optics and anatomy of the eye is full of complicated twists
and turns. Aristotle became the primary
authority in medieval intellectual circles even though relatively few works of
the Greek philosophers were available in direct translation. Much of the knowledge of Ancient Greece that
reached Western Europe was filtered through Galen and Arabic sources. In general, optical theories followed three
major tracks. First, great minds of the
Middle Ages followed the Aristotelian concept that the medium between the
object and the eye determined the nature of vision. Some believed instead, following more closely
the ideas of Euclid and Ptolemy, that the eye emitted a ray or several rays of
light that struck the object and then returned to the eye. The intromissive theory held that objects
radiated tiny particles that entered the eye in the same shape of the
object. These three theories, delineated
by the modern historian David C. Lindberg, are not meant to be mutually
exclusive. Students of the eye in
antiquity and the Middle Ages often developed a combination of these and other
theories to form their own theory. The
purposes of their research, whether philosophical, mathematical or anatomical,
often determined their affinity toward a particular area of optics (Albert 36).
Albertus Magnus established the authority of Aristotle in
every field, including the field of optics (Lindberg, Science 350). Albertus Magnus taught Thomas Aquinas, the
great Dominican theologian, thus promulgating Aristotelian optical theories
into the body of medieval Christian doctrine.
The admixture of Aristotelian philosophy, filtered through centuries of
Greek and Arabic commentaries, and contemporary Christian discourse produced a
remarkable effect on optics in late thirteenth century Europe. When the Classical and Christian eye
collided, a new sort of vision emerged, one that is perhaps best understood
through the eyes of Dante Alighieri.
Although he is primarily known to the world as a great
poet and father of the Italian language, Dante Alighieri of Firenze (1265-1321)
was also an avid student of optics. In
his quest to create a great compendium of knowledge, following in the footsteps
of Aquinas, the science of optics occupies a significant portion of his Divina
Commedia. Dante lived on the cusp of the
fourteenth century, and drew from multiple fonts of knowledge to complete his
allegory of man’s journey toward the beatific vision. Dante’s heritage includes not only Christian
theologians such as St. Augustine and Aquinas, but also the pagan poets and
philosophers. In this way Dante’s
syncretism spills over into his descriptions of light and the eye; optics is
both a physical and a metaphysical science.
Dante’s major opus communicates such complex ideas through poetry
instead of scientific prose, but the poetry itself often borders on the
scientific. Although it is difficult to
trace the exact roots of his ideas on optics (or perspectiva, as the science
came to be known in the Middle Ages), scholars suggest that Dante probably
encountered Aristotelian discourses on optics through the commentaries of
Thomas Aquinas and his teacher Albert the Great. Dante and the poets of the dolce stil novo
demonstrate through their poetry that they knew and understood the works of Alhazen
as well (Ardizzone 661).
The debate over Dante’s
influences will continue, but Dante certainly contemplated the importance of
the eye and of vision in a way that combined both philosophy and religion. Therefore, the works of Dante supply an ideal
set of tools for investigating the connection between physical and spiritual
vision. Indeed the distinctions between
different areas of knowledge (and different types of vision) are often merely
modern constructions that have comparatively little bearing on ancient or
medieval thought processes. In the
Divina Commedia as well as in earlier works such as the Convivio, Dante labored
to show the importance of optics as a scientia media, a middle ground, not only
between mathematics and physics, but also between the physical and spiritual
realms. Although his works do not
directly relate to Renaissance studies of the anatomy and physiology of the
eye, Dante’s theories of vision represent an important juncture in the development
of optics because they synthesize and allegorize the ideas of the great
philosophers who preceded him.
Optics in the Early Works
of Dante
Rime and Vita Nuova
Because of Dante’s noble status, he was able to procure
the best possible education in Florence at that time. He was a student of the illustrious Brunetto
Latini, and he learned the art of rhetoric and writing in Latin. Early on Dante discovered a talent for poetry
and a love for the art of rhyme, “l’arte del dire parole per rima” (VN III). This discovery inspired him to follow the
paths that had been paved by the scuola siciliana and poets such as Guido
Guinizzelli (1230 c. -1276?) and Guido Cavalcanti (1259 c. -1300) (Getto
39). Dante’s early lyrics already
demonstrate an interest in the eye and the process of vision, especially as
they relate to the love of Beatrice.
Between 1293 and 1295 Dante compiled and commented on a
series of rhymes that pertained specifically to Beatrice (Getto 49). He named the compilation, in honor of
Beatrice’s revitalizing power, the Vita Nuova, or New Life. The Vita Nuova is both an autobiographical
and allegorical masterpiece, but it still fell short of what Dante hoped to
write in praise of the deceased Beatrice: “spero di dicer di lei quello che mai
non fue detto d’alcuna” (VN XLII). Thus,
the Vita Nuova is only a shadow of Dante’s new vision, the novella vista, which
comes forth in the Divina Commedia.
The first direct reference
to eyes in the Vita Nuova occurs in Chapter II when Dante meets Beatrice for
the first time. Beatrice appeared to Dante’s
eyes (“quando a li miei occhi apparve prima la gloriosa donna de la mia mente”)
when they were both only nine years old.
Significantly, Dante uses a passive construction to describe his first
encounter with Beatrice; he did not actively see Beatrice. Rather, her beauty acted upon his youthful
and inexperienced eyes. The first vision
of Beatrice seems to conform to the atomistic theory propounded in the fifth
century B.C. by Leucippus of Miletus.
According to Leucippus, light causes minute particles called eidola
(later called simulacra or species) to emanate from objects and then enter into
the eye (Park 35). This sort of vision
is the precursor to other theories of intromission, and it corresponds to Dante’s
passivity, but it appears to contradict Dante’s strong Aristotelian and Islamic
intellectual heritage. In other words,
Dante’s vision in the Vita Nuova should not be a completely passive experience,
but a combination of active and passive, extramissive and intromissive vision.
Possible explanations for Dante’s original passivity find
expression in the Divina Commedia, in which the Pilgrim gradually increases the
active power of his eyes through stages of blinding flashes and healing
recoveries. Perhaps the nine-year-old
eyes at the beginning of the Vita Nuova simply lack the strength to view
actively. At such a young age Dante is
completely dominated by a god that is stronger than he. The God of Love conquers his eyes, or more
specifically, his visual spirits. On
another occasion Dante recognizes Beatrice in a crowd of women, and his visual
spirits are almost destroyed by her radiance.
The visual spirits continue to operate, but outside of their
instruments, that is, outside of the eyes (VN XIV). Note that the eyes are instruments. Under the influence of Beatrice’s shining
beauty Dante’s whole body, especially his “instruments,” need to be
transfigured in order to restore vision and equilibrium. Dante often returns to the theme of
transfiguration in the Divina Commedia. (See, for example, the neologism
trasumanar in DC 3.1.70) From these and
other references it appears that Dante ascribes to visual theories popularized
by Galen that a refined substance in the eye, a visual spirit, exits the pupil
and transforms the surrounding air. Aristotle
and other ancient philosophers were terse in their descriptions of the actual
mechanisms of vision, but in general it was accepted that something between the
eye and the object must facilitate vision.
Visual spirits fit conveniently into this gap.
Still speaking of the first vision of Beatrice, Dante
declares that all of his senses were overcome, and he began to marvel. In particular, the poet mentions the effects
of the apparition on the visual spirits, li spiriti del viso. Of course, the preeminence of eye imagery in
poetry did not begin with Dante. Dante
was influenced by the poet Guido Cavalcanti, who also incorporated the theory
of visual spirits, known earlier as pneuma, or breath, into his love poetry
(Gilson, Medieval 40). Historian David
Park explains:
Spirit is a fluid related
to the ether of which stars are made, refined from blood and carried through
the body by nerves and veins. It is so
thin that it is almost like a vapor, so volatile that no one need be surprised
if it does not show up under dissection. (Park 112)
The Vita Nuova emphasizes
the phenomenon of visual spirits, but the actual composition of the spirits
remains highly enigmatic. Another
optical precursor to Dante, Robert Grosseteste (1170-1253), considered that the
sensible spirits resemble and receive power from light. The nature of visual spirits plays a
fundamental role in understanding why the eye is the bridge between the
physical and spiritual realms. The eye,
like the visual spirits that it contains, is not completely physical, nor is it
completely spiritual. Somehow it is
both.
The frequent occurrence of dreams in the Vita Nuova and
Dante’s later works also demonstrates the difficulty of explaining the process
of vision. After pondering the virtue of
Beatrice’s greeting upon their second encounter, Dante falls into a deep dream
in which Love personified holds Beatrice in his arms and forces her to eat
Dante’s heart. Dante’s dreams often
include the qualifying verb parea because the vision seems to take place
outside of reality. Again Dante blurs
the line between physical and spiritual, between real and unreal. Soon after his macabre and erotic dream,
Dante finds Beatrice sitting in a church.
He did not want to give the impression that he was staring directly at
Beatrice. Fortunately for him another
gentlewoman sat in the line (retta linea) of his vision so that it appeared
that Dante was staring at her instead.
The position of this screen-woman (donna schermo) indicates the author’s
familiarity with Euclidian geometric optics, a science that developed the idea
of the visual cone. The visual cone
converges at the pupil and spreads its base upon the object of vision. Objects positioned in a straight line
perpendicular to the eye are the most visible.
Dante repeats this concept in Chapter II of the Convivio: “E qui si vuol
sapere che avvegna che più cose ne l’occhio a un’ora possano venire, veramente
quella che viene per retta linea ne la punta de la pupilla, quella veramente si
vede” (2.9.4).
In Chapter IX of the Vita Nuova Dante laments the death
of his beloved Beatrice, and the God of Love appears to him again. This time Love moves his eyes, forcing him to
look at the ground (“guardava la terra”), or turning them toward a clear
stream. In the Divina Commedia, Dante
and other characters will repeat eye motions similar to those of the God of
Love. Although Dante can move his eyes,
looking downward in shame, sideways in searching, or upward in hope for
salvation, his eyes are still complacent in comparison with the eyes of his beloved. In the infant stages of his new life, and in
the sub-Empyrean world, Dante has power to receive light through his eyes, but
unlike Beatrice, he has no power to bestow light upon others.
As shall be shown in more detail hereafter, Beatrice
wields a visual power to reflect and radiate the light of God. Dante describes her power, hinting at the
platonic visual ray, in the first two lines of his sonnet Ne li occhi porta:
“Ne li occhi porta la mia donna Amore, / per che si fa gentil ciò ch’ella mira”
(VN XXI). Beatrice ennobles and
beautifies everything she sees. Her
glance causes hearts to tremble. She
attracts the gaze of every onlooker. She
carries love, not just visual spirits, in her eyes. Love, an ostensibly spiritual power, provokes
physical as well as spiritual reactions.
The weakness of Dante’s eyes in contrast with the
strength of Beatrice’s eyes underscores the fact that the vision of man has
been, and always will be, flawed.
Initially, Dante does not have complete control over his own eyes. In fact, his eyes lead him into various
temptations that impede his progress, namely the sin of lust: “Io venni a tanto
per la vista di questa donna, che li miei occhi si cominciaro a dilettare
troppo di vederla” (VN XXXVII). At this
point Dante engages in a futile discussion with his cursed eyes (maladetti
occhi), and blames them for the pain that he
feels. He recognizes the weakness of his eyes when
confronted with Beatrice’s beauty, drawing an analogy from Aristotle: “con ciò
sia cosa che lo nostro intelletto s’abbia a quelle benedette anime sì come
l’occhio debole a lo sole: e ciò dice lo Filosofo nel secondo de la Metafisica”
(VN XLI).
The conclusion of the Vita
Nuova reinforces the theme of weakness in human eyes while praising the power
of the eyes of the beloved Beatrice.
Whereas Beatrice looks continually and actively into the eyes of God,
Dante can only passively hope to turn and glimpse the glory of the woman whom
God has chosen.
Il Convivio
The sorrow inflicted by
Beatrice’s death prompted the poet to seek consolation in philosophy. Simultaneously he sought to elevate the
Italian vernacular. At the conclusion of
his next great work in the vernacular, the Convivio, Dante makes a prophetic
announcement to justify a linguistic revolution. This announcement foreshadows an advance in
the vision of man, one that attributes to man a certain power to exude light:
“Questo sarà luce nuova, sole nuovo, lo quale surgerà là dove l’usato
tramonterà e darà lume a coloro che sono in tenebre e in oscuritade, per lo
usato sole che a loro non luce” (1.13.12). De vulgari eloquentia established
essentially the same prophecy in Latin instead of Italian. Both works exhibit Dante’s thirst for light
and knowledge, but the Convivio addresses more specifically the problem of
vision and theories of optics.
The Convivio apparently was
written between 1304 and 1307. By that
time Dante was already a political exile.
Despite its erudite philosophical subject matter, the work was not intended
for the scholars of Florence, but for the intelligent and noble men who lacked
a scholarly education. In her work Love
at First Sight, Dana Elizabeth Stewart asserts that the Convivio follows
Cavalcanti’s tradition of combining optical theory with love poetry. Like the Vita Nuova, the Convivio presents an
active female vision in contrast with the more passive vision of a male
admirer. Dante describes the process of
vision in both poetry and prose. The
examples of Dante’s optical theory set forth in the Convivio presage even
bolder doctrines in the Divina Commedia.
The original plan for the
philosophical work was to include fourteen commented canzoni, of which Dante
completed only the first four. Although
the Convivio remains incomplete, Dante expounds several philosophical doctrines
that highlight his sense of vision and the virtues of the contemplative
life. Applying the methods of Aquinas,
Dante provides four interpretive keys to his works, namely the literal,
allegorical, moral and anagogical meanings.
When used in order, these keys, particularly the first two, open up the
treasures hidden beneath the cloak of poetic imagination (“che si nasconde
sotto ’l manto di queste favole”) (2.2.2-15).
Dante repeats the story of his first vision of Beatrice, and once again
he alludes to the visual spirits. This
time however, the visual spirits become friends to the beloved woman (“che li
spiriti de li occhi miei a lei si fero massimamente amici”) (2.2.2). The original feeling of fear in the face of
such glory gives way to a sweet sense of mutual affection. Perhaps the strong spirits of Beatrice’s eyes
commingle with and soothe the weaker spirits of Dante’s eyes.
When Dante receives the
vision of Beatrice, he looks directly at her, and she looks directly at
him. The poets of the dolce stil novo
placed emphasis on the converging glances of two sets of eyes because Love is
more apt to shoot his arrows when eyes meet.
Given Dante’s knowledge of visual spirits, the question arises as to
whether Love’s arrows are physical or spiritual entities. The eyes of the lover seem to bond with the
eyes of the beloved both physically and spiritually. Dante certainly believes that man is composed
of two parts, body and spirit, but the two parts are so tightly intertwined
that it is hard to know where one ends and the other begins, especially in
matters of the eye.
The first book of the
Convivio condemns, among other things, the vice of spiritual blindness
(“cechitade di discrezione”) (1.11.2).
Dante contends that the eye is a microcosm of man, manifesting the same
physical and spiritual dichotomy. The
physical eye, as he explains, learns to differentiate and discern exterior
phenomena, whereas the spiritual eye discerns the order and teleological relationship
of the phenomena. In this way, the
spiritual eye is superior to the physical eye and can be equated with the
faculty of reason.
The distinction between the
physical and the spiritual eye becomes more complex with the introduction of
new objects and new sources of vision, namely the vision of the beloved.
Revelation, the vision that combines and surpasses physical and rational
capacities, prepares Dante for the final vision of God. The Convivio alludes to other optical marvels
that figure into the great allegory of the Divina Commedia such as the optic
nerve (2.9.5), blinding light (2.13.16), Dante’s own weak eyes (3.9.15-16) and
the eye as a window (3.10.4).
Monarchia
Monarchia, a brief treatise written in Latin, explains
the relationship between political and ecclesiastical government. Although the subject matter does not apply
directly to a discussion of optics, Dante includes several references to light
and the eye that provide interesting comparisons to his other works. Furthermore, since Dante began writing the
Divina Commedia before he finished Monarchia, the two works overlap
considerably.
Dante’s central claim is that the papacy and the emperor
both receive light from God to accomplish their similar yet separate
duties. The two rulers he compares to
two suns, reigning simultaneously in their separate spheres. It would not be too gross of an abstraction
to compare the worldly monarch to the physical eye and the papal monarch to the
spiritual eye, because like the physical and spiritual eye they both receive
their light from God, who is the absolute monarch of heaven and earth.
Dante pushes the eyes of his mind, the oculos mentis,
into profound depths to discover the utopian equilibrium of monarchical
power. He avows that the problems of
government are resolved in two ways: by the light of human reason and the light
of divine authority. In the second
chapter of Monarchia Dante insists upon the cooperation of the two lights
which, as shall be shown in greater detail, relates to the unity of the
physical and spiritual eye, as well as the balance of reason and revelation:
“Veritas autem questionis patere potest non solum lumine rationis humane, sed
etiam radio divine auctoritatis: que duo cum simul ad unum concurrunt, celum et
terram simul assentire necesse est” (2.1.7).
In Monarchia Dante also emphasizes the necessity of
understanding God’s will, which is invisible.
Nevertheless, by quoting from Paul’s epistle to the Romans (1: 20), he
explains that invisible things are most often understood by means of visible
things, which are the works of God.
Toward the conclusion of the treatise Dante announces two aspects of
God’s will for mankind: happiness in this life and the happiness of eternal
life. Once again, this binary system
reflects not only the similarities between the terrestrial and eternal worlds,
but also the inevitable physical and spiritual overlapping. Finally, eternal happiness consists in the
vision of God, which vision is unattainable without the help of divine light,
lumine divino.
Physical and Spiritual
Vision in the Divina Commedia
A Survey of Contemporary
Literature on Medieval Optics and Dante
David C. Lindberg has
conducted an array of studies on the history of science, ranging from Aristotle
to Kepler and beyond. Dante plays only a
minor role in these studies, but other scholars such as Simon A. Gilson have
benefited from Lindberg’s detailed research in the history of optics. Building upon the background furnished by
Lindberg, Gilson categorizes and reconfigures Dante’s optical heritage to
support the hypothesis that Dante was not, as many have supposed, at the
forefront of thirteenth-century thought on optics. Gilson argues instead that Dante relied upon
a more general body of medieval sources to create an innovative poetic
vision. Rather than dwell extensively on
Dante’s intellectual heritage, Gilson focuses on Dante’s unique, creative
vision. In a similar vein, the present
thesis emphasizes Dante’s personal inspiration and innovation in binding
physical and spiritual matters with the symbol of the eye.
While Gilson recognizes the
medieval interest in light, vision, and the eye, his studies leave open the
issue of the role of light in intellection, as well as the nature of the
connection between physical and spiritual vision. Monica Rutledge fills in some of the lacunae
in Gilson’s research by pointing out “the strong physical foundations of the
spiritual light-tower Dante raised to highest heaven” (Rutledge 151). Moreover, Rutledge indicates an important
motivation behind the growing interest in optics during the thirteenth
century. “To study optics,” she writes,
“was to come to a closer knowledge of how God operates in the world” (Rutledge
152). Thus Dante’s insistence upon a
scientia media pertains as much to the relationship between reason and revelation
as it does to the relationship between the physical and spiritual worlds.
Siding with Alessandro
Parronchi, Rutledge concludes that Dante probably drew inspiration from the
fathers of “light-metaphysics” such as Robert Grosseteste. Gilson, on the other hand, prefers to trace
Dante’s main optical inspiration to theological writers such as Aquinas. Although Rutledge succeeds in her review of
the physical components of Dante’s optics and cosmology, she underestimates the
influence of Aquinas (favoring the perspective of Roger Bacon, and later John
Pecham and Witelo). Nevertheless, her
assumptions lead her to a most convincing observation:
The eye and the brain form
together the meeting-place between the corporeal individual and two sorts of
external information: sensory news from this world, and intellectual or
spiritual intuitions from God. I would
also emphasize something that the more metaphysical interpreters tend to
forget: how very firmly, clearly and logically Dante saw the material and the
spiritual realms to be linked: there was no great jump into the void between
the two; nor is either to be scanted for beauty and worth. (Rutledge 153)
Rutledge solves some of the
central mysteries of Dante’s optical theories, but her notion of a “meeting
place” deserves further attention. Among
other scholars, Maria Luisa Ardizzone, D. E. Stewart, Patrick Boyde, Robert
Podurski, and James Gaffney also contribute significantly to the conversation
concerning optics in Dante’s Divina Commedia.
More recently the medieval scholar Richard Kay has devised a plan of
Dante’s Empyrean modeled on the anatomy of the eye. Kay concludes that God’s position in the
Empyrean corresponds to the position of the lens in the eye (52). Dante the Pilgrim’s final vision of God
relates to a phenomenon of reflection that scholars of the medieval optical
tradition referred to as the aranea or spider’s web (Kay 58). Kay combines vital knowledge of medieval
optics and anatomy of the eye with a creative vision of Dante’s Empyrean to
form a unique understanding of man’s relationship to God. He acknowledges, “the perception that the
human image is somehow related to that of God forms the climactic revelation of
the Comedy (Par.33.130-32), for the pilgrim sees the reflection of his own
image” (Kay 63). Kay’s research allows for a much larger application of Dante’s
optics, stretching the possibilities of interpretation of the Commedia to
cosmic proportions.
Fallen Vision
The vision of man is
fallen. At some point in his life, Dante
the Pilgrim drifts from the path of righteousness, losing himself in a dark
wood, a “selva oscura.” The scarcity of
light in this forest inhibits physical vision just as sin obstructs spiritual
vision; thus distorted vision can result from aberrations within or outside of
the eye (Gilson 89). Fortunately, the
Pilgrim receives guidance to redirect his sight toward God and to overcome the
effects of sin. He learns gradually to
discern between good and evil. His eyes
begin to seek the light of truth. On the
other hand, the eyes of the condemned souls in the Inferno bespeak the torments
that result from sin and the harsh consequences of spiritual blindness.
The word occhio occurs
frequently throughout the Divina Commedia, eighteen times in the singular form
in the Inferno alone. In the first
canticle it also occurs forty-nine times in the plural form, occhi. The words vedere and luce cover even more
terrain. Such word choices and other
visual cues magnify the reality of Dante’s experience. One of the most recognizable features of
almost any figure in the Divina Commedia is their eye.
The journey from sin to
repentance and finally to salvation illustrates the transformation of the soul,
but on a microcosmic scale this journey is visible through a change in the
eyes. As Dante notes in the Convivio,
the eyes are windows to the spirit. In
order for that spirit to see and be seen clearly, the eyes must be purified and
pointed toward the supreme source of light.
Thus the Pilgrim’s eyes undergo several phases of purification and
positioning until they overcome their fallen nature. The process of transfiguration occurs in both
the physical and the spiritual eye; the inner eye is healed, and light dispels darkness
from the surrounding environment.
Although the Pilgrim’s eyes
are too weak to emit any beams of light, he possesses a certain amount of
control over their movement. That is to
say that the movement of his eyes reveals something about the state of his
soul. Besides the fact that the Poet is
recounting the story, the first indication that the Pilgrim is destined to
overcome the trials of hell can be seen in his eye movements. Exiting the dark valley, the Pilgrim reaches
the foot of a hill, whereupon he turns his eyes upward. The upward gaze is almost always a gesture
that signifies hope.
It is not easy for the Pilgrim to maintain the same level
of hope during his voyage. Quite often
he turns his eyes downward in shame or in spite (17.120), or to the side
(6.91), or backward in fear (1.26). For
example, when he desires to understand why the souls are so anxious to cross
the river, his guide responds curtly that the answer will be clear when they
arrive on the banks of the Acheronte.
The Pilgrim, with shameful and downcast eyes (“occhi vergognosi e
bassi”), ceases to speak (3.79).
Other obstacles blur the vision of Dante the
Pilgrim. At the sight of the
metamorphosis of the Florentine thieves, the Pilgrim’s eyes are confused (“li
occhi miei confusi”) (25.145).
Occasionally he stares fixedly at some object in hell, trying to
comprehend it (“ficcai li occhi per lo cotto aspetto”) (15.26). As darkness thickens and sights become more
and more unfamiliar, distance also impedes the Pilgrim’s vision. Dante most likely obtained information on
optical illusions caused by distance from commentaries on Aristotle’s De anima
(Gilson 94). Nearing the valley of the
giants, the Pilgrim seems to behold a city of towers. Virgil corrects him, advising him to draw
closer to the towers before judging, “Tu vedrai ben, se tu là ti congiungi, /
quanto ‘l senso s’inganna di lontano; / però alquanto più te stesso pungi”
(31.25-27). As he approaches the towers,
his vision improves:
Come quando la nebbia si
dissipa,
lo sguardo a poco a poco
raffigura
ciò che cela ‘l vapor che
l’aere stipa,
così forando l’aura grossa
e scura,
più e più appressando ver’
la sponda,
fuggiemi errore e cresciemi
paura. (31.34-39)
The illusion of the towers in the Inferno mirrors the
Pilgrim’s entire voyage, emphasizing the relationship between distance and
accurate sense perception. The more the
Pilgrim approaches God, the more accurate is his vision, as if a veil were
being lifted from his eyes. At the
beginning of the voyage, Dante the Pilgrim relies greatly upon Virgil’s
vision. He asks Virgil to describe
things that are too dark for him to discern: “ma li occhi vivi / non poteano
ire al fondo per lo scuro” (24.70).
Virgil directs the Pilgrim’s vision (“Or drizza il nerbo del viso su per
quella schiuma anticha”) (9.73), and he constantly urges the Pilgrim to lift
his vision beyond the darkness of hell.
Dante the Pilgrim praises
Virgil’s vision: “O sol che sani ogne vista turbata” (11.91), but even Virgil’s
vision is limited (9.4-6). The Pilgrim’s
vision differs from the vision of the other souls that he encounters in hell
because he is not yet deceased.
Furthermore, his vision is superior because he enjoys the added
perspective of the poet Virgil. In a
more removed sense, Dante the Pilgrim can see beyond even Virgil’s view because
heavenly messengers assist him. For the
most part, the Pilgrim exhibits the same passive sort of vision that
characterizes the figure of Dante in the Vita Nuova. The first appearance of Virgil resembles
Dante’s first vision of Beatrice because an image acts upon the Pilgrim’s eyes:
“dinanzi a li occhi mi si fu offerto / chi per lungo silenzio parea fioco”
(1.63-64).
When the Pilgrim describes the horrible sights of hell,
boiling blood, the fiery demons with whips, a three-headed Satan and the like,
the reader can safely assume that the account is fictional. When the Poet claims to recount the journey
as an eyewitness (“o mente che scrivesti ciò ch’io vidi”) (2.8), the fiction
slowly begins to fade into reality.
The eye is an organ of light and vision, but hell is a
region of physical and spiritual darkness.
Ironically, some rays of light, the light of Christ in the harrowing of
hell, Dante and Virgil’s light, and the light of the three blessed women, still
penetrate into the abyss. The vast
majority of hell is composed of sinners who have lost the light of their eyes,
the gift of intellect (“c’hanno perduto il ben de l’intelletto”) (3.18), but
the souls of the great thinkers, those who lived by the light of reason, still
emit a faint glow (4.121-51).
Nevertheless, most of the souls are in one way or another blind. Hell is described as a blind prison (“cieco
carcere”) (10.58), a blind world (“cieco mondo”) (4.13), (27.25), and the
sinners there live a blind life (“cieca vita”) (3.47). Their eyes were often the culprits of their
sins, such as Francesca da Rimini, and their eyes reveal their
punishments. Finally, the eyes of the
beasts of hell burn with unnatural color and ardor, Cerberus has red eyes
(6.16), Caron has eyes like cinders (“occhi di bragia”) (3.109), and Satan
cries out of six ghastly eyes (“con sei occhi piangea”) (34.53). Tears abound in the Inferno, and the paragon
of pain is Satan’s freezing tears.
The faltering vision, the feeble eyes and the thick
darkness cause Dante the Pilgrim to stumble through the circles of hell, until
he and his guide finally emerge to see the stars again. The light of reason, personified by Virgil,
is sufficient to lead Dante the Pilgrim out of damnation, but a new light and a
new vision are necessary to carry him to salvation.
Chapter 2. The Vision of
the Beloved
Mediated and Redeemed
Vision
The light of reason guides Dante the Pilgrim safely
through the underworld. Of course, the
light of reason is merely a ray emanating from a greater source of light, the
light of revelation, whose power can be felt even in the dark recesses of
hell. Virgil announces the purpose of
the treacherous journey by recalling the glorious trinity of women and the origin
of the Pilgrim’s mission:
Io era tra color che son
sospesi,
e donna mi chiamò beata e bella,
tal che di comandare io la richiesi.
Lucevan li occhi suoi piú che la stella. (1.2.52-55)
Beatrice goes on to explain
to Virgil how she received her calling from Lucia, who had received her calling
from Maria, the mother of God. As Dante
the Pilgrim ascends the mountain of Purgatorio, the light emanating from the
three holy women grows stronger. The
fountainhead of this light is God. God’s
light has the power to redeem the fallen vision of man, but usually this light
reaches man’s eyes through a mediator.
Jesus Christ is the true mediator between God and man, the link between
physical and spiritual vision, but Dante filters the light of Christ through
three blessed women, Maria, Lucia and Beatrice.
The combined vision of the female trinity characterizes the vision of
the beloved, which, as a symbol of Christ’s vision, has the power to enlighten,
purify and save.
Maria
Maria is the closest to God because she is the mother of
God (3.4.30). She is the rose where the
Divine Word took upon himself a body of flesh and blood (3.23.73). In ecstasy, Dante catches a glimpse of Maria
and Christ as they descend into the midst of the blessed souls in the heaven of
the fixed stars. Beatrice describes
Christ as the true connection between heaven and earth (3.23.37-39), but Maria
is positioned directly underneath the rays of her divine son. Beatrice prods Dante the Pilgrim to look
beyond her in order to perceive Maria, and the light overcomes the Pilgrim’s
eyes until he can no longer follow Maria’s ascension. He sees only the outstretched arms of the
blessed souls.
St. Bernard of
Clairvaux also instructs Dante the Pilgrim to look upward toward Maria because
she is the last great vision that precedes the vision of the Holy Trinity
(3.31.113-17). As the last step in the
progression toward God, Maria is not only close to God in spatial proximity,
she is also the being who most resembles Christ (3.32.85-87). Maria’s resemblance to her Son solidifies the
relationship between physical and spiritual vision by showing that in order to
see Christ, one must also be like Christ.
To draw near to the Divine Center of the cosmos, the “Punto solo”
(3.33.94), is tantamount to obtaining a personal imprint of Divine Image. Finally, St. Bernard leads Dante the Pilgrim
in a prayer to Maria that enables him to pierce deeper into the beatific
vision.
Maria represents an important link between Dante the
Pilgrim and the final vision of God. She
is the instrument of the miracle of the Virgin Birth and the incarnation of
Christ, and as such, she occupies an exalted position in the heavens. From this exalted position, Maria sees more,
and sees more clearly, than any other being besides the members of the
Trinity.
Santa Lucia
The modern notion of hell
as a place void of light can be traced etymologically to the Anglo-Saxon verb
helan, meaning to cover or to conceal.
Contrasting images of light and darkness in the Divina Commedia cover or
conceal symbols of physical as well as spiritual conditions. In many respects even Santa Lucia, who is one
of the brightest figures of the poem, remains hidden beneath obscure shades of
interpretation (1.9.62-63).
In the Divina Commedia
Santa Lucia, like Maria before her and Beatrice whom she sends, connects the
physical world to the spiritual world.
In his essay "Santa Lucia as Patroness of Sight: Hagiography,
Iconography, and Dante," Anthony K. Cassell sheds light on the role of
Santa Lucia in the Inferno, and provides insights into a deeper understanding
of the entire Divina Commedia. With
convincing evidence, Cassell contends that Santa Lucia represents the light of
grace that would save the roaming Dante.
It is commonly supposed that Dante himself venerated Lucia, and that
Lucia was indeed a protector of sight, but Cassell broadens the argument to
include more crucial questions about the underlying purposes of Santa Lucia in
the Divina Commedia. For example, what
is Santa Lucia’s relationship to Dante the Pilgrim? Why did Dante the Poet place Santa Lucia in
the trinity of glorious women? Moreover,
how does Santa Lucia embody the relationship between physical and spiritual
vision in the Divina Commedia?
History and mythology help to respond to such questions
and begin to uncover the mystery of the relationship between the solid and
ethereal worlds of the Divina Commedia.
The clues found in the different accounts of the martyrdom of Santa
Lucia vary greatly, but a few essential components of the story may be
established. To begin with, Lucia lived
in the city of Siracusa during the reign of Diocleziano around the end of the
third century A.D. She converted to
Christianity after her mother was miraculously healed at the tomb of Sant’Agata
of Catania, and it was revealed to her that she was destined to become the
patron saint of Siracusa. Upon
discovering her vows of chastity and her devotion to Christ, Lucia’s promised
spouse denounced her to the prefect, who in turn condemned the virgin to
death. She was first subjected to the
vile sexual tortures of a brothel. After
resisting this punishment and miraculously surviving the flames at the stake,
Santa Lucia died a martyr’s death by the sword.
Numerous legends have sprung out of the story of Santa Lucia, some of
which correlate well with Dante’s poetry.
In the Inferno and throughout the Divina Commedia Santa Lucia is both
literally and metaphorically a savior.
The first noticeable connection between Santa Lucia and
her role as a savior is found in the etymology of the name Lucia. In direct opposition to hell, a place where
there is no light or where light is covered up, Lucia is a luminous being. The name Lucia derives from the Latin noun
lux, which means light. For this and
other reasons, Santa Lucia came to be known as the patroness of sight and the
“grazia illuminante soprannaturalemente l’intelligenza.” As the patroness of sight, Santa Lucia's role
is central to the Divina Commedia because she emanates both physical and
spiritual light. It is she, along with
Virgil and two other blessed women, who redeem the lost Dante from the darkness
of hell. In fact, Beatrice describes
Lucia as the “nimica di ciascun crudele” (1.2.100). Sent from God, Lucia’s
light overcomes the darkness of Dite.
Dante and others honor Santa Lucia for her powers of
spiritual discernment, but other reasons exist for her popularity. Besides combating evil and graciously
bestowing spiritual vision upon her disciples, Santa Lucia possesses the power
to correct physical diseases of the eye.
This is significant in light of the fact that Dante himself suffered
from eye troubles. Perhaps as much as
Dante the Pilgrim relies on her as a source of spiritual light, Dante the
historical figure petitioned Santa Lucia for physical light, that is, a cure
for the physical weakness of his eyes.
In the Convivio Dante mentions his own weak vision:
Io fui di questo l’anno
medesimo che nacque questa canzone [scil. “Amor che nella mente mi ragiona”],
che per affaticare lo viso molto, a studiare di leggere, in tanto debilitai li
spiriti visivi che le stelle mi pareano tutte d’alcuno albore ombrate.
(3.9.15-16)
The light from Santa Lucia
cures physical ailments, such as the blurriness of Dante’s eyes, but more
importantly it cures spiritual ailments, such as hampered discernment. On the other hand, intense light, like the
light that emanates from Santa Lucia or the sun, can also be an obstacle to
discernment or discretion, if only for a brief moment. Once the eye adjusts to such light, vision is
greatly enhanced. Although Dante did not
know Plato’s Republic directly, the allegory of the cave presents an
interesting parallel to the blinding light of Santa Lucia:
Any one who has common
sense will remember that the bewilderments of the eyes are of two kinds, and
arise from two causes, either from coming out of the light or from going into
the light, which is true of the mind’s eye, quite as much as of the bodily eye.
(Plato 7)
Dante the Pilgrim has his
eyes "bewildered" in both ways, first by straying from the light, and
then by moving through inferno, purgatorio and paradiso toward the light of
God. Once the Pilgrim becomes accustomed
to Lucia's light, his discernment increases.
In the same way that she helps to light the physical path through
progressively brighter spheres, Santa Lucia enlightens the spiritual path to
God that Dante the Pilgrim is to follow.
As a member of the feminine
trinity, Lucia symbolizes more than just light.
Some have recognized in Santa Lucia a symbol of Hope in the triune doctrine
of Faith, Hope and Charity. That is to
say that Beatrice embodies the principle of Faith because she acts on behalf of
the Pilgrim, whereas Maria or the Madonna represents the principle of Charity,
whose natural offspring is Lucia, or Hope.
However many conjectures have been made, Dante's description of the
three holy women remains open to debate.
Nevertheless, scholars such as Cassell place the problem of Santa
Lucia's identity under a new and provocative light.
Is it too much to wonder if
Dante the historical figure, like Dante the Pilgrim, underwent a similar
process of enlightenment? Indeed, Santa
Lucia represents the guiding light of truth, a light of salvation, and a savior
who unites the physical and spiritual realms.
Beatrice
When Dante met Beatrice di
Folco Portinari for the first time in 1274 both of them were only nine years
old. In spite of their young age, it
seems as if Dante already knew the “gloriosa donna” (VN2) of his mind. The appearance of Beatrice made an indelible
impact on the soul of the poet and the most powerful effect of their encounter
was the image of Beatrice that penetrated his eyes. The beauty of the woman so stirred the visual
spirits that Dante was moved to repeat the words of Ulysses at his first vision
of Nausicaa: “Ella non parea figliuola d’uomo mortale, ma di deo” (VN2). At the end of the Vita Nuova Dante declares
his objective to produce a greater work that would be worthy of Beatrice. Through the words of the Divina Commedia the
poet reached his goal, “dicer di lei quello che mai non fue detto d’alcuna”
(VN42). The search for the proper way to
depict Beatrice’s ineffable beauty led Dante to adopt the symbol of the
eye. Ultimately, Beatrice’s eyes lead
the Pilgrim to the vision of God (DC 3.18.4).
Certain aspects of the
language of sight are indispensable for understanding the salvific mission of
Beatrice. Beatrice’s eyes emit physical
and spiritual light, beauty and truth.
Her eyes communicate physical and spiritual love, compassion, hope,
faith, humility, creation, chastisement and intelligence. Most importantly, her eyes reflect the light
and the attributes of God. Dante commits
to follow Beatrice’s example because she keeps her eye focused on the glory of
God:
E poi piaccia a colui che è
sire de la cortesia, che la mia anima se ne possa gire a vedere la gloria de la
sua donna, cioè di quella benedetta Beatrice, la quale gloriosamente mira ne la
faccia di colui qui est per omnia secula benedictus. (VN42)
Beatrice’s consistency in
looking toward God inspires faith in the Pilgrim. When Dante dreams of the death of Beatrice,
he seems to hear her say: “Io sono a vedere lo principio de la pace”
(VN23). The eyes of Beatrice, her glances
of pity and her gifts of light, prepare Dante for the beatific vision because
she already enjoys perfect vision, “perfetto veder” (DC 3.5.5).
As Dante’s guide, Beatrice is also a figura Christi. Besides preaching of the life and sufferings
of Christ (Sowell 164-67), Beatrice reflects in her eyes the divine attributes
of charity, hope and faith. Her eyes
attract the eyes of Dante, directing them toward celestial light: “lume fia tra
‘l vero e lo ‘ntelletto. / Non so se ‘ntendi : io dico di Beatrice”
(2.6.45-46). In this synecdoche Beatrice’s eyes shine as a light of example for
the Pilgrim. As Christ declared:
“Verily, verily I say unto you, The Son can do nothing of himself, but what he
seeth the Father do; for what things soever he doeth, these also doeth the Son
likewise” (John 5:19). Beatrice cannot impart light without first receiving it
from God.
Often Beatrice’s eyes express charity or compassion for
Dante the Pilgrim. Beatrice descends
into hell to call Virgil, leaving behind her celestial throne as Christ left
his throne for the benefit of mankind: “venni qua giù del mio beato scanno”
(1.2.113). When the Pilgrim poses a question on the essence of vows, Beatrice
looks at her faithful follower “con li occhi pieni / di faville d’amor cosí
divini” (3.4.139-40). In the sphere of
Mars Beatrice turns her eyes toward Dante the Pilgrim in a manner so sweet as
to defy all description: “e quela io allor vidi / ne li occhi santi amor, qui
l’abbandono” (3.18.8-9). Nearer to the extremely luminous point in the
Empyrean, Dante looks “ne’ belli occhi / onde a pigliarmi fece Amor la corda”
(3.28.11-12). Since Beatrice plays a role in the feminine trinity (Maria, Lucia
and Beatrice) that corresponds to the mission of Jesus Christ, the pure light
of love that pours from her eyes brings salvation to the Pilgrim.
In the dark abyss of hell, Virgil ignites the Pilgrim’s
hope by describing the beauty of Beatrice’s eyes, “Lucevan li occhi suoi più
che la stella” (1.2.52-55). Although hell is a region of darkness, the rays
from Beatrice’s eyes penetrate Dante’s eyes by means of Virgil or reason. In the final cornice of purgatorio Dante the
Pilgrim is afraid to enter into the wall of fire to purify the sin of
lust. Virgil consoles him and encourages
him, reminding him of the proximity of his beloved: “Li occhi suoi già veder
parmi” (2.27.54). Each step through the phases of paradise engenders hope in
the Pilgrim. Beatrice’s eyes reinforce
Dante the Pilgrim’s eyes, giving him the hope to lift his eyes to God.
Continuing to comment on the theological virtues in
reverse order, it follows that Beatrice’s eyes also burned with faith. In fact, in the trinity of blessed women
Beatrice symbolizes distinctly the first virtue. If, however, “fede è sustanza di cose sperate
/ e argomento de le non parventi” (3.24.64-65) according to the confession of
Dante the Pilgrim to Saint Peter, perhaps Beatrice’s eyes negate the necessity
of faith. In other words, faith and
vision are mutually exclusive.
Beatrice’s eyes suggest on the other hand that faith is a type of
elevated vision, supernatural and celestial, but not without ties to physical
or terrestrial vision. Although Dante
witnesses the miracles of heaven, his vision will never include all of heaven’s
mysteries. Faith is still required in
heaven. Nevertheless, Dante, like
Beatrice before him, succeeds in perceiving with his eyes that which he had
already perceived with the eyes of his mind (3.10.121).
The dialogue between vision and faith, between reason and
revelation, follows a rich religious and philosophical tradition. Suffice it to say that Dante drew inspiration
from this source to form the image of Beatrice’s eyes. Beatrice’s eyes represent not only the
attributes of God and Christ, but also the perfect knot between physical and
spiritual vision. The symbol of the eye
in the Divina Commedia shows how false or misleading are many of the
distinctions between the physical and spiritual worlds (Dannhauser 35).
Beatrice’s eyes also transmit the virtue that is most
lacking in Dante the Pilgrim, which is humility. Ascending to the second cornice of purgatorio
the Poet complains about the sin of pride: “O superbi cristian, miseri lassi, /
che de la vista de la mente infermi” (2.10.121-22). Pride weighs down the soul of the sinner, but
it also affects vision. On the same
cornice Guiglielmo Aldobrandesco, a noble and powerful man on the earth, does
not have the strength to lift his eyes to look at the Pilgrim: “dal sasso /
…onde portar convienmi il viso basso” (2.11.52-54). Purification from vanity and pride requires
great effort, but Dante profits by Beatrice’s humility, reflected in her eyes,
to escape from this impurity. Usually
down-turned eyes signify shame, humiliation and pain, but Beatrice’s humility
is different. She already possesses a
perfect character and a perfect vision, and when she turns her eyes low it is
not a result of sin. Through Virgil her
eyes come to succor the eyes of the sinner: “li occhi lucenti lagrimando volse”
(1.2.116). At the commencement of the
celestial voyage Beatrice looks at her follower with a motherly humility: “li
occhi drizzò ver’ me con quel sembiante / che madre fa sovra figlio deliro”
(3.1.101-2). Perhaps the greatest
example of humility in the eyes of Beatrice is found in the circle of the sun
when Dante’s heart swells with gratitude toward God:
e sí tutto ‘l mio amore in
lui si mise,
che Beatrice eclissò ne
l’oblio.
Non le dispiacque, ma sì se
ne rise,
che lo splendor de li occhi
suoi ridenti
mia mente unita in più cose
divise. (3.10.59-63)
Besides humbly descending
to lighten the heavy burden of pride, Beatrice rejoices and exults in the glory
of God. Her eyes light up more, and she
is not offended when Dante the Pilgrim receives light directly from God instead
of from the mirror of her eyes. As soon
as the Pilgrim loses all desires outside of the desire to behold Beatrice
(3.18.15), she warns him with a resplendent smile: “Volgiti e ascolta; / ché
non pur ne’ miei occhi è paradiso” (3.18.20-21). Beatrice continually gives the glory to her
Creator.
Beatrice’s humble invitation parallels the Poet’s
invitation to the reader. Like Beatrice,
the Poet discerns the truth with divine light and desires to share that truth
with others. Therefore, he encourages
the acute reader to study the essence of the poetry (1.9.61-63). The search for truth is both an intellectual
and a spiritual exercise that requires the efforts of the eyes. In the valley of the princes the Poet
persuades the reader to “aguzzare ben li occhi al vero” (2.8.19). The clarity of Beatrice’s eyes affords a
glimpse of the truth of the Empyrean only for those who are able to endure its
luminosity.
Beatrice’s eyes shine with unearthly splendor. Her eyes are beautiful beyond all
imagination, but the superlative adjectives and the descriptions of her
attributes run the risk of overshadowing an important facet of her beauty. The repeated hyperboles could invoke the
praise of the creature in place of the praise of the Creator (Pearce). The transcendent beauty of Beatrice’s eyes
would be emptiness had Dante not insisted upon the physical reality and the
humanity of his lady. Beatrice is
beautiful not only because the Pilgrim imagines her divine form close to the
“tre giri / di tre colori” (3.33.116), but also because each of her
metaphysical virtues weaves into her tangible body. Dante transforms the sensuality of the
troubadours into an amorous religion that adapts itself to the Christian
religion (Lewis, Allegory 21). Hence, in
Beatrice’s eyes reason and revelation converge as well as Eros and charity. The Poet does not subjugate the spiritual
world. He elevates the physical world to
its proper place in the celestial order.
The eyes that struck Dante at the age of nine are the
same eyes that lift the Pilgrim to the vision of God, but the power of her
glance augments in proportion to her proximity to God. For the most part Dante rejects the platonic
theory of eye rays, but he recovers the theory in the case of Beatrice because
her eyes manifest an extraordinary power.
Having overcome the trials of inferno and purgatorio, he was ready to reunite
with his lady; but even before Beatrice appeared, Dante the Pilgrim could feel
her presence:
E lo spirito mio, che già cotanto
tempo era stato ch’a la sua presenza
non
era di stupor, tremando, affranto,
sanza de li occhi aver più conoscenza,
per occulta virtù che da lei mosse,
d’antico amor sentí la gran potenza.
Tosto che ne la vista mi percosse
l’alta virtù che già m’avea trafitto
prima ch’io fuor di puerizia fosse. (2.30.34-42)
At the end of the voyage
through purgatorio Beatrice demands the attention of the Pilgrim in a similar
fashion: “con li occhi li occhi mi percosse” (2.33.18). The light that emerges from Beatrice’s eyes
operates almost like an appendage to her body, like an arm or a hand.
This extension of light has
the power to create love, to console or to reprove. After much time spent in separation from his
beloved, Dante the Pilgrim might expect to receive a warm and loving welcome,
like the prodigal son after his penitence.
Instead Beatrice chastises her tardy disciple: “Guardaci ben! Ben son,
ben son Beatrice. / Come degnasti d’accedere al monte?” (2.30.73-74). The light of Beatrice’s eyes shakes the
Pilgrim because he is a human being, imperfect and not accustomed to such
marvelous light (Pearce). It is not the
first time, nor will it be the last time that the brightness overcomes the
Pilgrim’s vision. In fact, the power of
Beatrice’s eyes is often great enough to cause blindness. Fortunately, these same eyes have the
capacity to cure blindness (“ha ne lo sguardo / la virtú ch’ebbe la man
d’Anania”) (3.26.12).
Although Dante ascribes to Aristotle’s doctrine of
intermediary, passive vision, the Divina Commedia does not completely reject
the doctrine of active vision, particularly in the character of Beatrice. Her eyes demonstrate her intelligence and her
creative power. Little by little the
intercession of Beatrice teaches Dante the Pilgrim to submit his will to the
will of God. The eyes of the Pilgrim,
the same down-cast and bashful eyes of inferno, confused or askance in
purgatorio, are nourished by the light reflected by Beatrice until they are
prepared for the vision of God: “io, che tutto ai piedi / d’i suoi
commandamenti era divoto, / la mente e li occhi ov’ella volle diedi”
(2.32.106-8). If the first encounter
with Beatrice in the streets of Florence pushed Dante toward a change of heart
and a “vita nuova,” his epiphany in the terrestrial paradise at the top of the
mountain of purgatorio produced an even greater change. Beatrice’s eyes first conferred a new life,
but in the long run they directed Dante’s eyes toward a new vision, a “vista
nuova” (3.33.136), that is, the vision of God.
Only then could Dante enjoy the same perfect vision as the woman who
always gazed “ne la faccia di colui qui est per omnia secula benedictus”
(VN42). Together their eyes were opened
in the view of God, he who “tutto discerne” (2.14.151) and who “tutto vede”
(1.10.131, 3.9.73).
Chapter 3. The Vision of
God
Thomas Aquinas and the
Relationship between God and Man
The vision of man and the vision of the beloved unite to
receive the vision of God, but the vision of God holds two primary
meanings. The vision of God describes
how man sees or perceives God, but it also describes how God sees or perceives
in general, that is God’s vision. Both
notions are tied together in a single phrase because the means by which man
perceives God derives from the power of God’s perception. Of course, this twist of terminology applies
in a similar way to the vision of the beloved, because Beatrice’s eyes give
light for the Pilgrim’s eyes to see.
Nevertheless, Beatrice’s eyes are not the source of the light, but only
the medium, the conduit or the intercessor.
As Beatrice and the Pilgrim are rapt in the vision of God, the medium
becomes almost indistinguishable from the source; the vision of man and the
vision of the beloved become similar to the vision of God. By looking at God with a fixed gaze, they
receive both the vision of God and Godly vision.
Thomas Aquinas wondered, like others before him, if it
were possible for man to see God in this life and in all of his glory. Aquinas approached such questions in
writing. Following the example of his teacher
Albertus Magnus, Thomas Aquinas dedicated himself to assimilating all of the
wisdom of Aristotle into his personal works, most of all in the Summa contra
gentiles and the Summa theologiae.
Whereas Albertus Magnus sought to unify all natural knowledge, Aquinas
attempted to unify Christian theology (Park 115). Today Aquinas is well known as the official
theologian of the Catholic Church, but during his lifetime his ideas were
controversial and sometimes scandalous.
In spite of the opposition that he faced, Aquinas succeeded in defending
the rationality of the doctrines of the church, while demonstrating at the same
time that reason does not contradict revelation.
Although his philosophy
confronts theological problems, Aquinas worked to elevate human reason. Man apprehends truths about the world and
about God by means of the senses: sight, hearing, touch, taste and smell. Nevertheless, there is a truth that surpasses
the capacity of reason and the senses: the absolute truth of God. The beatific vision is not accomplished
through the senses or by human efforts.
To know God one must believe that He is beyond all human intelligence.
That which distinguishes the thought of Thomas Aquinas
from the thought of previous theologians is the value that he places on truth
obtained by the faculty of reason.
According to Aquinas the truth of reason and the truth of revelation are
not contradictory. In fact, God created
the natural principles that man learns through the senses, and the wisdom of
God makes it possible for man to exercise his faculties. The greatest miracle is that divine inspiration
persuades man to reject that which is visible in order to comprehend that which
is invisible (Helm 110).
The Apostle Paul defined faith as sperandarum substantia
rerum, argumentum non apparentium (Heb. 11:1).
In effect, Aquinas focused on the demonstration of the invisible and the
realization of the promises of faith.
Even though his works do not treat specifically the science of optics,
Aquinas reflected on the importance of light, vision and the eye. He conceives of light as a quality or a
property without substance. Light is
necessary for vision, but it is also necessary for comprehension:
human knowledge is assisted
by the revelation of grace. For the
intellect’s natural light is strengthened by the infusion of gratuitous light,
and sometimes also the images in the imagination are divinely formed. (Aquinas
1.110)
Therefore, both the light
of reason and the light of revelation originate with God and are harmonious.
The twelfth question of the Summa theologiae considers
how God is known by man. To respond to
this question Aquinas makes a distinction between two kinds of light, lux and
lumen. Lux is the intelligible light of
God. Lumen is the light created by
God. Since the most profound desire of
each human soul is to know God, and to see him, the greatest happiness consists
in the vision of God in his essence, as he really is. The only way to see God is in his essence, by
means of the intelligible light. Thus,
God is at the same time the object and the means of this vision.
This discourse leads back to another scripture of the
Apostle Paul: Videmus nunc per speculum in aenigmate: tunc autem facie ad
faciem (1 Cor. 13:12). The
interpretations of this scripture are vast and various, but Thomas Aquinas
affirms in the Summa contra gentiles that man is not capable of seeing God with
the physical eye. The eye of the body
sees only corporeal objects. Access to
the vision of God requires the power of God to elevate the vision of man. Only the spiritual eye, a gift from God, can
perceive the truths that are invisible to the physical eye (1 Cor.2:2).
The physical eye is also a gift from God, but it is not
sufficient in itself for attaining the vision of God. The physical eye is comparable to the light
of reason or lumen. As a created quality,
lumen shines forth from God, but it does not illuminate the vision of God in
his essence. Lumen illuminates all other
physical creations, but lux, which is the essence of God, is necessary to draw
men into the presence of God. All men
have access to created light, but access to the light that is the essence of
God depends entirely on the will of God.
How is it possible then to obtain the spiritual eye or
the divine light (lux)? In the first
place, the great theologian proposes that divine light cannot transform or
illuminate a body that is altogether different from the divine image. Man must participate in the image of
God. For example, man must possess the
attributes that resemble the attributes of God in order to receive the divine
light. Bernard of Clairvaux, who lived
approximately a century before Aquinas, underlined the importance of charity as
a requirement for the beatific vision.
He believed that the essence of God is love. Charity, like divine light, is the source and
the means of the vision. According to
St. Bernard charity is the true knowledge of God (Gilson, Medieval 226).
Although man may possess a
portion of charity or of divine light, he is still imperfect. Since God is unchanging, man must be
perfected and elevated by the power of God.
Human nature must change and created light must surrender to divine
light.
All created intelligence
desires the light of its Creator. The
philosophy of Thomas Aquinas forms a comparison between sensible knowledge and
intellectual knowledge. This comparison
clarifies the connection between created light (lumen) and the intelligible
light of God (lux):
Now, owing to the fact that
we derive our knowledge of intelligible beings from sensible things, we
transfer the terms employed in sensible knowledge to our intellectual
knowledge; especially those terms that pertain to the sight, which of all the
senses is the highest and most spiritual, and therefore most akin to the
intellect. (Aquinas 2.96)
Man uses the same words to
describe the natural world and the supernatural world. Sight in particular is the most noble of the
senses because it represents precisely created light, which closely resembles
intelligible light. It appears as though
there is a contradiction in the reasoning of the theologian: if the physical
eye cannot see God in his essence, why praise the visual faculty of man? If that which is essential is also invisible,
why give credence to that which is visible?
Evidently the vision of God is the most important concept. Physical vision is only a symbol:
It is for this reason that
intellectual knowledge is called sight (visio). And because bodily sight is not
effected without light, those things which serve for the perfection of
intellectual vision are called light (lux). (Aquinas 2.96)
Physical vision depends
upon created light. In the same manner
spiritual vision depends upon the intelligible light of God. Nevertheless, created light (lumen) exists
outside of the being that perceives it, whereas the intelligible light of God
(lux) must act from the interior of the soul.
In other words, natural light illuminates objects so that the physical
eye may perceive them, whereas supernatural light illuminates the interior of
the spiritual eye so that it may comprehend the essence of the object.
In the following section,
Aquinas responds to questions that seem to deny the possibility of the vision
of God in his essence. Fortunately, the
divine essence is not completely out of the reach of the human soul because
divine light strengthens the spiritual eye and infuses it with grace. As it receives the divine light of grace, the
spiritual eye prepares itself for the vision of God in his essence. Thus man may know God, but never as well as
God knows himself, nor as well as God knows his creations. Man cannot see all of the essence of God, for
God is infinite and eternal.
For Aquinas it is impossible to see the essence of God
with the corporeal eye. This declaration
directly opposes the doctrine of St. Augustine:
Therefore the power of
those eyes will be extraordinary in its potency – not in the sense of being a
sharper eyesight than that possessed, they say, by snakes and eagles (for
however keen-sighted those animals may be, they can see only material things) –
but in the sense of having the ability to see the immaterial. (City of God
22.29)
Toward the end of his great
work the City of God, St. Augustine wrote that the corporeal eye is glorified
and prepared for the vision of God.
Thomas Aquinas believed, on the other hand, that only the spiritual eye
might see God; the natural world and the supernatural world do not cross
paths. The vision of God requires the
unification of the divine essence with the created intelligence. This union evokes the idea of the communion
between lux and lumen. Since lux is the
divine essence that does not change, it is lumen that must change.
Dante and the Relationship
between God and Man
The change in lumen corresponds to the improvement in
Dante the Pilgrim’s vision. The
juxtaposition of the Pilgrim’s weak and wandering eyes in the Inferno with his
clear and concentrated eyes in the Paradiso reveals the purifying power of
divine light. With what is perhaps a
subtle reference to Aquinas’ Summa, Dante invokes God for the power to express
the beatific vision:
O somma luce che tanto ti
levi
da concetti mortali, a la
mia mente
ripresta un poco di quel
che parevi
e fa la lingua mia tanto
possente,
che una favilla sol de la
tua gloria
possa lasciare a la futura
gente;
ché, per tornare alquanto a
mia memoria
e per sonare un poco in
questi versi,
più si conceperà di tua
vittoria. (3.33.67-75)
In this poetic prayer Dante
does not invoke his own high genius, Calliope, the muses or even Apollo. He invokes God. He implores the greatest light to transmit
through the poetry a spark of his glory, so that future readers will praise
God. This final supplication
encapsulates the experience of the beatific vision, for only by divine light
can divinity be perceived. In a sense,
Dante becomes the instrument of God’s light, much like Beatrice. Dante becomes the mediator between the reader
and God in the same way that Beatrice was the mediator for Dante the
Pilgrim. Virgil, Beatrice and others
guides constantly urge Dante the Pilgrim to lift up his eyes. Dante the Poet, in turn, invites his readers
to do the same. (3.10.7-12, 2.8.19)
The idea of mediation reflects chapter XIV of the Vita
Nuova in which Dante describes his eyes as instruments. The eyes are in many ways the instruments or
mediators of the soul, converting sensory information into intellectual
knowledge and spiritual wisdom, receiving and reflecting physical and spiritual
light. In order for Dante the Pilgrim to
receive the light of revelation, his instruments undergo a series of purifying
trials. The progress of the Pilgrim’s
soul corresponds directly to the improvement in his eyes and in his
vision.
Dante the Pilgrim learns, by following Virgil’s counsel,
how to control and direct his eyes toward the light of truth. The Pilgrim admits to Beatrice that he sinned
by following the false pleasure of present things (2.31.34-6), but he repents
and receives forgiveness. In fact,
Virgil’s last words indicate that the Pilgrim’s eyes are so fixed on the light
of truth that they no longer require his “ingegno” or “arte” (2.27.130). Virgil looks directly into Dante the
Pilgrim’s eyes and encourages him to continue upward toward Beatrice without
him. By this point, the Pilgrim’s desires
conform to righteousness:
Non aspettar mio dir piú né mio cenno;
libero, dritto e sano è tuo arbitrio,
e fallo fora non fare a suo senno. (2.27.139-41)
Yet even after being
delivered to his own just volition, the Pilgrim must endure several tests to
purge and prepare his eyes for the vision of God. Although his instruments are pointed in the
right direction, they still must undergo trials and purifying blasts of
light. Nymphs guide Dante the Pilgrim’s
eyes to Beatrice, but when Beatrice unveils herself the light overpowers her
lover. After ten years of desiring to
see her again, her appearance is overwhelming:
e la disposizion ch’a veder
èe
ne li occhi pur testé dal
sol percossi,
sanza la vista alquanto
esser mi fée. (2.32.10-12)
Slowly the Pilgrim regains his vision. From this point on, Dante the Pilgrim fixes
his gaze more firmly on his beloved, except to behold God (3.10.10-12). Beatrice’s eyes, as well as her words
(2.33.75), continually overpower the Pilgrim in order to cure him of his
spiritual blindness. Dante the Pilgrim
is able to receive more and more light because his eyes endured the darkness of
inferno as well as the luminosity of Beatrice’s glance and visage.
The strains of darkness and
the washings of light prepare Dante the Pilgrim’s eyes like the refining of
glass. The eyes are like windows
(Convivio 3.8.10) that show the condition of the soul and receive light from
outside of the soul. The proportions of
exiting or entering light depend partially upon the clarity or purity of the
windows (DC 3.21.88-90).
Certainly the light that
blinds Dante in the Paradiso is more than a physical substance, for instead of
leaving him blind the light actually cures him of blindness. This light is a spiritual reality,
exemplified by Christ’s appearance to Saul on the road to Damascus (see for
example Dante’s use of the word circunfulse in 3.30.46-51), which heals the
wounds of sin and facilitates the process of conversion. In Canto II of the Paradiso Dante explains
the action of divine light in conjunction with the apparent imperfections in
the surface of the moon. The different
shades do not denote blemishes, rather they denote varying degrees of
virtue. This engenders another analogy
involving a specific anatomical structure in the eye:
Per la natura lieta onde
deriva,
la virtù mista per lo corpo
luce
come letizia per pupilla
viva. (3.2.142-44)
Virtue mixes with the body
to produce light that shines like joy from the pupil.
Thus the vision of God, which constitutes mankind’s
greatest joy, requires both exterior and interior light. The light that shines from the outside
illuminates the vision of God to the physical eyes, a vision that Dante
describes as three circles or spheres, “tre giri / di tre colori e d’una
contenenza” (3.33.116-17). The light
that shines from the inside, a mixture of virtue and body, illuminates the
meaning of the vision to the spiritual eyes.
Both trajectories of light originate with God and are required for the
vision of God.
The vision of God is the apogee of truth as well as
beauty. Ascending through the spheres of
heaven, Dante the Pilgrim notices an increase in Beatrice’s beauty
(3.8.15). The increase in her beauty
involves two main factors. As they
approach God together, Beatrice reflects greater portions of light. Her beauty augments in proportion to her
radiance. The change that the Pilgrim
witnesses from the outside is matched only by the change in his inner
perception of beauty. In other words,
Beatrice grows more beautiful, but more importantly, Dante the Pilgrim grows
more sensitive and receptive to real beauty.
Since God does not change, the Pilgrim’s soul must transform and acquire
divine attributes in order to truly see God in his essence.
To claim the vision of God is to claim, therefore, that
the viewer shares some characteristics of divinity. Dante did not shy away from such a daunting
doctrine. Rather than dismiss his vision
as ineffable, Dante provided evidence for things that are not seen. Like Aquinas, he made the invisible world
visible. At the climax of his vision
Dante saw three rings or spheres (“tre giri”) of three colors and one
dimension. One of the rings reflected
from the Eternal Light seemed painted with the image of a man (“mi parve pinta
de la nostra effige”) (3.33.131).
Finally, after fixing his
gaze upon the image, a flash of light overcame the Pilgrim, and the vision of
God closed. What was this final
effulgent flash? Perhaps then that Dante
realized that the vision of God opens up the true vision of man and the vision
of the beloved.
Conclusion
Although he may not have been at the forefront of optical
science in the fourteenth century, Dante certainly articulated a new
vision. Dante’s treatment of optics,
particularly in the Divina Commedia, points to an idea of vision that
synthesizes and surpasses the physical and spiritual eye. As Dante the Pilgrim forfeits his own views,
he gradually acquires a vision of things as they really are. This new vision is neither completely
physical nor completely spiritual. It is
not simply sight and physical proof. Nor
is it merely knowledge and spiritual discernment. Dante’s new vision truly commences with the
beatific vision because he begins to see as he is seen. Through the grace of a mediator, he obtains a
vision that is beyond physical and spiritual vision, a vision that is eye to
eye or face to face with God.
The form and functions of the physical eye complement the
spiritual eye, but the vision of things as they really are occurs only when
both are in harmony. The Pilgrim’s
journey, assisted by Virgil, Beatrice and other souls, toward the vision of God
illustrates beautifully the process of harmonizing physical and spiritual
vision. Drawing from the thought of
Aquinas, Dante demonstrates that a mediator is necessary to bring about this
harmony, speaking of vision as well as the soul (3.30.100-2).
Ultimately, Dante creates a new theory of vision that
meshes optical elements with Christian doctrines. Thus, the new vision consists in the direct
application of optics to the Christian notion of salvation. The eye, like the soul, has need of a
mediator in order to see. The light of
man’s eye is necessary but insufficient for the vision of God. Infusions of divine light through Jesus
Christ lift eyes in hope and transform eyes to see God. In Dante’s Divina Commedia, the divine light
of Christ streams through the eyes of exalted individuals until it releases the
fountain of light that is within the Pilgrim.
At that point, light flows freely, in and out of his eyes, like the
light in the eyes of his beloved Beatrice.
In the tenth heaven or the Empyrean, Dante the Pilgrim is surround by
pure light, “pura luce” (3.30.39). Once
again the Pilgrim is blinded, overcome by light. Beatrice consoles him:
Sempre l’amor che queta questo cielo
accoglie in sé con sí fatta salute,
per far disposto a sua fiamma il candelo. (3.30.52-54)
This blindness stands in
stark contrast to blindness in inferno because the latter leads to more
darkness whereas the former leads to more light. Almost painfully, the pure light erases or
eradicates sullied sights, creating clear vision that can sustain greater
light.
Dante the Pilgrim then sees a river of light, coruscating
with sparks that settle on flowers like bees.
Beatrice invites Dante the Pilgrim to drink from the river of light, and
he obeys gladly:
Non è fantin che sí súbito rua
col volto verso il latte, se si svegli
molto tardato da l’usanza sua,
come fec’ io, per far migliori spegli
ancor de li occhi, chinandomi a l’onda
che si deriva perché vi s’immegli;
e sí come di lei bevve la gronda
de le palpebre mie, cosí mi parve
di sua lunghezza divenuta tonda. (3.30.82-90)
The river of light improves
the eyes, which the Pilgrim describes as mirrors, “spegli”. Throughout the Divina Commedia Dante uses the
theme of mirrors to demonstrate optical theories, but also to reveal the
importance of mimesis in creation. When
Dante the Pilgrim peers deep into the celestial light, he ultimately sees his
own reflection, suggesting that man is created in the image of God. The river of light does not only improve the
eyes; it improves the whole soul. The
eye is the juncture between the soul and the source of the soul’s
salvation. Indeed, the eye is itself a
type of mediator. As such, the eye
possesses internal and external power, producing thoughts, ideas and images and
creating words, motions and actions.
Finally, there can be no
adequate substitute for personal vision.
As much as each individual vision is connected to the whole, it is still
incomplete if there is any dissonance or internal obstruction. Dante’s Divina Commedia shares a lucid and
intimate vision that can be assimilated best through transparent eyes, but
cannot match the value of personal vision.
Significant Quotations
Intelligence, or the light
of truth, was not created or made, neither indeed can be.
(D&C 93:29)
The body is the instrument
of the mind. The body carries the record
of our character.
-President Boyd K. Packer
(Feb.2, 2003 CES Fireside)
Difference Between Body and
Spirit
The spiritual part of us
and the emotional part of us are so closely linked that it is possible to
mistake an emotional impulse for something spiritual.
Elder Packer (“The Candle
of the Lord”)
For man is spirit. The elements are eternal, and spirit and
element, inseparably connected, receive a fulness of joy. (D&C 93:33)
There is no such thing as
immaterial matter. All spirit is matter,
but it is more fine or pure, and can only be discerned by purer eyes;
We cannot see it; but when
our bodies are purified we shall see that it is all matter. (D&C 131:7-8)
In tracing the thing to the
foundation, and looking at it philosophically, we shall find a very material
difference between the body and the spirit; the body is supposed to be organized
matter, and the spirit, by many, is thought to be immaterial, without
substance. With this latter statement we
should beg leave to differ, and state the spirit is a substance; that it is
material, but that it is more pure, elastic and refined matter than the body;
that it existed before the body, can exist in the body; and will exist separate
from the body, when the body will be mouldering in the dust; and will in the
resurrection, be again united with it.
(Teachings of the Prophet
Joseph Smith, 207)
All things whatsoever God
in his infinite wisdom has seen fit and proper to reveal to us, while we are
dwelling in mortality, in regard to our mortal bodies, are revealed to us in
the abstract… revealed to our spirits precisely as though we had no bodies at
all; and those revelations which will save our spirits will save our bodies.
(TPJS, 355)
Truth
I want to see truth in all
its bearings and hug it to my bosom. (TPJS, 374)
And truth is knowledge of
things as they are, and as they were, and as they are to come. (D&C 93:24)
As Man Approaches God He Is
Enlightened
We consider that God has
created man with a mind capable of instruction, and a faculty which may be
enlarged in proportion to the heed and diligence given to the light
communicated from heaven to the intellect; and that the nearer man approaches
perfection, the clearer are his views, and the greater his enjoyments, till he
has overcome the evils of his life and lost every desire for sin; and like the
ancients, arrives at that point of faith where he is wrapped in the power and
glory of his Maker and is caught up to dwell with Him. But we consider that this is a station to
which no man ever arrived in a moment. (TPJS, 51)
It is the moment when you
have gone to the edge of the light and stepped into the darkness to discover
that the way is lighted ahead for just a footstep or two. “The spirit of man,”
as the scripture says, indeed “is the candle of the Lord.” (Prov.20:27)… Bear
testimony of the things that you hope are true, as an act of faith. (Elder
Packer, “The Candle of the Lord”)
Principles of Revelation
But, behold, I say unto
you, that you must study it out in your mind; then you must ask me if it be
right, and if it is right I will cause that your bosom shall burn within you;
therefore, you shall feel that it is right. (Doctrine and Covenants 9:8)
A person may profit by
noticing the first intimation of the spirit of revelation; for instance, when
you feel pure intelligence flowing into you, it may give you sudden strokes of
ideas… and thus by learning the Spirit of God and understanding it, you may
grow into the principle of revelation, until you become perfected in Christ
Jesus. (TPJS, 151)
He could not convey, in
words alone, so ordinary an experience as tasting salt.
We cannot express spiritual
knowledge in words alone. We can,
however, with words show another how to prepare for the reception of the
Spirit. (2 Ne. 33:1)
Elder Packer (“The Candle
of the Lord”).
Light and the Eye in the
Standard Works
O.T.: Gen. 1:3, Gen. 3:5, 2
Kings 6:17, Isaiah 35:5, Isaiah 58:8, Isaiah 64:4
N.T.: Matt. 5:16, 5:29,
6:22, Luke 11:34, John 8:12, 9:6, 1Cor. 2:9, Eph. 5:14, 1Jn. 1:5
D&C: D&C 4:5,
50:24, 58:3, 59:1, 76:10, 12; 82:19, 84:85, 88:11, 67; 88; 93; 103; 110:1
BoM: Jacob 2:10, Mosiah
16:9, Alma 32:35, 40, 3Ne.12:16, 13:22, Ether 12:19, Morm. 8:15, Moro. 7:18
Table of Figures
Eight original pieces of artwork, as well as a few other
images, appear in connection with the themes of this thesis. The first image, painted by my eight-year-old
sister, depicts a beautiful eye in the simplicity that only a child could
produce. I chose her painting for the
introduction because of its purity and simplicity. Purity of the eye relates directly to purity
of the heart, which qualifies a person for the vision of God. The following images reveal the struggle to
regain this childlike purity and the steps on the way to the beatific vision.
The tiger symbolizes enhanced vision or powers of
discernment, but it also signifies a fearless attitude toward learning and
life. A tiger’s vision is a metaphor for
faith because it seems to pierce the darkness in order to capture its prey.
With this metaphor in mind, and with the assistance of my
sister Abigail, I produced the first in a series of works under the title of
Nexus. The title reiterates the idea
that vision connects the physical and the spiritual worlds.
Nexus 1: Intertwined:
Physical and Spiritual Vision is a conglomeration of shapes and colors which
emphasizes the interrelatedness of physical and spiritual vision, as well as
the connection between reason and revelation.
The long white board that we used for a canvas became a field of
invention. As it relates to Dante’s
works, the field of invention is not limited to a single subject. Dante treated many different topics with
scholarly acumen and artistic dexterity.
This rather abstract painting points to the idea that all things are
bound up into one great whole, and the eye is a symbol of that whole.
Nexus 2: The First Vision of Beatrice is actually a portrait
of Abigail that fits into Dante’s first encounter with Beatrice at age
nine. The portrait does not do justice
to Abigail’s beauty, but perhaps it will provoke some estimation of Beatrice’s
beauty.
Nexus 3: L’Occhio debole, or The Weak Eye, incorporates
color and fluid motion in patterns that lead the eyes in all different
directions. The movement of the painting
parallels the distractions that caused Dante the Pilgrim to falter and to stray
from the path of righteousness. What are
the green circles? Why is there a hand
with a ring? In essence, this painting
laments human weakness and fallen vision, but it acknowledges the beauty of
vision that is strengthened by grace.
Nexus 4: Il dilettoso monte, or The Delightful Mountain,
represents the beginning of Dante the Pilgrim’s journey toward the beatific
vision. Virgil inspires Dante the
Pilgrim to begin the journey of repentance.
This journey is long and arduous, but it is also beautiful. The model for this mountain is Mount
Timpanogas as seen from the slopes of Sundance Ski Resort.
Nexus 5: The Appearance of Beatrice, refers to that
blessed day when Dante the Pilgrim reaches the top of the mountain of
Purgatorio. Dante the Pilgrim passes
through a wall of fire to purify and prepare himself for Beatrice. When she appears, her glory nearly consumes
him.
Nexus 6: The Feminine Trinity depicts Lucia, Maria, and
Beatrice from left to right. Note the
colors of the three theological virtues: green (hope), red (charity), and white
(faith). Each member of the feminine
trinity embodies a particular attribute.
Lucia carries her eyes on a tray, as commonly seen in iconography. Maria is the leader of the other two blessed
women. I chose to represent Beatrice as
a source of light that overpowers vision.
Her face seems like a mirror because it reflects and emits great amounts
of light.
Nexus 7: Lux et lumen shows three candles in progressing
size and two glass objects. The behavior
of light is such that often the medium becomes confused with its source. The light of the candles, whether great or
small, is still only the created light of God, lumen, whereas the light of the
essence of God, lux, is eternal. If one
imagines the light of the largest candle as the true source of light in the
painting, the source of this light is still only seen in part. Perhaps the small candle is like mankind and
the medium sized candle is like the beloved, a mediator, or a greater source of
light.
Nexus 8: The Beatific Vision is, like any verbal
representation, an inadequate symbol of the vision of God. Nevertheless, the drawing is another
indication of the ineffability of both God and the beloved.
1. Eye, by Abigail
Hancock (Acrylic on paper). Page 1.
2. Enhanced Vision, tiger
photograph in Eyewitness Natural World. Page 1.
3. Nexus 1: Intertwined: Physical and Spiritual Vision,
by John and Abigail Hancock
(Acrylic on wood). Page 10.
4. Nexus 2: The First
Vision of Beatrice, by John Hancock (Acrylic on canvas). Page
12.
5. Nexus 3: L’Occhio
debole, by John Hancock (Watercolor on paper). Page 16.
6. Nexus 4: Il dilettoso
monte, by John Hancock (Acrylic on canvas). Page 23.
7. Capella di Santa Lucia a
Siracusa. Page 29.
8. Nexus 5: The Appearance
of Beatrice, by John Hancock (Acrylic on canvas). Page
33.
9. Nexus 6: The Feminine
Trinity, by John Hancock (Acrylic on canvas). Page 38.
10. Nexus 7: Lux et lumen,
by John Hancock (Watercolor on paper). Page 44.
11. Nexus 8: The Beatific
Vision, by John Hancock (Ink on paper). Page 49.
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PAGE
PAGE
Nexus
SEQ Nexus \* ARABIC
: Intertwined: Physical and
Spiritual Vision
Nexus
SEQ Nexus \* ARABIC
: The First Vision of
Beatrice
Eye
by, Abigail Hancock, age 8
acrylic on paper
enhanced vision
nexus
SEQ nexus \* ARABIC
: l’Occhio debole
nexus
SEQ nexus \* ARABIC
: Il dilettoso monte
Capella di Santa Lucia,
Siracusa
nexus
SEQ nexus \* ARABIC
: The Appearance of
Beatrice
nexus
SEQ nexus \* ARABIC
: The Feminine Trinity
nexus
SEQ nexus \* ARABIC
: Lux et Lumen
Nexus
SEQ Nexus \* ARABIC
: The Beatific Vision