Commentary Par XXIII 1-12

This warm-hued and extended simile opens a canto that has long been admired as one of the most lyrical of the entire Commedia.  It contains more similes than any canto since Purgatorio XXX (which has seven) and Paradiso XIV (eight), by merit of offering seven in all (and two simple comparisons).  In contrast, the preceding two cantos together offered only a single striking example ([Par XXI 34-42]).  When one considers them, their burden unabashedly religious and explanatory, one senses at once the differing register introduced by the presence here of affective poetry.

The first nine verses of the simile portray a mother bird awaiting the dawn so that she can find the food with which to feed her nestlings; the final tercet makes the terms of the comparison clear: Beatrice hopes soon to be able to nourish Dante with a vision of the final and best thing knowable by humankind, eternal beatitude in the presence of God.  Nonetheless, for all the resemblances (and few of Dante's similes are as 'neat' as this one) between mother bird and Beatrice, between soon-to-be-awake, soon-to-be-satisfied nestlings and Dante, we also can see that there is at least one crucial difference here as well.  In the imagined earthly scene, the physical sun rises in the east; in the reported scene in the eighth sphere, the metaphoric 'sun' descends from the zenith, a supernatural sun having risen at noon, as it were.  Dante's theologized 'transvaluation of value,' so crucial a part of his strategy, especially in Paradiso, following examples found in the teaching of Jesus, is observable here.  What will the joys of Heaven be like?  Like the pleasure of being fed, but having nothing to do with eating; like the pleasure of the bride when her bridegroom comes to her, but having nothing to do with sexuality; like the pleasure of possessing great wealth, but having nothing to do with money.  A fine American Dantist, Joseph Mazzeo, when teaching this cantica years ago, used to enjoy deploying his own parable to make a similar point.  A Christian father is explaining to his child, curious about death, that after this life there is another in Paradise, with God and the saved, and that life there is completely happy, no one desiring anything other than what is already in hand.  The child, not quite convinced that death will be so satisfying a country, has a further question: 'But, Daddy, will there be ice cream in Paradise?'  Dante's answer, imitating answers already found at hand in Christ's parables, would not be apparently ascetic, but would allow us to keep our prospective enjoyment of our human appetites intact even as we overcome them.  It is a brilliant strategic coup, sublimation avant la lettre.  Mazzeo's parable needs to undergo a Dantean revision: 'You like ice cream?  O my child, the joys of Heaven are so much sweeter.'

See Goffis (Goff.1968.1), p. 838, for notice of Dante's reliance here on Lactantius's De ave Phoenice, vv. 39-42, in the portrait of his mother bird, as was first claimed by Enrico Proto (BSDI 22 [1915], pp. 72-73).  This attribution is now supported by a number of commentators.  The passage presents the bird at the top of a tree, turned to where the sun will rise and waiting for its rays.  However, for a lengthy discussion of why the bird should be considered a nightingale (and not a lark), see Perugi (Peru.2002.1), pp. 364-67, with bibliography in the notes.  It is something of a surprise that Lactantius's poem does not enter into his discussion.  It is even more of one that Manlio Simonetti's article 'Lattanzio' (ED.1971.3), while mentioning the poem, does not report on its possible presence behind these verses.  For the possible (if unlikely) presence of Lactantius as a character in the Commedia, see C.Par.X.118-120.  Some have objected that the phoenix, as near-immortal bird, does not seem appropriate to this context and deny its presence behind Dante's lines.  Lactantius, who lived into the early fourth century, was imbued with the Christian faith, so much so that he was hired by the emperor Constantine to instruct his children.  It is not certain he was in fact the author of the poem; what is certain is that, as a Christian symbol (precisely of the reborn Christ), the bird, whoever was its author, is appropriate to the atmosphere of Dante's moment, preparing for a vision of Christ in His flesh.