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The Fourth Treatise

Soft rhymes of love I used to find
        Within my thought, I now must leave,
    Not without hope to turn to them again;
      But signs of a disdainful mind
        That in my Lady I perceive
    Have closed the way to my accustomed strain.
      And since time suits me now to wait,
        I put away the softer style
    Proper to love; rhyme subtle and severe
      Shall tell how Nobleman's estate
        Is won by worth, hold false and vile
    The judgment that from wealth derives a Peer.
        First calling on that Lord
          Who dwells within her eyes,
        Containing whom, my Lady learnt
          Herself to love and prize.
        One raised to Empire held,
          As far as he could see,
        Descent of wealth, and generous ways,
          To make Nobility.
        Another, lightly wise,
          That saying turned aside,
        Perchance for want of generous ways
          The second source denied.
        And followers of him
          Are all the men who rate
        Those noble in whose families
          The wealth has long been great.
        And so long among us
          The falsehood has had sway,
        That men call him a Nobleman,
          Though worthless, who can say.
        I nephew am, or son,
          Of one worth such a sum;
        But he who sees the Truth may know
          How vile he has become
        To whom the Truth was shown,
          Who from the Truth has fled,
        And though he walks upon the earth
          Is counted with the dead:

        Whoever shall define
          The man a living tree
        Will speak untruth and less than truth,
          Though more he may not see.
        The Emperor so erred;
          First set the false in view,
        Proceeding, on the other side,
          To what was less than true.
        For riches make not worth
          Although they can defile:
        Nor can their want take worth away:
          They are by nature vile.
        No painter gives a form
          That is not of his knowing;
        No tower leans above a stream
          That far away is flowing.
        How vile and incomplete
          Wealth is, let this declare
        However great the heap may be
          It brings no peace, but care.
        And hence the upright mind,
          To its own purpose true,
        Stands firm although the flood of wealth
          Sweep onward out of view
        They will not have the vile
          Turn noble, nor descent
        From parent vile produce a race
          For ever eminent.
        Yet this, they say, can be,
          Their reason halts behind,
        Since time they suit to noble birth
          By course of time defined.
        It follows then from this
          That all are high or base,
        Or that in Time there never was
          Beginning to our race.
        But that I cannot hold,
          Nor yet, if Christians, they;
        Sound intellect reproves their words
          As false, and turns away.
        And now I seek to tell,
          As it appears to me,
        What is, whence comes, what signs attest
          A true Nobility.
        I say that from one root
          Each Virtue firstly springs,
        Virtue, I mean, that Happiness
          To man, by action, brings.
        This, as the Ethics teach,
          Is habit of right choice
        That holds the means between extremes,
          So spake that noble voice.
        Nobility by right
          No other sense has had
        Than to import its subject's good,
          As vileness makes him bad.
        Such virtue shows its good
          To others' intellect,
        For when two things agree in one,
          Producing one effect.
        One must from other come,
          Or each one from a third,
        If each be as each, and more, then one
          From the other is inferred.
        Where Virtue is, there is
          A Nobleman, although
        Not where there is a Nobleman
          Must Virtue be also.
        So likewise that is Heaven
          Wherein a star is hung,
        But Heaven may be starless; so
          In women and the young
        A modesty is seen,
          Not virtue, noble yet;
        Comes virtue from what's noble, as
          From black comes violet;
        Or from the parent root
          It springs, as said before,
        And so let no one vaunt that him.
          A noble mother bore.
        They are as Gods whom Grace
          Has placed beyond all sin:
        God only gives it to the Soul
          That He finds pure within.
        That seed of Happiness
          Falls in the hearts of few,
        Planted by God within the Souls
          Spread to receive His dew.
        Souls whom this Grace adorns
          Declare it in each breath,
        From birth that joins the flesh and soul
          They show it until death.
        In Childhood they obey,
          Are gentle, modest, heed
        To furnish Virtue's person with
          The graces it may need.
        Are temperate in Youth,
          And resolutely strong,
        Love much, win praise for courtesy,
          Are loyal, hating wrong.
        Are prudent in their Age,
          And generous and just,
        And glad at heart to hear and speak
          When good to man's discussed.
        The fourth part of their life
          Weds them again to God,
        They wait, and contemplate the end,
          And bless the paths they trod.
      How many are deceived! My Song,
        Against the strayers: when you reach
    Our Lady, hide not from her that your end
      Is labour that would lessen wrong,
        And tell her too, in trusty speech,
    I travel ever talking of your Friend.

CHAPTER I.

Love, according to the unanimous opinion of the wise men who discourse
of him, and as by experience we see continually, is that which brings
together and unites the lover with the beloved; wherefore Pythagoras
says, "In friendship many become one."

And the things which are united naturally communicate their qualities
to each other, insomuch that sometimes it happens that one is wholly
changed into the nature of the other, the result being that the
passions of the beloved person enter into the person of the lover, so
that the love of the one is communicated to the other, and so likewise
hatred, desire, and every other passion; wherefore the friends of the
one are beloved by the other, and the enemies hated; and so in the
Greek proverb it is said: "With friends all things ought to be in
common."

Wherefore I, having made a friend of this Lady, mentioned above in the
truthful exposition, began to love and to hate according to her love
and her hatred. I then began to love the followers of Truth, and to
hate the followers of Error and Falsehood, even as she does. But since
each thing is to be loved for itself and none are to be hated except
for excess of evil, it is reasonable and upright to hate not the
things, but the evil in the things, and to endeavour to distinguish
between these. And if any person has this intention, my most excellent
Lady understands especially how to distinguish the evil in anything,
which is the cause of hate; since in her is all Reason, and in her is
the fountain-head of all uprightness.

I, following her as much as I could in her work as in her love,
abominated and despised the errors of the people with infamy or
reproach, not cast on those lost in error, but on the errors
themselves; by blaming which, I thought to create displeasure and to
separate the displeased ones from those faults in them which were
hated by me. Amongst which errors one especially I reproved, which,
because it is hurtful and dangerous not only to those who remain in
it, but also to others who reprove it, I separate it from them and
condemn.

This is the error concerning Human Goodness, which, inasmuch as it is
sown in us by Nature, ought to be termed Nobility; which error was so
strongly entrenched by evil custom and by weak intellect that the
opinion of almost all people was falsified or deceived by it; and from
the false opinion sprang false judgments, and from false judgments
sprang unjust reverence and unjust contempt; wherefore the good were
held in vile disdain, and the evil were honoured and exalted. This was
the worst confusion in the world; even as he can see who looks subtly
at that which may result from it. And though it seemed that this my
Lady had somewhat changed her sweet countenance towards me, especially
where I gazed and sought to discover whether the first Matter of the
Elements was created by God, for which reason I strengthened myself to
frequent her presence a little, as if remaining there with her assent,
I began to consider in my mind the fault of man concerning the said
error. And to shun sloth, which is an especial enemy of this Lady, and
to describe or state this error very clearly, this error which robs
her of so many friends, I proposed to cry aloud to the people who are
walking in the path of evil, in order that they might direct their
steps to the right road; and I began a Song, in the beginning of which
I said, "Soft rhymes of love I used to find," wherein I intend to lead
the people back into the right path, the path of right knowledge
concerning true Nobility, as by the knowledge of its text, to the
explanation of which I now turn my attention, any one will be able to
perceive.

And since the intention of this Song is directed to a remedy so
requisite, it was not well to speak under any figure of speech; but it
was needful to prepare this medicine speedily, that speedy might be
the restoration to health, which, being so corrupted, hastened to a
hideous death. It will not, then, be requisite in the exposition of
this Song to unveil any allegory, but simply to discuss its meaning
according to the letter. By my Lady I always mean her who is spoken of
in the preceding Song, that is to say, that Light of supreme virtue,
Philosophy, whose rays cause the flowers of true Nobility to blossom
forth in mankind and to bear fruit in the sons of men; concerning
which true Nobility the proposed Song fully intends to treat.

CHAPTER II.

In the beginning of the explanation now undertaken, in order to render
the meaning of the proposed Song more clear and distinct, it is
requisite to divide that first part into two parts, for in the first
part one speaks in the manner of a Proem or Preface; in the second,
the subject under discussion is continued; and the second part begins
in the commencement of the stanza, where it says:

One raised to Empire held,
As far as he could see,
Descent of wealth, and generous ways,
To make Nobility.

The first part, again, can be comprehended in three divisions or
members. In the first it states why I depart from my usual mode of
speech; in the second, I say of what it is my intention to discourse;
in the third, I call upon that Helper who most can aid me to establish
Truth. The second member, clause, or division begins: "And since time
suits me now." The third begins: "First calling on that Lord." I say
then that I was compelled to abandon the soft rhymes of Love which I
was accustomed to search for in my thoughts, and I assign the reason
or cause; wherefore I say that it is not because I have given up all
intention of making rhymes of Love, but because new aspects have
appeared in my Lady which have deprived me of material for present
speech of Love. Where it is to be known that it does not here say that
the gestures of this Lady are disdainful and angry according to
appearance only, as may be seen in the tenth chapter of the preceding
treatise; for at another time I say that the appearance is contrary to
the Truth; and how this can be, how one self-same thing can be sweet
and appear bitter, or rather be clear and appear obscure, may there be
seen clearly enough.

Afterwards when I say, "And since time suits," I say, even as has been
said, what that is whereof I intend to discourse. And that which it
says in the words "time suits" is not here to be passed over with a
dry foot, because there is a most powerful reason for my action; but
it is to be seen how reasonably time must wait on all our acts, and
especially on speech.

Time, according to what Aristotle says in the fourth chapter of
Physics, is the number of movement, first, second, and onwards; and
the number of the celestial movement, which prepares the things here
below to receive in various ways any informing power. For the Earth is
prepared in one way in the beginning of Spring to receive into itself
the informing power of the herbs and flowers, and the Winter
otherwise; and in one manner is one season prepared to receive the
seed, differing from another. And even so our Mind, inasmuch as it is
founded upon the temper of the body, which has to follow the
revolution of the Heaven, at one time is disposed in one way, at
another time in another way; wherefore words, which are, as it were,
the seeds of actions, ought very discreetly to be withheld or uttered;
they should be spoken with such sound judgment that they may be well
received, and good fruit follow from them; not withheld or spent so
sparingly that barrenness is the result of their defective utterance.
And therefore a suitable time should be chosen, both for him who
speaks and for him who must hear: for if the speaker is badly
prepared, very often his words are injurious or hurtful; and if the
hearer is ill-disposed, those words which are good are ill received.
And therefore Solomon says in Ecclesiastes: "There is a time to speak,
and a time to be silent." Wherefore I, feeling within myself that my
disposition to speak of Love was disturbed, for the cause which has
been mentioned in the preceding chapter, it seemed to me that the time
might suit me now, time which bears with it the fulfilment of every
desire, and appears in the guise of a generous giver to those who
grudge not to await him patiently. Wherefore St. James says in his
Epistle, in the fifth chapter: "Behold, the husbandman waiteth for the
precious fruit of the Earth, and hath long patience for it, until he
receive the early and the latter rain." For all our sorrows, or cares,
or vexations, if we inquire diligently into their origin, proceed, as
it were, from not knowing the use of time. I say, "since the time
suits," I will leave my pen alone, that is to say, the sweet or gentle
style I used when I sang of Love; and I say that I will speak of that
worth whereby a man is truly noble.

And as it is possible to understand worth in many ways, here I intend
to assume worth to be a power of Nature, or rather a goodness bestowed
by her, as will be seen in what follows; and I promise to discourse on
this subject with a "rhyme subtle and severe."

Wherefore it is requisite to know that rhyme may be considered in a
double sense, that is to say, in a wide and in a narrow sense. In the
narrow sense, it is understood as that concordance which in the last
and in the penultimate syllable it is usual to make. In the wide
sense, it is understood for all that language which, with numbers and
regulated time, falls into rhymed consonance; and thus it is desired
that it should be taken and understood in this Proem. And therefore it
says "severe," with reference to the sound of the style, which to such
a subject must not be sweet and pleasing; and it says "subtle," with
regard to the meaning of the words, which proceed with subtle argument
and disputation.

And I subjoin: "hold false and vile The judgment;" where again it is
promised to confute the judgment of the people full of error: false,
that is, removed from the Truth; and vile, that is to say, affirmed
and fortified by vileness of mind. And it is to be observed that in
this Proem I promise, firstly, to treat of the Truth, and then to
confute the False; and in the treatise the opposite is done, for, in
the first place, I confute the False, and then treat of the Truth,
which does not appear rightly according to the promise. And therefore
it is to be known that, although the intention is to speak of both,
the principal intention is to handle the Truth; and the intention is
to reprove the False or Untrue, in so far as by so doing I make the
Truth appear more excellent.

And here, in the first place, the promise is to speak of the Truth
according to the chief intention, which creates in the minds of the
hearers a desire to hear; for in the first treatise I reprove the
False of Untrue in order that, the false opinions being chased away,
the Truth may be received more freely. And this method was adopted by
the master of human argument, Aristotle, who always in the first place
fought with the adversaries of Truth, and then, having vanquished
them, revealed or demonstrated Truth itself.

Finally, when I say, "First calling on that Lord," I appeal to Truth
to be with me, Truth being that Lord who dwells in the eyes of
Philosophy, that is to say, in her demonstrations. And indeed Truth is
that Lord; for the Soul espoused to Truth is the bride of Truth, and
otherwise it is a slave or servant deprived of all liberty.

And it says, "my Lady learnt Herself to love and prize," because this
Philosophy, which has been said in the preceding treatise to be a
loving use of Wisdom, beholds herself when the beauty of her eyes
appears to her. And what else is there to be said, except that the
Philosophic Soul not only contemplates this Truth, but again
contemplates her own contemplation and the beauty of that, again
revolving upon herself, and being enamoured with herself on account of
the beauty of her first glance?

And thus ends this which, as a Proem or Preface in three divisions,
heads the present treatise.

CHAPTER III.

Having seen the meaning of the Proem, we must now follow the treatise,
and, to demonstrate it clearly, it must be divided into its chief
parts, which are three.

In the first, one treats of Nobility according to the opinion of other
men; in the second, one treats of it according to the true opinion; in
the third, one addresses speech to the Song by way of ornament to that
which has been said. The second part begins: "I say that from one root
Each Virtue firstly springs." The third begins: "How many are
deceived! My Song, Against the strayers." And after these general
parts, it will be right to make other divisions, in order to make the
meaning of the demonstration clear. Therefore, let no one marvel if it
proceed with many divisions, since a great and high work is now on my
hands, and one that is but little entered upon by authors; the
treatise must be long and subtle into which the reader now enters with
me, if I am to unfold perfectly the text according to the meaning
which it bears.

I say, then, that this first part is now divided into two: for in the
first, the opinions of others are placed; in the second, those
opinions are confuted; and this second part begins: "Whoever shall
define The man a living tree." Again, the first part which remains has
two clauses: the first is the variation of the opinion of the Emperor;
the second is the variation of the opinion of the Common People, which
is naked or void of all reason; and this second clause or division
begins: "Another, lightly wise." I say then, "One raised to Empire,"
that is to say, such an one made use of the Imperial Office. Where it
is to be known that Frederick of Suabia, the last Emperor of the
Romans (I say last with respect to the present time, notwithstanding
that Rudolf, and Adolphus, and Albert were elected after his death and
from his descendants), being asked what Nobility might be, replied
that "it was ancient wealth, and good manners."

And I say that there was another of less wisdom, who, pondering and
revolving this definition in every part, removed the last particle,
that is, the good manners, and held to the first, that is, to the
ancient riches. And as he seems to have doubted the text, perhaps
through not having good manners, and not wishing to lose the title of
Nobility, he defined it according to that which made himself noble,
namely, possession of ancient wealth.

And I say that this opinion is that of almost all, saying that after
it go all the people who make those men noble who have a long
pedigree, and who have been rich through many generations; since in
this cry do almost all men bark.

These two opinions (although one, as has been said, is of no
consequence whatever) seem to have two very grave arguments in support
of them. The first is, that the Philosopher says that whatever appears
true to the greatest number cannot be entirely false. The second is,
the authority of the definition by an Emperor. And that one may the
better see the power of the Truth, which conquers all other authority,
I intend to argue with the one reason as with the other, to which it
is a strong helper and powerful aid.

And, firstly, one cannot understand Imperial authority until the roots
of it are found. It is our intention to treat or discourse of them in
an especial chapter.

CHAPTER IV.

The radical foundation of Imperial Majesty, according to the Truth, is
the necessity of Human Civilization, which is ordained to one end,
that is, to a Happy Life. Nothing is of itself sufficient to attain
this without some external help, since man has need of many things
which one person alone is unable to obtain. And therefore the
Philosopher says that man is naturally a companionable animal. And as
a man requires for his sufficient comfort the domestic companionship
of a family, so a house requires for its sufficient comfort a
neighbourhood; otherwise there would be many wants to endure which
would be an obstacle to happiness. And since a neighbourhood cannot
satisfy all requirements, there must for the satisfaction of men be
the City. Again, the City requires for its Arts and Manufactures to
have an environment, as also for its defence, and to have brotherly
intercourse with the circumjacent or adjacent Cities, and thence the
Kingdom.

But since the human mind in restricted possession of the Earth finds
no peace, but always desires to acquire Glory, as we see by
experience, discords and wars must arise between realm and realm.
These are the tribulation of Cities; and through the Cities, of the
neighbourhoods; and through the neighbourhoods, of the houses; and
through the houses, of men; and thus is the happiness of man prevented
or obstructed. Wherefore, in order to prevent these wars, and to
remove the causes of them through all the Earth, so far as it is given
to the Human Race to possess it, there must of necessity be Monarchy,
that is to say, one sole principality; and there must be one Prince,
who, possessing all, and not being able to desire more, holds the
Kings content within the limits of the kingdoms, so that peace may be
between them, wherein the Cities may repose, and in this rest the
neighbouring hamlets may dwell together in mutual love; in this love
the houses obtain all they need, which, being obtained, men can live
happily, which is that end for which man was born. And to these
reasons might be applied the words of the Philosopher, for he says, in
the book On Politics, that when many things are ordained to one end,
one of those must be the ruling power, and all the others must be
governed by that. Even as we see in a ship that the different offices
and the different means to different ends in that ship are ordained to
one end alone, that is to say, to reach the desired port by a safe
voyage, where as each officer orders his own work to the proper end,
even so there is one who considers all these ends, and ordains those
to the final one; and this is the Pilot, whose voice all must obey.

We see this also in the religious bodies and in the military bodies,
in all those things which are ordained to one end, as has been said.
Wherefore it can plainly be seen that to attain the perfection of the
Universal Union of the Human Race there must be one Pilot, as it were,
who, considering the different conditions of the World, and ordaining
the different and needful offices, may hold or possess over the whole
the universal and incontestable office of Command. And this office is
well designated Empire, without any addition, because it is of all
other governments the government; and so he who is appointed to this
office is designated Emperor, because of all Governors he is the
Governor, and what he says is Law to all, and ought by all to be
obeyed; and every other government derives vigour and authority from
the government of this man. And thus it is evident that the Imperial
Majesty and Authority is the most exalted in the Human Family.

No doubt it would be possible for some one to cavil, saying, that
although the office of Empire may be required in the World, that does
not make the authority of the Roman Prince rationally supreme, which
it is the intention of the treatise to prove; since the Roman Power
was acquired, not by Reason nor by decree of Universal Election, but
by Force, which seems to be opposed to Reason. To this one can easily
reply, that the election of this Supreme Official must primarily
proceed from that Council which foresees all things, that is, God;
otherwise the election would not have been of equal benefit for all
the people, since, before the pre-ordained Official, there was none
who had the good of all at heart.

And since a gentler nature in ruling, and a stronger in maintaining,
and a more subtle in acquiring never was and never will be than that
of the Latin People, as one can see by experience, and especially that
of the Holy People, in whom was blended the noble Trojan blood; to
that office it was elected by God. Wherefore, since, to obtain it, not
without very great power could it be approached, and to employ it a
most exalted and most humane benignity was required, this was the
people which was most fitly prepared for it. Hence not by Force was it
assumed in the first place by the Roman People but by Divine
Ordinance, which is above all Reason. And Virgil is in harmony with
this in the first book of the Æneid, when he says, speaking in the
person of God: "On these [that is, on the Romans] I impose no limits
to their possessions, nor to their duration; to them I have given
boundless Empire." Force, then, was not the moving cause, as he
believed who was cavilling; but there was an instrumental cause even
as the blows of the hammer are the cause of the knife, and the soul of
the workman is the moving and the efficient cause; and thus, not
force, but a cause, even a Divine Cause, has been the origin of the
Roman Empire.

And that this is so it is possible to see by two most evident reasons,
which prove that City to be the Empress, and to have from God an
especial birth, and to have from God an especial success. But since in
this chapter without too great length it would not be possible to
discuss this subject, and long chapters are the enemies of Memory, I
will again make a digression in another chapter in order to prove the
reasons here alluded to, which are not without and may give great
pleasure.

CHAPTER V.

It is no cause for wonder if the Divine Providence, which surpasses
beyond measure all angelic and human foresight, often appears to us to
proceed mysteriously, since many times human actions conceal their
motives from men. But there is great cause for wonder when the
execution of the Eternal Counsel proceeds so evidently that our reason
can discern it. And therefore in the beginning of this chapter I can
speak with the mouth of Solomon, who, in the person of Wisdom, says in
his Proverbs: "Hear, for I will speak of excellent things!"

The Divine Goodness unmeasureable, desiring to conform again to Itself
the Human Creature, which, through the sin of the prevarication of the
first Man, was separated from God and deformed thereby, it was
decided, in that most exalted and most united Divine Consistory of the
Trinity, that the Son of God should descend to the Earth to accomplish
this union. And since at His advent into the world, not only Heaven,
but Earth, must be in the best disposition; and the best disposition
of the Earth is when it is a Monarchy, that is to say, all subject to
one Prince, as has been said above, by Divine Providence it was
ordained what people and what city should fulfil this, and that people
was the Roman nation, and that city was glorious Rome. And since the
Inn also wherein the Heavenly King must enter must of necessity be
most cleanly and most pure, there was ordained a most Holy Race, from
which, after many excellent or just ancestors, there should be born a
Woman more perfect than all others, who should be the abode of the Son
of God. And this race was the Race of David, from which was born the
glory and honour of the Human Race, that is to say, Mary. And
therefore it is written in Isaiah: "A virgin shall be born of the stem
of Jesse, and a branch shall grow out of his roots." And Jesse was the
father of the aforesaid David. And it happened at one period of time
that when David was born, Rome was born, that is to say, Æneas then
came from Troy to Italy, which was the origin of the most noble Roman
City, even as the written word bears witness. Evident enough,
therefore, is the Divine election of the Roman Empire by the birth of
the Holy City, which was contemporaneous with the root of the race
from which Mary sprang.

And incidentally it is to be mentioned that, since this Heaven began
to revolve, it never was in a better disposition than when He
descended from on high, He who had made it and who is its Ruler, even
as again by virtue of their arts the Mathematicians may be able to
discover. The World never was nor ever will be so perfectly prepared
as then, when it was governed by the voice of one man alone, Prince
and Commander of the Roman people, even as Luke the Evangelist bears
witness. And therefore there was Universal Peace, which never was
again nor ever will be, for the Ship of the Human Family rightly by a
sweet pathway was hastening to its rightful haven. Oh, ineffable and
incomprehensible Wisdom of God, which in Heaven above didst prepare,
so long beforehand, for Thy advent into Syria and here in Italy at the
same time! And oh, most foolish and vile beasts who pasture in the
guise of men--you who presume to speak against our Faith, and profess
to know, as ye spin and dig, what God has ordained with so much
forethought--curses be on you and your presumption, and on him who
believes in you!

And, as has been said above, at the end of the preceding chapter, the
Roman People had from God not only an especial birth, but an especial
success; for, briefly, from Romulus, who was the first father of Rome,
even to its most perfect era, that is, to the time of its predicted
Emperor, its success was achieved not only by human, but by Divine
means. For if we consider the Seven Kings who first governed
it--Romulus, Numa, Tullus, Ancus Martius, Servius Tullius, and the
Tarquins, who were, as it were, the nurses and tutors of its
Childhood--we shall be able to find, by the written word of Roman
History, especially by Titus Livius, those to have been of different
natures, according to the opportunity of the advancing tract of time.
If we consider, then, its Adolescence, when it was emancipated from
the regal tutorship by Brutus, the first Consul, even to Cæsar, its
first supreme Prince, we shall find it exalted, not with human, but
with Divine citizens, into whom, not human, but Divine love was
inspired in loving Rome; and this neither could be nor ought to be,
except for an especial end intended by God through such infusion of a
heavenly spirit. And who will say that there was no Divine inspiration
in Fabricius when he rejected an almost infinite amount of gold
because he was unwilling to abandon his country? or in Curius, whom
the Samnites attempted to corrupt, who said, when refusing a very
large quantity of gold for love of his country, that the Roman
citizens did not desire to possess gold, but the possessors of the
gold? Who will say there was no Divine inspiration in Mutius burning
his own hand because it had failed in the blow wherewith he had
thought to deliver Rome? Who will say of Torquatus, who sentenced his
own son to death from love to the Public Good, that he could have
endured this without a Divine Helper? Who will say this of the Brutus
before mentioned? Who will say it of the Decii and of the Drusi, who
laid down their lives for their country? Who will say of the captive
Regulus of Carthage, sent to Rome to exchange the Carthaginian
prisoners for Roman prisoners of war, who, after having explained the
object of his embassy, gave counsel against himself; through pure love
to Rome, that he was moved to do this by the impulse of Human Nature
alone? Who will say it of Quinctius Cincinnatus, who, taken from the
plough and made dictator, after the time of office had expired,
spontaneously refusing its continuance, followed his plough again? Who
will say of Camillus, banished and chased into exile, who, having come
to deliver Rome from her enemies, and having accomplished her
liberation, spontaneously returned into exile in order not to offend
against the authority of the Senate, that he was without Divine
inspiration? O, most sacred heart of Cato, who shall presume to speak
of thee? Truly, to speak freely of thee is not possible; it were
better to be silent and to follow Jerome, when, in the Preface of the
Bible where he alludes to Paul, he says that it were better to be
silent than say little. Certainly it must be evident, remembering the
lives of these men and of the other Divine citizens, that such wonders
could not have been without some light of the Divine Goodness, added
to their own goodness of nature. And it must be evident that these
most excellent men were instruments with which Divine Providence
worked in the building up of the Roman Empire, wherein many times the
arm of God appeared to be present. And did not God put His own hand to
the battle wherein the Albans fought with the Romans in the beginning
for the chief dominion, when one Roman alone held in his hands the
liberty of Rome? And did not God interfere with His own hands when the
Franks, having taken all Rome, attacked by stealth the Capitol by
night, and the voice alone of a goose caused this to be known? And did
not God interfere with His own hands when, in the war with Hannibal,
having lost so many citizens that three bushels of rings were carried
into Africa, the Romans wished to abandon the land, if the blessed
Scipio the younger had not undertaken his expedition into Africa for
the recovery of freedom? And did not God interfere with His own hands
when a new citizen of humble station, Tullius, defended, against such
a citizen as Catiline, the Roman liberty? Yes, surely. Wherefore one
should not need to inquire further to see that an especial birth and
an especial success were in the Mind of God decreed to that holy City.
And certainly I am of a firm opinion that the stones which remain in
her walls are worthy of reverence; and it is asserted and proved that
the ground whereon she stands is worthy beyond all other that is
occupied by man.

CHAPTER VI.

Above, in the third chapter of this treatise, a promise was made to
discourse of the supremacy of the Imperial Authority and of the
Philosophic Authority. And since the Imperial Authority has been
discussed, my digression must now proceed further in order to consider
that of the Philosopher, according to the promise made.

And here we must first see what is the meaning of this word; since
here there is a greater necessity to understand it than there was
above in the argument on the Imperial Authority, which, on account of
its Majesty, does not seem to be doubted. It is then to be known that
Authority is no other than the act of the Author.

This word, that is to say, Auctore, without this third letter,
_c_, can be derived from two roots. One is from a verb, whose use
in grammar is much abandoned, which signifies to bind or to tie words
together, that is, A U I E O; and whoso looks well at it in its first
vowel or syllable will clearly perceive that it demonstrates it
itself, for it is constituted solely of a tie of words, that is, of
five vowels alone, which are the soul and bond of every word, and
composed of them in a twisted way, to figure the image of a ligature;
for beginning with the A, then it twists round into the U, and comes
straight through the I into the E, then it revolves and turns round
into the O: so that truly this figure represents A, E, I, O, U, which
is the figure or form of a tie; and how much _Autore_ (Author)
derives its origin from this word, one learns from the poets alone,
who have bound their words together with the art of harmony; but on
this signification we do not at present dwell. The other root from
which the word "Autore" (Author) is derived, as Uguccione testifies in
the beginning of his Derivations, is a Greek word, "Autentim," which
in Latin means "worthy of faith and obedience." And thus "Autore"
(Author), derived from this, is taken for any person worthy to be
believed and obeyed; and thence comes this word, of which one treats
at the present moment, that is to say, Authority. Wherefore one can
see that Authority is equivalent to an act worthy of faith and
obedience.

[Here is a small break in the original, containing some such words
as--Worthy, nay, most worthy, of obedience and of faith is Aristotle:]
hence it is evident that his words are a supreme and chief Authority.
That Aristotle is most worthy of faith and obedience, one can thus
prove. Amongst workmen and artificers of different Arts and
Manufactures, which are all directed to one final work of Art, or to
one building, the Artificer or Designer of that work must be
completely believed in, and implicitly obeyed by all, as the man who
alone beholds the ultimate end of all the other ends. Hence the
sword-cutler must believe in the knight, so must the bridle-maker and
saddle-maker and the shield-maker, and all those trades which are
appointed to the profession of knighthood. And since all human actions
require an aim, which is that of human life, to which man is appointed
inasmuch as he is man, the master and artificer who considers that aim
and demonstrates it ought especially to be believed in and obeyed; and
he is Aristotle; wherefore he is most worthy of faith and obedience.
And in order to see how Aristotle is the master and leader of Human
Reason in so far as it aims at its final operation, it is requisite to
know that this our aim of life, which each one naturally desires, in
most ancient times was searched for by the Wise Men; and since those
who desire this end are so numerous, and their desires are as it were
all singularly different, although they exist in us universally, it
was nevertheless very difficult to discern that end whereon rightly
each human appetite or desire might repose.

There were then many ancient philosophers, the first and the chief of
whom was Zeno, who saw and believed this end of human life to be
solely a rigid honesty, that is to say, rigid without regard to any
one in following Truth and Justice, to show no sorrow, to show no joy,
to have no sense of any passion whatever. And they defined thus this
honest uprightness, as that which, without bearing fruit, is to be
praised for reason of itself. And these men and their sect were called
Stoics; and that glorious Cato was one of them, of whom in the
previous chapter I had not courage enough to speak.

Other philosophers there were who saw and believed otherwise; and of
these the first and chief was a philosopher, who was named Epicurus,
who, seeing that each animal as soon as it is born is as it were
directed by Nature to its right end, which shuns pain and seeks for
pleasure, said that this end or aim of ours was enjoyment. I do not
say greedy enjoyment, voluntade, but I write it with a _p_,
voluptate, that is, delight or pleasure free from pain; and therefore
between pleasure and pain no mean was placed. He said that pleasure
was no other than no pain; as Tullius seems to say in the first
chapter De Finibus. And of these, who from Epicurus are named
Epicureans, was Torquatus, a noble Roman, descended from the blood of
the glorious Torquatus mention of whom I made above. There were
others, and they had their rise from Socrates, and then from his
successor, Plato, who, looking more subtly, and seeing that in our
actions it was possible to sin, and that one sinned in too much and in
too little, said that our action, without excess and without defect,
measured to the due mean of our own choice, is virtue, and virtue is
the aim of man; and they called it action with virtue. And these were
called Academicians, as was Plato and Speusippus, his nephew; they
were thus called from the place where Plato taught, that is, the
Academy; neither from Socrates did they take or assume any word,
because in his Philosophy nothing was affirmed. Truly Aristotle, who
had his surname from Stagira, and Xenocrates of Chalcedon, his
companion, through the genius, almost Divine, which Nature had put
into Aristotle, knowing this end by means of the Socratic method, with
the Academic file, as it were, reduced Moral Philosophy to perfection,
and especially Aristotle. And since Aristotle began to reason while
walking hither and thither, they were called, he, I say, and his
companions, Peripatetics, which means the same as walkers about. And
since the perfection of this Morality by Aristotle was attained, the
name of Academician became extinct, and all those who attached
themselves to this sect are called Peripatetics, and these people hold
the doctrine of the government of the World through all its parts: and
it may be termed a catholic opinion, as it were. Wherefore it is
possible to see that Aristotle was the Indicator and the Leader of the
people to this mark. And this is what I wished to prove.

Wherefore, collecting all together, the principal intention is
manifest, that is to say, that the authority of him whom we understand
to be the supreme Philosopher is full of complete vigour, and in no
way repugnant to Imperial Authority. But the Imperial without the
Philosopher is dangerous; and this without that is weak, not of
itself, but through the disorder of the people: but when one is united
with the other they are together most useful and full of all vigour;
and therefore it is written in that Book of Wisdom: "Love the Light of
Wisdom, all you who are before the people," that is to say, unite
Philosophic Authority with the Imperial, in order to rule well and
perfectly. O, you miserable ones, who rule at the present time! and O,
most miserable ones, you who are ruled! For no Philosophic Authority
is united with your governments, neither through suitable study nor by
counsel; so that to all it is possible to repeat those words from
Ecclesiastes: "Woe to thee, O land, when thy King is a child, and thy
Princes eat in the morning;" and to no land is it possible to say that
which follows: "Blessed art thou, O land, when thy King is the son of
nobles, and thy Princes eat in due season, for strength and not for
drunkenness."

Ye enemies of God, look to your flanks, ye who have seized the
sceptres of the kingdoms of Italy. And I say to you, Charles, and to
you, Frederick, Kings, and to you, ye other Princes and Tyrants, see
who sits by the side of you in council, and count how many times a day
this aim of human life is indicated to you by your councillors. Better
would it be for you, like swallows, to fly low down than, like kites,
to make lofty circles over carrion.

CHAPTER VII.

Since it is seen how much the Imperial Authority and the Philosophic
are to be revered, which must support the opinions propounded, it is
now for us to return into the straight path to the intended goal. I
say, then, that this last opinion of the Common People has continued
so long that without other cause, without inquiry into any reason,
every man is termed Noble who may be the son or nephew of any brave
man, although he himself is nothing. And this is what the Song says:

And so long among us
This falsehood has had sway,
That men call him a Nobleman,
Though worthless, who can say,

I nephew am, or son,
Of one worth such a sum.

Wherefore it is to be observed that it is most dangerous negligence to
allow this evil opinion to take root; for even as weeds multiply in
the uncultivated field, and surmount and cover the ear of the corn, so
that, looking at it from a distance, the wheat appears not, and
finally the corn is lost; so the evil opinion in the mind, neither
chastised nor corrected, increases and multiplies, so that the ear of
Reason, that is, the true opinion, is concealed and buried as it were,
and so it is lost. O, how great is my undertaking in this Song, for I
wish now to weed the field so full of wild and woody plants as is this
field of the common opinion so long bereft of tillage! Certainly I do
not intend to cleanse all, but only those parts where the ears of
Reason are not entirely overcome; that is, I intend to lift up again
those in whom some little light of Reason still lives through the
goodness of their nature; the others need only as much care as the
brute beasts: wherefore it seems to me that it would not be a less
miracle to lead back to Reason him in whom it is entirely extinct than
to bring back to Life him who has been four days in the grave.

Then the evil quality of this popular opinion is narrated suddenly, as
if it were a horrible thing; it strikes at that, springing forth from
the order of the confutation, saying, "But he who sees the Truth will
know How vile he has become," in order to make people understand its
intolerable wickedness, saying, that those men lie especially, for not
only is the man vile, that is, not Noble, who, although descended from
good people, is himself wicked, but also he is most vile; and I quote
the example of the right path being indicated, where, to prove this,
it is fit for me to propound a question, and to reply to that question
in this way.

There is a plain with certain paths, a field with hedges, with
ditches, with rocks, with tanglewood, with all kinds of obstacles;
with the exception of its two straight paths. And it has snowed so
much that the snow covers everything, and presents one smooth
appearance on every side, so that no trace of any path is to be seen.
Here comes a man from one part of the country, and he wishes to go to
a house which is on the other side; and by his industry, that is,
through prudent foresight and through the goodness of genius, guided
solely by himself, he goes through the right path whither he meant to
go, leaving the prints of his footsteps behind him. Another comes
after this man, and he wishes to go to that mansion, and to him it is
only needful to follow the footprints left there; but through his own
fault this man strays from the path, which the first man without a
guide has known how to keep; this man, though it is pointed out to
him, loses his way through the brambles and the rocks, and he goes not
to the place whither he is bound.

Which of these men ought to be termed excellent, brave, or worthy? I
reply: He who went first. How would you designate that other man? I
reply: "As most vile." Why is he not called unworthy or cowardly, that
is to say, vile? I reply: Because unworthy, that is, vile, he should
be called who, having no guide, might have failed to walk
straightforward; but since this man had a guide, his error and his
fault can rise higher; and therefore he is to be called, not vile, but
most vile. And likewise he who, by his father or by some elder of his
race is ennobled, and does not continue in a noble course, not only is
he vile, but he is most vile, and deserving of as much contempt and
infamy as any other villain, if not of more. And because a man may
preserve himself from this vile baseness, Solomon lays this command on
him who has had a brave and excellent ancestor, in the twenty-second
chapter of Proverbs: "Remove not the ancient landmark, which thy
fathers have set," And previously he says, in the fourth chapter of
the said book: "The path of the Just," that is, of the worthy men, "is
as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day;
the way of the wicked is as darkness, and they know not at what they
stumble."

Finally, when it says, "And though he walks upon the earth Is counted
with the dead," to his greater disgrace I say that this most
worthless man is dead, seeming still alive. Where it is to be known
that the wicked man may be truly said to be dead, and especially he
who goes astray from the path trodden by his good ancestor. And this
it is possible to prove thus: as Aristotle says in the second book On
the Soul, to live is to be with the living; and since there are many
ways of living--as in the plants to vegetate; in the animals to
vegetate and to feel and to move; in men to vegetate, to feel, to
move, and to reason, or rather to understand; and since things ought
to be denominated by the noblest part, it is evident that in animals
to live is to feel--in the brute animals, I say; in man, to live is to
use reason. Wherefore, if to live is the life or existence of man, and
if thus to depart from the use of Reason, which is his life, is to
depart from life or existence, even thus is that man dead.

And does he not depart from the use of Reason who does not reason or
think concerning the aim of his life? And does he not depart from the
use of Reason who does not reason or think concerning the path which
he ought to take? Certainly he does so depart; and this is evident
especially in him who has the footprints before him, and looks not at
them; and therefore Solomon says in the fifth chapter of Proverbs: "He
shall die without instruction; and in the greatness of his folly he
shall go astray," that is to say, he is dead who becomes a disciple,
and who does not follow his master; and such an one is most vile.

And of him it would be possible for some one to say: How is he dead
and yet he walks? I reply, that as a man he is dead, but as a beast he
has remained alive; for as the Philosopher says in the second book On
the Soul, the powers of the Soul stand upon itself, as the figure of
the quadrangle stands upon the triangle, and the pentagon stands upon
the quadrangle; so the sensitive stands upon the vegetative, and the
intellectual stands upon the sensitive. Wherefore, as, by removing the
last side of the pentagon, the quadrangle remains, so by removing the
last power of the Soul, that is, Reason, the man no longer remains,
but a thing with a sensitive soul only, that is, the brute animal.

And this is the meaning or intention of the second part of the devised
Song, in which are placed the opinions of others.

CHAPTER VIII.

The most beautiful branch which grows up from the root of Reason is
Discretion. For as St. Thomas says thereupon in the prologue to the
book of Ethics, to know the order of one thing to another is the
proper act of Reason; and this is Discretion. One of the most
beautiful and sweetest fruits of this branch is the reverence which
the lesser owes to the greater. Wherefore Tullius, in the first
chapter of the Offices, when speaking of the beauty which shines forth
in Uprightness, says that reverence is part of that beauty; and thus
as this reverence is the beauty of Uprightness, so its opposite is
baseness and want of uprightness; which opposite quality it is
possible to term irreverence, or rather as impudent boldness, in our
Vulgar Tongue.

And therefore this Tullius in the same place says: "To treat with
contemptuous indifference that which others think of one, not only is
the act of an arrogant, but also of a dissolute person," which means
no other except that arrogance and dissolute conduct show want of
self-knowledge, which is the beginning of the capacity for all
reverence. Wherefore I, desiring (and bearing meanwhile all reverence
both to the Prince and to the Philosopher) to remove the infirmity
from the minds of some men, in order afterwards to build up thereupon
the light of truth, before I proceed to confute the opinions
propounded, will show how, whilst confuting those opinions, I argue
with irreverence neither against the Imperial Majesty nor against the
Philosopher. For if in any part of this entire book I should appear
irreverent, it would not be so bad as in this treatise; in which,
whilst treating of Nobility, I ought to appear Noble, and not vile.

And firstly I will prove that I do not presume against the authority
of the Philosopher; then I will prove that I do not presume against
Imperial Majesty.

I say, then, that when the Philosopher says, "that which appears to
the most is impossible to be entirely false," I do not mean to speak
of the external appearance, that is, the sensual, but of that which
appears within, the rational; since the sensual appearance, according
to most people, is many times most false, especially in the common
things appreciable by the senses, wherein the sense is often deceived.
Thus we know that to most people the Sun appears of the width of a
foot in diameter; and this is most false, for, according to the
inquiry and the discovery which human reason has made with its skill,
the diameter of the body of the Sun is five times as much as that of
the Earth and also one-half time more, since the Earth in its diameter
is six thousand five hundred miles, the diameter of the Sun, which to
the sense of sight presents the appearance of the width of one foot,
is thirty-five thousand seven hundred and fifty miles. Wherefore it is
evident that Aristotle did not understand or judge it by the
appearance which it presents to the sense of sight. And therefore, if
I intend only to oppose false trust in appearance according to the
senses, that is not done against the intention of the Philosopher, and
therefore I do not offend against the reverence which is due to him.

And that I intend to confute the appearance according to the sense is
manifest; for those people who judge thus, judge only by what they
feel or think of those things which fortune can give and take away.
For, because they see great alliances made and high marriages to take
place, and the wonderful palaces, the large possessions, great
lordships, they believe that all those things are the causes of
Nobility--nay, they believe them to be Nobility itself. For if they
could judge with any appearance of reason, they would say the
contrary, that is, that Nobility is the cause of these things, as will
be seen in the sequel of this treatise. And even as it may be seen
that I speak not against the reverence due to the Philosopher whilst
confuting this error, so I speak not against the reverence due to the
Empire; and the reason I intend to show. But when he reasons or argues
before the adversary, the Rhetorician ought to use much caution in his
speech, in order that the adversary may not derive thence material
wherewith to disturb the Truth. I, who speak in this treatise in the
presence of so many adversaries, cannot speak briefly; wherefore, if
my digressions should be long, let no one marvel.

I say, then, that, in order to prove that I am not irreverent to the
Majesty of the Empire, it is requisite, in the first place, to see
what reverence is. I say that reverence is no other than a confession
of due submission by an evident sign; and, having seen this, it
remains to distinguish between them. Irreverent expresses privation,
not reverent expresses negation; and, therefore, irreverence is to
disavow the due submission by a manifest sign. The want of reverence
is to refuse submission as not due. A man can deny or refuse a thing
in a double sense. In one way, the man can deny offending against the
Truth when he abstains from the due confession, and this properly is
to disavow. In another way, the man can deny offending against the
Truth when he does not confess that which is not, and this is proper
negation; even as for the man to deny that he is entirely mortal is to
deny properly speaking. Wherefore, if I deny or refuse reverence due
to the Imperial Authority, I am not irreverent, but I am not reverent;
which is not against reverence, forasmuch as it offends not that
Imperial Authority; even as not to live does not offend Life, but
Death, which is privation of that Life, offends; wherefore, to die is
one thing and not to live is another thing, for not to live is in the
stones. And since Death expresses privation, which cannot be except in
decease of the subject, and the stones are not the subject of Life,
they should not be called dead, but not living. In like manner, I, who
in this case ought not to have reverence to the Imperial Authority, am
not irreverent if I deny or refuse it, but I am not reverent, which is
neither boldness, nor presumption, nor a thing to be blamed. But it
would be presumption to be reverent, if it could be called reverence,
since it would fall into greater and more true irreverence, that is,
into irreverence of Nature and of Truth, as will be seen in the
sequel. Against this error that Master of Philosophers, Aristotle,
guards, in the beginning of the book of Ethics, when he says: "If the
friends are two, and one is the Truth, their one mind is the Truth's."
If I have said that I am not reverent, that is, to deny reverence, or
by a manifest sign to deny or refuse a submission not due. It is to be
seen how this is to deny and not to disavow, that is to say, it
remains to be seen how, in this case, I am not rightfully subject to
the Imperial Majesty. It must be a long argument wherewith I intend to
prove this in the chapter next following.

CHAPTER IX.

To see how in this case, that is, in approving or in not approving the
opinion of the Emperor, I am not held in subjection to him, it is
necessary to recall to mind that which has been argued previously
concerning the Imperial Office, in the fourth chapter of this
treatise, namely, that to promote the perfection of human Life,
Imperial Authority was designed; and that it is the director and ruler
of all our operations, and justly so, for however far our operations
extend themselves, so far the Imperial Majesty has jurisdiction, and
beyond those limits it does not reach. But as each Art and Office of
mankind is restricted by the Imperial Office within certain limits, so
this Imperial Office is confined by God within certain bounds. And it
is not to be wondered at, for the Office and the Arts of Nature in all
her operations we see to be limited. For if we wish to take Universal
Nature, it has jurisdiction as far as the whole World, I say as far as
Heaven and Earth extend; and this within a certain limit, as is proved
by the third chapter of the book on Physics, and by the first chapter,
of Heaven and the World. Then the jurisdiction of Universal Nature is
limited within a certain boundary, and consequently the individual; of
which also He is the Limiter who is limited by nothing, that is, the
First Goodness, that is, God, who alone with infinite capacity
comprehends the Infinite. And, that we may see the limits of our
operations, it is to be known that those alone are our operations
which are subject to Reason and to Will; for, if in us there is the
digestive operation, that is not human, but natural. And it is to be
known that our Reason is ordained to four operations, separately to be
considered; for those are operations which Reason only considers and
does not produce, neither can produce, any one of them, such as are
the Natural facts and the Supernatural and the Mathematics. And those
are operations which it considers and does in its own proper act which
are called rational, such as are the arts of speech. And those are
operations which it considers and does in material beyond itself, such
as are the Mechanical Arts. And all these operations, although the
considering them is subject to our will, they in their essential form
are not subject to our will; for although we might will that heavy
things should mount upwards naturally, they would not be able to
ascend; and although we might will that the syllogism with false
premisses should conclude with demonstration of the Truth, it could
not so conclude; and although we might will that the house should
stand as firmly when leaning forward as when upright, it could not be;
since of those operations we are not properly the factors, we are
their discoverers; Another ordained them and made them, the great
Maker, who alone can Will and Do All--God.

There also are operations which our Reason considers and which lie in
the act of the Will, such as to offend and to rejoice; such as to
stand firm in the battle and to fly from it; such as to be chaste and
to be lewd; these are entirely subject to our will, and therefore we
are called from them good and evil, because such acts are entirely our
own; for so far as our will can obtain power, so far do our operations
extend. And since in all these voluntary operations there is some
equity to preserve and some iniquity to shun--which equity may be lost
through two causes, either through not knowing what it is, or through
not wishing to follow it--the written Reason, the Law, was invented,
both to point it out to us and to command its observance. Wherefore
Augustine says: "If men could know this, that is, Equity, and knowing
it would obey it, the written Reason, the Law, would not be needful."
And therefore it is written in the beginning of the old Digests or
Books of the Civil Law: "The written Reason is the Art of Goodness and
of Equity." To write this, to show forth and to enforce this, is the
business of that Official Post of which one speaks, that of the
Emperor, to whom, as has been said, in so far as our own operations
extend, we are subject, and no farther. For this reason in each Art
and in each trade the artificers and the scholars are and ought to be
subject to the chief and to the master of their trades and Art: beyond
their callings the subjection ceases, because the superiority ceases.
So that it is possible to speak of the Emperor in this manner, if we
will represent his office figuratively, and say that he may be the
rider of the Human Will, of which horse how it goes without its rider
through the field is evident enough, and especially in miserable
Italy, left without any means for its right government. And it is to
be considered that in proportion as a thing is more fit for the
Master's art, so much the greater is the subjection; for the cause
being multiplied, so is the effect multiplied. Wherefore it is to be
known that there are things which are such pure or simple Arts that
Nature is their instrument; even as rowing with an oar, where the Art
makes its instrument by impulsion, which is a natural movement; as in
the threshing of the corn, where the Art makes its instrument, which
is a natural quality. And in this especially a man ought to be subject
to the chief and master of the Art. And there are things in which Art
is the instrument of Nature, and these are lesser Arts; and in these
the artificers are less subject to their chief, as in giving the seed
to the Earth, where one must await the will of Nature; as to sail out
of the harbour or port, where one must await the natural disposition
of the weather; and therefore we often see in these things contention
amongst the artificers, and the greater to ask counsel of the lesser.
And there are other things which are not Arts, but appear to have some
relationship with them; and therefore men are often deceived; and in
these the scholars are not subject to a master, neither are they bound
to believe in him so far as regards the Art. Thus, to fish seems to
have some relationship with navigation; and to know the virtue of the
herb or grass seems to have some relationship with agriculture; for
these Arts have no general rule, since fishing may be below the Art of
hunting, and beneath its command; to know the virtue of the herb may
be below the science of medicine, or rather below its most noble
teaching.

Those things which have been argued concerning the other Arts in like
manner may be seen in the Imperial Art, for there are rules in those
Arts which are pure or simple Arts, as are the laws of marriage, of
servants, of armies, of successors in offices of dignity; and in all
these we may be entirely subject to the Emperor without doubt and
without any suspicion whatever. There are other laws which are the
followers of Nature, such as to constitute a man of sufficient age to
fill some office in the administration; and to such a law as this we
are entirely subject; there are many others which appear to have some
relationship with the Imperial Art; and here he was and is deceived
who believes that the Imperial judgment in this part may be authentic,
as of youth, whose nature is laid down by no Imperial judgment, as it
were, of the Emperor. Render, therefore, unto God that which is God's.
Wherefore it is not to be believed, nor to be allowed, because it was
said by Nero the Emperor that youth is beauty and strength of body;
but credit would be given to the philosopher who should say that youth
is the crown or summit of the natural life. And therefore it is
evident that to define Nobility is not the function of the Art
Imperial; and if it is not in the nature of the Art, when we are
treating of Nobility we are not subject to it; and if we are not
subject, we are not bound to yield reverence therein; and this is the
conclusion we have sought.

Now, therefore, with all freedom, with all liberty of mind, it remains
to strike to the heart the vicious opinions, thereby causing them to
fall to earth, in order that the Truth by means of this my victory may
hold the field in the mind of him for whom it is good that this Light
should shine clear.

CHAPTER X.

Since the opinions of others concerning Nobility have now been brought
forward, and since it has been shown that it is lawful for me to
confute those opinions, I shall now proceed to discourse concerning
that part of the Song which confutes those opinions, beginning, as has
been said above: "Whoever shall define The man a living tree." And
therefore it is to be known that in the opinion of the Emperor,
although it states it defectively in one part, that is, where he spoke
of "generous ways," he alluded to the manners of the Nobility; and
therefore the Song does not intend to reprove that part: the other
part, which is entirely opposed to the nature of Nobility, it does
intend to confute, which cites two things when it says: "Descent of
wealth," "The wealth has long been great," that is, time and riches,
which are entirely apart from Nobility, as has been said, and as will
be shown farther on; and, therefore, in this confutation two divisions
are made: in the first we deny the Nobility of riches, then confute
the idea that time can cause Nobility. The second part begins: "They
will not have the vile Turn noble."

It is to be known that, riches being reproved, not only is the opinion
of the Emperor reproved in that part which alludes to the riches, but
also entirely that opinion of the common people, which was founded
solely upon riches. The first part is divided into two: in the first
it says in a general way that the Emperor was erroneous in his
definition of Nobility; secondly, it shows the reason why or how that
is; and this begins that second part, "For riches make no Nobleman."

I say, then, "Whoever shall define The man a living tree," that,
firstly, he will speak untruth, inasmuch as he says "tree," and "less
than truth," inasmuch as he says "living," and does not say rational,
which is the difference whereby Man is distinguished from the Beast.
Then I say that in this way he was erroneous in his definition, he who
held Imperial Office, not saying Emperor, but "one raised to Empire,"
to indicate, as has been said above, that this question is beyond the
bounds of the Imperial Office. In like manner I say that he errs who
places a false subject under Nobility, that is, "descent of wealth,"
and then proceeds to a defective form, or rather difference, that is,
"generous ways," which do not contain any essential part of Nobility,
but only a small part, as will appear below. And it is not to be
omitted, although the text may be silent, that my Lord the Emperor in
this part did not err in the parts of the definition, but only in the
mode of the definition, although, according to what fame reports of
him, he was a logician and a great scholar; that is to say, the
definition of Nobility can be made more sufficiently by the effects
than by the principles or premisses, since it appears to have the
place of a first principle or premiss, which it is not possible to
notify by first things, but by subsequent things. Then, when I say,
"For riches make not worth," I show how they cannot possibly be the
cause of Nobility, because they are vile. And I prove that they have
not the power to take it away, because they are disjoined so much from
Nobility. And I prove these to be vile by an especial and most evident
defect; and I do this when I say, "How vile and incomplete." Finally,
I conclude, by virtue of that which is said above:

And hence the upright mind,
To its own purpose true,
Stands firm although the flood of wealth
Sweep onward out of view;

which proves that which is said above, that those riches are disunited
from Nobility by not following the effect of union with it. Where it
is to be known that, as the Philosopher expresses it, all the things
which make anything must first exist perfectly within the being of the
thing out of which that other thing is made. Wherefore he says in the
seventh chapter of the Metaphysics: "When one thing is generated from
another, it is generated of that thing by being in that Being."

Again, it is to be known that each thing which becomes corrupt is thus
corrupted by some change or alteration, and each thing which is
changed or altered must be conjoined with the cause of the change,
even as the Philosopher expresses it in the seventh chapter of the
book on Physics and in the first chapter on Generation. These things
being propounded, I proceed thus, and I say that riches, as another
man believed, cannot possibly bestow Nobility, and to prove how great
is the difference between them I say that they are unable to take
Nobility away from him who possesses it. To bestow it they have not
the power, since by nature they are vile, and because of their
vileness they are opposed to Nobility. And here by vileness one means
baseness, through degeneracy, which is directly opposite to Nobility:
for the one opposite thing cannot be the maker of the other, neither
is it possible to be, for the reason given above, which is briefly
added to the text, saying, "No painter gives a form That is not of his
knowing." Wherefore no painter would be able to depict any figure or
form if he could not first design what such figure or form ought to
be.

Again, riches cannot take it away, because they are so far from
Nobility; and, for the reason previously narrated, that which alters
or corrupts anything must be conjoined with that thing, and therefore
it is subjoined: "No tower leans above a stream That far away is
flowing," which means nothing more than to accord with that which has
been previously said, that riches cannot take Nobility away, saying
that Nobility is, as it were, an upright tower and riches a river
flowing swiftly in the distance.

CHAPTER XI.

It now remains only to prove how vile riches are, and how disjoined
and far apart they are from Nobility; and this is proved in two little
parts of the text, to which at present it is requisite to pay
attention, and then, those being explained, what I have said will be
evident, namely, that riches are vile and far apart from Nobility, and
hereby the reasons stated above against riches will be perfectly
proved.

I say then, "How vile and incomplete Wealth is," and to make evident
what I intend to say it is to be known that the vileness or baseness
of each thing is derived from the imperfection of that thing, and
Nobility from its perfection: wherefore in proportion as a thing is
perfect, it is noble in its nature; in proportion as it is imperfect,
it is vile. And therefore, if riches are imperfect, it is evident that
they are vile or base. And that they are imperfect, the text briefly
proves when it says: "However great the heap may be, It brings no
peace, but care;" in which it is evident, not only that they are
imperfect, but most imperfect, and therefore they are most vile; and
Lucan bears witness to this when he says, speaking of those same
riches: "Without strife or contention or opposition, the Laws would
perish, and you, Riches, the basest part of things, you move or are
the cause of Battles." It is possible briefly to see their
imperfection in three things quite clearly: firstly, in the
indiscriminate manner in which they fall to a person's lot; secondly,
in their dangerous increase; thirdly, in their hurtful possession.

And, firstly, that which I demonstrate concerning this is to clear up
a doubt which seems to arise, for, since gold, pearls, and lands, may
have in their essential being perfect form and act, it does not seem
true to say that they are imperfect. And therefore one must
distinguish that inasmuch as by themselves, of them it is considered,
they are perfect things, and they are not riches, but gold and pearls;
but inasmuch as they are appointed to the possession of man they are
riches, and in this way they are full of imperfection; which is not an
unbecoming or impossible thing, considered from different points of
view, to be perfect and imperfect. I say that their imperfection
firstly may be observed in the indiscretion, or unwisdom, or folly, of
their arrival, in which no distributive Justice shines forth, but
complete iniquity almost always; which iniquity is the proper effect
of imperfection. For if the methods or ways by which they come are
considered, all may be gathered together in three methods, or kinds of
ways: for, either they come by simple chance, as when without
intention or hope they come upon some discovery not thought of; or
they come by fortune which is aided by law or right, as by will, or
testament, or succession; or they come by fortune, the helper of the
Law, as by lawful or unlawful provision; lawful, I say, when by art,
or skill, or by trade, or deserved kindness; unlawful, I say, when
either by theft or rapine. And in each one of these three ways, one
sees that inequitable character of which I speak, for more often to
the wicked than to the good the hidden treasures which are discovered
present themselves; and this is so evident, that it has no need of
proof. I saw the place in the side of a hill, or mountain, in Tuscany,
which is called Falterona, where the most vile peasant of all the
country, whilst digging, found more than a bushel of the finest
Santèlena silver, which had awaited him perhaps for more than a
thousand years. And in order to see this iniquity, Aristotle said that
in proportion as the Man is subject to the Intellect, so much the less
is he the slave of Fortune. And I say that oftener to the wicked than
to the good befall legal inheritance and property by succession; and
concerning this I do not wish to bring forward any proof, but let each
one turn his eyes round his own immediate neighbourhood, and he will
see that concerning which I am silent that I may not offend or bring
shame to some one. Would to God that might be which was demanded by
the Man of Provence, namely, that the man who is not the heir of
goodness should lose the inheritance of wealth. And I say that many
times to the wicked more than to the good comes rich provision, for
the unlawful never comes to the good, because they refuse it; and what
good man ever would endeavour to enrich himself by force or fraud?
That would be impossible, for by the mere choice of the enterprise he
would no more be good. And the lawful gains of wealth but rarely fall
to the lot of the good, because, since much anxiety or anxious care is
required therein, and the solicitude of the good is directed to
greater things, the good man is rarely solicitous enough to seek them.
Wherefore it is evident that in each way these riches fall unjustly or
inequitably; and therefore our Lord called them wicked or unrighteous
when He said, "Make to yourselves friends of the Mammon of
unrighteousness," inviting and encouraging men to be liberal with good
gifts, which are the begetters of friends. And what a beautiful
exchange he makes who gives freely of these most imperfect things in
order to have and to acquire perfect things, such as are the hearts of
good and worthy men! This exchange it is possible to make every day.
Certainly this is a new commerce, different from the others, which,
thinking to win one man by generosity, has won thereby thousands and
thousands. Who lives not again in the heart of Alexander because of
his royal beneficence? Who lives not again in the good King of
Castile, or Saladin, or the good Marquis of Monferrat, or the good
Count of Toulouse, or Beltramo dal Bornio, or Galasso da Montefeltro,
when mention is made of their noble acts of courtesy and liberality?
Certainly not only those who would do the same willingly, had they the
power, but those even who would die before they would do it, bear love
to the memory of these good men.

CHAPTER XII.

As has been said, it is possible to see the imperfection of riches not
only in their indiscriminate advent, but also in their dangerous
increase; and that in this we may perceive their defect more clearly,
the text makes mention of it, saying of those riches, "However great
the heap may be It brings no peace, but care;" they create more thirst
and render increase more defective and insufficient. And here it is
requisite to know that defective things may fail in such a way that on
the surface they appear complete, but, under pretext of perfection,
the shortcoming is concealed. But they may have those defects so
entirely revealed that the imperfection is seen openly on the surface.
And those things which do not reveal their defects in the first place
are the most dangerous, since very often it is not possible to be on
guard against them; even as we see in the traitor who, before our
face, shows himself friendly, so that he causes us to have faith in
him, and under pretext of friendship, hides the defect of his
hostility. And in this way riches, in their increase, are dangerously
imperfect, for, submitting to our eyes this that they promise, they
bring just the contrary. The treacherous gains always promise that, if
collected up to a certain amount, they will make the collector full of
every satisfaction; and with this promise they lead the Human Will
into the vice of Avarice. And, for this reason, Boethius calls them,
in his book of Consolations, dangerous, saying, "Oh, alas! who was
that first man who dug up the precious stones that wished to hide
themselves, and who dug out the loads of gold once covered by the
hills, dangerous treasures?"

The treacherous ones promise, if we will but look, to remove every
want, to quench all thirst, to bring satisfaction and sufficiency; and
this they do to every man in the beginning, confirming promise to a
certain point in their increase, and then, as soon as their pile
rises, in place of contentment and refreshment they bring on an
intolerable fever-thirst; and beyond sufficiency, they extend their
limit, create a desire to amass more, and, with this, fear and anxiety
far in excess of the new gain.

Then, truly, they bring no peace, but more care, more trouble, than a
man had in the first place when he was without them. And therefore
Tullius says, in that book on Paradoxes, when execrating riches: "I at
no time firmly believed the money of those men, or magnificent
mansions, or riches, or lordships, or voluptuous joys, with which
especially they are shackled, to be amongst things good or desirable,
since I saw certain men in the abundance of them especially desire
those wherein they abounded; because at no time is the thirst of
cupidity quenched; not only are they tormented by the desire for the
increase of those things which they possess, but also they have
torment in the fear of losing them." And all these are the words of
Tullius, and even thus they stand in that book which has been
mentioned.

And, as a stronger witness to this imperfection, hear Boethius,
speaking in his book of Consolation: "If the Goddess of Riches were to
expand and multiply riches till they were as numerous as the sands
thrown up by the sea when tost by the tempest, or countless as the
stars that shine, still Man would weep."

And because still further testimony is needful to reduce this to a
proof, note how much Solomon and his father David exclaim against
them, how much against them is Seneca, especially when writing to
Lucilius, how much Horace, how much Juvenal, and, briefly, how much
every writer, every poet, and how much Divine Scripture. All Truthful
cries aloud against these false enticers to sin, full of all defect.
Call to mind also, in aid of faith, what your own eyes have seen, what
is the life of those men who follow after riches, how far they live
securely when they have piled them up, what their contentment is, how
peacefully they rest.

What else daily endangers and destroys cities, countries, individual
persons, so much as the fresh heaping up of wealth in the possession
of some man? His accumulation wakens new desires, to the fulfilment of
which it is not possible to attain without injury to some one.

And what else does the Law, both Canonical and Civil, intend to
rectify except cupidity or avarice, which grows with its heaps of
riches, and which the Law seeks to resist or prevent. Truly, the
Canonical and the Civil Law make it sufficiently clear, if the first
sections of their written word are read. How evident it is, nay, I say
it is most evident, that these riches are, in their increase, entirely
imperfect; when, being amassed, naught else but imperfection can
possibly spring forth from them. And this is what the text says.

But here arises a doubtful question, which is not to be passed over
without being put and answered. Some calumniator of the Truth might be
able to say that if, by increasing desire in their acquisition, riches
are imperfect and therefore vile, for this reason science or knowledge
is imperfect and vile, in the acquisition of which the desire steadily
increases, wherefore Seneca says, "If I should have one foot in the
grave, I should still wish to learn."

But it is not true that knowledge is vile through imperfection. By
distinction of the consequences, increase of desire is not in
knowledge the cause of vileness. That it is perfect is evident, for
the Philosopher, in the sixth book of the Ethics, says that science or
knowledge is the perfect reason of certain things. To this question
one has to reply briefly; but in the first place it is to be seen
whether in the acquisition of Knowledge the desire for it is enlarged
in the way suggested by the question, and whether the argument be
rational. Wherefore I say that not only in the acquisition of
knowledge and riches, but in each and every acquisition, human desire
expands, although in different ways; and the reason is this: that the
supreme desire of each thing bestowed by Nature in the first place is
to return to its first source. And since God is the First Cause of our
Souls, and the Maker of them after His Own Image, as it is written,
"Let us make Man in Our Image, after Our likeness," the Soul
especially desires to return to that First Cause. As a pilgrim, who
goes along a path where he never journeyed before, may believe every
house that he sees in the distance to be his inn, and, not finding it
to be so, may direct his belief to the next, and so travel on from
house to house until he reach the inn, even so our Soul, as soon as it
enters the untrodden path of this life, directs its eyes to its
supreme good, the sum of its day's travel to good; and therefore
whatever thing it sees which seems to have in itself some goodness, it
thinks to be the supreme good. And because its knowledge at first is
imperfect, owing to want of experience and want of instruction, good
things that are but little appear great to it; and therefore in the
first place it begins to desire those. So we see little children
desire above all things an apple; and then, growing older, they desire
a little bird; and then, being older, desire a beautiful garment; and
then a horse, and then a wife, and then moderate wealth, and then
greater wealth, and then still more. And this happens because in none
of these things that is found for which search is made, and as we live
on we seek further. Wherefore it is possible to see that one desirable
thing stands under the other in the eyes of our Soul in a way almost
pyramidal, for the least first covers the whole, and is as it were the
point of the desirable good, which is God, at the basis of all; so
that the farther it proceeds from the point towards the basis, so much
the greater do the desirable good things appear; and this is the
reason why, by acquisition, human desires become broader the one after
the other.

But, thus this pathway is lost through error, even as in the roads of
the earth; for as from one city to another there is of necessity an
excellent direct road, and often another which branches from that, the
branch road goes into another part, and of many others some do not go
all the way, and some go farther round; so in Human Life there are
different roads, of which one is the truest, and another the most
misleading, and some are less right, and some less wrong. And as we
see that the straightest road to the city satisfies desire and gives
rest after toil, and that which goes in the opposite direction never
satisfies and never can give rest, so it happens in our Life. The man
who follows the right path attains his end, and gains his rest. The
man who follows the wrong path never attains it, but with much fatigue
of mind and greedy eyes looks always before him.

Wherefore, although this argument does not entirely reply to the
question asked above, at least it opens the way to the reply, which
causes us to see that each desire of ours does not proceed in its
expansion in one way alone. But because this chapter is somewhat
prolonged, we will reply in a new chapter to the question, wherein may
be ended the whole disputation which it is our intention to make
against riches.

CHAPTER XIII.

In reply to the question, I say that it is not possible to affirm
properly that the desire for knowledge does increase, although, as has
been said, it does expand in a certain way. For that which properly
increases is always one; the desire for knowledge is not always one,
but is many; and one desire fulfilled, another comes; so that,
properly speaking, its expansion is not its increase, but it is
advance of a succession of smaller things into great things. For if I
desire to know the principles of natural things, as soon as I know
these, that desire is satisfied and there is an end of it. If I then
desire to know the why and the wherefore of each one of these
principles, this is a new desire altogether. Nor by the advent of that
new desire am I deprived of the perfection to which the other might
lead me. Such an expansion as that is not the cause of imperfection,
but of new perfection. That expansion of riches, however, is properly
increased which is always one, so that no succession is seen therein,
and therefore no end and no perfection.

And if the adversary would say, that if the desire to know the first
principles of natural things is one thing, and the desire to know what
they are is another, so is the desire for a hundred marks one thing,
and the desire for a thousand marks is another, I reply that it is not
true; for the hundred is part of the thousand and is related to it, as
part of a line to the whole of the line along which one proceeds by
one impulse alone; and there is no succession there, nor completion of
motion in any part. But to know what the principles of natural things
are is not the same as to know what each one of them is; the one is
not part of the other, and they are related to each other as diverging
lines along which one does not proceed by one impulse, but the
completed movement of the one succeeds the completed movement of the
other. And thus it appears that, because of the desire for knowledge,
knowledge is not to be called imperfect in the same way as riches are
to be called imperfect, on account of the desire for them, as the
question put it; for in the desire for knowledge the desires terminate
successively with the attainment of their aims; and in the desire for
riches, NO; so that the question is solved.

Again, the adversary may calumniate, saying that, although many
desires are fulfilled in the acquisition of knowledge, the last is
never attained, which is the imperfection of that one desire, which
does not gain its end; and that will be both one and imperfect.

Again one here replies that it is not a truth which is brought forward
in opposition, that is, that the last desire is never attained; for
our natural desires, as is proved in the third treatise of this book,
are all tending to a certain end; and the desire for knowledge is
natural, so that this desire compasses a certain end, although but
few, since they walk in the wrong path, accomplish the day's journey.
And he who understands the Commentator in the third chapter, On the
Soul, learns this of him; and therefore Aristotle says, in the tenth
chapter of the Ethics, against Simonides the Poet, that man ought to
draw near to Divine things as much as is possible; wherein he shows
that our power tends towards a certain end. And in the first book of
the Ethics he says that the disciplined Mind demands certainty in its
knowledge of things in proportion as their nature received certainty,
in which he proves that not only on the side of the man desiring
knowledge, but on the side of the desired object of knowledge,
attention ought to be given; and therefore St. Paul says: "Not much
knowledge, but right knowledge in moderation." So that in whatever way
the desire for knowledge is considered, either generally or
particularly, it comes to perfection.

And since knowledge is a noble perfection, and through the desire for
it its perfection is not lost, as is the case with the accursed
riches, we must note briefly how injurious they are when possessed,
and this is the third notice of their imperfection. It is possible to
see that the possession of them is injurious for two reasons: one,
that it is the cause of evil; the other, that it is the privation of
good. It is the cause of evil, which makes the timid possessor
wakeful, watchful, and suspicious or hateful.

How great is the fear of that man who knows he carries wealth about
him, when walking abroad, when dwelling at home, when not only wakeful
or watching, but when sleeping, not only the fear that he may lose his
property, but fear for his life because he possesses these riches!
Well do the miserable merchants know, who travel through the World,
that the leaves which the wind stirs on the trees cause them to
tremble when they are bearing their wealth with them; and when they
are without it, full of confidence they go singing and talking, and
thus make their journey shorter! Therefore the Wise Man says: "If the
traveller enters on his road empty, he can sing in the presence of
thieves." And this Lucan desires to express in the fifth book, when he
praises the safety of poverty: "O, the safe and secure liberty of the
poor Life! O, narrow dwelling-places and thrift! O, not again deem
riches to be of the Gods! In what temples and within what palace walls
could this be, that is to have no fear, in some tumult or other, of
striking the hand of Cæsar?"

And Lucan says this when he depicts how Cæsar came by night to the
little house of the fisher Amyclas to cross the Adriatic Sea. And how
great is the hatred that each man bears to the possessor of riches,
either through envy, or from the desire to take possession of his
wealth! So true it is, that often and often, contrary to due filial
piety, the son meditates the death of the father; and most great and
most evident experience of this the Italians can have, both on the
banks of the Po and on the banks of the Tiber. And therefore Boethius
in the second chapter of his Consolations says: "Certainly Avarice
makes men hateful."

Nay, their possession is privation of good, for, possessing those
riches, a man does not give freely with generosity, which is a virtue,
which is a perfect good, and which makes men magnificent and beloved;
which does not lie in possession of those riches, but in ceasing to
possess them. Wherefore Boethius in the same book says: "Then money is
good when, bartered for other things, by the use of generosity one no
longer possesses it." Wherefore the baseness of riches is sufficiently
proved by all these remarks of his; and therefore the man with an
upright desire and true knowledge never loves them; and, not loving
them, he does not unite himself to them, but always desires them to be
far from himself, except inasmuch as they are appointed to some
necessary service; and it is a reasonable thing, since the perfect
cannot be united with the imperfect. So we see that the curved line
never joins the straight line, and if there be any conjunction, it is
not of line to line, but of point to point. And thus it follows that
the Mind which is upright in desire, and truthful in knowledge, is not
disheartened at the loss of wealth: as the text asserts at the end of
that part. And by this the text intends to prove that riches are as a
river flowing in the distance past the upright tower of Reason, or
rather of Nobility; and that these riches cannot take Nobility away
from him who has it. And in this manner in the present Song it is
argued against riches.

CHAPTER XIV.

Having confuted the error of other men in that part wherein it was
advanced in support of riches, it remains now to confute it in that
part where Time is said to be a cause of Nobility, saying, "Descent of
wealth;" and this reproof or confutation is made in that part which
begins: "They will not have the vile Turn noble." And in the first
place one confutes this by means of an argument taken from those men
themselves who err in this way; then, to their greater confusion, this
their argument is also destroyed; and it does this when it says, "It
follows then from this." Finally it concludes, their error being
evident, and it being therefore time to attend to the Truth; and it
does this when it says, "Sound intellect reproves."

I say, then, "They will not have the vile Turn noble." Where it is to
be known that the opinion of these erroneous persons is, that a man
who is a peasant in the first place can never possibly be called a
Nobleman; and the man who is the son of a peasant in like manner can
never be Noble; and this breaks or destroys their own argument when
they say that Time is requisite to Nobility, adding that word
"descent." For it is impossible by process of Time to come to the
generation of Nobility in this way of theirs, which declares it to be
impossible for the humble peasant to become Noble by any work that he
may do, or through any accident; and declares the mutation of a
peasant father into a Noble son to be impossible. For if the son of
the peasant is also a peasant, and his son again is also a peasant,
and so always, it will never be possible to discover the place where
Nobility can begin to be established by process of Time.

And if the adversary, wishing to defend himself, should say that
Nobility will begin at that period of Time when the low estate of the
ancestors will be forgotten, I reply that this goes against
themselves, for even of necessity there will be a transmutation of
peasant into Noble, from one man into another, or from father to son,
which is against that which they propound.

And if the adversary should defend himself pertinaciously, saying that
indeed they do desire that it should be possible for this
transmutation to take place when the low estate of the ancestors
passes into oblivion, although the text takes no notice of this, it is
right that the Commentary should reply to it. And therefore I reply
thus: that from this which they say there follow four very great
difficulties, so that it cannot possibly be a good argument. One is,
that in proportion as Human Nature might become better, the slower
would be the generation of Nobility, which is a very great
inconvenience; since in proportion as a thing is honoured for its
excellence, so much the more is it the cause of goodness; and Nobility
is reckoned amongst the good. What this means is shown thus: If
Nobility, which I understand as a good thing, should be generated by
oblivion, Nobility would be generated in proportion to the speediness
with which men might be forgotten, for so much the sooner would
oblivion descend upon all. Hence, in proportion as men might be
forgotten, so much the sooner would they be Noble; and, on the
contrary, in proportion to the length of time during which they were
held in remembrance, so much the longer it would be before they could
be ennobled.

The second difficulty is, that in nothing apart from men would it be
possible to make this distinction, that is to say, Noble or Vile,
which is very inconvenient; since, in each species of things we see
the image of Nobility or of Baseness, wherefore we often call one
horse noble and one vile; and one falcon noble and one vile; and one
pearl noble and one vile. And that it would not be possible to make
this distinction is thus proved; if the oblivion of the humble
ancestors is the cause of Nobility, or rather the baseness of the
ancestors never was, it is not possible for oblivion of them to be,
since oblivion is a destruction of remembrance, and in those other
animals, and in plants, and in minerals, lowness and loftiness are not
observed, since in one they are natural or innate and in an equal
state, and Nobility cannot possibly be in their generation, and
likewise neither can vileness nor baseness; since one regards the one
and the other as habit and privation, which are possible to occur in
the same subject; and therefore in them it would not be possible for a
distinction to exist between the one and the other.

And if the adversary should wish to say, that in other things Nobility
is represented by the goodness of the thing, but in a man it is
understood because there is no remembrance of his humble or base
condition, one would wish to reply not with words, but with the sword,
to such bestiality as it would be to give to other things goodness as
a cause for Nobility, and to found the Nobility of men upon
forgetfulness or oblivion as a first cause.

The third difficulty is, that often the person or thing generated
would come before the generator, which is quite impossible; and it is
possible to prove this thus: Let us suppose that Gherardo da Cammino
might have been the grandson of the most vile peasant who ever drank
of the Sile or of the Cagnano, and that oblivion had not yet overtaken
his grandfather; who will be bold enough to say that Gherardo da
Cammino was a vile man? and who will not agree with me in saying that
he was Noble? Certainly no one, however presumptuous he may wish to
be, for he was so, and his memory will always be treasured. If
oblivion had not yet overtaken his ancestor, as is proposed in
opposition, so that he might be great through Nobility, and the
Nobility in him might be seen so clearly, even as one does see it,
then it would have been first in him before the founder of his
Nobility could have existed; and this is impossible in the extreme.

The fourth difficulty is, that such a man, the supposed grandfather,
would have been held Noble after he was dead who was not Noble whilst
alive; and a more inconvenient thing could not be. One proves it thus:
Let us suppose that in the age of Dardanus there might be a
remembrance of his low ancestors, and let us suppose that in the age
of Laomedon this memory might have passed away, and that oblivion had
overtaken it. According to the adverse opinion, Laomedon was Noble and
Dardanus was vile, each in his lifetime. We, to whom the remembrance
of the ancestors of Dardanus has not come, shall we say that Dardanus
living was vile, and dead a Noble? And is not this contrary to the
legend which says that Dardanus was the son of Jupiter (for such is
the fable, which one ought not to regard whilst disputing
philosophically); and yet if the adversary might wish to find support
in the fable, certainly that which the fable veils destroys his
arguments. And thus it is proved that the argument, which asserted
that oblivion is the cause of Nobility, is false.

CHAPTER XV.

Since, by their own argument, the Song has confuted them, and proved
that Time is not requisite to Nobility, it proceeds immediately to
confound their premisses, since of their false arguments no rust
remains in the mind which is disposed towards Truth; and this it does
when it says, "It follows then from this." Where it is to be known
that if it is not possible for a peasant to become a Noble, or for a
Noble son to be born of a humble father, as is advanced in their
opinion, of two difficulties one must follow.

The first is, that there can be no Nobility; the other is, that the
World may have been always full of men, so that from one alone the
Human Race cannot be descended; and this it is possible to prove.

If Nobility is not generated afresh, and it has been stated many times
that such is the basis of their opinion, the peasant man not being
able to beget it in himself, or the humble father to pass it on to his
son, the man always is the same as he was born; and such as the father
was born, so is the son born; and so this process from one condition
onwards is reached even by the first parent; for such as was the first
father, that is, Adam, so must the whole Human Race be, because from
him to the modern nations it will not be possible to find, according
to that argument, any change whatever. Then, if Adam himself was
Noble, we are all Noble; if he was vile, we are all vile or base;
which is no other than to remove the distinction between these
conditions, and thus it is to remove the conditions.

And the Song states this, which follows from what is advanced, saying,
"That all are high or base." And if this is not so, then any nation is
to be called Noble, and any is to be called vile, of necessity.
Transmutation from vileness into Nobility being thus taken away, the
Human Race must be descended from different ancestors, that is, some
from Nobles and some from vile persons, and so the Song says, "Or that
in Time there never was Beginning to our race," that is to say, one
beginning; it does not say beginnings. And this is most false
according to the Philosopher, according to our Faith, which cannot
lie, according to the Law and ancient belief of the Gentiles. For
although the Philosopher does not assert the succession from one first
man, yet he would have one essential being to be in all men, which
cannot possibly have different origins. And Plato would have that all
men depend upon one idea alone, and not on more or many, which is to
give them only one beginning. And undoubtedly Aristotle would laugh
very loudly if he heard of two species to be made out of the Human
Race, as of horses and asses; and (may Aristotle forgive me) one might
call those men asses who think in this way. For according to our Faith
(which is to be preserved in its entirety) it is most false, as
Solomon makes evident where he draws a distinction between men and the
brute animals, for he calls men "all the sons of Adam," and this he
does when he says: "Who knows if the spirits of the sons of Adam mount
upwards, and if those of the beasts go downwards?" And that it is
false according to the Gentiles, let the testimony of Ovid in the
first chapter of his Metamorphoses prove, where he treats of the
constitution of the World according to the Pagan belief, or rather
belief of the Gentiles, saying: "Man is born "--he did not say "Men;"
he said, "Man is born," or rather, "that the Artificer of all things
made him from Divine seed, or that the new earth, but lately parted
from the noble ether, retained seeds of the kindred Heaven, which,
mingled with the water of the river, formed the son of Japhet into an
image of the Gods, who govern all." Where evidently he asserts the
first man to have been one alone; and therefore the Song says, "But
that I cannot hold," that is, to the opinion that man had not one
beginning; and the Song subjoins, "Nor yet if Christians they." And it
says Christians, not Philosophers, or rather Gentiles, whose opinion
also is adverse, because the Christian opinion is of greater force,
and is the destroyer of all calumny, thanks to the supreme light of
Heaven, which illuminates it.

Then when I say, "Sound intellect reproves their words As false, and
turns away," I conclude this error to be confuted, and I say that it
is time to open the eyes to the Truth; and this is expressed when I
say, "And now I seek to tell, As it appears to me." It is now evident
to sound minds that the words of those men are vain, that is, without
a crumb or particle of Truth; and I say sound not without cause. Our
intellect may be said to be sound or unsound. And I say intellect for
the noble part of our Soul, which it is possible to designate by the
common word "Mind." It may be called sound or healthy, when it is not
obstructed in its action by sickness of mind or body, which is to know
what things are, as Aristotle expresses it in the third chapter on the
Soul.

For, owing to the sickness of the Soul, I have seen three horrible
infirmities in the minds of men.

One is caused by natural vanity, for many men are so presumptuous that
they believe they know everything, and, owing to this, they assert
things to be facts which are not facts. Tullius especially execrates
this vice in the first chapter of the Offices, and St. Thomas in his
book against the Gentiles, saying: "There are many men, so
presumptuous in their conceit, who believe that they can compass all
things with their intellect, deeming all that appears to them to be
true, and count as false that which does not appear to them." Hence it
arises that they never attain to any knowledge; believing themselves
to be sufficiently learned, they never inquire, they never listen;
they desire to be inquired of, and when a question is put, bad enough
is their reply. Of those men Solomon speaks in Proverbs: "Seest thou a
man that is hasty in his words? there is more hope of a fool than of
him."

Another infirmity of mind is caused by natural weakness or smallness,
for many men are so vilely obstinate or stubborn that they cannot
believe that it is possible either for them or for others to know
things; and such men as these never of themselves seek knowledge, nor
ever reason; for what other men say, they care not at all. And against
these men Aristotle speaks in the first book of the Ethics, declaring
those men to be insufficient or unsatisfactory hearers of Moral
Philosophy. Those men always live, like beasts, a life of grossness,
the despair of all learning.

The third infirmity of mind is caused by the levity of nature; for
many men are of such light fancy that in all their arguments they go
astray, and even when they make a syllogism and have concluded, from
that conclusion they fly off into another, and it seems to them most
subtle argument. They start not from any true beginning, and truly
they see nothing true in their imagination. Of those men the
Philosopher says that it is not right to trouble about them, or to
have business with them, saying, in the first book of Physics, that
against him who denies the first postulate it is not right to dispute.
And of such men as these are many idiots, who may not know their A B
C, and who would wish to dispute in Geometry, in Astrology, and in the
Science of Physics.

Also through sickness or defect of body, it is possible for the Mind
to be unsound or sick; even as through some primal defect at birth, as
with those who are born fools, or through alteration in the brain, as
with the madmen. And of this mental infirmity the Law speaks when it
says: "In him who makes a Will or Testament, at the time when he makes
the Will or Testament, health of mind, not health of body, is
required."

But to those intellects which from sickness of mind or body are not
infirm, but are free, diligent, and whole in the light of Truth, I say
it must be evident that the opinion of the people, which has been
stated above, is vain, that is, without any value whatever, worthless.

Afterwards the Song subjoins that I thus judge them to be false and
vain; and this it does when it says, "Sound intellect reproves their
words As false, and turns away." And afterwards I say that it is time
to demonstrate or prove the Truth; and I say that it is now right to
state what kind of thing true Nobility is, and how it is possible to
know the man in whom it exists; and I speak of this where I say:

And now I seek to tell
As it appears to me,
What is, whence comes, what signs attest
A true Nobility.

CHAPTER XVI.

"The King shall rejoice in God, and all those shall be praised who
swear by him, for closed is the mouth of those who speak wicked
things." These words I can here propound in all truth; because each
true King ought especially to love the Truth. Wherefore it is written
in the Book of Wisdom, "Love the Light of Wisdom, you, who stand
before, the people," and the Light of Wisdom is this same Truth. I
say, then, every King shall rejoice that the most false and most
injurious opinion of the wicked and deceitful men who have up to this
time spoken iniquitously of Nobility is confuted.

It is now requisite to proceed to the discussion of the Truth
according to the division made above, in the third chapter of the
present treatise. This second part, then, which begins, "I say that
from one root Each Virtue firstly springs," intends to describe this
Nobility according to the Truth, and this part is divided into two:
for in the first the intention is to prove what this Nobility is; and
in the second how it is possible to recognize him in whom it dwells,
and this second part begins, "Such virtue shows its good." The first
part, again, has two parts; for in the first certain things are sought
for which are needful in order to perceive the definition of Nobility;
in the second, one looks for its definition, and this second part
begins, "Where virtue is, there is A Nobleman."

That we may enter perfectly into the treatise, two things are to be
considered in the first place. The one is, what is meant by this word
Nobility, taken alone, in its simple meaning; the other is, in what
path it is needful to walk in order to search out the before-named
definition. I say, then, that, if we will pay attention to the common
use of speech, by this word Nobility is understood the perfection of
its own nature in each thing; wherefore it is predicated not only of
the man, but also of all things; for the man calls a stone noble, a
plant or tree noble, a horse noble, a falcon noble, whatever is seen
to be perfect in its nature. And therefore Solomon says in
Ecclesiastes, "Blessed is the land whose King is Noble;" which is no
other than saying, whose King is perfect according to the perfection
of the mind and body; and he thus makes this evident by that which he
says previously, when he writes, "Woe unto the land whose King is a
child." For that is not a perfect man, and a man is a child, if not by
age, yet by his disordered manners and by the evil or defect of his
life, as the Philosopher teaches in the first book of the Ethics.

There are some foolish people who believe that by this word Noble is
meant that which is to be named and known by many men; and they say
that it comes from a verb which stands for _to know_, that is,
_nosco_. But this is most false, for, if this could be, those
things which were most named and best known in their species would in
their species be the most noble. Thus the obelisk of St. Peter would
be the most noble stone in the world; and Asdente, the shoemaker of
Parma, would be more Noble than any one of his fellow-citizens; and
Albuino della Scala would be more Noble than Guido da Castello di
Reggio. Each one of those things is most false, and therefore it is
most false that _nobile_ (noble) can come from _cognoscere_,
to know. It comes from _non vile_ (not vile); wherefore
_nobile_ (noble) is as it were _non vile_ (not vile).

This perfection the Philosopher means in the seventh chapter of
Physics, when he says: "Each thing is especially perfect when it
touches and joins its own proper or relative virtue; and then it is
especially perfect according to its nature. It is, then, possible to
call the circle perfect when it is truly a circle, that is, when it is
joined with its own proper or relative virtue, it is then complete in
its nature, and it may then be called a noble circle." This is when
there is a point in it which is equally distant from the
circumference. That circle which has the figure of an egg loses its
virtue and it is not Noble, nor that circle which has the form of an
almost full moon, because in that its nature is not perfect. And thus
evidently it is possible to see that commonly, or in a general sense,
this word Nobility, expresses in all things perfection of their
nature, and this is that for which one seeks primarily in order to
enter more clearly into the discussion of that part which it is
intended to explain.

Secondly, it remains to be seen how one must proceed in order to find
the definition of Human Nobility to which the present argument leads.
I say, then, that since in those things which are of one species, as
are all men, it is not possible by essential first principles to
define their highest perfection, it is necessary to know and to define
that by their effects. Therefore one reads in the Gospel of St.
Matthew, when Christ speaks, "Beware of false prophets: by their
fruits ye shall know them." And in a direct way the definition we seek
is to be seen by the fruits, which are the moral and intellectual
virtues of which this Nobility is the seed, as in its definition will
be fully evident.

And these are those two things we must see before one can proceed to
the others, as is said in the previous part of this chapter.

CHAPTER XVII.

Since those two things which it seemed needful to understand before
the text could be proceeded with have been seen and understood, it now
remains to proceed with the text and to explain it, and the text then
begins:

I say that from one root
Each Virtue firstly springs,
Virtue, I mean, that Happiness
To man, by action, brings

And I subjoin:

This, as the Ethics teach,
Is habit of right choice;

placing the whole definition of the Moral Virtues as it is defined by
the Philosopher in the second book of Ethics, in which two things
principally are understood. One is, that each Virtue comes from one
first principle or original cause; the other is, that by "Each Virtue"
I mean the Moral Virtues, and this is evident from the words, "This,
as the Ethics teach"

Hence it is to be known that our most right and proper fruits are the
Moral Virtues, since on every side they are in our power; and these
are differently distinguished and enumerated by different
philosophers. But it seems to me right to omit the opinion of other
men in that part where the divine opinion of Aristotle is stated by
word of mouth, and therefore, wishing to describe what those Moral
Virtues are, I will pass on, briefly discoursing of them according to
his opinion.

There are eleven Virtues named by the said