Christ on the Banks of Indus

(Paradiso, Canto XIX): Jupiter, the Sacred Eagle, and the corrupt politicians

“The highest virtue is uncommon and useless, it is shining and mellow in lustre: the highest virtue is a bestowing virtue.”

~ Nietzsche, Zarathustra

Welcome to Dante Read-Along! ✨

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Welcome to Dante Book Club, where you and I descend into Hell and Purgatory to be able to ascend to Paradise. Our guide in Paradise is Beatrice, and in this nineteenth Canto, the Celestial Eagle expounds upon the nature of earthly Justice. You can find the main page of the read-along right here, reading schedule here, and the list of chat threads here.

In each post you can find a brief summary of the canto, philosophical exercises that you can draw from it, themes, character, and symbolism explanations.

All the wonderful illustrations are done specially for the Dante Read-Along by the one and only Luana Montebello.

This Week’s Circle ⭕️

The sixth celestial realm of Jupiter - The Eagle, made of the lights of the souls of the just - Dante’s question about the fate of the virtuous pagans - The Eagle describes the ineffability of God and humanity’s inability to conceive of its depth - Virtuous pagans are at times more virtuous than professed Christians - The twelve corrupt monarchs.

Canto XIX Summary:

The massive Eagle suspended in the sixth heaven of Jupiter spread its wings before Dante, as the points of light that created its image, made of the souls of the Just, each of whom glowed like a Ruby, joined together as one being, unified in purpose and function.

And what I now must tell has never been
reported by a voice, inscribed by ink,
never conceived by the imagination;

for I did see the beak, did hear it speak
and utter with its voice both I and mine
when we and ours were what, in thought, was meant.
xix.7-12

In the realm of Jupiter, no single soul would ever speak alone; they always spoke as one being through the form of the Eagle; it now began its speech, and instead of using a plurality when referring to itself, such as we and ours, this eagle used singular words to indicate its unified being.

The Eagle referred to its own two natures upon the opening of its speech, that of justice and mercy, therefore indicating that the souls who made up the form of the Eagle were just and merciful in life. These were also the two natures of God, and in reference to temporal power, should also inform the empire and the emperor; the empire should be just and the emperor should be merciful, core ideas that Dante had spoken of in his work de Monarchia. These souls, in their place in Paradise, through their established justice on earth, had achieved a conception of justice that was so far beyond human understanding, that their earthly selves would not have been able to even imagine it, or desire for anything greater than it. They would not have been strong enough to bear it in their limited understanding.

The love exuding from that Eagle as it spoke was such that it blended together unified in their one voice, just as one constant heat is felt from a group of embers.

Dante addressed the Eagle with a profound question on the nature of justice which would become the theme of the canto, highlighting the reach of theology and its effect on the world as a whole, an idea that occupied Dante’s mind greatly. No answer on earth had been able to quench this desire for knowledge, so he asked it in the highest place possible, the place that held the highest truth of the ideal of justice. Where the realm of Jupiter was concerned with earthly justice, Dante pointed to the realm that enacted God’s justice, the seventh realm of Saturn and the angelic order of the Thrones, who forever look upon God’s justice directly, and who reflect it down to the realms below:

I know indeed that, though God’s Justice has
another realm in Heaven as Its mirror,
you here do not perceive it through a veil.

You know how keenly I prepare myself
to listen, and you know what is that doubt
which caused so old a hungering in me.
xix.28-33

Dante entreats an explanation of a problem which has long troubled him. The problem, which he leaves the souls to read in his mind, is this: many men live and die without having heard of Christ and, consequently, without having the opportunity of embracing the Faith and receiving baptism. Are such men damned? If so, wherein does the justice of their damnation reside?¹

Dante knew that the souls making up the celestial Eagle knew his question, the depth and the nature of it. The Eagle thrummed with divine music before it began its extended speech, where, with one voice, it would expound upon the question of the virtuous pagan, one that was close and dear to Dante’s heart.

Just like a falcon set free from its hood,
which moves its head and flaps its wings, displaying
its eagerness and proud appearance, so

I saw that ensign do, that Eagle woven
of praises of God’s grace, accompanied
by songs whose sense those up above enjoy.
xix.34-39

The Eagle began it’s speech by displaying the majesty of God as creator, he who measured the perfect order of the universe with his compass, making that order both visible in external things and invisible in the inner working of things. In this creation, as mighty as His works were, nothing excelled His own being; He remained in “infinite excess” of His creation, by necessity and by design. Lucifer, the fallen angel, proved this “inferiority of every created thing to the creative mind”² in his fall.

In proof of this, the first proud being, he
who was the highest of all creatures, fell—
unripe because he did not wait for light.

Thus it is clear that every lesser nature
is—all the more—too meager a container
for endless Good, which is Its own sole measure.
xix.46-51

The Eagle began to set the stage for the idea that Dante also could not comprehend the hidden order of the Mind of God by the very nature of his limited understanding. Coming to his question—of the fate of the virtuous pagan—with this groundwork, the Eagle could proceed, in limited explanation, the answer to his question. What beauty Dante uses to express this infinite nature of God, and the longing that accompanies it as the human mind and heart strive to reach its depths:

Therefore, the vision that your world receives
can penetrate into Eternal Justice
no more than eye can penetrate the sea;

for though, near shore, sight reaches the sea floor,
you cannot reach it in the open sea;
yet it is there, but hidden by the deep.
xix.58-63

Where in realms below we studied the depths of the psychology of the human heart in all its error and striving toward goodness, here, in this realm of full freedom to worship in purity, there remains only to express and understand the limitations of that purity as man strives to reach toward full worship of the Divine. The flesh of humanity prevents such perfection. Now the Eagle restated the question in Dante’s mind and heart, first explaining, then again asking, almost ironically, how he thought he could understand such immense questions:

The reply of the eagle to the troubling question, in these its opening words, is actually no reply at all, but an outburst against man’s very pride and presumption in asking any such question in the first place.³

For you would say: “A man is born along
the shoreline of the Indus River; none
is there to speak or teach or write of Christ.

And he, as far as human reason sees,
in all he seeks and all he does is good;
there is no sin within his life or speech.

And that man dies unbaptized, without faith.
Where is this justice then that would condemn him?
Where is his sin if he does not believe?’
xix.70-78

In this speech, Dante used terms to indicate, not specific peoples such as those from the Indus River, or from Ethiopia, but to point more generally to those regions that were considered heathen, or unchristian, in his day. The Eagle pointed to the importance of using the Scripture to unpack this question:

If Holy Scripture were not there, with its authority to enjoin men to believe in the infallible justice of God, anyone who attempted to investigate the problem would find matter for doubting to a marvellous degree.⁴

The Eagle finished this first exposition saying that created good can be drawn toward God and Justice, but since it is the origin of this good, it is not itself drawn toward that which is created. That movement only goes in one direction.

And hence it follows again that right as manifested in things is nought else than the similitude of the divine will. Whence it comes to pass that whatever is not consonant with the divine will cannot be right, and whatever is consonant with the divine will is right.
Dante, de Monarchia II.ii.5

Sixth Heaven, or that of Jupiter: the blessed form some letters and then an eagle

The throng of souls that made up the divine Eagle portrayed their unity in the movement of the wings, as if to indicate that the first part of their speech was complete.

Just as, above the nest, the stork will circle
when she has fed her fledglings, and as he
whom she has fed looks up at her, so did

the blessed image do, and so did I,
the fledgling, while the Eagle moved its wings,
spurred on by many wills in unison.
xix.91-96

The Eagle, now that it had set the stage regarding human understanding, moved on more specifically to Dante’s question. It qualified from the start that the requirement for attaining to Paradise was a belief in Christ, either during his lifetime before the crucifixion, or as a later believer in the ages that followed. It warned of those who professed belief, but whose words went no further than their lips; although professing, they were less virtuous than what would be considered the virtuous pagan:

But there are many who now cry ‘Christ! Christ!’
who at the Final Judgment shall be far
less close to Him than one who knows not Christ;
xix.106-108

Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven. Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works? And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity.
Matthew 7:21-23

These virtuous pagans would be incredulous that such were considered of a higher standing than themselves, as in the afterlife, those who professed Christ and those who did not would walk their different paths to their eternal placements. The kings of nations, professed believers whose actions inscribed into the Book of Judgment told of a different story, would amaze those pagans who looked upon their unjust actions:

What shall the Persians, when they come to see
that open volume in which they shall read
the misdeeds of your rulers, say to them?
xix.112-114

We do not yet quite find out the answer to that question in this canto, as here was an opportunity for Dante to list those unjust rulers, twelve corrupt monarchs, not always by name, but through their actions. He did this with a poetic conceit of the acrostic; in the Italian, the first line of the following nine terzains began with the triple sets of letters L V E, purposefully placed to point to these rulers as a ‘plague’ or ‘pestilence.’

The first written in the book of Judgment is Albert of Austria and his invasion of Bohemia, which was under the rule of Wenceslaus II, for his own ends.

Next, Philip the Fair of France whose death came from his horse being assaulted by a boar and throwing him off, debased the currency in order to create more for himself, and wreaked havoc on the country’s economy.

Third, he moved to Britain and the border wars under Edward against the Scots, led by Robert the Bruce, then on to Ferdinand IV of Spain, who fought with Wenceslaus II of Bohemia.

The fifth corrupt monarch was Charles II of Naples, referred to as the “Cripple of Jerusalem” due to his inheriting the title from his father Charles of Anjou, who claimed right to it. Charles II was so corrupt that his virtues could be represented by I (one) while his faults by the letter M (1,000).

Dante continued the list with the Sicilian king Frederick II of Aragorn, whose virtues were so few that they could be written in shorthand and never expanded upon:

That book will show the greed and cowardice
of him who oversees the Isle of Fire,
on which Anchises ended his long life;

and to make plain his paltriness, the letters
that register his deeds will be contracted,
to note much pettiness in little space.
xix.130-135

Not only Frederick II but his uncle and brother could be counted among the unjust, James, King of the Balearic Islands, and James, King of Aragon respectively.

The next tercet names three more corrupt monarchs, those of Portugal, Norway and Rascia:

In these three lines, the Eagle mentions together Dionysius, King of Portugal, Haakon, King of Norway and Stephen Ouros, King of Rascia (Dalmatia), who in 1307 struck coins which counterfeited the Venetian ducat.⁵

Hungary would rejoice if she no longer let a corrupt one sit on the throne, as it was when Andrew III usurped the throne from Charels Martel, and the region of Navarre could stay safe there if it wrapped its mountainous Pyrenees around it like armor. Navarre would see what laid in store for it if it did not stay so protected through the actions on the island of Cyprus, whose towns of Nicosi and Famagosta were devastated by “their own beast” Henry II, who, like one in a pack of wolves, kept abreast of injustice just as all the other monarchs named.

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💭 Philosophical Exercises

Sandro Botticelli

Throughout two-thirds of the Divine Comedy we were accompanied by a guide who led us through every peril, yet we knew from the start his salvation was impossible. We mourned his disappearance as we entered Paradise. And of course, my dear reader, I mean Virgil.

In Canto XIX of Paradiso, we face a different kind of challenge. If Virgil’s salvation was unreachable because of the chronology of history—he was born before Christ’s message was spread—then he must spend eternity in yearning, in Limbo.

The question Dante raises in the sphere of Justice (Jupiter) is geographical. If Virgil was restricted chronologically, many people on the banks of the Indus, as Dante says, are restricted by geography from Christ’s truth. And, as some commentators note, Dante elsewhere (for example in the Convivio) repeatedly highlights the privilege of those with access to education and thus to truth.

Here, Dante signals that what he is about to report is radically new—a marvel “never spoken by voice nor written in ink,” a classic topos of novelty that frames the paradox to come. The Eagle then appears and speaks, and Dante stresses the wonder not only of what he saw but of what he heard: a single beak saying “I” and “mine,” while meaning “we” and “our”—unity speaking through plurality.

Dante dares the great question: what becomes of those who live virtuously yet—because of their location—never hear Christ’s truth?

Before he gets the direct rebuke, the poem walks him up a doctrinal staircase: God’s wisdom surpasses anything in creation and even Lucifer, highest of creatures, fell because he lacked the final light.

The conclusion is humbling: we cannot grasp fully the reasons of divine judgment, which lie in God’s unclouded light, not in our dim sight.

The rebuke finally lands with Scripture’s edge: “Who are you, O man, to answer back to God?” (Romans 9:20). Hollander notes this tercet as the pivot of the canto: we may know that God judges justly, but not why in each case, including the “just man beyond the Indus.”

Having established the limits of human judgment, the canto then turns to prayer and invective.

Dante begs the Mind that moves Jupiter to clear the “smoke” that dims its beam and denounces new “wars” that consist in withholding the bread, a figure of denying the sacraments, and those who “write only to cancel.”

The greatest question, of course, concerns divine justice itself.

What becomes of the virtuous who, through no fault of their own, were denied the knowledge of God’s wisdom by the mere accident of geography?

And what of those who did receive the truth of Christ, yet chose a life of vice? Dante’s final judgment is clear and consoling: those who live virtuously, though ignorant of revelation, shall stand higher than those who knew the truth and refused to follow it.

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This Week’s Sinners and Virtuous 🎭

(Themes, Quotes, Terms and Characters)

Gustave Dore (Illustration for Canto XVIII of Paradiso that I forgot to attach to the previous one. Apologies)

I. Avian pedagogy

In Jupiter, Dante explains ideas with two bird images. First, the Eagle is like a trained falcon just unhooded: steady, alert, ready to fly. Later it is like a mother stork hovering over her fed young, watchful and gentle.

Taken together, the point is simple: meet divine justice with disciplined attention and a willingness to be cared for and taught. Dante compares the Eagle to two birds to show two attitudes. The falcon means “be ready and focused.” The stork means “you are being looked after as you learn.

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Quotes 🖋️

(The ones I keep in my journal as reminders of eternal wisdom):

Just like a falcon set free from its hood,
which moves its head and flaps its wings, displaying
its eagerness and proud appearance, so

I saw that ensign do, that Eagle woven
of praises of God’s grace, accompanied
by songs whose sense those up above enjoy.

~ lines 34-39, Paradiso, Canto XIX

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1. Dorothy L. Sayers, Paradise 229

2. Charles S. Singleton, Commentary on Paradiso 318

3. Singleton 320

4. Sayers 229

5. Sayers 231