Lawrence of Arabia & Dante: Seven Pillars of Wisdom 🕯️
(Purgatorio, Canto XXIX): The Triumph of the Church, Seven Candlesticks and Three Theological Virtues
“I loved you, so I drew these tides of men into my hands/and wrote my will across the sky in stars”
~ Lawrence of Arabia
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 is the great Roman poet Virgil and in this Twenty ninth Canto of the Purgatorio, we encounter the heavenly pageant. 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 grand pageant in the Garden - A bright light opens the heavenly procession - Seven golden candlesticks - The rainbow banner of light - Twenty four elders dressed in white - The four winged creatures covered with eyes - The griffin draws the golden chariot - The ladies of the theological and cardinal virtues - The elder men of the New Testament - Thunder and the halting of the procession.
Canto XXIX Summary:
Matilda, filled with love, had finished her speech to the three poets regarding the nature of the Garden in which they stood together. She sang Beati quorum tecta sunt peccata from the Psalms—‘Blessed are those whose sins have been covered up’—shifting from her description of the Golden Age—the past—at the end of canto xxviii, to that of what is to come, that which is a reality, present before them, and at hand.
We may take the blessing to apply to both Dante and Statius, but primarily to the living man, since what comes now comes for him alone, although Statius, like Dante, must cross through Lethe, which perhaps we are to understand as ‘covering his sins.’1
Dante compared the movements of that lovely lady to nymphs of the woods, dancing in and out of the light, again a nod to the Golden Age brought into the present moment.
They walked together, keeping pace and in the same direction, yet on opposite sides of the Lethe, until the waters curved so that as they continued to follow it, they were now facing east. This moment set in place the pageant that is about to unfold gloriously before them; for facing the east and the rising sun is symbolic of the dawning of a new reality. The commentator Attilio Momigliano2 compared turning to face the east as being situated before a lowered curtain on stage that is about to be lifted.
Those who pray turn to the east…that the sun of justice may shine upon them.
Benvenuto, Comentum Super Dantis Aligherii Comoediam
Think of this moment as the first in a series of moments which create expectation and suspense as to what is to come. It is here that Matilda turned to Dante, and in a change of tone, told him to look and listen. The metaphorical curtain rises:
and I saw
a sudden radiance that swept across
the mighty forest on all sides-and I
was wondering if lightning had not struck.
xxix.15-18
The great focal point of the Commedia-the reunion of Dante with Beatrice-is deliberately set, as though upon a stage, between two great pageants or masques, in which the characters are not symbolic personages but allegorical personifications in the traditional manner, embodying abstract ideas.3
The flash of light that burst before him did not diminish, but increased, and was accompanied by a ‘sweet melody.’ Dante considered that if there had been no fall of humanity in the Garden to sin, what beauty would have belonged to humankind since the beginning of time.4
Dante moved as if in a trance under the effect of the light and the song, and knew yet more was to come to fulfillment as he anticipated the arrival of Beatrice. The light grew more fiery and the song became more clear as the sense of suspense grew ever more taut; here, Dante invoked the Muses for the second time in Purgatory. As calling to the Muses signifies the beginning of a great endeavor, we can take this second calling to indicate just how new and auspicious this moment is.
O Virgins, sacrosanct, if I have ever,
for your sake, suffered vigils, cold, and hunger,
great need makes me entreat my recompense.
Now Helicon must pour its fountains for me,
Urania must help me with her choir
to put in verses things hard to conceive.
xxix.37-42
The commentator Buti notes that the recompense Dante sought was in reward for the love that he bore them, the Muses.5 The sacred mountain of Helicon was the home of Apollo and the Muses, and in this second invocation, rather than call to Calliope, the Muse of epic poetry, as he did in canto i.8-9, here he called to Urania, the Muse of astronomy, pointing to the celestial and supernatural nature of his current undertaking.
The next element in the pageant, after the introduction of light and song, was a sight that Dante took to be seven trees of gold, but which, as they moved closer—for they were in motion—he perceived with that special power of reason to be candlesticks. Imagine how large they must have been to have been mistaken for trees. The imagery is directly from the Apocalypse of St. John:
Then I turned to see whose voice it was that spoke to me, and on turning I saw seven golden lampstands, and in the midst of the lampstands I saw one like the Son of Man, clothed with a long robe and with a golden sash across his chest. Revelation 1:12-13
These seven candlesticks represented the seven gifts of the Spirit, as found in the Old Testament book of Isaiah: wisdom, understanding, counsel, might, knowledge, piety, and fear6 of God.
The spirit of the Lord shall rest on him, the spirit of wisdom and understanding, the spirit of counsel and might, the spirit of knowledge and the fear of the Lord.
Isaiah 11:2
The word Hosanna as heard in the chanted song was significant, as it was the praise that welcomed the advent of Jesus’ arrival in Jerusalem in the days before his crucifixion. In placing it here, we know that the advent of a blessed and important figure is about to be presented. The seven lights from the candlesticks were joined into one brilliant light, as if those gifts they represented were combined into unity.
Dante turned to Virgil—who, though silent, was still present—and they shared a moment of amazement at the scene before them.
The pageant continued to progress. Dante gazed at the lights until Matilda cried out to him to see what other sights were unfolding as the procession moved on. Dante could only take in—and write about—one element at a time, but we can imagine the totality of each of these elements as they create a tableau. White clad attendants followed behind the moving candlesticks as Dante stood at his vantage point across the stream.
I could see the candle flames move forward,
leaving the air behind them colored like
the strokes a painter’s brush might have described,
so that the air above that retinue
was streaked with seven bands in every hue
of which the rainbow’s made and Delia’s girdle.
xxix.73-78
The air above the flames of light painted a rainbow onto the sky above, with the imagery of that painter's brush a perfect description of the physicality of the action of light. Delia was indicative of Diana, goddess of the Moon, whose belt is the lunar halo seen round the full moon.
As the appearance of the bow that is in the cloud in the day of rain, so was the appearance of the brightness round about. This was the appearance of the likeness of the glory of the Lord. Ezekiel 1:28
The rainbow light transformed into banners in the sky that reached back behind the procession as far as Dante could see, 10 paces across, the width covering the procession. Under that colorful banner came twenty four elders walking two by two wearing white crowns of the lily, the fleur-de-lis. These white crowns represented faith, and the twenty four elders were the twenty four books of the Old Testament as perceived by Jerome, the translator of the first Vulgate Latin Bible.7
And round about the throne were four and twenty seats: and upon the seats I saw four and twenty elders sitting, clothed in white raiment; and they had on their heads crowns of gold. Revelation 4:4
They sang the Benedicta, reminiscent of the blessing given to Mary at the annunciation, and passed on, as the elements progressing became even more fantastic; for the next to arrive, just as the view of the stars changes with the revolution of the heavens, were four creatures crowned in green foliage, a color we will see that will also crown Beatrice, and signifying hope. These four creatures represent the four Evangelists, author of the gospels of the New Testament, Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. These are represented in the vision of Ezekiel:
And I looked, and, behold, a whirlwind came out of the north, a great cloud, and a fire infolding itself, and a brightness was about it, and out of the midst thereof as the colour of amber, out of the midst of the fire. Also out of the midst thereof came the likeness of four living creatures. And this was their appearance; they had the likeness of a man. And every one had four faces, and every one had four wings. And their feet were straight feet; and the sole of their feet was like the sole of a calf's foot: and they sparkled like the colour of burnished brass. And they had the hands of a man under their wings on their four sides; and they four had their faces and their wings. Their wings were joined one to another; they turned not when they went; they went every one straight forward. As for the likeness of their faces, they four had the face of a man, and the face of a lion, on the right side: and they four had the face of an ox on the left side; they four also had the face of an eagle. Thus were their faces: and their wings were stretched upward; two wings of every one were joined one to another, and two covered their bodies.
Ezekiel 1:4-11
Each creature had six wings covered with eyes; but living, shining eyes, not just the likeness of eyes. They were as Argus of myth, the creature of 100 eyes set as guard by Juno to watch Io when she was in the form of a cow, so that she did not escape her imprisonment. Jupiter had transformed Io so his infidelity would not be discovered, and Juno acted out of jealousy. When Argus was killed by Mercury, Juno placed his 100 eyes on the tail of the peacock.
Reader, I am not squandering more rhymes
in order to describe their forms; since I
must spend elsewhere, I can’t be lavish here;
but read Ezekiel, for he has drawn
those animals approaching from the north;
with wings and cloud and fire, he painted them.
xxix.97-102
There was so much to describe that Dante had to leave the fantastic description here, but he pointed us to the verses in Ezekiel—quoted above—to understand the full impact of the vision he saw before him. He also noted that Ezekiel gave these creatures four wings each, while Dante gave them six, as did John in the book of Revelation.
And before the throne there was a sea of glass like unto crystal: and in the midst of the throne, and round about the throne, were four beasts full of eyes before and behind. And the first beast was like a lion, and the second beast like a calf, and the third beast had a face as a man, and the fourth beast was like a flying eagle. And the four beasts had each of them six wings about him; and they were full of eyes within: and they rest not day and night, saying, Holy, holy, holy, Lord God Almighty, which was, and is, and is to come.
Revelation 4:6-8
These four beasts flanked a triumphal chariot drawn by a griffin, whose spread wings reached the banners of color and light above them, passing through them yet not breaking them. The parade of triumph, in ancient Rome, was a procession in which the victor of war would proceed through the city on the triumphal chariot, surrounded by the spoils of war; here, rather than war, the chariot was surrounded by signifiers of the arrival of a blessed one and the community of the blessed, heralding the achievement of Dante’s arrival in the garden.
The Gryphon, a classical and heraldic monster which combines the fore-part of an eagle with the hinder part of a lion, appears in the Masque as a symbol of the Hypostatic Union of the two natures in Christ. So far as he is a bird (divine) he is of gold incorruptible; so far as he is animal (human) he is mingled of red and white…they are most especially the colours of the Sacrament itself-the Flesh and the Blood, the Bread and the Wine.8
Therefore he well says, that griffin ‘had his members of gold in so far as he was bird,’ in respect to his divinity, which is incorruptible and immoral, ‘and the others white,’ in regard to his purely human flesh. And he says: ‘mixed with red’ because colored by the blood of His Passion” Benvenuto, Comentum Super Dantis Aligherii Comoediam
So splendid was this golden chariot that it could not compare to any other; not to that of Scipio Africanus, whose grandfather defeated Hannibal, and who himself defeated Carthage, not to Augustus Caesar and his three triumphs, not even to that of Phaëthon, the son of the Sun god, who drove his chariot to destruction in his attempt to climb the sky.
The father led his son
to Vulcan’s gift, the noble chariot.
Golden its axle, golden too, its shaft,
and golden the outer surface of its wheels,
adorned with radiating silver spokes;
its yoke, inlaid with golden chrysolites,
returned the light of Phoebus in reflection.
Ovid, Metamorphoses 146-152
Around this chariot, dancing by the right wheel, were three ladies, symbolic of the three Theological virtues. Charity was in red, Hope in green, and Faith in pure white. Charity—love—led the tempo, as she was the highest virtue:
Hence charity is more excellent than faith or hope, and consequently, than all the other virtues, just as prudence, which by itself attains reason, is more excellent than the other moral virtues, which attain reason in so far as it appoints the mean in human operations or passions. Thomas Aquinas, Summa Theologica II.II, q.23, a.6
On the left side of the chariot were four more ladies dancing, these all in purple robes, and representing the Cardinal virtues: Prudence, Justice, Temperance, and Fortitude. The purple, or deep wine red, indicated that these virtues were infused with the Theological virtue of charity, which brought them to a different and higher level than the acquired Cardinal virtues, which were attainable by anyone; in this theological sense, they were achieved through the blending of divine love with their expression, not solely from their application through reason.
The virtue of Prudence came as a lady with three eyes, indicating the vision of past, present, and future, and the insight into a more spiritual and supernatural, or metaphysical, view of reality. She led the tempo of this grouping:
It is fitting, then, to be prudent, that is, wise; and to be so demands a good memory of things formerly seen, and good knowledge of things present, and good foresight of things to come. Dante, Convivio xxvii.5
The procession continued; after the golden chariot and the dancing virtues came a succession of elderly figures; the first two being the apostle Luke, the physician of souls as Hippocrates was the physician to the body—he was one of the virtuous pagans in Limbo—and St. Paul, whose piercing sword of truth contrasted with the healing nature of Luke, both necessary to understanding.
Then I saw four of humble aspect; and,
when all the rest had passed, a lone old man,
his features keen, advanced, as if in sleep.
xxix.142-144
After Luke and Paul came four men of ‘humble aspect,’ the minor epistles of James, Peter, John, and Jude, all authors of books of the New Testament. Finally, a lone figure, John of Revelations, standing apart, just as his book stood apart from the other New Testament books. His sleep was symbolic of the dream vision which he recounted in Revelation.
These last seven were also dressed in white, as were the first line of elders in the procession, yet they were without the lily crowns; rather, they were crowned with roses and flame, the color of charity.
As soon as this portion of the pageant arrived before Dante, as if on cue, thunder shook the air and the entire procession stopped. The next stage, the unveiling of the highpoint, was about to unfold.
More from Lisa:
Be sure to read Part I of my interview “Dante, Themes of Love, and Transformation through Literature” with Dante scholar Dr. Paul Camacho. Part II will be published next week.
💭 Philosophical Exercises
“My will had gone and I feared to be alone, lest the winds of circumstance, or power, or lust, blow my empty soul away.”
~ T.E. Lawrence (Lawrence of Arabia), Seven Pillars of Wisdom
“We were fond together because of the sweep of open places, the taste of wide winds, the sunlight, and the hopes in which we worked.
The morning freshness of the world-to-be intoxicated us. We were wrought up with ideas inexpressible and vaporous, but to be fought for.
We lived many lives in those whirling campaigns, never sparing ourselves: yet when we achieved and the new world dawned, the old men came out again and took our victory to remake in the likeness of the former world they knew.
Youth could win, but had not learned to keep, and was pitiably weak against age. We stammered that we had worked for a new heaven and a new earth, and they thanked us kindly and made their peace.”
~ Seven Pillars of Wisdom, Lawrence of Arabia
Among the many books on my shelves, one holds a singular value: a first edition of T.E. Lawrence’s Seven Pillars of Wisdom. On the surface, it is a desert odyssey - the memoir of a British liaison officer who rose to lead the Arab revolt. Yet, as with every great story, its true heart lies not in the march of armies but in the fracture of a soul divided against itself.
But why did Lawrence choose this title, Seven Pillars of Wisdom?
Some suggest it was borrowed from an abandoned project on the seven ancient cities of the Middle East. Others point to the biblical verse, Proverbs 9:1: “Wisdom hath builded her house, she hath hewn out her seven pillars.”
Seven. Always seven. Seven pillars, seven cities, seven candlesticks, seven sacraments, seven deadly sins. The number that runs like a secret architecture through scripture, myth, and history, echoing across deserts and across centuries.
One might be tempted to say that Lawrence of Arabia’s tale, unlike Dante’s Commedia, is a “real” story - a memoir, a chronicle of events refracted through the lens of one man’s experience. And yet, the distinction is not so simple. As Robert Hollander, one of the most respected Dante scholars, reminds us, Dante himself insists that what he records is true, not a mere product of poetic fancy. For Dante, his journey is no allegory to be dismissed as imagination, but a vision of reality more profound than the surface of history itself.9
Both Lawrence of Arabia and Dante glorified the Lady of Wisdom: Lawrence by invoking her in the very title of his book (for philosophy has long been imagined as a wise woman), and Dante by personifying her as Matelda in the Earthly Paradise.
It takes reading Lawrence’s epic to truly grasp the weight of his title, for those seven pillars signify not abstract ideas, but a hard-won wisdom forged in the deserts. The mirages and sandstorms that Lawrence endured stand as his own trials, as searing and relentless as Dante’s circles of Hell or the terraces of Purgatory.
Just read these lines from his book, how Dantean they sound:
“My will had gone and I feared to be alone, lest the winds of circumstance, or power, or lust, blow my empty soul away.”
~ Seven Pillars of Wisdom
My reader will remember how often Dante feared losing Virgil along this journey. Like Lawrence, who confessed that he “feared to be alone,” Dante too trembled at the thought that “the winds of circumstance, or power, or lust” might sweep his unsteady soul away.
But here, at this stage, everything changes. Dante’s will has been straightened and strengthened; he no longer fears being carried off by any storm. As we saw in the previous canto, he now walks with confidence, guiding his own steps. Once he followed Virgil, now Virgil follows him.
Here, at the threshold between Purgatory and Paradise, we witness a turning point not only in the poem but in Dante’s life itself. Up to this moment, his struggle was to discipline and strengthen his will. That task is complete. From this point forward, a harder journey begins, not the journey of will, but the journey of intellect.
For someone like myself, raised in a secular family in a country where, for seventy years, religion was suppressed and scientific atheism enforced as a kind of state creed, it feels almost astonishing to read Dante. This medieval poet, so deeply rooted in a religious age, insists that such truths are not to be grasped by blind faith alone, but through the labor of the intellect.
The first vision we encounter is that of the Seven Pillars of Wisdom, the seven gifts of the Spirit, shining forth in the procession of candlesticks: Wisdom, Intellect, Counsel, Fortitude, Knowledge, Piety, and Fear of the Lord.
How fitting, then, that the soul who once found himself lost in the dark forest of Inferno must first straighten his will in Purgatory, so that he may finally be able to exercise his intellect.
Dante tells us that what he sees is inexpressible, he attempts to find the right words to describe what he had witnessed. Our journey forward is going to be that of intellect, trying to understand what it means to be wise, what it takes to practice fortitude, what is true piety, and what it truly means to Fear the Lord.
From strengthening and straightening of our will to clearing our intellect. What a journey we have ahead of us!
Before diving into the themes (and there are plenty!), I’d like to share another favourite book of mine - John Ruskin’s Seven Lamps of Architecture.
In 19th-century England, Ruskin witnessed the decline of architecture, the slow spread of soullessness in buildings, and in response he wrote this luminous work. (Always seven!)
Ruskin’s “lamps” were seven guiding virtues: sacrifice, truth, power, beauty, life, memory, and obedience. That last one, obedience, is strikingly close to the “fear of God” found among the seven spiritual gifts.
By sacrifice, Ruskin meant architecture as a devoted offering; by memory, the importance of continuity with the past; by beauty, that ornaments should be drawn from nature and so on through the rest.
Keep these sevens in your mind my reader, whether it is Ruskin’s, Lawrence’s or Dante’s.
This Week’s Sinners and Virtuous 🎭
(Themes, Quotes, Terms and Characters)
I. Urania
Here Dante calls upon Urania, the Muse of higher things, the Muse of the heavens and the supernatural. What struck me is this: if he feels the need to invoke her here, it suggests that everything we have witnessed up to this point was not yet truly supernatural at all.
II. Three Groups of Three Figures
The three groups of three figures symbolize another set of virtues meant to guide and elevate our lives these are the theological virtues: faith, hope, and chastity.
III. Griffin as Christ
The Griffin’s body unites two natures: the eagle, symbol of Christ’s divinity, and the lion, emblem of His earthly humanity.
Quotes 🖋️
(The ones I keep in my journal as reminders of eternal wisdom):
Her words were done, but without interruption she sang—like an enamored woman—thus: “Beati quorum tecta sunt peccata!” And just as nymphs who used to walk alone among the woodland shadows, some desiring to see and some to flee the sun, so she moved countercurrent as she walked along the riverbank; and following her short footsteps with my own steps, I matched her pace. ~ lines 1-9, Mandelbaum
Charles S. Singleton, Commentary on Purgatorio 692
La Divina Commedia di Dante Alighieri, Vol. II
Dorothy L. Sayers, Purgatory 302
One commentator here humorously noted that if not Eve, then surely someone else would have fallen to temptation far before Dante’s time.
Singleton 702
Read ‘fear’ as ‘awe’
The twelve Minor Prophets counting as one book, Samuel, Kings, and Chronicles as one each, and Ezra and Nehemiah being grouped together as one. Sayers 304
Sayers 305
For those who are curious (or, who are reading Hollanders’ translation) have a look at the notes to the verse 105
As I read Dante’s description of the majestic procession, I couldn’t help but contrast it with the macabre procession depicted by Thomas Hardy in his 1912 poem “God’s Funeral.” Dante uses pageantry (“A blaze of living light”) as a dazzling allegory for faith, sacred history, and revelation; Hardy uses a funeral procession (“A funeral vast and strange, / With a pomp of mourning, solemn, slow and grand”) to represent the displacement of God by human intellect. Instead of resplendent elders and angels affirming divine truth, Hardy’s “scholars gray, / Sages, and priests, and visionaries” carry the corpse of belief.
What can polar opposite renditions possibly have in common, besides the symbolic theater of parades? They illustrate the communal nature of both Christian optimism (a shared apocalyptic unveiling) and secular pessimism (a shared apocalyptic loss).
Perhaps the British poet Anne Ridler best appraises Dante’s spiritual journey in her poem “Deus Absconditus” (The Hidden God) in a way that accounts for the six centuries separating these two visions: “Yet it is a long pursuit, / Carrying the junk and treasure of an ancient creed…”