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bonny_kateIt's all in Lewis. No, really, every idea that I've encountered in Dante, I suddenly found that I already had met in Lewis.
Dante's Inferno ends suprisingly. It ends, not with a violent or upsetting image, but with the stars. It is a beautiful image, of hope and peace. It readies me for purgatory, and is, perhaps, the most moving image in the Inferno. Dante comes from hell into the cool night sky. But there is more to Dante's stars than a cursory glance tells. Dante doesn't think of stars in at all the same way that we do.
Stars are, to the modern, mindless balls of fiery gas. The heavens are empty. We look up into the night sky and feel terribly lonely, a small sphere of green in a great wasteland.
To the medieval mind, stars are the greatest corporeal being. They are not mindless, but beautiful beings. Looking up into the heavens, the stars are in a great dance. They move because they want to move, or in the greater words of the poet Dante, it is "love that moves the sun and other stars." They orbit in circles and spin in galaxies because they are taking part of the great cosmic dance that God has given them. Looking up at the heavens, the medievals are saddened because the earth is on the outskirts. We are the pagans who have forgotten how to dance, not the modern threshold of civilization.
But this idea is not new for me. I already found it in Lewis. In Voyage of the Dawn Treader, they meet a fallen star (the island of the Dufflepuds), a star, and the star's daughter (whom Caspian later marries). The star is beautiful, terribly old, but most important, he is alive. (Interestingly, Eustace says that in our world stars are merely balls of fiery gas, but the star corrects him and says that even in our world, stars are merely made of fiery gas, that is not their essence. I should not be surprised to find that Lewis thought there was more to our stars than meets the eye, although he never says this.) Further, events in Narnia are foreshadowed by the stars, in both Prince Caspian, and the Last Battle. In the Last Battle, the centaur tells us that while man may lie, the heavens never do. Once again, there is the idea that the stars are rational, moving by their own will, assembling according to their heavenly vision.
This brings me to the question, why don't I think that stars are rational? It is counter cultural. Our cultural mindset is different, we think that the stars are dead, Dante thought that they are alive. But that is a prejudice, not a true reason. We know what stars are, but to know what a think is made of is not necesarily to what it is. I am made of mostly water, but I am not water. We know that gravity keeps the stars going along their paths. But this is not really an answer, either. We know how gravity works, we understand the laws and the ratios, but this does not answer what gravity is. It may well be that it is simply the will of the star, which we can describe through certain mathematical equations, the same way we can describe a population, or a dance, with formulas. Stars move. But, a table also moves, as it moves with the earth. A table is not alive. It does not really move of itself, though, it only moves with the earth, as a sort of passenger. It passively moves, a star seems to actively move. Stars also have life cycles, being born, growing old, and dying. This is not necesary for life, after all, Dante did not think the stars were mortal, but also thought that they were alive, so does not seem to count either way in the argument. Stars do not reproduce, although stars are born, which seems to be a qualification of life.
In the end, I find that I am not terribly certain that Dante and Lewis were wrong. There seems to be something to this idea that the stars are living beings. Not quite enough, though, to make me certain, although enough to make me doubt when I look up at the constellations. Perhaps, just perhaps, the story is true, how glorious that would be.
Dante's Inferno ends suprisingly. It ends, not with a violent or upsetting image, but with the stars. It is a beautiful image, of hope and peace. It readies me for purgatory, and is, perhaps, the most moving image in the Inferno. Dante comes from hell into the cool night sky. But there is more to Dante's stars than a cursory glance tells. Dante doesn't think of stars in at all the same way that we do.
Stars are, to the modern, mindless balls of fiery gas. The heavens are empty. We look up into the night sky and feel terribly lonely, a small sphere of green in a great wasteland.
To the medieval mind, stars are the greatest corporeal being. They are not mindless, but beautiful beings. Looking up into the heavens, the stars are in a great dance. They move because they want to move, or in the greater words of the poet Dante, it is "love that moves the sun and other stars." They orbit in circles and spin in galaxies because they are taking part of the great cosmic dance that God has given them. Looking up at the heavens, the medievals are saddened because the earth is on the outskirts. We are the pagans who have forgotten how to dance, not the modern threshold of civilization.
But this idea is not new for me. I already found it in Lewis. In Voyage of the Dawn Treader, they meet a fallen star (the island of the Dufflepuds), a star, and the star's daughter (whom Caspian later marries). The star is beautiful, terribly old, but most important, he is alive. (Interestingly, Eustace says that in our world stars are merely balls of fiery gas, but the star corrects him and says that even in our world, stars are merely made of fiery gas, that is not their essence. I should not be surprised to find that Lewis thought there was more to our stars than meets the eye, although he never says this.) Further, events in Narnia are foreshadowed by the stars, in both Prince Caspian, and the Last Battle. In the Last Battle, the centaur tells us that while man may lie, the heavens never do. Once again, there is the idea that the stars are rational, moving by their own will, assembling according to their heavenly vision.
This brings me to the question, why don't I think that stars are rational? It is counter cultural. Our cultural mindset is different, we think that the stars are dead, Dante thought that they are alive. But that is a prejudice, not a true reason. We know what stars are, but to know what a think is made of is not necesarily to what it is. I am made of mostly water, but I am not water. We know that gravity keeps the stars going along their paths. But this is not really an answer, either. We know how gravity works, we understand the laws and the ratios, but this does not answer what gravity is. It may well be that it is simply the will of the star, which we can describe through certain mathematical equations, the same way we can describe a population, or a dance, with formulas. Stars move. But, a table also moves, as it moves with the earth. A table is not alive. It does not really move of itself, though, it only moves with the earth, as a sort of passenger. It passively moves, a star seems to actively move. Stars also have life cycles, being born, growing old, and dying. This is not necesary for life, after all, Dante did not think the stars were mortal, but also thought that they were alive, so does not seem to count either way in the argument. Stars do not reproduce, although stars are born, which seems to be a qualification of life.
In the end, I find that I am not terribly certain that Dante and Lewis were wrong. There seems to be something to this idea that the stars are living beings. Not quite enough, though, to make me certain, although enough to make me doubt when I look up at the constellations. Perhaps, just perhaps, the story is true, how glorious that would be.
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Date: 2006-03-05 04:51 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-03-05 09:07 am (UTC)