8 THE TERRESTRIAL AND CELESTIAL PARADISES

THE POLITICAL CONSTITUTION of medieval Christendom was, as we have said, essentially feudal; it found its consummation in a function that was truly supreme in the temporal order, that of the emperor, who was, with respect to the kings, what the kings were in turn to their vassals. It must be admitted however that this conception of the Holy Roman Empire remained somewhat theoretical and was never fully realized, doubtless through the fault of the emperors themselves, who, misled by the extent of the power conferred upon them, were the first to contest their subordination to the spiritual authority, from which however they held their power even more directly than did the other sovereigns.^[1] This came to be known later as the feud of the priesthood and the empire, and its diverse vicissitudes are well enough known that we need not recall them even summarily here, all the more so as the details are of little importance to our present purpose. What is more interesting is to understand what the emperor ought truly to have been and also what could have provoked the error that led him to mistake his relative supremacy for an absolute supremacy. The distinction between the papacy and the empire originated in a way from a division of powers that in ancient Rome were united in a single person, since during that period the Imperator was at the same time Pontifex Maximus;^[2] but we do not think that it is necessary in this special case to inquire how that union of the spiritual and the temporal is to be explained, for this would risk involving us in some rather complex considerations.^[3] The pope and the emperor were in any case certainly not the 'two halves of God' as Victor Hugo wrote but much more precisely the two halves of the Christ-Janus figure which certain representations depict holding a key in one hand and a scepter in the other, emblems respectively of the priestly and royal powers united in this figure as in their common principle.^[4] This symbolic assimilation of Christ with Janus as the supreme principle of the two powers is the very clear sign of a certain traditional continuity (too often ignored or deliberately denied) between ancient Rome and Christian Rome; and we must not forget that in the Middle Ages the empire was just as 'Roman' as the papacy. But this same figure also explains the error we just pointed out and which was to prove fatal for the empire: this error lies, in brief, in regarding as equivalent the two faces of Janus; these are indeed so in appearance but, when they represent both the spiritual and the temporal, cannot be so in reality. In other words, it is again the error of mistaking the relationship of the two powers for one of coordination, whereas it is really one of subordination, because once they are separated the one proceeds directly from the supreme principle while the other does so only indirectly, a point which, since it has been dealt with sufficiently above, we will not insist upon further here.

At the end of his treatise De Monarchia, Dante very clearly defines the respective powers of the pope and the emperor. The key passage is this:

Twofold, therefore, are the ends which unerring Providence has ordained for man: the bliss of this life, which consists in the functioning of his own powers, and which is typified by the earthly Paradise; and the bliss of eternal life, which consists in the enjoyment of that divine vision to which he cannot attain by his own powers, except they be aided by the divine light, and this state is made intelligible by the Celestial Paradise. These two states of bliss, like two different goals, man must reach by different ways. For we come to the first as we follow the philosophical teachings, applying them according to our moral and intellectual capacities [virtues]; and we come to the second as we follow the spiritual teachings which transcend human reason according to our theological capacities [virtues], Faith, Hope, and Charity. Though these two goals and their ways are made plain to us, the one by human reason, which as it is used by the philosophers makes all these things known to us, the other by the Holy Spirit, which through the prophets, through the holy writers, through Jesus Christ the Son of God co-eternal with the Spirit, and through his disciples, has revealed to us whatever supernatural truths we need, yet man's greed would keep them from us were not men like horses in their animal vagaries kept on the road by bit and rein. Thus the reins of man are held by a double driver according to man's twofold end; one is the supreme pontiff, who guides mankind with revelations to life eternal, and the other is the emperor, who guides mankind with philosophical instructions to temporal happiness. And since none or very few (and these with difficulty) can reach this goal, unless a free mankind enjoys the tranquility of peace and the waves of distracting greed are stilled, this must be the constant aim of him who guides the globe and whom we call Roman Prince, in order that on this threshing floor of life mortals may exist free and in peace. ^[5] This text calls for a number of explanations in order to be perfectly understood, for we cannot doubt that beneath a language purely theological in appearance are concealed much deeper truths, conforming moreover to the habits of its author and of the initiatic organizations to which he belonged. ^[6] On the other hand—let us note in passing—it is quite astonishing that the one who wrote these lines has sometimes been represented as an enemy of the papacy; he no doubt did, as we have already said, denounce the insufficiencies and imperfections he saw in the papacy of his day, and particularly the consequent, too ready recourse to purely temporal means of action, which hardly befitted the exercise of spiritual authority. But he knew enough not to impute to the institution itself the defects of the men who represented it temporally, something that modern individualism does not always know enough to do. ^[7] In light of our previous explanations it should not be difficult to see that the distinction Dante draws between the two ends of man corresponds very exactly to that between the 'lesser mysteries' and the 'greater mysteries', and consequently also to that between 'royal initiation' and 'sacerdotal initiation'. The emperor presides over the 'lesser mysteries', which correspond to the 'Terrestrial Paradise', that is to say the realization of the perfection of the human state;^[8] the sovereign pontiff presides over the 'greater mysteries', which concern the 'Celestial Paradise', that is, the realization of supra-human states, joined thus to the human state by the 'pontific' function, understood in its strictly etymological sense.^[9]

Man as man can himself obviously gain only the first of these two ends, which can be called 'natural', whereas the second is properly speaking 'supernatural' since it lies beyond the manifested world; and so this distinction is indeed that between the 'physical' and the 'metaphysical' orders. Here we see as clearly as possible how all the traditions are in agreement, whether of the East or the West. By defining the respective attributes of the Kshatriyas and the Brahmins as we did, we were quite justified not to see in them something applicable only to a certain form of civilization—that of India—since we find them again, defined in a rigorously identical form, in what was before the modern deviation the traditional civilization of the Western world.

Dante thus assigns to the emperor and to the pope, respectively, the functions of leading mankind to the 'Terrestrial Paradise' and to the 'Celestial Paradise', the first of these two functions being accomplished 'according to philosophy' ['with philosophical instructions to temporal happiness'] and the second 'according to revelation' ['with revelations to life eternal'], expressions that demand careful explanation. It goes without saying, of course, that 'philosophy' cannot be understood here in its ordinary and profane sense, for if it were it would be all too obviously incapable of playing the role assigned to it. To understand what is really involved we must restore to the word 'philosophy' its original significance as understood by the Pythagoreans, who were the first to use it.

As we have indicated elsewhere,^[10] this word, which etymologically signifies 'love of wisdom', designates first of all a prior disposition required for attaining wisdom, and by a natural enough extension of its meaning it can also designate the search, arising from this disposition, that will lead to true knowledge, so that philosophy is thus only a preliminary and preparatory stage, a step toward wisdom, just as the 'Terrestrial Paradise' is a stage on the way to the 'Celestial Paradise'. Understood thus, 'philosophy' could be called 'human wisdom' because it comprises the sum of all knowledge that can be attained by the faculties of the human individual alone, faculties that Dante synthesizes as reason, for it is this that truly defines man as such; but this 'human wisdom', precisely because it is only human, is not true wisdom, which, identified with metaphysical knowledge, is essentially supra-rational and thus also supra-human. And just as the path to the 'Celestial Paradise' departs earth from the 'Terrestrial Paradise' in order to _salire alle stelle_, as Dante puts it,^[11] that is, to ascend to the superior states (represented in astrological language by the planetary and stellar spheres, and in theological language by the angelical hierarchies), so in the case of all knowledge that surpasses the human state do the individual faculties become powerless and other means become necessary; and it is precisely here that 'revelation' intervenes, that is, a direct communication from the superior states, which is, as we have said, effectively established by the 'pontificate'. This 'revelation' is possible because of the existence of faculties transcendent with respect to the individual, and whatever may be the name one gives to them, whether one speaks for example of 'intellectual intuition' or of 'inspiration', it is always essentially the same thing. The first of these two terms may prompt us to think in one sense of the 'angelic' states, which in effect are identical with the supra-individual states of the being, and the second may evoke above all that action of the Holy Spirit to which Dante expressly alludes.^[12]

One might also say that what is inward inspiration to the one who receives it directly becomes outward revelation to the human collectivity for which it serves as the medium of transmission insofar as this is possible, that is to say within the limits of the expressible. We are, naturally, only summing up concisely and thus in perhaps too simplified a way matters that would be quite complex if they were fully developed, and that would moreover lead us far from our subject; in any case, what has been said suffices for our present purpose.

Understood in this way, 'revelation' and 'philosophy' correspond respectively to what Hindu doctrine calls _shruti_ and _smriti_.^[13] Here again it should be noted that we speak of correspondence and not of identity, the difference of traditional forms implying a real distinction between the points of view from which things are here envisaged. _Shruti_, which includes all the Vedic texts, is the fruit of direct inspiration, while _smriti_ includes all the consequences and diverse applications to be drawn from them by reflection; their relationship is in certain respects that of intuitive knowledge to discursive knowledge; and indeed, of these two modes of knowledge the first is supra-human and the second strictly human. Just as the domain of revelation is attributed to the papacy and that of philosophy to the empire, so also _shruti_ concerns the Brahmins more directly (the study of the Veda being their principal occupation) whereas _smriti_ (including the _Dharma-Shāstra_ or the 'Book of Law',^[14] that is to say the social application of the doctrine) concerns the Kshatriyas, for whom most of the books dealing with this application are especially intended. Shruti is the principle from which all the rest of the doctrine derives, and knowledge of it, implying that of the superior states, constitutes the 'greater mysteries'; knowledge of _smriti_ on the other hand—that is, of applications to the 'world of man' (understanding by this the integral human state considered in the full amplitude of its possibilities)—constitutes the 'lesser mysteries.'^[15] Shruti is direct light which, like pure intelligence (here equivalent to pure spirituality), corresponds to the sun; and _smriti_ is reflected light which, like memory, the name of which it bears (and which is the 'temporal' faculty by very definition), corresponds to the moon.^[16] This is why the key to the 'greater mysteries' is made of gold and that to the 'lesser mysteries' of silver, for gold and silver are alchemically exact equivalents to what the sun and the moon represent in the astrological order.

These two keys—those of Janus in ancient Rome—were one of the attributes of the sovereign pontiff, to whom the function of 'hierophant' or 'master of the mysteries' essentially belonged. Along with the very title Pontifex Maximus they have remained among the principal emblems of the papacy; and the words of the Gospel concerning the 'power of the keys' (as moreover for many other points) fully confirm the primordial tradition.

We can now understand even more completely than before why these two keys are at the same time those of spiritual and temporal books. We see this to be evidence of the special aptness of the religious form to peoples in whom the nature of the Kshatriya predominates, and also of the particular importance the social point of view assumes in that form, these two considerations moreover being quite closely linked.

power. The relationship between these two powers may be expressed by saying that the pope must keep for himself the golden key to the 'Celestial Paradise' and entrust to the emperor the silver key to the 'Terrestrial Paradise', and as we just saw, the symbolism of this second key is sometimes replaced by that of the scepter, the insignia belonging more particularly to royalty.^[17]

In the preceding reflections there is one point to which we must draw further attention in order to avoid even the appearance of a contradiction. We said on the one hand that metaphysical knowledge, which is true wisdom, is the principle from which all other knowledge derives as by application to contingent orders, and on the other hand that philosophy (in its original sense, designating the entire sum of contingent knowledge) must be considered as a preparation for wisdom; so then how can these two things be reconciled? We have already explained this in another study, in connection with the double role of the 'traditional sciences':^[18] it is a matter of points of view, one descending and the other ascending, the first corresponding to a development of knowledge starting from principles and leading to applications increasingly remote from them, and the second corresponding to a gradual acquisition of that same knowledge by proceeding from the inferior to the superior, or, if one prefers, from the exterior to the interior. This latter point of view corresponds, then, to the path by which men can be led to knowledge in a gradual manner proportioned to their intellectual capacities; and it is thus that they are led first to the 'Terrestrial Paradise' and then to the 'Celestial Paradise'. But this order of teaching or of communicating the 'sacred science' inverts that of its hierarchical constitution. Indeed, all knowledge that truly has the character of 'sacred science', of whatever order it may be, can only be validly established by those who fully possess principial knowledge and who by this very fact are alone qualified to realize, in conformity with the strictest traditional orthodoxy, all the adaptations required by circumstances of time and place. This is why these adaptations, if accomplished in a regular fashion, are necessarily the work of the priesthood, to whom principial knowledge belongs by definition; and this is also why the priesthood alone can legitimately confer 'royal initiation', by communicating the knowledge that con-stitutes it.One sees also that the two keys, considered as those of knowledge of the 'metaphysical' and of the 'physical' orders, really both belong to the sacerdotal authority, and that it is only by delegation so to speak that the second is entrusted to the holders of the royal power. In fact, when 'physical' knowledge is separated from its transcen-dent principle, it loses its primary raison d'être and is not long in becoming heterodox; and so it is then, as we have explained, that 'naturalist' doctrines appear, a result of the adulteration of 'tradi-tional sciences' by the rebel Kshatriyas. This is already a step on the way to 'profane science', which will be the special work of inferior castes and the sign of their domination in the intellectual order-if in such a case one can still speak of intellectuality at all. Here again, as in the political order, the revolt of the Kshatriyas prepares the way for that of the Vaishyas and the Shūdras; and so, from one stage to another, we descend at last to the lowest kind of utilitarianism, the negation of all disinterested knowledge (even of the lowest rank) and of all reality beyond the perceptible domain. This is pre-cisely what one witnesses in our own time, where the Western world has nearly arrived at the final stage of this descent which, like the fall of heavy bodies, keeps accelerating.There is another point in the text of De Monarchia that we have not yet elucidated and which is no less worthy of our attention than what we have thus far considered. It is the allusion to navigation made in the last sentence, using a symbolism that Dante moreover frequently employs.^[19] Among the emblems formerly attributed to Janus, the papacy has preserved not only the keys but also the barque-likewise attributed to Saint Peter-which has become the symbol of the Church.^[20] The 'Roman' character of the papacy necessitated this transmission of symbols, without which it would have represented a mere geographical fact that conveyed nothing real.^[21] Those who would see in this nothing but 'borrowings' for which to reproach Catholicism only display thereby a totally profane mentality; but we on the contrary see in this a proof of that traditional regularity without which no doctrine could be valid and which can be traced back step by step to the great primordial tradition; and we are certain that none of those who understand the profound meaning of these symbols would contradict us.The figure of navigation was often used in Greco-Latin antiquity; one could cite in particular the expedition of the Argonauts in quest of the 'golden fleece,^[22] the voyages of Ulysses, and also episodes from the works of Virgil and Ovid. One also encounters this image in India, sometimes framed by expressions strangely resembling those used by Dante, as in this passage from Shankarāchārya: 'The Yogi, having crossed the sea of passions, is united with tranquility and possesses the "Self" in plenitude.^[23] The 'sea of passions' is obviously the same as the 'waves of distracting greed', and in both texts it is similarly a question of 'tranquility', the symbolic voyage indeed representing the acquisition of the 'great peace.^[24] Moreover, this 'great peace' can be understood in two ways according to whether it refers to the 'Terrestrial Paradise' or to the 'Celestial Paradise', in the latter case being identified with the 'light of glory' and the 'beatific vision'^[25] while in the former case it represents 'peace' properly speaking, which has a more restricted sense but one still very different from the profane meaning. And it is noteworthy that Dante applies the same word 'bliss' to the two ends of man. The barque of Saint Peter is to convey men to the 'Celestial Paradise'; but if the role of the 'Roman Prince', that is the emperor, is to lead them to the 'Terrestrial Paradise', then this also implies a voyage.^[26] This is why the 'Holy Land' of the various traditions, which is none other than that 'Terrestrial Paradise', is often represented by an island: the goal assigned by Dante to 'him who guides the globe' is the realization of 'peace',^[27] and the port toward which he must direct mankind is the 'sacred island' that remains fixed in the midst of the incessant agitation of the waves, and that is the 'Mount of Salvation', the 'Sanctuary of Peace.^[28] We now bring our explanations of this symbolism to a close, feeling that its comprehension should no longer present any difficulties, at least insofar as it is necessary to understand the respective roles of the empire and the papacy; moreover, we could scarcely say any more on this subject without raising issues that we do not wish to broach just now. ^[29] In its deliberate conciseness this passage from De Monarchia represents, as far as we know, the clearest and the most complete exposition of the constitution of Christendom and of the way in which the relationships between the two powers were to be envisioned therein. One might doubtless wonder why such a conception has re-mained an ideal that was never to be realized; and it is strange that at the very time Dante formulated it events current in Europe were precisely such as to forever preclude its realization. Dante's corpus as a whole is in certain respects like a testament to the closing medi-eval age; it shows what the Western world would have been had it not broken from its tradition. But that the modern deviation did take place shows that this world really did not contain such possibil-ities, or at least that they were no more than the privilege of an already restricted elite that doubtless realized them to its own benefit, though without being able to pass them on to be reflected in the social organization. At this point we reach the moment in history when the darkest period of the ‘dark age' was to begin, ^[30] characterized in all orders by the development of the most inferior possibilities; and this develop-ment, ever advancing in the direction of change and multiplicity, was inevitably to result in what we see around us today. From the social point of view as from all others, instability is as it were at its maximum, disorder and confusion are everywhere, and humanity has surely never been further from the 'Terrestrial Paradise' and from primordial spirituality. Must we conclude that this alienation is final, that no stable and legitimate temporal power will ever again rule the earth, that all spiritual authority will disappear from this world, and that darkness, spreading from West to East, will forever hide the light of truth from men's eyes? If such were our conclusion, we would certainly not have written these pages, any more than we would have written any of our other works, for on such an hypothesis the effort entailed would have been futile. Our remaining task is to say why we do not think this is so.