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“Nothing can please our ears or soothe our minds more than music.” Fine houses, pictures, orchards, gardens and fields, a fine hawk or a fine horse are most welcome to us. Whatever pleases our eyes and ears we call beautiful and fair. “Pleasure belongs to the other senses, but grace and beauty to these two alone.” As the objects vary and differ, so they affect our eyes, ears and soul itself in different ways.
This leads some to distinguish as many kinds of love as there are objects. One beauty arises from God; on this and on divine love Saint Dionysius, many Church Fathers and more recent writers have written whole volumes—On the Love of God, as they call them—and many works of exhortation. Another arises from his creatures. There is beauty of the body, beauty of the soul and beauty arising from virtue, “the beauty of the martyrs,” Augustine calls it, “which we see with the eyes of the mind”: which we see with our mind’s eyes. This beauty, Cicero says, if we could perceive it with our bodily eyes, “would awaken wondrous love for itself”: it would arouse wonderful affections and transport our souls.
This other beauty, arising from outward parts, and the graces proceeding from the gestures, speech, various movements and proportions of creatures, of men and women—especially women, which made the ancient poets always place the three Graces in Venus’s company, attending her and holding up her train—are almost infinite. The loves they arouse take different names from their objects: love of money, covetousness; love of beauty, lust; immoderate desire for any pleasure, concupiscence; friendship, love, goodwill, and so on. Love is either virtue or vice, honourable or dishonourable, excessive or deficient, as will be shown in its place: heroic love, religious love, and so forth.
These may be reduced to two divisions according to the principal organs affected, the brain and liver: “love and friendship.” Scaliger in Exercise 301, Valesius and Melanchthon support this distinction from Plato’s “to love as a friend” and “to love erotically,” presumably from Pausanias’s speech, which makes two Venuses and two loves.
“One Venus is ancient, without a mother, and descended from heaven; we call her celestial. The younger was begotten by Jupiter and Dione, and is the one we commonly call Venus.” Ficino, commenting on this passage in chapter 8 and following Plato, calls these two loves two spirits—or, in our terms, good and bad angels—continually hovering about our souls.
“One raises us to heaven; the other casts us down to hell. The good one stirs us to contemplate that divine beauty for whose sake we practise justice, perform all godly duties and study philosophy. The other is lower and, though bad, still deserves regard; for in fact both are good in their own natures. Begetting children is as necessary as discovering truth. It is called bad because it is misused and draws our soul away from contemplation of the other towards baser objects.” So far Ficino.
Saint Augustine, in book 15 of The City of God and his exposition of Psalm 64, says much the same. “Every creature is good, and may be loved well or badly.” And “two cities make two loves: Jerusalem and Babylon, one the love of God, the other the love of the world. We all belong to one of these two cities, and by examining ourselves we may soon discover which.” One love is the root of all evil, the other of all good.
Likewise, in chapter 15 of his book On the Love of the Church, he takes the four cardinal virtues to be nothing but love rightly ordered. In The City of God, book 15, chapter 22, he calls virtue the order of love. Thomas follows him in the First Part of the Second Part, question 55, article 1; question 56, article 3; and question 62, article 2, confirming and explaining this at length.
Lucian makes a similar division of his own: “One love was born in the sea, and is as changeable and raging in young men’s hearts as the sea itself, causing burning lust. The other is that golden chain let down from heaven, which with divine rapture transports our souls, made in God’s image, and stirs us to comprehend the innate and incorruptible beauty in which we were originally created.” Beroaldus expresses all this in one of his epigrams:
If the teachings of divine Plato tell the truth, There are twin Venuses, and love is doubled. The heavenly Venus was born of no parent; She binds holy men in chaste love. But the other Venus is spread throughout the world, Binding the minds of gods and mortals: Wicked, seductive, wanton, and so forth.
If divine Plato’s teachings are true, There are two Venuses, two loves. One is from heaven, always unbegotten, And binds our souls in unity. The other, known throughout the world, Binds the hearts of gods and men. Wicked, wanton and seductive, She rules whom she will, wherever and whenever.
Origen likewise follows this twofold division of love in his commentary on the Song of Songs: one comes from God, the other, he holds, from the Devil—taking the term in its worst sense. Many others repeat and follow this distinction. Both kinds, to omit all subdivisions, cause a particular kind of melancholy through excess or deficiency, when they are misused or degenerate, as will be shown in the appropriate place.
In another treatise Augustine divides this love, which we may use well or badly, into three: “God, our neighbour and the world: God above us, our neighbour beside us, the world beneath us. In the course of our desires, God has three relations, the world one, our neighbour two. Our desire for God proceeds either from God, with God or towards God, and this is its proper course. It proceeds from God when it receives from him the means and reason for loving him; with God when it contradicts his will in nothing; towards God when it seeks and finds its rest in him.”