The Inferno (The Divine Comedy series Book 1)

by Dante

  81

  sì che ’n inferno i’ credea tornar anche.

  “Attienti ben, ché per cotali scale,”

  disse ’l maestro, ansando com’ uom lasso,

  84

  “conviensi dipartir da tanto male.”

  Poi uscì fuor per lo fóro d’un sasso

  e puose me in su l’orlo a sedere;

  87

  appresso porse a me l’accorto passo.

  Io levai li occhi e credetti vedere

  Lucifero com’ io l’avea lasciato,

  90

  e vidili le gambe in sù tenere;

  e s’io divenni allora travagliato,

  la gente grossa il pensi, che non vede

  93

  qual è quel punto ch’io avea passato.

  “Lèvati sù,” disse ’l maestro, “in piede: →

  la via è lunga e ’l cammino è malvagio,

  96

  e già il sole a mezza terza riede.”

  Non era camminata di palagio →

  là ’v’ eravam, ma natural burella

  99

  ch’avea mal suolo e di lume disagio.

  “Prima ch’io de l’abisso mi divella,

  maestro mio,” diss’ io quando fui dritto,

  102

  “a trarmi d’erro un poco mi favella:

  ov’ è la ghiaccia? e questi com’ è fitto

  sì sottosopra? e come, in sì poc’ ora,

  105

  da sera a mane ha fatto il sol tragitto?”

  Ed elli a me: “Tu imagini ancora

  d’esser di là dal centro, ov’ io mi presi

  108

  al pel del vermo reo che ’l mondo fóra.

  Di là fosti cotanto quant’ io scesi;

  quand’ io mi volsi, tu passasti ’l punto

  111

  al qual si traggon d’ogne parte i pesi.

  E se’ or sotto l’emisperio giunto

  ch’è contraposto a quel che la gran secca

  114

  coverchia, e sotto ’l cui colmo consunto

  fu l’uom che nacque e visse sanza pecca;

  tu haï i piedi in su picciola spera

  117

  che l’altra faccia fa de la Giudecca.

  Qui è da man, quando di là è sera;

  e questi, che ne fé scala col pelo,

  120

  fitto è ancora sì come prim’ era.

  Da questa parte cadde giù dal cielo; →

  e la terra, che pria di qua si sporse,

  123

  per paura di lui fé del mar velo,

  e venne a l’emisperio nostro; e forse

  per fuggir lui lasciò qui loco vòto

  126

  quella ch’appar di qua, e sù ricorse.”

  Luogo è là giù da Belzebù remoto →

  tanto quanto la tomba si distende,

  129

  che non per vista, ma per suono è noto

  d’un ruscelletto che quivi discende

  per la buca d’un sasso, ch’elli ha roso,

  132

  col corso ch’elli avvolge, e poco pende.

  Lo duca e io per quel cammino ascoso →

  intrammo a ritornar nel chiaro mondo;

  135

  e sanza cura aver d’alcun riposo,

  salimmo sù, el primo e io secondo,

  tanto ch’i’ vidi de le cose belle

  che porta ’l ciel, per un pertugio tondo.

  139

  E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle. →

  Notes

  INFERNO I

  1. The first of the 14,233 lines that constitute the Comedy immediately establishes a context for the poem that is both universal and particular. It also immediately compels a reader to realize that this is a difficult work, one that may not be read passively, but calls for the reader’s active engagement.

  Many commentators have pointed out that this opening verse echoes a biblical text, Isaiah’s account of the words of Hezekiah, afflicted by the “sickness unto death” (Isaiah 38:10): “in dimidio dierum meorum vadam ad portas inferi” (in the midst of my days, I shall go to the gates of the nether region). Many another potential “source” has found proponents, but this one is so apposite that it has probably received more attention than any other. One other should also be mentioned here, the Tesoretto of Brunetto Latini (see note to Inf. XV.50). Another tradition holds that the reference is to the age of Dante when he made his voyage (he was thirty-five years old in 1300, half of the biblical “three score and ten”—Psalms 89:10). In addition, some commentators have noted the resonance of the epic tradition in Dante’s opening phrase, since epics were seen as beginning, like this poem, in medias res, “in the midst of the action,” not at its inception.

  Related issues are also debated by the earliest commentators, in particular the date of the vision. While there has been disagreement even about the year of the journey to the otherworld, indicated at various points as being 1300 (e.g., Inf. X.79–80, XXI.113, Purg. II.98, XXXII.2), it is clear that Dante has set his work in the Jubilee Year, proclaimed by Pope Boniface VIII in February of 1300. Far more uncertainty attends the question of the actual days indicated. Dante’s descent into hell is begun either on Friday, 25 March or on Friday, 8 April, with the conclusion of the journey occurring almost exactly one week later. In favor of the March date, one can argue that Dante could hardly have chosen a more propitious date for a beginning: March 25 was the anniversary of the creation of Adam, of the conception and of the Crucifixion of Christ, and also marked the Florentine “New Year,” since that city measured the year from the Annunciation. [return to English / Italian]

  2. mi ritrovai (I came to myself) has the sense of a sudden shocked discovery. “It is the pained amazement of one who has only now, for the first time, become aware that he is in peril” (Padoan, comm. to Inf. I.2).

  The grammatical solecism (“Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita / mi ritrovai” [Midway in the journey of our life I came to myself…]), mixing plural and singular first-persons, is another sign of the poet’s desire to make his reader grasp the relation between the individual and the universal, between Dante and all humankind. His voyage is meant to be understood as ours as well.

  The selva oscura is one of the governing images of this canto and of the poem. Many commentators point to the previous metaphorical statement found in the Dantean work that is probably nearest in time to it, the fourth treatise of his Convivio (Conv. IV.xxiv.12), where the author refers to “la selva erronea di questa vita” (the error-filled wood of this life). But here the wood is to be taken “historically” in at least a certain sense, and seems to reflect, to some readers, the condition of Eden after the Fall. In such a reading, Dante’s sinful life is as though lived in the ruins of Eden, the place to which he has let himself be led, away from the light of God. In any case, the wood indicates not sin itself, but human life lived in the condition of sin. [return to English / Italian]

  3. See Wisdom 5:7: “Lassati sumus in via iniquitate et perditionis, et ambulavimus vias difficiles; viam autem Domini ignoravimus” (We grew weary in the way of iniquity and perdition, and we walked difficult pathways; to the way of the Lord, however, we paid no attention)—perhaps first noted in Padoan’s commentary to this verse. [return to English / Italian]

  7. Perhaps the first serious interpretive tangle for readers of the poem. The problem is a simple one to describe: what is the antecedent of the implicit subject of the verb è (“It is so bitter …”)? There are three feminine nouns that may have that role, since the predicate adjective, amara (bitter), is also in the feminine: cosa dura (hard thing, v. 4), selva (wood, v. 5), paura (fear, v. 6). Several current commentators are convinced that selva is the antecedent. On the other hand, it seems likely that the antecedent is the phrase cosa dura (as in Castelvetro’s commentary). The entire passage makes good sense when read this way. To tell of his experience in the dark and savage wood is difficult (vv. 4–6) and so bitter that only dying
seems more bitter; but, in order to treat of the better things he found in the wood, he will speak. [return to English / Italian]

  8–9. These innocent-sounding lines have been the cause of considerable puzzlement. What is “the good” that Dante found? What are the “other things”? It may be that these terms are in antithetic relation. Over five hundred years ago Filippo Villani (Bell.1989.1, p. 93) offered this gloss: “de bonis et malis in silva repertis” (of the good and the bad found in the forest). Following this line of interpretation yields the following general sense of the passage: “Even in the depths of my sin I found God in terrible things.” And thus the ben is not here Virgil (as many commentators suggest despite the fact that Virgil does not appear to Dante in the forest), but God’s grace in allowing Dante to learn of His goodness even in his worst experiences. [return to English / Italian]

  11. pien di sonno. The date is Thursday, 24 March (or 7 April?) 1300. As the text will later make clear (Inf. XXI.112–114), we are observing the 1266th anniversary of Good Friday (which fell on 8 April in 1300 [but see note to v. 1, above]). This would indicate that the poem actually begins on Thursday evening, the 1266th anniversary of Maundy Thursday, when the Apostles slept while Christ watched in the garden, and continued to sleep even as He called to them to rise. That this moment is recalled here seems likely: Dante, too, is “asleep” to Christ in his descent into sin. See Matth. 26:40–46. [return to English / Italian]

  13. The colle (hill) is generally interpreted as signifying the good life attainable by humankind under its own powers; some, however, believe it has a higher and spiritual meaning, involving salvation. For discussion and strong support for the first reading, based in texts of Aristotle, Brunetto Latini, and Dante himself (esp. Mon. III.xvi.7: beatitudo huius vitae [the blessedness of this life]), see Mazz.1967.1, pp. 58–60. [return to English / Italian]

  14. valle (valley): another key word in this landscape. Dante’s descent into the valley where the selva is located marks a major moral failure and brings him close to death. [return to English / Italian]

  15. paura (fear), as many have pointed out, is perhaps the key word, in the beginning of the poem, that describes Dante’s perilous inner condition. It occurs five times in the canto: at vv. 6; here; 19; 44; 53. [return to English / Italian]

  17. pianeta: the rays of the sun are meant. [return to English / Italian]

  18. altrui (others): all those who walk in the ways of the Lord. [return to English / Italian]

  20. For Boccaccio, this “lake” or “concavity” in the heart is the place to which our emotions flow; he goes on to mention fear as the exemplary emotion, thus giving Dante’s verse a “medical” explanation. [return to English / Italian]

  22–27. This is the first simile in a poem filled with similes, as many as four hundred of them. Here, in response to the first of these, it is perhaps helpful to observe that “similes” in Dante are varied, and possibly fall into three rough categories: “classical” similes, like this one, perfectly balanced and grammatically correct; “improper classical” similes, which are similarly balanced but not expressed with grammatical precision; and simple comparisons, brief and unembellished. For a study in English of the Dantean simile see Lans.1977.1; for bibliography see Sowe.1983.1.

  This simile probably takes its setting from the Aeneid (I.180–181), the scene of Aeneas’s shipwreck on the coast of Carthage, and begins a series of linking allusions to the narrative of the first book of that poem that run through Inferno I and II. Dante begins his role as protagonist in this “epic” as the “new Aeneas”; his first words as speaker will later suggest that he is the “new David” as well (v. 65). [return to English / Italian]

  26–27. A much-disputed passage. Almost all commentators equate the passo with the selva (see note to v. 2, above). The debate centers on whether the relative pronoun che is objective or subjective, i.e., do we say “the pass that never let a mortal being go alive” or “the pass no mortal being ever left behind”? Mazzoni (Mazz.1967.1, pp. 79–86) offers convincing evidence for the second reading, on the basis of Dante’s elsewise constant use of the verb lasciare in this way (to mean “abandon,” “leave behind”). We have followed Mazzoni in our translation.

  Dante’s verse may reflect one of the first vernacular poems in Italian, the “Laudes creaturarum” of St. Francis, vv. 27–28: “Laudato si’, mi’ Signore, per sora nostra morte corporale, / de la quale nullu homo vivente pò skappare” (Blessed be thou, my Lord, for our sister mortal death, from whom no living man can escape). Whether or not this is the case (and we might consider a second possible citation of Francis’s poem in v. 117—see note to that verse, below), the meaning would seem to be that Dante’s extraordinary voyage into the afterworld will uniquely separate him, if only temporarily, from the world of the living while he is still alive. [return to English / Italian]

  30. It seems likely that the words are meant both literally and figuratively: Dante, sorely beset by his fatigue and probably by his fear as well, is inching up the slope toward the hill by planting his bottom foot firm and pushing off it to advance the higher one. As Filippo Villani was first to note, there is a Christian tradition for such a difficult progress toward one’s goal, found precisely in St. Augustine, who for a long time remained a catechumen before he chose his life in Christ (Bell.1989.1, p. 109). John Freccero formed a similar opinion. According to his article “Dante’s Firm Foot and the Journey without a Guide” (1959, reprinted in Frec.1986.1), Dante moves forward with the right foot, representing intellect, supported by the left foot, representing will. Freccero goes on to show that the resultant figuration is one of homo claudus, a limping man, wounded in both his feet by Adam’s sin. [return to English / Italian]

  32–54. The lonza (a hybrid born of leopard and lion) is the first of the three beasts to move against Dante as he attempts to mount the hill. Commentators frequently point to a biblical source for Dante’s three beasts, the passage in Jeremiah (5:6) that describes three wild animals (lion, wolf, and “pard” [a leopard or panther]) that will fall upon Jerusalemites because of their transgressions and backsliding. For an extensive review of the problem see Gaetano Ragonese, “fiera,” ED (vol. 2, 1970, with bibliography through 1969).

  The early commentators are strikingly in accord; for them the beasts signify (1) three of the seven mortal sins: lust, pride, and avarice. Modern interpreters mainly—but not entirely, as we shall see—reject this formulation. One of these interpretations is based on Inferno VI. 75, the three “sparks” that have lit evil fires in the hearts of contemporary Florentines, according to Ciacco, who is seconded by Brunetto Latini [Inf. XV. 68]): (2) envy, pride, and avarice. Others suggest that the key is found at Inferno XI. 81–82, where, describing the organization of the punishment of sin, Virgil speaks of (3) “the three dispositions Heaven opposes, incontinence, malice, and mad brutishness.” Even within this approach there are strong disagreements as to which beast represents which Aristote-lian/Ciceronian category of sin: is the leopard fraud or incontinence? is the she-wolf incontinence or fraud? (the lion is seen by all those of this “school” as violence). For instance, some have asked, if the leopard is fraud, the worst of the three dispositions to sin, why is it the beast that troubles Dante the least? A possible answer is that fraud is the disposition least present in Dante.

  Perhaps the single passage in the text of Inferno that identifies one of the three beasts in such a way as to leave little doubt about its referentiality occurs in XVI. 106–108, where Dante tells us that he was wearing a cord that he once used in his attempt to capture the beast with “the painted pelt.” That this cord is used as a challenge to Geryon, the guardian of the pit of Fraud, makes it seem nearly necessary that in this passage the leopard is meant to signify Fraud. If that is true, it would seem also necessary that the lion would stand for Violence and the she-wolf for Incontinence. The last formulation is the trickiest to support. The she-wolf is mainly associated, in the poem, not so much with Incontinence as with
avarice (e.g., Purg. XX. 10–15). Thus Dante presents himself as most firm against Fraud, less firm against Violence, and weak when confronted by Incontinence. In his case the sin of Incontinence that afflicts him most is lust, not avarice.

  There are few passages in the poem that have generated as much discussion and as little common understanding. Now see Gorni’s extended discussion (Gorn. 1995.1, pp. 23–55).

  The formulation of the early commentators ([1] lust, pride, and avarice) has had a resurgence in our time. It would certainly be pleasing to have reason to assent to their nearly unanimous understanding. Mazzoni (Mazz. 1967.1. pp. 99–102) has given, basing his argument on texts found in the Bible and in the writings of the Fathers and Doctors of the Church, good reason for returning to this view. If it were not for Inferno XVI. 106–108, it would be a fairly convincing argument. However, that passage seems unalterably to associate Geryon with the lonza.

  It should also be noted that a number of still other modern interpreters have proposed various political identities for the three beasts, perhaps the most popular being (4) the leopard as Dante’s Florentine enemies, the lion as the royal house of France, the she-wolf as the forces of the papacy. It is difficult to align such a view with the details in the text, which seem surely to be pointing to a moral rather than a political view of the situation of the protagonist as the poem begins.

  For an extended discussion of the problem in English see Cassell (Cass. 1989.2), pp. 45–76. [return to English / Italian]

  33. di pel macolato … coverta (covered with a spotted pelt). For the resonance of the Aeneid (Aen. I.323), see the phrase maculosae tegmine lyncis (the spotted hide of the lynx), first noted by Pietro Alighieri (first redaction of commentary to Inf. I.33). [return to English / Italian]