Purgatorio (The Divine Comedy series Book 2)

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Purgatorio (The Divine Comedy series Book 2) Page 48

by Dante


  127–129. The fifth and final apostrophe is, naturally, of Florence herself, and is, naturally, dripping with sarcasm, reminiscent of the earlier apostrophe that opens Inferno XXVI, in which the city is asked to rejoice in her renown for having produced so many thieves who now disport themselves in hell. For the supposedly “digressive” nature of Dante’s remarks, see note to vv. 73–75. [return to English / Italian]

  135. The Florentine who shouts “I’ll take it on my shoulders” is not expressing his respect for civic virtue so much as masking his intention to promote himself to “where the action is” under the guise of humble service. [return to English / Italian]

  139–147. Dante’s sardonic streak is rarely more evident than in this passage, in which the founding Western civic entities in Greece are seen by contemporary Florentines as pale and vapid precursors of their great city’s version of political excellence. The Florentines are so good at governance, it seems, that they eschew any form of stability for rapid change, whether in their laws, coins, civic offices, political customs, and even citizenship, this last probably a reference to the sort of political act that banished the White Guelphs (including Dante) in 1302. [return to English / Italian]

  148–151. The obvious sarcasm of the preceding seven tercets in “praise” of Florence now yields to a devastating image of the city as wealthy invalid wife, which is possibly derived from Augustine’s Confessions (VI.16), as was perhaps first noted by Grandgent (1909). As Augustine nears conversion, at the very end of the sixth book, his soul still struggles to escape from God, to be free for “better” things; he describes its inner state as follows: “Whichever way it turned, on front or back or sides, it lay on a bed that was hard, for in you alone the soul can rest.” [return to English / Italian]

  PURGATORIO VII

  1–3. The “digression” that fills almost exactly half of the last canto now yields to the continuance of the narrative that had related the embrace between the two Mantuan poets at Purgatorio VI.75. The formulation “a third time and a fourth” is, as has often been noted, Virgilian; since Scartazzini (1900) the reference is noted as being potentially triple: Aeneid I.94; IV.589; Georgics I.410. And Virgil, having been buffeted so unkindly in these early cantos of Purgatorio, is about to have his innings. Sordello asks about the provenance of both these travelers; once Virgil identifies himself, the contemporary Mantuan poet completely loses track of Dante. But the ancient Mantuan poet does so as well. In all his discussion with Sordello (VI.67–VIII.45) he never once refers to Dante as the reason for his own journey—as we have become accustomed to his doing (see Purg. I.52–69; III.94–99; V.31–33). It will only be in the next canto (VIII.62) that Sordello will understand that Dante is a living man. [return to English / Italian]

  4–6. The reference to the redemption of sinners wrought by the Crucifixion seals Virgil’s sense of his own doom, his bones buried (19 B.C.) during the rule of Augustus (63 B.C.–A.D. 14), whose reign coincided with the birth of Jesus. [return to English / Italian]

  7. This is the sole occasion on which Virgil names himself in the Commedia (his name occurs thirty-one other times), thus answering in part Sordello’s questions at Purgatorio VI.70, concerning the homeland and identity of these two travelers, one of which Virgil had already answered (“Mantua” at VI.72). [return to English / Italian]

  8. To be without faith is to lack what is absolutely necessary in order to “win” salvation. The Anonimo Fiorentino cites St. Paul: “without faith it is impossible to be pleasing to God” (Hebrews 11:6), a passage explaining that Enoch was taken up alive into heaven because of his faith—as will be Dante soon, and as Virgil was not. [return to English / Italian]

  9–13. The simile, another instance of what Tozer calls “similes drawn from mental experience” (see note to Inf. XXX.136–141), investigates the enormous pleasure of Sordello at meeting Virgil, a scene that will be reformulated for the meeting of Statius and Virgil in Purgatorio XXI.124–136. Sordello’s humility in lowering his brows (“e poi chinò le ciglia”) is verbally reminiscent, if antithetically, of Farinata’s pride (Inf. X.35: “s’ergea col petto e con la fronte” [was rising, lifting chest and brow]) and Satan’s effrontery (Inf. XXXIV.35: “contra ’l suo fattore alzò le ciglia” [raised his brows against his Creator]). But it may also remind us of Virgil’s own lowered brows when he is so filled with shame at his failure to believe in Christ to come (Purg. III.44: “e qui chinò la fronte”). [return to English / Italian]

  15. A small squall of disagreement disturbs the sea of commentary on this verse: does Sordello embrace Virgil just beneath his armpits? at the level of his thighs? at his knees? while lying prostrate at his feet? All four of these solutions continue to be put forward into the late twentieth century, while many commentators have been content to suggest that it is impossible to know exactly where this embrace is aimed. Vandelli (1929) supports the most popular hypothesis: Sordello bends his knees slightly so as to embrace Virgil under his arms, where the figure of lesser authority embraces his superior. [return to English / Italian]

  16–18. Virgil, apostrophized by Sordello both as foremost among all Latin poets and as his greatest townsman, is here cast as the founder of all Romance poetry. The precise meaning of lingua nostra (our language) has been debated (see Mazzoni’s summary of the debate [Mazz.1977.2], p. 164), and includes a wide range of possibilities: all human vernacular; Latin alone; all poetry, vernacular and Latin; and vernacular that is specifically developed from Latin. This last seems the most acceptable reading, making Latin the “mother tongue” of the Romance vernacular poets, as would also seem to be the case at Purgatorio XXI.94–99. [return to English / Italian]

  21. Since Virgil has already (verse 8) confessed that he has “lost heaven,” Sordello must assume that he is in hell. For a reading that sees the implicit rebuke to Virgil in Sordello’s reference to his hellish situation see Picone (Pico.1998.1), pp. 65–66. [return to English / Italian]

  22–24. Virgil’s rejoinder rather surprisingly makes no reference to any reason for his being chosen for this journey; it is thus not surprising that Sordello believes his task is to guide Virgil, selected by God, to see these sacred precincts. Dante has become, temporarily, supernumerary. [return to English / Italian]

  25–27. In Purgatorio XXI.18, Virgil will make clear to Statius that he must return to hell. Here it is also clear that he considers Limbo his final resting place, but he says as much in ways that invite speculation as to his possible salvation, since he claims now to know God and to have been aided by Him in coming this far. The absence of reference to Virgil’s guidance of Dante allows Sordello to believe better of his townsman than the facts warrant. [return to English / Italian]

  28–36. The Roman poet puts the best possible face upon his presence in Limbo, attempting to establish a sort of “innocence by association,” as it were, with the unbaptized infants and the other virtuous pagans. [return to English / Italian]

  40. At least since 1340 and Pietro di Dante’s commentary it has been usual to cite Aeneid VI.673, “nulli certa domus” (no one has a preordained home), as a gloss on this verse. These are the words spoken by Musaeus to the Sibyl, who has asked where Anchises dwells, only to be told that he and the other virtuous souls live, free to roam, in the Elysian fields. Musaeus, like Sordello, offers to guide his charges up to see the assembled souls. This entire scene is closely modeled on that one. [return to English / Italian]

  44. Sordello seems to indicate that there is a law in ante-purgatory that prevents nocturnal movement upward. But see his further explantion, vv. 53–60. [return to English / Italian]

  46–48. Once again Sordello addresses only Virgil (and not Dante), and indeed, we can imagine, Virgil will enjoy seeing these Christian souls who are so reminiscent of his virtuous denizens of the Elysian fields. [return to English / Italian]

  49–51. Virgil, slow to understand the difference between external laws and inner will on this mountain, believes either that hellish demons would hin
der a nocturnal climber or that such a climber would, with nightfall, lose his ability to ambulate upward. [return to English / Italian]

  52–60. Sordello’s answer sets things straight: There are no external impediments and the inner will of the penitents makes them want to stay where they are, lest they wander to a lower station on the mountain, which would not be fitting. It seems that there would be no actual penalty for such behavior, but that no one would ever want to descend in any case. The “rule” of the mountain is more aesthetic than moral, since no harm can befall any of these saved souls. In this “club,” no one would want to behave in so churlish a fashion. [return to English / Italian]

  64–66. Sordello will lead them among the souls gathered in the place that has come to be known as the Valley of the Princes, not among the early commentators, but at least by the time of Andreoli (1856) and his commentary to Purgatorio IX.54. It furnishes a certain foretaste of the garden of Eden, the pilgrim’s eventual purgatorial destination. [return to English / Italian]

  73–78. Much has been written about these verses. Beginning with Sapegno (1955), commentators have suggested a source in a plazer (a lyric poem describing the beauties of a place, person, or object) by Guido Cavalcanti, “Biltà di donna,” verse 8: “Oro e argento, azzurro ’n ornamenti.” (For Dante’s earlier citation of this poem see note to Inf. XIV.30.) Dante is thus here understood to be joining the tradition of the plazer (cf. his own early poem, addressed to Cavalcanti, “Guido, i’ vorrei”) in describing this particular locus amoenus, the idealized “pleasant place” since the Greek idyllic poems of Theocritus in classical antiquity. On a closely related theme see Giamatti (Giam.1966.1). For consideration of the deep resonance of “Biltà di donna” in this passage see Pico.1998.1, pp. 70–72. Picone notes the way in which Dante’s description “outdoes” Guido’s by merit of its supernatural Christian content.

  For the emerald’s association with hope (and its presence in the rest of the poem) see Levavasseur (Leva.1957.1), pp. 59–66. For the medieval lapidaries that Dante might have known see Cioffari (Ciof.1991.1). [return to English / Italian]

  79–81. The supernatural nature of this place produces colors and odors that transcend, in their intensity and ability to give sensuous pleasure, their counterparts in the most exotic “normal” natural loci. [return to English / Italian]

  82–84. The souls of the princes of the world invoke the merciful Queen of Heaven, underscoring their present humility. The text of this Marian evening hymn includes the fitting verses “to you we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears.” Poletto (1894) noted the echo here of another part of the scene presided over by Musaeus in Aeneid VI.656–658: the souls seated in the Elysian fields who sing songs of praise in that fragrant place.

  For the association of the “Salve, Regina” with Compline see Heilbronn (Heil.1972.1), p. 50. [return to English / Italian]

  86. The poet’s diction reminds us of the fact that Virgil, the Mantuan, has temporarily been “demoted” in favor of Sordello. [return to English / Italian]

  87–90. Here, too, the Aeneid (VI.754–755) makes its presence felt, as Vellutello (1544) noted: Anchises stations himself on a higher vantage point (with Aeneas and the Sibyl) so as to be able to discern the faces of those moving toward him in the pageant of Rome. [return to English / Italian]

  91–94. For the structural and moral force of Sordello’s planh, or poem of lament, for the death of Blacatz reflected in Dante’s composition of the rest of this canto see Picone (Pico.1998.1), pp. 73–77.

  There are nine princes in the following “list,” all of them ticketed for paradise, as there were nine who were saved at the last moment in Cantos V and VI. Both these groups of late-repentant sinners, the first of whom have in common death by violence, are seen as active (as opposed to the lethargic in Canto IV) in their attachment to the world. Rudolph of Austria, the only emperor (1273–91) in this group, father of the Albert so vilified in Purgatorio VI.97–102, is, however, censured most for his neglect of his Italian subjects. Rudolph “was born in 1218, and was the eldest son of Albert IV, Count of Hapsburg, and the founder of the imperial house of Austria. He first served under Ottocar, King of Bohemia, in his German wars, but in 1272, as he was encamped before the walls of Basle, he received the news that he had been elected Emperor, in preference to Ottocar and to Alphonso of Castile. Ottocar refused to acknowledge him as Emperor, but Rudolf, supported by powerful allies, made war upon him and compelled him to sue for peace.… A few years later Ottocar again rebelled, and was finally defeated and slain near Vienna, Aug. 1278. Rudolf allowed Ottocar’s son, Wenceslaus, to succeed to the throne of Bohemia, but Austria, Styria, and Carniola he granted to his own sons, Albert and Rudolf” (T).

  Given the recorded behaviors of Rudolph (and of others in this group) it is surprising that Dante was willing to publish their salvations—or the fact that he even thought that they were saved. [return to English / Italian]

  95–96. Rudolph, had he served as he ought, might have spared Italy the divisions that occurred before 1291, culminating in the battle of Campaldino (1289), when Guelph supremacy solidified papal influence in Italian politics for a long time to come. The “wounds that have brought Italy to death” are most probably the ensuing disasters wrought by Boniface’s (and then Clement’s) political activities. Is Italy no longer capable of resuscitation? Will another leader’s efforts be too late or might they come in the nick of time? The text is again problematic (see note to Purg. VI.100–102), first as to whether or not Henry VII is referred to, second as to the precise meaning of tardi, which can mean, in this context, either “at the last moment” or “too late to succeed.” If, as many believe, this passage (1) was written in 1308–9 (along with Purg. VI.97–102), (2) refers to Henry VII, (3) uses tardi to mean “at the last moment,” everything falls into place: Dante, not yet convinced that Henry will be the vigorous Italophile that he becomes in 1310, only dubiously puts forward the notion that Henry’s election will have positive results. One proposing such an interpretation must admit that Dante, with only minor touches, could have revised both these passages in order to accommodate his post-1310 view of Henry. On the other hand, both at least allow the possibility of a more positive reading, and thus did not absolutely require such revision. And Dante’s enthusiasm would only last for a short while, in any case. By September 1313, in the wake of the death of Henry, the disheartened reading, found in Benvenuto’s commentary to these passages in Purgatorio VI and VII and in Paradiso XXX.133–138, would have become appropriate. [return to English / Italian]

  97–102. The following five figures were all kings rather than emperors, beginning with Ottokar of Bohemia (1253–78), who was in fact killed by Rudolph in 1278. Just as Rudolph, for all his faults, is presented as saved, while his son Albert seems clearly not to be, so is Ottokar exalted while his son, Wenceslaus, is apparently headed for the second circle of hell (or lower).

  Singleton points out that in the Elysian fields former enemies are also reunited in peace (Aen. VI.824–827). [return to English / Italian]

  103–111. Philip III (the Bold) of France (1270–85) is seen in colloquy with Henry I of Navarre (1270–74), to whom he was related by marriage (his son, Philip IV [the Fair], “the plague of France,” was married to Henry’s daughter Juana). While Philip IV is also clearly referred to several other times in the poem, generally with bitter sarcasm (e.g., Inf. XIX.87; Purg. XX.91; Purg. XXXII.152–160 and XXXIII.45; Par. XIX.120), he is never named. [return to English / Italian]

 

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