Purgatorio (The Divine Comedy series Book 2)

by Dante

  103–105. Vickers (Vick.1983.1), pp. 80–81, discusses Benvenuto’s connecting the historiated walls of Carthage, with their account of the fall of Troy in Aeneid I.453–495, and this scene, and then goes on to suggest that “Aeneas is rapt in the esthetic experience and weeps; Dante the pilgrim is rapt and delights. The one reads defeat (emptiness); the other triumphs (fullness).” [return to English / Italian]

  106–111. Dante’s third address to us, his readers, is an appeal that we accept the necessity of treatment for our ills before we are eventually free of them. Since the “punishments” of the saved do not seem, at first blush, all that much more pleasant than the pains of the damned, the poet wishes to emphasize the great gulf that separates them: those in hell are eternal; these here are time-bound and will cease at least by the Day of Judgment. [return to English / Italian]

  112–120. This passage has caused much discussion but is in fact not as difficult as it has been made to seem. The purpose of the entire passage is to get Dante to understand that what he is looking at is human and not merely a procession of mobile rocks. Virgil says he, too, had trouble making this fact out at first, but eventually could see that there were beings moving beneath the rocks. A single gesture makes this clear: they beat their breasts. And it is a gesture that accords with the penitential feelings of the penitent prideful, as Moore (Moor.1896.1), p. 49, clearly pointed out, citing Luke 18:13, where the publican beats his breast in humility. [return to English / Italian]

  121–129. The poet’s second apostrophe of the canto (see vv. 106–111 for the first) is not, strictly speaking, an address to the reader but rather a castigation of all those Christians (and thus, one would expect, not all his readers) who have turned away from God.

  One of the most celebrated metaphors of the poem, the “angelic butterfly” that each of us has as a potential destiny, is what most of us will not become. [return to English / Italian]

  128. While God wills that we, caterpillars that we are, become butterflies, Heaven-bound souls, we choose to be even less than those worms that are capable of that transformation, and have bent our wills to be such. As commentators have shown, antomata is Dante’s version of Aristotle’s creatures born, not of other creatures, but of the putrefaction of vegetable matter, as when the sun beats down on the mud—see De generatione animalium III.1, as cited by Benvenuto. See also Aristotle’s Historia animalium V.19, as cited by Pasquini/Quaglio (1982), where Aristotle distinguishes, as Dante does here, between worms that can turn into butterflies and those, defective, which cannot. The meaning clearly seems to be that we are born worms, but turn ourselves into still lesser beings, formally imperfect worms, as though we had not been bred by creatures with rational souls. Benvenuto concludes by quoting Job (but actually the Psalms: 21:7 [22:6]): “Vermis sum ego et non homo” (I am a worm, not a man—Benvenuto may have conflated that passage with Job 25:6). [return to English / Italian]

  130–135. In a canto so concerned with art, and highly mimetic art in particular, it seems only natural that the poet would have wanted to conclude with a simile, one of this artisan’s specialties. We may be surprised to realize that this is the first one in this canto, that we have not seen one since well back in the last canto (Purg. IX.34–42). A corbel is a sculpted human figure, often crudely realistic, and thus part of the low-mimetic tradition, used to decorate the element that joins a weight-bearing column to the roof- or floor-beam that it supports.

  The notion that an artifact can be so “realistic” that, although it is not real, but a fiction, as it were, it can cause an observer real distress, continues the mimetic concern so evident in this canto and also stands as a sort of emblem of the poem as a whole, with its insistence on its literal truth dizzyingly countered by its less evident but clear admission that it is in fact invented by a poet, if one who will only write fictions that seem (and claim) to be utterly true. For discussion of this passage in this light see Barolini (Baro.1992.1), pp. 125–26. [return to English / Italian]

  136–137. We learn that, just as in hell there were sinners punished in differing degrees for the same sin, so in purging themselves penitents also reflect the degree of their former sinfulness. [return to English / Italian]

  138. A small but continuing dispute in the commentaries debates whether pazïenza should be interpreted as “suffering” or “patience.” Philologically there is probably no advantage to either solution. However, poetic logic points to a simple explanation (one shared by the vast majority of the commentators): what we face here is a relation of paradox rather than similarity. Even the most stoical of the sinners seemed to be expressing the thought (another case of “speech made visible”) “I can no more.” Of course the one who suffered most would be saying such a thing; that would not be worth mentioning. The point is that even the penitent least crushed by the weight of his former pride is suffering as much as one can possibly suffer.

  Gerard Manley Hopkins offered, whether he wished to or not, a perfectly Dantean gloss to this verse. In his “terrible sonnet” named “Carrion Comfort” by Robert Bridges, Hopkins, more likely citing Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleopatra (IV.xv.59) than Dante, has his speaking voice cry out, “Not, I’ll not … cry I can no more. I can.” While Antony says “I can no more” and dies, Hopkins’s persona does not give in to despair and continues to strive toward God. Here, the penitents all seem to insist that they are at the end of their strength, yet all continue on the road toward making restitution to God by giving satisfaction for their sins and thus obtain their final absolution. [return to English / Italian]

  PURGATORIO XI

  1–24. As Singleton points out in his gloss to this passage, this is the only complete prayer recited in the entire poem. And, as Bosco/Reggio point out, the three forms of expiation that are found on every terrace are prayer, suffering, and meditation (on examples of the vice’s opposing virtue and on the vice itself). In this way the penitents attempt to accomplish their “satisfaction” (see note to vv. 70–72) before God for each particular offense into which they have fallen. (It will eventually become clear [e.g., Purg. XXIII.90] that not every sinner must purge every sin, although it is certainly possible that any given sinner would have sinned not only intrinsically but in fact in all seven categories.)

  Dante’s version of the Lord’s Prayer (Matthew 6:9–13; Luke 11:2–4) is, as examination of the Vulgate reveals, an amalgam of the two passages, adapted so as to be particularly fit for the souls of those who are in essence saved but needful of purgation (as is made clear by vv. 22–24). It is clear that Dante is siding with those who have been involved in the vernacularization of the Bible, an activity fraught with danger in the late Middle Ages and early Renaissance. (The questions of the text of the Bible known to Dante and of his access to that text remain vital—and unanswered [see Angelo Penna, “Bibbia,” ED 1 (1970), pp. 626–27].) [return to English / Italian]

  4–6. Giacalone (1968) was perhaps the first Italian commentator to point out that Dante’s phrasing here (“laudato sia” [let your name be praised]…“da ogne creatura” [by every creature]) is not a translation from the Gospels but rather reflects the refrain of Francis of Assisi’s Laudes creaturarum. For possible earlier citations by Dante of Francis’s poem see note to Inferno I.26–27.

  There is debate as to whether or not the Father is addressed as the Trinity or as Himself. Those who take the former position have apparent support in the word vapore (breath), which is often the sign of the Holy Spirit. Here, as some commentators, beginning with Lombardi (1791), believe, Dante is thinking along the lines found in Wisdom 7:25, where wisdom is described as “vapor … virtutis Dei” (aura of the power of God). Since the prayer is, indeed, the Paternoster, it is only natural that it be addressed to the Father, with whatever (inevitable) trinitarian overtones. [return to English / Italian]

  11. According to St. Augustine (De doctrina II.xi), osanna and other Hebrew words of exclamation are never translated in the Latin Bible. (See Isidore of Seville on the untra
nslatability of interjections in the note to Purg. XXX.21.) This is the Hebrew word, used for a cry of joyful praise, most present in the Commedia, found a total of seven times. [return to English / Italian]

  13–15. We have heard (Purg. VII.58–60) that even souls in grace are capable of going downward and, while knowing that they will not as a result be “unsaved,” nonetheless simply do not wish to move in a retrograde direction. Here the penitents of pride express a similar desire. [return to English / Italian]

  19–24. This last part of the adaptation is sung on behalf of earthly sinners, since those already on the mountain can no longer be overcome by Satan, as their earthly brethren all too easily are. [return to English / Italian]

  25. It is fair to say that no one is certain what the root of the word ramogna (translated here as “safe haven”) is or what it really means (see Porena [Pore.1947.1] and the entry for the word in ED IV [1973], pp. 848–49). The early commentators mainly believed it meant a good journey, but on what authority one does not know. A plurality of modern commentators believe it means “good wishes,” but it seems strange to argue that the souls are praying for good wishes, for that would come close to being a mere tautology. Our translation offers a variant of the earlier understanding. [return to English / Italian]

  27. The brief comparison equates the rocks carried by the penitents and our dreams of the incubus. The Codice cassinese (1350?) cites Virgil (Aen. XII.908–12) as an example of dreaming of suffocation under an enormous weight. [return to English / Italian]

  28. The souls are “unequally distressed” because they carry variously weighted burdens. [return to English / Italian]

  31–36. This is, as it were, an indirect address to the reader, hoping that all of us “whose wills have roots in good” will pray for these penitents as they indeed pray for us. [return to English / Italian]

  37–45. Virgil’s single speech in this canto begins with a reprise of Trajan’s climactic declaration of his willingness to help the widow, “giustizia vuole e pietà mi ritene” (justice wills it and compassion bids me stay), at Purgatorio X.93. It is as though Virgil, remembering the “visible speech” from the representation of Trajan’s humility, had assumed these words worked wonders on Christian hearts, and now puts giustizia and pietà (found in the same verse only in these two scenes) to work on his and Dante’s behalf. [return to English / Italian]

  46–48. The source of the words heard by the travelers is necessarily obscure, since the faces of all these souls are obscured by the rocks that they bear upon their backs. At the same time it is morally appropriate that a penitent in pride must speak without identification, since pride is an insistence on the self, while this anonymity erases it. However, to argue that all are speaking together, as some do, is to miss the patent fact that only one soul is speaking (v. 52). [return to English / Italian]

  53. Stiff-necked pride was a frequent complaint about the Hebrew people in the Old Testament, particularly in Exodus (32:9, 33:3, 33:5, 34:9) and Deuteronomy (9:6, 9:13, 10:16, 31:27). [return to English / Italian]

  58–69. The speaker is Omberto Aldobrandesco, second son of Guglielmo Aldobrandesco (dead by 1256), count of Santafiora (see Purg. VI.111) and head of this powerful Ghibelline family. Omberto was murdered by Sienese Guelphs outside his fortified castle in 1259. He lays the fault for his death and the need for his current penance on his family’s pride in its name, which made the Aldobrandeschi consider themselves better than others merely by fact of being Aldobrandeschi.

  The reference to every fante in Campagnatico, Omberto’s feudal holding with its castle, where he died in battle, is variously interpreted. The word in Dante’s Italian may mean (1) infantryman, (2) any man at all, especially one of the lower class, (3) a very young child. Most commentators support the third view (and we have followed them), but all three are potentially valid. [return to English / Italian]

  70–72. Omberto is the first penitent in purgatory proper who speaks to the travelers (we have only heard penitential prayer until now) and his last words clearly identify the purpose of purgation in the process of absolution (for Dante, necessarily preceded by confession, contrition, and satisfaction—see note to Purg. IX.94–102). What seems to be the case is that all those who have penance to perform on any particular terrace need precisely to give satisfaction (see the verb sodisfaccia in verse 71 [as Tozer (1901) duly noted]) before God for their transgressions on earth. This implies that others, those who do not need to do penance on a particular terrace, either were without that sin or else had given satisfaction while they were still alive. This is the view taken by Nicola Fosca in his unpublished commentary, portions of which he has kindly made available to this writer.

  Porena (1946), in his commentary to Purgatorio IX.112–114, also says that the penitence observed on the mountain is the form that satisfactio operis takes in these eventually redeemed souls. [return to English / Italian]

  73. Dante’s bending down his face is a natural action taken in order to see his interlocutor’s face, yet it, too, reveals a moral significance (see note to vv. 46–48), as the protagonist’s own words will later confirm (Purg. XIII.136–138), when he will admit that, once he returns to the mountain in the next life, his head will be lowered under the same load he now is able to observe upon the backs of others. [return to English / Italian]

  74–78. The next penitent is apparently less heavily weighted (and thus less burdened by pride) than Omberto, since he is able to move a little under his rock and thus twist his neck enough to get a glance at the features of Dante, now conveniently lowered by his desire to make out Omberto. As a result, Dante recognizes him.

  Where the first penitent was still deeply involved in the feelings of the family pride that had afflicted him so greatly on earth, the next will represent all those who are prideful in their accomplishments (in this case, artistic ones); and we will see that he is more advanced in his penitence than Omberto. [return to English / Italian]

  79–81. Oderisi d’Agobbio is praised by Dante as the great Italian master of the art of illuminating manuscripts, an art particularly associated with the French and with Paris. “Oderisi, who was the son of Guido d’Agobbio (Gubbio [a hill town in the Apennines, not far from Perugia]), was in residence at Bologna in 1268, 1269, and 1271; he is said to have gone to Rome in 1295, and to have died there in 1299. Vasari, who possessed some of his drawings, states that he was a friend of Giotto, and that he and Franco of Bologna were employed by Boniface VIII to illuminate MSS. in the Papal library at Rome. It appears from the text that Dante and Oderisi were acquainted, or at least knew each other by sight” (T). [return to English / Italian]

  82–87. Oderisi deflects Dante’s compliment, thus showing that his pride is at least greatly abated (if not utterly vanquished—see verse 84). What is at stake here is artistic merit, not the cry of the vulgar, a subject that will be before us within ten lines. What Oderisi can now admit is that, as good as he was at illuminating, in his own opinion Franco of Bologna was superior to him in his craftmanship—a truth that he knew but never would have permitted himself to admit during his emulous life on earth. It is interesting that Benvenuto da Imola says that, from the examples he has seen, Franco really was a better illuminator. By being willing to share the honor with Franco (this is exactly the burden of Purg. XIV.86–87, the words of Guido del Duca: “O race of men, why do you set your hearts / on things that of necessity cannot be shared?”), Oderisi shows himself now different from the man bent on his own excelling to the cost of all others.

  Little is known of Franco, who apparently lived until about 1310. His work was the subject of an exhibition in Bologna in 2000. [return to English / Italian]

  88–90. If Oderisi was known by Dante to have died in 1299, he certainly had made his way up the mountain quickly, apparently spending very little time in ante-purgatory. Compare the case of Forese (Purg. XXIII.76–90), the most detailed information we are given in this cantica about passing over certain terraces on the way toward the s
ummit. And see the note to vv. 127–132.