Purgatorio (The Divine Comedy series Book 2)

by Dante

  124–126. In contrast to his unenthusiastic departure from Pope Adrian, Dante’s leaving of Hugh Capet is quick and purposive. Perhaps the difference in the two interviews is that this one has come to a sense of completion, while Dante still longed to know more of Adrian’s life at the end of his discourse. [return to English / Italian]

  127–129. The sudden shift in focus to Dante’s fearful condition in response to this earthquake opens an entirely new chapter in the narrative, a unique one. As Philip B. Miller observed in conversation many years ago, Statius’s completion of penance is the only genuine event that occurs involving a damned or a saved soul in the entire Commedia. (Discussion of Statius awaits the next canto.) All else in the poem that passes for narrative action pertains to demons or angels interacting with Dante, Virgil, or the souls whom they help to punish or serve, to Dante’s own difficulties or successes in moving on, or else represents some form of ritual performance by the souls in the afterworld for the benefit of onlooking Dante. Dante, still a stranger on this magic mountain, responds by feeling like a man in fear of death. We shortly learn that he is witness to a moment of completion, of resurrection. It takes a while for this to become clear. [return to English / Italian]

  130–132. Benvenuto (1380) understands the simile as having the following meaning: “Just as that most renowned island, Delos, once sent forth the two most famous luminaries into the sky [Apollo and Diana, the sun and the moon], so now this most renowned mount of Purgatory was sending into the heavens two very famous poets, one ancient, i.e., Statius, and one modern, i.e., Dante. I speak not of Virgil, for he did not go to heaven.” The commentary tradition is, nonetheless, a seedbed of confusion for interpreters of these verses. The following things are among those variously said: (1) Delos was made stable by Jove so that Latona, pursued by jealous Juno, could give birth in peace; (2) before Latona gave birth, Delos suffered no such quaking; (3) the island became stable only when Latona arrived to give birth on it; (4) Apollo later made the wandering island stable out of pietas (the version sponsored by Aeneid III.73–77). Either the third or this last, partly because of its Virgilian authority, seems the best to follow. The mountain’s wild quaking reminds the poet of the agitated condition of the floating island, which welcomed Latona for her parturition, before it was made fast, either by her arrival or, later, by Apollo.

  For passages in the Old Testament anticipating Dante’s supernatural earthquake see Boyde (Boyd.1981.1), pp. 93–95. [return to English / Italian]

  133–135. Once again a tercet is devoted to Dante’s apparent fear and now to Virgil’s miscomprehension of what is happening, since he, too, thinks that fearful thoughts now are understandable, if not welcome. [return to English / Italian]

  136–141. The passage in Luke 2:13–14 presenting angelic praise of God at the birth of Jesus (“Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men of good will”) is cited first by Pietro di Dante (1340). By comparing himself and Virgil to the shepherds that first heard the angelic Gloria (Luke 3:15), Dante has underlined the connection between Jesus and Statius, which will be evident in the next canto as well. The birth of Jesus stands as a sign for the rebirth of this soul, who has finished his purgation and is prepared to ascend to the Father. All on the mountain apparently cease their own penitential activity to celebrate the event in this song, and do so until the quaking stops; we are led to imagine that this is true each time a soul arrives at this joyful moment of freedom from even the memory of sin, a condition that is formally completed with the passage through the waters of Lethe in the earthly paradise. [return to English / Italian]

  142–144. At the cessation of the celebrative singing all return to their usual practice, including the two travelers. [return to English / Italian]

  145–151. Dante for the first time underlines his unusual (even for him) curiosity to know the meaning of the things he has just felt and heard. Tommaseo (1837) noted the echo here of Wisdom 14:22, “in magno viventes inscientiae bello” (they live in a great war of ignorance).

  The need to press on leaves Dante suspended—and the reader, as well. [return to English / Italian]

  PURGATORIO XXI

  1. From at least the time of Tommaseo (1837), commentators dealing with this opening verse have cited the opening (and other passages) of Dante’s Convivio (I.i.1): “As the Philosopher [Aristotle] says in the beginning of the First Philosophy [Metaphysics I.i], all of humankind naturally desires to know.” Bosco/Reggio (1979), however, make an important distinction. Since here the protagonist is presented with a miracle, the moment in which a soul is finally prepared to rise to God, the following reference (vv. 2–3) to the waters of eternal life in the episode in John’s gospel “confirms the notion that the natural desire for knowledge cannot be satisfied except by Revelation, thus going beyond the affirmations found in Convivio (I.i.1; I.i.9; III.xv.4) normally cited by the commentators, which are limited to philosophical knowledge.” [return to English / Italian]

  2–3. The obvious reference to the passage in John’s gospel (John 4:5–15) has not escaped many readers. The Samaritan woman who finds Jesus, unprepared for the task of drawing water, at her well, ends up being eager to taste the “water” that he offers as replacement for that which seems so necessary at noon of a warm day in the desert, for it “fiet in eo fons aquae salientis in vitam aeternam” ([italics added] shall become in him a fountain of water springing up into life everlasting). In the Vulgate the present participle salientis may refer to the water or indeed to the drinker, rising up into eternal life. It is worth keeping this potential grammatical ambiguity in mind, for that second reading applies precisely to the condition of Statius, who has just now come to that moment in his posthumous existence: he is ready to take on the life of a soul in paradise; he himself is ready to salire (rise up). In most interpretations, the water that the Samaritan woman asks for is that of eternal life, which comes alone from the grace of God.

  As some commentators have pointed out, John’s word for the Samaritan is mulier (woman), while Dante has used a diminutive (femminetta). Giacalone (1968) thinks of the form more as a “commiserative” than as a “diminutive,” i.e., we are to think of this woman’s absolute ordinariness as an encouragement to our own need for exactly such satisfaction of our “thirst.” [return to English / Italian]

  4–6. Dante has rarely portrayed his protagonist as being beset by so many distractions. He desperately wants to understand the meaning both of the earthquake and of the song accompanying it; he and Virgil are trying to move ahead as quickly as possible, picking their way among the clutter of the penitents; he continues to feel a sense of grief at their punishment, despite its obvious rightness. [return to English / Italian]

  7–9. Announced with its solemn biblical stylistic flourish (Ed ecco [And lo]), the reminiscence of Luke 24:13–16 (a passage that begins “Et ecce”) reminds the reader of two of Christ’s disciples (Dante’s first commentators at times incorrectly identify them as James and John; it is clear that one of the two is named Cleopas [24:18], while the other is perhaps his wife [24:29], in which case she may well have been known as Mary [John 19:25]), walking on the road to Emmaus when Christ joined them and walked with them, unrecognized. [return to English / Italian]

  10–14. Statius’s unmistakable resemblance to Christ risen, his figural relation to Jesus, makes him, technically, not a “figure” of Christ but a “fulfillment” of Him, which is theologically awkward. Hollander (Holl.1969.1), pp. 67–70, argues for the technical reference of the word ombra (shade) here, grounded in the language of the Christian interpretation of Scripture, discovered, indeed, in this very chapter of Luke’s gospel (24:27), when Jesus teaches his disciples the figural method of understanding the Old Testament. (See the section on allegory in the introduction to Inferno. And see Heilbronn [Heil.1977.1], p. 58, for a completely similar view.)

  Statius’s first words join him to the tradition of fraternal purgatorial greeting on the part of the penitents we have so far heard a
ddressing Dante: Belacqua (Purg. IV.127); Oderisi (Purg. XI.82); Sapia (Purg. XIII.94); Marco (Purg. XVI.65); Adrian (Purg. XIX.133). See notes to Purg. IV.127 and Purg. XIX.133.

  For the source of Statius’s greeting, see the words of Christ to his apostles, the second scene of his resurrected life on earth in Luke’s gospel (Luke 24:36): “Pax vobis: ego sum, nolite timere” (Peace unto you: I am, have no fear). In the next verse of Luke the apostles indeed do show fear; and we may remember how fearful Dante was when the earth shook beneath him at the end of the last canto (vv. 128–129; 135). [return to English / Italian]

  14–15. The nature of the cenno (sign) made in response by Virgil has long puzzled the commentators. We can say one thing with something like certainty: Virgil’s gesture is not a spoken one, since he makes some sort of gesture and then begins to speak (verse 16). Many early and some later commentators have liked the idea that in response Virgil said “et cum spiritu tuo” (and with your spirit as well), a liturgical reply. Yet it surely seems impossible that Dante would have first presented Virgil as speaking and then immediately afterwards as beginning to speak. And so it is clearly preferable to understand that Virgil made some sort of physical gesture. (For clear examples of facial gestures as cenni in this very canto, see verse 104, Virgil’s look that calls for silence, and verse 109, Dante’s smile that is a hint.) [return to English / Italian]

  16–18. Virgil’s wish for Statius is touching, in part because it has been accomplished, since Statius is already substantially one of the blessed, only awaiting a change in his accidental state, which will be accomplished in less than a day. While the poem does not show him there, its givens make it plain that, had Dante chosen to do so, Statius could have been observed seated in the rose in Paradiso XXXII; he is there by the time Dante ascends into the heavens at the beginning of the next cantica, or so we may assume.

  Virgil’s insistence on his own eternal home is a moving reminder of his tragic situation in this comic poem. Statius’s salvation comes closer than anyone else’s in showing how near Virgil himself came to eternal blessedness, as the next canto will make clear. And, once we learn (Purg. XXII.67–73) that it was Virgil who was responsible, by means of his fourth Eclogue, for the conversion of Statius, we consider these lines with a still more troubled heart. [return to English / Italian]

  19–21. For Statius’s miscomprehension of Dante’s condition, see the note to the next tercet. The physical reason for it is that, because the travelers are out of the sun’s rays on the far side of the mountain, Dante’s body casts no revealing shadow, and Statius takes Virgil’s confession of his own plight to apply to both of these “shades.” [return to English / Italian]

  22–24. Virgil’s remarks suggest to Statius that the (remaining three) P’s on Dante’s forehead indicate a special status, namely that he is bound for Glory—just as is Statius. But did Statius have these marks incised on his forehead? Had he, they would now all be erased but for this last, which would probably disappear, along with Dante’s, before the beginning of the next canto (see Purg. XXII.3, where we learn the angel has wiped Dante’s fifth P from his brow). He would have spent, we will be able to compute from information gleaned from verse 68 and from Purgatorio XXII.92–93, as many as 300 years in ante-purgatory and/or on some or all of the first three terraces, since it is 1,204 years since his death in the year 96 and he has had to remain over 400 years on the fourth terrace and over 500 on this one. Thus, had he borne signs on his forehead, these would originally have been as many as five and as few as two. However, there is no reason to believe that he, or any other penitent not here in the flesh, has had his brow incised with P’s. (See the note to Purg. IX.112.) For other reasons to believe that only Dante is incised, see Hollander (Holl.2002.1); for an opposing view see Fosca (Fosc.2002.2). [return to English / Italian]

  25–30. The circumlocution describes Lachesis, the second of the three Fates of classical mythology. “At the birth of every mortal, Clotho, the spinning fate, was supposed to wind upon the distaff of Lachesis, the alotting fate, a certain amount of yarn; the duration of the life of the individual being the length of time occupied in spinning the thread, which, when complete, was severed by Atropos, the inevitable fate” (T). For Atropos, see Inferno XXXIII.126. This is Virgil’s long-winded way of saying that Dante was still in the body when he was summoned to guide him through the afterworld. For Dante’s likely dependence upon Statius for the names of the three Fates see Ettore Paratore, “Stazio,” ED V (1976), pp. 422b–423a. [return to English / Italian]

  33. What exactly Virgil means by his scola (teaching of Dante) has been a matter of some debate, featuring predictable allegorizations, e.g., Virgil as reason, Statius as moral philosophy, Beatrice as theology. None of these has the merit of being immediately (or eventually?) convincing. The last time we have heard the word was at Inferno IV.94, where the poet referred to the group of poets (la bella scola) headed by Homer, and perhaps, “reading Dante by Dante,” we should keep this simplest explanation in clear view. Virgil, informed by all that a pagan poet can know, will guide Dante as best he can. Once we reach the question of the nature of the human soul, in Canto XXV, he will give way to Statius, who, as a Christian, understands things about the nature of the human soul’s relationship to divinity of which Virgil is simply ignorant. There is no reason to believe, one might add, that Beatrice could not have instructed Dante about this question, or that Statius could not have told him anything that Beatrice will reveal in Paradiso. All saved Christians, in this poem, are capable of knowing all things in God. The rewards of Heaven are not only affective, but intellectual.

  We should also be aware of Beatrice’s use of the same word, scola, in Purgatorio XXXIII.85 to denigrate Dante’s own nearly disastrous adventures in what she seems to consider his overbold philosophizing. [return to English / Italian]

  34–39. At last Virgil asks Statius the two questions that have so vexed Dante; for a third time the importance of the salvation of Statius is underlined. See notes to Purgatorio XX.145–151 and to vv. 4–6 of this canto. [return to English / Italian]

  40–60. Statius first establishes the meteorology of the mountain. There is no “weather” encountered above the upper limit of ante-purgatory, but below that limit there is. Up here the only celestial force having any effect is the direct influence of the heavens.

  Thaumas’s daughter is Iris, for classical poets the personification of the rainbow, appearing variously above the earth and not in one fixed place.

  The wind hidden inside the earth (verse 56, first referred to as “dry vapor” in verse 52) refers to what Dante, in keeping with one medieval view (see Inf. III.130–136), believed to be the cause of earthquakes. Statius’s point is that there are no natural earthquakes on the upper reaches of the mountain, but that there are “supernatural” ones. This one, accompanying the completion of Statius’s penance and marking his liberation from sin, may remind us of the earthquake that greeted Dante’s “supernatural” descent into the underworld at the conclusion of Inferno III, itself perhaps also meant to remind the reader of the earthquake at the Crucifixion (referred to at some length by Virgil in Inf. XII.31–45). These three earthquakes, all caused by Christ-centered spiritual events, would clearly seem to be related. [return to English / Italian]

  61–66. The self-judging quality of the penitents is here made plain. We saw the same phenomenon among the damned in the confessions that they offered to Minos (see note to Inf. V.8).

  Words for “will” and “willing” occur five times in nine lines (61–69), the densest block of volere and volontà found in the poem. In Paradiso III the examples of Piccarda and Costanza will afford the opportunity to study the divergence between the absolute will, always striving toward the good, and the conditional (i.e., “conditioned”) will, which, when guided by desires for lesser goods, chooses unwisely. Here Dante plays the changes on that basic understanding of the will’s role. In purgatory the conditional will does not elect the lesser good, but inste
ad desires to repent its former movement in that direction. This is a “rule” of purgatory that has no precedent in Christian lore, since Dante’s purgatory is so much his own invention; nonetheless, it makes intuitive sense. It is thus that the poet suggests that his reader understand why a penitent, while naturally desiring to cease the act of penance, simultaneously feels a still stronger and countering desire to complete it, as is made clear here.

  For a soul to “change its convent,” in this context, means for it to move from purgatory to paradise. [return to English / Italian]

  67–72. His use of the first person here is the first instance of an autobiographical bent on the speaker’s part, but his self-identification still awaits. He only now formally concludes his response to Dante’s insistent and paired questions, first alluded to in the last canto (XX.145–151); in a gesture typical of purgatorial brotherhood, his next thought is for his fellow penitents (cf. Virgil’s similar wish at vv. 16–18). (For Statius’s various sins and the time spent purging them on the mountain, see notes to vv. 22–24 and to Purg. XXII.92–93.) [return to English / Italian]

  73–75. After telling us three times how eagerly he wanted to know more about these strange signs on the mountain (see note to vv. 34–39), the poet now once again underlines their importance. The singular importance of the salvation of Statius is insisted on in such a way as to let us understand that what matters is not only the importance of the finishing of purgation for any soul, but Statius’s astounding role in Dante’s poem, which will gradually become more clear as the two cantos devoted to him continue to unfold their mysteries. [return to English / Italian]