The Inferno (The Divine Comedy series Book 1)

by Dante

  37–45. This simile, classical in form, seems to have no classical counterpart (although the fires of dying Troy may come to mind), whether in image or in language; rather, it seems to be among those that Dante draws from contemporary experience, ruinous fires being a pronounced feature of medieval town life. Virgil’s customary paternal role here is resolved into a maternal one. That we should take this surprising change as meant positively is guaranteed by a later scene, just as Virgil has left the poem and returned to Limbo. At this moment of greatest pathos involving Dante’s love for his guide and teacher, Dante turns back to him as a frightened child runs to his mother (Purg. XXX.44), only to find him gone forever. [return to English / Italian]

  46–48. The second simile is also without classical origin. Commentators point out that land mills were powered by water, diverted from other sources along sluices, while water mills were situated in the rivers or streams that powered them. [return to English / Italian]

  52–57. At the border of their domain the Malebranche, so swift on their own turf, are now frozen into immobility by the laws of God’s governance of hell, as Dante and Virgil look back at them. The victims of earthly barrators are not similarly protected. [return to English / Italian]

  58–60. The new set of sinners is characterized, in a total change of pace, by slowness and quiet, in stark contrast with the extraordinarily energetic, even frenetic, pace of the cantos of barratry.

  They are “lacquered” in that they are covered by gilded mantles (v. 64). [return to English / Italian]

  61–63. The hypocrites, “dressed” as monks, are in fact represented by only two personages, Catalano and Loderingo, both friars (see n. to vv. 104–108). The hypocrisy of the clergy—and especially of the mendicant orders—was a medieval commonplace, one most effectively exploited by such writers as Boccaccio and Chaucer.

  While many early commentators believed that the monastery referred to was located in Köln (Cologne), in Germany, the predominant modern view is that this is the great Benedictine monastery in France, at Cluny. [return to English / Italian]

  64. “Ypocresia … dicitur ab ‘epi’ quod est ‘supra’ et ‘crisis’ quod est ‘aurum’ ” (Hypocrisy is so called from “epi,” that is, “above,” and “crisis,” that is, “gold”). This familiar gloss, deriving from Uguccione of Pisa, is found in the third redaction of Pietro di Dante’s commentary. [return to English / Italian]

  66. Almost all the early commentators relate the tale that Frederick II (see Inf. X.119) put those who had particularly offended him to the following torture and death: he would have them covered with a thick “cape” of lead and placed in a large crucible, under which a fire was set, causing the lead to melt and the victim to suffer greatly before dying. While there is no evidence to connect Frederick with this practice, it seems clear that many of his contemporaries believed that he indeed did dispatch his enemies in this way. [return to English / Italian]

  76. Once again Dante’s Tuscan speech serves to find him damned souls whose lives will be of interest. See Inf. X.22; XXII.99. [return to English / Italian]

  92. For Dante’s word “hypocrites” commentators frequently cite Matthew 6:16: “Moreover when you fast, be not, as the hypocrites, of a sad countenance: for they disfigure their faces, that they may appear to men to fast.” [return to English / Italian]

  102. The friars are like creaking scales (literally, “balances” in Dante’s Italian) because the weight they support on their lurching shoulders is so tremendous that they “creak” beneath it. [return to English / Italian]

  103. “Frati gaudenti, ‘Jovial Friars,’ popular name of the knights of a military and conventual order, called the Knights of Our Lady…, which was [re-]founded in 1261 by certain citizens of Bologna under the sanction of [Pope] Urban IV. The object of the order was to make peace between the contending factions in the different cities of Italy, and to reconcile family feuds, and to protect the weak against their oppressors. The nickname ‘Frati Gaudenti’ is supposed to have been bestowed upon the knights on account of the laxity of their rules, which permitted them to marry and to live in their own homes, and merely required them to abstain from the use of gold and silver trappings, from attending at secular banquets, and from encouraging actors; while they bound themselves not to take up arms, save in defence of widows and orphans, and of the Catholic faith, or for the purpose of making peace between man and man” (T). For Dante’s relationship to Bologna see Raimondi (Raim.1967.1). [return to English / Italian]

  104–108. Catalano (ca. 1210–85) was a Bolognese Guelph of the Catalani family; Loderingo degli Andalò (ca. 1210–93) belonged to a Ghibelline family of the city. Loderingo was one of the founders of the Bolognese order of the Frati Gaudenti, and Catalano was also involved in it. While their allegiances to opposing parties made them seem to be an ideal “couple” to serve as podestà (an office usually taken on by a single non-citizen, chosen in the hope of guaranteeing fairness) of a faction-riddled city, their vows to the pope meant that, once they were chosen to serve in Florence in 1266, they in fact sided with the forces of the pope (Clement IV) against the Florentine Ghibellines, with the result that the area known as the Gardingo, where some of the most powerful Ghibelline families lived (including Farinata’s Uberti—see Inf. X), was razed by the populace with at least the tacit consent of these two. [return to English / Italian]

  109. There is dispute as to whether Dante’s broken apostrophe of the two friars (or, as some believe, of friars in general) was going to be one of rebuke (e.g., Benvenuto da Imola) or commiseration (e.g., Francesco da Buti). The context and the similar moment in Inferno XIX.90–117, when Dante upbraids Pope Nicholas III, both would seem to support the harsher reading. [return to English / Italian]

  110–117. Dante’s attention is drawn by the figure crucified upon the ground, attached through his hands and his conjoined feet. From Catalano’s description it will become clear that this is Caiaphas, the high priest who urged the Pharisees “that one man should be martyred for the people” and bears that burden of responsibility for the death of Jesus (see John 11:50). As Chiavacci Leonardi points out (Chia.1991.1, p. 696), Caiaphas masks his own vicious motives for wanting to give over Jesus as a desire for the public weal (i.e., saving the rest of the Hebrews from Roman repression), thus justifying his presence among the hypocrites. [return to English / Italian]

  118–120. The punishment of Caiaphas (and of his fellows in this act of hypocrisy, referred to in the next tercet) is a refinement upon that of the rest of the hypocrites. They are cloaked in lead, he is naked (his Christ-centered hypocrisy deserves to be revealed); yet he, too, feels the weight of hypocrisy on his own body when each of the others, in turn, slowly walks over his outstretched form. [return to English / Italian]

  121–123. Catalano refers to Annas, the father-in-law of Caiaphas, who presided over the council of the Pharisees (the “others” of the text) by which Jesus was condemned. It was this action, in Dante’s mind, which was punished in the destruction of the second Temple by the forces of the Roman emperor Vespasian, led by his son Titus, in 70 A.D. and in the resultant diaspora of the Hebrew people. [return to English / Italian]

  124–126. The high priest, unlike Jesus, is crucified upon the ground and trodden upon (thus seeming so “ignoble”). There has been much discussion of the possible reasons for Virgil’s “marveling” over the crucified shape of Caiaphas. Castelvetro, in error, says that Virgil would have seen Caiaphas on an earlier visit to the depths; Lombardi gets this right: when Virgil was sent down by Erichtho, Christ had not yet been crucified and Caiaphas not yet been damned. Further, and as Margherita Frankel has argued (Fran.1984.1, p. 87), Virgil has already seen Christ and his Cross (Inf. IV.53–54). Nonetheless, and as others have pointed out, Virgil does not marvel at others who were not here before his first visit. Rossetti further remarks that nowhere else in Inferno does Virgil marvel at any other sinner, the text thus conferring a specialness upon this scene. Benvenuto da Imola and Ve
llutello both offered an interesting hypothesis, which has since made its way into some modern commentaries: the verse at line 117, “one man should be martyred for the people,” seems to echo a verse from the Aeneid (V.815): “per multis dabitur caput” (one life shall be given for many). (In that passage Neptune speaks of the coming “sacrifice” of Palinurus.) Vellutello sees that “prophecy” as an unwitting Virgilian prophecy of Christ, and suggests that Virgil now wonders at how close he had come. If that seems perhaps a forced reading, a similar effect is gained by the phrase that Dante uses to indicate Caiaphas’s punishment in his “eternal exile” (etterno essilio). That phrase will only be used once again in the poem, precisely by Virgil himself to indicate his own punishment in Limbo (Purg. XXI.18), as Castelvetro observed. The Anonimo Fiorentino, perhaps better than many later commentators, caught the flavor of this passage, which he reads as indicating Virgil’s grief for himself because he had not lived in a time when he could have known Christ. In this reader’s view, Virgil wonders at Caiaphas because the high priest had actually known Christ in the world and yet turned against Him. Had Virgil had that opportunity, he thinks, his life (and afterlife) would have been very different. [return to English / Italian]

  131. The “black angels” are obviously the winged devils of the last bolgia. Are they actually fallen angels, or does Virgil merely speak ironically, employing the figure antiphrasis, indicating devils by their opposites? Most of the commentators seem to believe that these really are fallen angels. This may be a questionable interpretation, since Dante seems clear about the kinds of fallen angels found in hell: neutral (Canto III.37–42) and rebellious (Canto VIII.82–83). If this were the only other place in hell in which we found evil creatures referred to as “angels,” it would seem likely that the term would be merely a figure of speech on Virgil’s part. However, we also have the black Cherub referred to by Guido da Montefeltro (Inf. XXVII.113). See the note to that passage. [return to English / Italian]

  133–138. Virgil’s question to Catalano (and Loderingo) receives this devastating answer: he has been fooled by Malacoda; all the bridges connecting the fifth and sixth “valleys” are down. [return to English / Italian]

  142–144. Catalano’s bit of “university wit” is the last straw for Virgil, pilloried with understated sarcasm for trusting in the words of devils. Catalano cites Scripture (John 8:44): “Diabolus est mendax et pater eius” (The devil is a liar and the father of lies). [return to English / Italian]

  145–148. Virgil, angered (as well he might be), strides away, followed by the protagonist. We reflect that it is Dante who has contrived this whole elaborate scene to the discomfiture of Virgil, but who now, as a character in the poem, follows humbly and caringly in his dear leader’s footsteps. Hollander (Holl.1984.4), pp. 115–17, has suggested that this last verse is modelled on the concluding verses of Statius’s Thebaid (XII.816–817): “… nec tu divinam Aeneida tempta, / sed longe sequere et vestigia semper adora” (do not attempt to rival the divine Aeneid, but follow at a distance, always worshiping its footsteps). With this gesture Statius tries to reassure his reader (and perhaps himself) that he feels no envy toward Virgil’s greatness; Dante’s gesture has a different task to perform, to reassure himself (and his reader) that, for all that the poet has put Virgil through in these cantos of barratry, he nonetheless reveres his great pagan guide. [return to English / Italian]

  INFERNO XXIV

  1–21. This elaborate canto-opening simile (see note to Inf. XXII.1–12) and its aftermath knit the narrative back together: Virgil had walked away from Catalano (and from Dante) at the end of the last canto; now, getting his anger under control, he turns back to reassure Dante and continue his leadership. That is a fair summary of how the simile works as a reflection of what is happening between the two characters. However, this simile (like the Aesopic material in Canto XXIII) can be read for more than one set of equivalences: (1) Virgil’s frown (hoarfrost) melts and he once again encourages Dante (the humble wretch), who eventually will, having completed the journey, feed us (his sheep) with the pages of the poem; (2) the devils’ deception (hoarfrost), in the form of an incorrect presentation of the terrain, discourages Virgil (the wretch), who finally reads the signs right and will lead Dante (his sheep) to pasture. A form of this second simultaneous reading was proposed by Lansing (Lans.1977.1), pp. 77–80.

  As Frankel has noted (Fran.1984.1), pp. 82–83, the simile itself is divided into two rather different stylistic zones; the first six verses are “classicizing” and rather high-flown, while the final nine are in the low style. Hollander (Holl.1984.4) suggests that the first tercet of the “classical” part derives from Virgil’s third Georgic (vv. 303–304), a citation also found in the second and third redactions of the commentary of Pietro di Dante, and also noted by Tommaseo. For other studies in English of this much studied simile see Bake.1974.1, Econ.1976.1, and Lans.1977.1 (pp. 74–80); for Dante’s knowledge of the Georgics see Marigo (Mari.1909.1).

  The reference to Aquarius sets the time within the simile as winter, since the sun is in that constellation from 21 January to 21 February. And so the sun cools his “locks” (its rays) in this season. [return to English / Italian]

  22–24. The sight of the ruina, the scree fallen at the Crucifixion, now gives Virgil hope: it is a way up and out of the bolgia. Catalano, unlike Malacoda, has given him valuable advice. [return to English / Italian]

  31. The phrase “people wearing leaden cloaks” obviously refers to the hypocrites whom we saw in the last canto. [return to English / Italian]

  32–36. The protagonist’s physical difficulty, since unlike Virgil he must move his flesh and bones against the pull of gravity, is insisted on. The interplay between Virgil and Dante, now with roles reversed from Cantos XXI–XXIII (when Virgil was the one at a disadvantage) goes on for some time, through verse 60. It is in no way meant to make the reader believe, as did John Ruskin, in Modern Painters, that “Dante was a notably bad climber.” [return to English / Italian]

  37–40. Once again (see Inf. XIX.35 and note) the poet insists that the far sides, or banks, of each bolgia are not as high as the ones encountered first, since the sloping floor of the Malebolge cuts down across each ditch. [return to English / Italian]

  49–51. The commentators are almost unanimous in taking Virgil’s words at face value and as sound advice. See, for example, Chiavacci Leonardi (Chia.1991.1), pp. 712–13, who argues for earthly fame’s “double valence” in the poem; she claims that it is sometimes an excusable aim (as here), sometimes a culpable one. Certainly the net effect of Virgil’s appeal here is to get Dante moving upward in order to continue to the top of the ridge, whence he will be able to see into the next ditch as he continues his journey. Yet is it not strange that the motivation offered by Virgil is not the need to struggle onward toward the presence of God so much as it is the reward of earthly fame? Rossetti, in his commentary, was perhaps the first to observe the resonance of what has now become a standard citation for these verses, the entirely similar similes found in the book of Wisdom (5:15): “like the insubstantial foam that is dispersed by the storm, like the smoke that is dissipated by the wind.” In Wisdom the comparisons are to the hopes of the impious man (as opposed to those of the just, whose thoughts are set on God [5:16]). Narrowly construed, Virgil’s words are those of the impious man who lodges his hopes in the most transitory of things—exactly what the poem will later establish as the true and fleeting nature of earthly fame (Purg. XI.91–93). If we were to imagine St. Thomas as guide here, we would expect his words to have been quite different. Beginning with Gregorio Di Siena, commentators also cite another apposite text for these lines, Aeneid V.740, “tenuis fugit ceu fumus in auras”: it is the vision of Anchises that vanishes from Aeneas’s sight “like thin smoke into the air.”

  Cantos XXI–XXIV thus include Virgil’s most difficult moments as guide to the Christian underworld. The rest of the cantica is mainly without such unsettling behavior toward his master and a
uthor on the poet’s part. But this will start up again in a series of moments that are difficult for Virgil in the early cantos of Purgatorio. [return to English / Italian]

  58–64. In a moment that will strike anyone who is in fact a “notably bad climber” with its aptness, the passage insists on Dante’s effort to convince his guide that he is better furnished with breath than in fact he is. [return to English / Italian]

  65–66. These lines introduce a problem (who is speaking?) that will weave itself through the text until perhaps the eighteenth verse of the next canto. [return to English / Italian]

  67–78. These twelve verses have no other point than to underline the intensity of Dante’s curiosity about the identity of the speaker whose unintelligible voice he has just heard. It would be unlikely for him to have left his riddle unanswered. See note to vv. 17–18 of the next canto.

  Verse 69 has been the cause of much debate. Is the word in the text ire (as in Petrocchi’s edition, meaning “to go”) or ira (wrath)? For a treatment of the problem see Hollander (Holl.1983.2), offering a listing of the history of the commentary tradition (pp. 29–31) and concluding that the text originally read ira, as almost all the early commentators believed, with the major exception of Pietro di Dante. For a countering view see Stef.1993.1, p. 85.

  Once again, while not in agreement with it, we have preserved the letter of Petrocchi’s text in our translation. Berthier, who opts for ira, cites St. Thomas to the effect that one of the five effects of wrath is precisely to cause in the furious sinner “clamor irrationabilis” (irrational cries), perhaps exactly what Dante has made out. It also remains difficult to explain how one can hear, from a distance and in darkness, how a being is “moved” to getting into motion, while it is not at all difficult to hear, in precisely these circumstances, that a voice is moved by wrath. [return to English / Italian]