Purgatorio (The Divine Comedy series Book 2)

by Dante

  Piccarda, who was dragged from her life as a nun into matrimony against her will, eventually puts us in mind of Pia de’ Tolomei (Purg. V.133–136), who also was forced into a marriage she did not welcome. And both of them may send our thoughts back to Francesca da Rimini, similarly mistreated (Inf. V.100–107). The first three women present in each of the three cantiche have this experience in common. [return to English / Italian]

  16–18. “Here” surely refers to this terrace (see note to Purg. XXII.49–51). Since there is no prohibition against naming names on any other terrace, commentators worry about Forese’s motive in speaking this way. Most currently agree that he is using exaggerated understatement (the trope litotes) to make his point: i.e., on this terrace one must use names to identify the penitents because they are unrecognizable (as was Forese to Dante at Purg. XXIII.43–48) as a result of their emaciation. [return to English / Italian]

  19–20. Bonagiunta Orbicciani degli Overardi da Lucca (1220?–1297?), notary and writer of lyric poems, composed mainly in imitation of the Provençal poets. He was involved in polemic against the poetry of Guido Guinizzelli and was attacked by Dante in his treatise on vernacular eloquence (Dve I.xiii.1) for writing in a dialectical rather than the lofty (“curial”) vernacular. Some three dozen of his poems survive and a group of these has been re-edited and re-presented by Gianfranco Contini (Cont.1960.1), vol. I, pp. 257–82. [return to English / Italian]

  21–24. Simon de Brie, who “married” Holy Church as Pope Martin IV (1281–85), was French. He was not born in Tours, but had served as treasurer of the cathedral of St. Martin in Tours. He briefly served as chancellor of France before becoming a cardinal in 1261. And his French connection was further apparent when Charles of Anjou was instrumental in securing the papacy for him. His gluttonous affection for eels from Lake Bolsena caused him, according to Jacopo della Lana (1324), to have them, still alive, drowned in white wine from Liguria (the town of Vernazza) and then roasted. The commentator also reports that, as pope, coming from meetings dealing with Church business, he would cry out, “O Lord God, how many ills must we bear for Your holy Church! Let us have a drink!” and head for table to console himself.

  Not only did this gluttonous pope support French political designs in Italy, he was the man who promoted Benedetto Caetani to the rank of cardinal, thus greatly facilitating his eventual elevation as Pope Boniface VIII (a promotion that Dante could not have regarded with equanimity, given his personal sufferings at the hands of this pope [see note to Inf. XIX.52–53]). In the light of such things, why did Dante decide that Martin was among the saved? Trucchi (1936) suggests that, as the successor to the nepotistic and venal Nicholas III (see Inf. XIX. 69–72), Martin put an end, for a time, to the practice of simony in the papacy. It is for that reason, in his opinion, that Dante overlooked his other flagrant sins to save him. [return to English / Italian]

  26–27. The act of naming being particularly necessary on this terrace (see note to vv. 16–18), it brings pleasure (Dante again employs litotes: it does not cause scowls) to those who are named and thus may hope for relieving prayer from the world, once Dante returns to it. It hardly needs to be pointed out that many of the sinners in hell were less pleased at being recognized. [return to English / Italian]

  29. “Ubaldino degli Ubaldini of La Pila (castle in the Mugello, or upper valley of the Sieve, tributary of the Arno, north of Florence), member of the powerful Ghibelline family of that name. Ubaldino, who was one of those who voted for the destruction of Florence (Inf. X.92), and was a member of the Consiglio Generale, after the battle of Montaperti (Sept. 4, 1260), was brother of the famous Cardinal Ottaviano degli Ubaldini (Inf. X.120), uncle of Ugolino d’Azzo (Purg. XIV.105), and father of the Archbishop Ruggieri of Pisa (Inf. XXXIII.14); he died in 1291” (T). [return to English / Italian]

  29–30. Bonifazio has been “identified by modern commentators with Bonifazio dei Fieschi of Genoa, Archbishop of Ravenna, 1274–1295…. The ancient pastoral staff of the Archbishops of Ravenna, which is still preserved, bears at the top an ornament shaped like a chess ‘rook’ [rather than the conventional curved crosier], hence the term rocco used by Dante. Bonifazio … is known to have been immensely wealthy, but there is no record of his having been addicted to gluttony” (T).

  While some debate whether or not the reference to the archbishop’s pastoral care is meant to be taken ironically, it seems difficult, in light of the descriptions of the other penitent gluttons, to take it any other way. The flock he is envisioned as leading would seem to be less the faithful of Ravenna than his guests to dinner. [return to English / Italian]

  31–33. “Marchese (or Marchesino) degli Orgogliosi of Forlì…was Podestà of Faenza in 1296” (T). Embellishing an incident he probably first heard from his teacher, Benvenuto da Imola, John of Serravalle (1416) recounts it this way: “One day [Marchese] asked of his servant, ‘What do the people say of me? What is my reputation among them?’ And the servant answered, ‘O my lord, they say that you are noble and wise,’ etc. And so he spoke again to his servant, saying, ‘Now tell me the truth, what do they really say?’ In reply the servant said, ‘Since you wish it, I will tell you the truth; people say you are a great drinker of wine.’ At which [Marchese] responded, ‘These people speak truthfully; but they really ought to add that I am always thirsty—and that is a fact, for I thirst continually.’ ” Bonagiunta was also a lover of the grape, according to Benvenuto (1380), who characterized him as “a deft contriver of rhymes and a ready imbiber of wines.” [return to English / Italian]

  34–36. Dante’s attention was drawn to Bonagiunta da Lucca because, he says, Bonagiunta seemed to know him. We may reflect that Dante the poet’s interest in Bonagiunta centered on his desire to stage, clued by the utterance of this lesser poet, his own ars poetica, as we shall shortly understand. Including Dante, the interaction among those speaking or being noticed in this canto involves two poets, two religious figures, and two politicians. And then there are the two classical poets who are not even mentioned once in this very “modern” canto (it is notable that Pope Martin, dead only fifteen years, is the senior ghost among the five gluttons in this group). [return to English / Italian]

  37–39. For Dante’s use of the verb mormorare (murmur), see the note to Purgatorio X.100–102. This passage has long been problematic. Does Bonagiunta refer to his fellow Lucchesi in an unfavorable way, calling them gentucca or gentuccia (a deprecating way of referring to his people, or gente)? Or is he mentioning a kindly woman of that name who will be welcoming to Dante when, in his exile, he will come to Lucca? In this case he would be referring to the femmina referred to in vv. 43–45. Beginning with Francesco da Buti (1385), who states that Gentucca was the name of a woman from Rossimpelo, most commentators believe that the reference is to someone who was benevolent to Dante in Lucca during a stay there. We have, however, no confirming evidence for this sojourn in Lucca (see Michele Messina, “Lucca,” ED III [1971]), which, if it took place, probably did so in 1308–9, and certainly no hard facts establishing her identity. Nonetheless, this remains the best hypothesis. Still others have attempted to make a case for Gentucca as a woman with whom Dante had some sort of sexual liaison, an interpretation that seems venturesome at best. On the entire question see Giorgio Varanini, “Gentucca,” ED III (1971). [return to English / Italian]

  40–42. Dante encourages Bonagiunta, for whom speech is made difficult by the pain he feels in his mouth, the orifice by which he offended in gluttony, to speak more plainly. [return to English / Italian]

  43–48. If this woman is, as some contemporary students of the question suggest, Gentucca di Ciucchino Morla, she was the wife of Buonaccorso Fondora. In that case she wore the black wimple, worn by wives, not the white, reserved for widows. Nino Visconti’s widow, Giovanna, according to him, made the mistake of remarrying badly, putting off the white wimple (Purg. VIII.74). However, we cannot be sure whether Bonagiunta is referring to an as yet unmarried woman, or to a married one whose
husband, soon to die, is still alive. In any case, this woman will make Lucca seem pleasant to Dante, no matter how others may blame it (as Dante himself had done in Inf. XXI.40–42). [return to English / Italian]

  49–51. Having recognized Dante earlier (vv. 35–36), Bonagiunta now presses him about the nature of his poetry. Is he the poet who drew forth from within himself the new poems that began with the canzone “Ladies that have intelligence of love”? This is the first long poem of the three that help give structure to the Vita nuova, announcing the beginning of its second stage, in which Dante chooses to give over the style of “complaint,” borrowed from Cavalcanti, in order to turn to the style of praise, with its debt to Guinizzelli. Dante composed this poem around 1289. From this remark, we learn at least one important thing. Whatever the determining features of Dante’s new poetry, it was different—at least according to him, using Bonagiunta as his mouthpiece—from all poetry written before it, including Dante’s own. This precision evades many who discuss the problem, who continue to allow poems by Dante and other poets written before Donne ch’avete to share its status. It seems clear that Dante’s absolute and precise purpose is to rewrite the history of Italian lyric, including that of his own poems, so that it fits his current program. [return to English / Italian]

  52–54. There is perhaps no more debated tercet in this poem than this one, and perhaps none that has more far-reaching implications for our general understanding of Dante’s stance as a poet. Does he refer to Amore as the god of Love? or as the name of the true God in His Third Person, the Holy Spirit? Dantists are deeply (and fiercely) divided by this issue. The bibliography of work devoted to it is immense. Readers who know Italian will want to refer to three papers composed for the Third International Dante Seminar (Florence, 2000) by members of the panel concerning the currently vexed question of Dante’s attitude toward Cavalcanti and its relationship to his view of his own poetic as this is given voice here (see Anto.2001.1, Durl.2001.1, and Leon.2001.1). For the views of this writer, which are at some variance especially from those of the first and third of these, see Holl.1992.2 and Holl.1999.1. In the most recent of these two studies, the case is made for our understanding that Dante indeed presents himself as writing under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, a view that causes understandable distress, but which is fundamental, in one line of thought, to a better comprehension of his purposes. [return to English / Italian]

  55–63. Bonagiunta’s response may be paraphrased as follows: “Now I understand the nature of the knot that held back the Notary [Giacomo da Lentini], Guittone [d’Arezzo], and me from the sweet new style that at this very moment I am hearing! Now I clearly understand how your pens [plural] followed strictly after the words of the ‘dictator,’ something that ours did not; and in that lies the entire difference between your [Dante’s] ‘new style’ and ours.” He falls silent, as though, it seems, satisfied with his utterance.

  What exactly does Dante mean by the phrase “sweet new style”? This is surely one of the key questions presented in the poem, and not one of the easiest. Further, who else wrote in that “style”? And what is the significance of the fact that Bonagiunta says that he hears it now (in listening to Dante here in purgatory? in current Tuscan poems composed on earth? [but how would he hear these?])? What follows is a series of hypotheses that sketch out this writer’s views of the major aspects of a difficult question.

  (1) The passage, probably written ca. 1311–12, marks the first time that the beguiling phrase “dolce stil novo” had ever been used in the vernacular that we call “Italian.” That it was meant to refer to or to identify an actual “school” of poets that existed before the date of its inscription in Dante’s text may not be assumed (see Bigi [Bigi.1955.1] and Favati [Fava.1975.1]), although it frequently is.

  (2) On the other hand, the author’s (or Bonagiunta’s) plural “vostre” should be seen as including not only himself, but also Cino da Pistoia (the one fellow poet who, Dante believed, had understood the theological significance of his Beatrice), if perhaps no one else (see Hollander [Holl.1992.2] and Brugnolo [Brug.1993.2]).

  (3) The significance of the poetic stance struck in the phrase should be understood in theological terms. Dante is not presenting himself as a usual love poet, but as one who serves as God’s scribe in recording the result of God’s love for him through the agency of Beatrice. Dante and others had previously written in a “sweet” style; but only he, now, in his Comedy, writes in this “sweet new style” that creates a theologized poetry that is like almost no one else’s (see Mazzotta [Mazz.1979.1], pp. 197–210; Bara´nski [Bara.2001.2], pp. 392–94).

  (4) The word “style” here has a broader connotation than it usually does in discourse about poetry, indicating not only a way of writing, but a subject for writing, as was apparent when his new style of praise in Vita nuova was presented as requiring new “matter” (see Holl.1999.1, pp. 271–72; Aversano [Aver.2001.1], p. 131: the poem is “sweet artistically because it is new poetically”). The “new style” not only sounds different, it is different (but see the differing view of Leonardi [Leon.2001.1], p. 334). The very phrasing of the element that sets, in Bonagiunta’s understanding (vv. 58–59), this “style” apart from all others—copying out exactly what was spoken by the “dictator”—points not at all to style, but rather to content.

  (5) We should probably also understand that the phrase “dolce stil novo” refers to some of Dante’s earlier poetry (only the canzone “Donne ch’avete intelletto d’amore” for certain), some of Cino’s poems (at least and perhaps only the canzone upon the death of Beatrice, “Avegna ched el m’aggia più per tempo”), and to Dante’s Comedy, thus presenting the author’s claims for a theological grounding of his poem’s inspiration as being joined to certain of his earlier poems that he felt either had, or could be construed as having, the same character. This is the crux of a continuing disagreement with those who argue that the Comedy is a poem that goes beyond the stil novo (e.g., Pertile [Pert.1993. 1]), rather than being a continuation of it. In short, while Dante and others (Guido Cavalcanti perhaps the most capable among them) had previously written in a “sweet” style, Dante alone developed, on the model of Guinizzelli’s lyrics, poems of praise of a theologized lady, Beatrice. [return to English / Italian]

  56. In a single line Bonagiunta crosses off the list of illustrious precursors two of the great poetic figures that preceded Dante, Giacomo da Lentini (died ca. 1250) and Guittone d’Arezzo (ca. 1230–94). Giacomo was the first major Italian practitioner of lyric, and is looked upon as the inventor of the sonnet and as the founder of the so-called Sicilian School, the first group of writers of lyric in Italian, taking their models from the writers of lyric in Provençal. Dante is later still harder on Guittone (see Purg. XXVI. 124–126 and note), who, as Dante came to poetry in the 1280s, was perhaps the preeminent Tuscan poet. [return to English / Italian]

  64–74. The two similes, piled one upon the other, return to a technique not observed in some time: a comparison based on an antique source coupled with a completely “vernacular” and “ordinary” one. See Inferno XXIV. 1–15, where ancient and contemporary elements are combined in a single simile, and Inferno XXVI. 25–39, where local Tuscan agriculture and Elijah’s ascent to heaven are the contrasting elements in two neighboring similes.

  The first of this pair derives, fairly obviously to today’s reader, instructed by the notes in the text, from Lucan (Phars. V.711–716), a description of cranes fleeing winter’s cold to winter on the Nile. Nonetheless, for all the certainty in recent commentators that this is a reminiscence of Lucan, it was only with Torraca (1905) that it seems first to have been observed. Lucan’s passage is revisited even more plainly at Paradiso XVIII.73–78. [return to English / Italian]

  75. Forese’s remark is perhaps the high point in the fraternal affection found in purgatory, as he looks forward to Dante’s death as the necessary precondition for their next meeting in the afterlife. [return to English / Italian]

>   76–81. Notable is Dante’s calm assurance that he will be saved. This may seem prideful, but is rather the natural result, or so he would have us believe, of his having been chosen for such an experience of the afterworld. God, he would ask us to imagine, would not have selected as His scribe one destined to die in sin. [return to English / Italian]

  82–90. Corso Donati, brother of Forese, was, in Dante’s eyes, the Black Guelph who bore “the greatest blame” for Florence’s problems (and for his own) because of his alliance with Pope Boniface VIII, the “beast” who will drag him to hell—as Dante will see before much time passes. In fact, through the magic of post-event prophecy (Corso was killed on 6 October 1308), Forese is able to promise the protagonist this happy vengeance.

  Corso had supervised the murderous taking of the city by the Black Guelphs after Charles of Valois had led his French troops into Florence in November 1301. In a political reversal that is not totally unlike Dante’s own, he was condemned to death by the priors for trying to take power into his own hands in a supposed arrangement involving the Tuscan Ghibelline leader Uguccione della Faggiuola, to whose daughter he was married.

  While the “beast” in Forese’s account is clearly metaphorical, Corso apparently did die while trying to escape, either in a fall from his horse or by being lanced by one of his captors once he had fallen—or even as he was hanging from a stirrup, dragged along the ground. [return to English / Italian]

  94–99. The military simile fits the tone of the death scene of Corso that has just been narrated by his brother. Here, by way of returning to the rigors of his penance, Forese is allowed to assume the role of the cavalryman who goes out to make the first contact of battle. Virgil and Statius, described by a word perhaps never seen before in Italian, “marshals,” are left behind, but are calmly directing the battle, as it were. As for Dante, that retired cavalryman (see note to Inf. XXI.95), it is not clear what role he plays, but he is a subordinate to these two marshals, those great poets who led other humans into knowledge and virtue through their works. [return to English / Italian]