The Inferno

by Dante

  88. See Mazzoni’s discussion of what Dante who, not having Greek, could not and did not read Homer’s texts, could in fact know about him (Mazz.1965.1), pp. 137–39. And see Brugnoli (Brug.1993.1). [return to English / Italian]

  89. For Horace’s medieval reputation as a satirist see Mazzoni (Mazz. 1965.1), pp. 139–40, Villa (Vill.1993.1), and Reynolds (Reyn.1995.1). [return to English / Italian]

  90. In recent years there has been a growing amount of concerted attention finally being paid to Dante’s enormous debt to Ovid, historically overshadowed by the at least apparently even greater one to Virgil. E.g., Jaco.1991.1, containing seven essays on Dante’s responses to Ovid, and Pico.1991.1, Pico.1993.1, Pico.1994.1. And see the lengthy treatment by Marthe Dozon (Dozo.1991.1).

  Lucan, not studied enough as source for so many of Dante’s verses, is also beginning to receive more attention. For a recent study arguing for Dante’s close and highly nuanced reading of Lucan, one that helps to account for much of the portrait of his Ulysses, see Stull and Hollander (Stul.1991.1). [return to English / Italian]

  93. Virgil is not suggesting that his fellow ancient poets do well to praise him, but that in praising him they honor their shared profession. If there is a “humanistic” gesture in this canto, we find it here, “a solemn celebration of the worth of poetry” (Padoan’s comment). [return to English / Italian]

  95–96. Two problems of interpretation continue to assault these lines. (1) Is the “lord of loftiest song” Homer or Virgil? Most today agree that Homer is meant. (2) Does the relative pronoun che in v. 96 refer to the singer or the song? That is, is it Homer (or Virgil) who soars above all other poets, or is it the lofty style of epic that flies higher than all other forms of poetic expression? Most today prefer the second reading. This argument depends heavily upon the reference of the adjective altri. Those who think that the second meaning is most likely point out that the adjective seems to refer to canto in the preceding line, while a reference to the “other poets” can only be assumed, since there is no noun to attach to them. Our translation leaves the meaning ambivalent, as Dante seems to do. [return to English / Italian]

  99. The poets’ greeting of Dante is the occasion for the only smile found in Inferno. [return to English / Italian]

  101. In Inferno II.105 Lucy tells Beatrice that Dante, for her sake, had left “the vulgar herd” (la volgare schiera). Exactly what this means is a matter of some dispute, yet some believe that it refers to his distancing himself from the rest of contemporary vernacular poets in his quite different championing of his own and most special lady. (See note to Inf. II.105.) Such an interpretation is lent support by the fact that here the word (schiera) returns to designate a quite different group of poets, the great auctores. (Of the nineteen uses of the noun in the poem, only these two make it refer to a group that Dante either leaves or joins.) In this interpretation Dante makes himself unique among contemporary poets in part because of his adherence to Beatrice, in part because of his involvement with Virgil and the other great poets of antiquity. [return to English / Italian]

  102. For a review of the various sorts of discomfort among the commentators occasioned by Dante’s promotion of his own poetic career in this verse (some going so far as to insist that he displays humility here rather than pride) see Mazzoni (Mazz.1965.1), pp. 147–54. It is clear that Dante is putting himself in very good company on the basis of very little accomplishment: a series of lyrics, the Vita nuova, two unfinished treatises, and three cantos of the Comedy. His daring is amazing. However, we ought to consider that most of his readers today will readily agree that he is not only justly included in this company of the great poets of all time between Homer and Dante, but is one of its foremost members. It was a dangerous gesture for him to make. It is redeemed by his genius.

  For a possible source for this verse see Gmel.1966.1, p. 91: Ovid’s Tristia, IX.x.54, where that poet makes himself fourth in the line of poets after Tibullus, Gallus, and Propertius. And we should look ahead to Purg. XXI.91 when the inclusion of Statius will make Dante not the sixth but the seventh in this group.

  That there are forty named or otherwise identified inhabitants in Limbo is probably not accidental (the five poets and the thirty-five souls later observed in the precincts of the noble castle). In one tradition of medieval numerology the “number” of man is four (of God, three). In a widely practiced mode of medieval “counting,” 40 = 4 + 0 = 4. [return to English / Italian]

  104–105. What was the subject under discussion that is now not reported? Mazzoni (Mazz.1965.1, pp. 154–56), following an early indication of D’Ovidio’s, argues that the subject is poetry, or the secrets of those involved in this sacred art, adducing as evidence two passages in Purg. XXII (104–105; 127–129). In the first of these Virgil tells Statius that he and his poetic companions in Limbo often speak of the Muses; then Dante is allowed to overhear Statius and Virgil speaking of the art of poetic making. To be sure, the poet deliberately refuses (and this will not be the last time) to tell us what was said. Yet it is clear that we are meant to wonder what it was, and to come up with some sort of reasonable hypothesis in explanation. No writer would otherwise include such a provocative detail. [return to English / Italian]

  106–111. The noble castle with its seven walls and surrounding stream that Dante and the poets walk over as though it were dry land in order then to pass through the seven gates and into a green meadow: what do these things signify? It is clear that here we are dealing with the conventional kind of allegory, in which poetic objects stand for abstract ideas. But which ones? As is often the case, allegories (here, a brief extended metaphor) of this kind have proven to be extremely difficult for Dante’s readers, and not only for his modern readers. Mazzoni (Mazz.1965.1) presents the history of the question (pp. 156–68); yet it cannot be said that he has resolved it. Is the castle the good life of the human being without Grace, all that can be done with the moral and speculative virtues that pagans could perfect despite their lack of faith (Mazzoni)? Or does the castle represent philosophy, with its seven disciplines (physics, metaphysics, ethics, politics, economics, mathematics, and dialectic [Padoan’s comment])? Or something else? And what does it mean that the pagan poets and Dante all can cross the stream as though it were not water? Surely that stands for some impediment that keeps the rest of the inhabitants of Limbo out, since apparently only those worthy of entrance can move over it. There are thirty-five designated inhabitants within the walls and fully two-fifths of these are “actives” (and the majority of these are women: eight of the fourteen). The more numerous “contemplatives”—had they been the only inhabitants discussed—might indicate that the castle stands for “philosophy.” But what have Caesar, Camilla, Latinus, or Lavinia got to do with philosophy? What, then, do the castle and its surroundings stand for? The best that human beings can be without God, in whatever precise further formulation: that seems a plausible, if not satisfying, response to Dante’s riddle. [return to English / Italian]

  115–117. The resemblance to the vision of the Elysian fields, the best place in the pagan underworld, in Aen. VI.752–755 was not lost on Boccaccio—nor on Pietro di Dante before him, in the third redaction of his commentary, as discussed by Mazz.1965.1, p. 172. [return to English / Italian]

  121–122. The first group is Trojan: Electra, mother of Dardanus, founder of Troy; Hector; Aeneas. The line becomes Roman with Aeneas. [return to English / Italian]

  123. For Caesar as the first emperor of Rome see Convivio IV.v.12. For the source in Suetonius of his falcon-like eyes see Campi’s comment to this verse. That Caesar is here in armor may well be a reminder of his crossing of the Rubicon in arms to attack Rome (see Stul.1991.1, p. 36). [return to English / Italian]

  124–126. The next group is Latian, those who fought and lost against Aeneas; first named are two warrior maidens, then Latinus, king of Latium, and his daughter, Lavinia. Aeneas won the right to marry her by his victory over the forces led by Turnus. [return to English / Itali
an]

  127–128. This group is associated with the Roman Republic, first its founder, Lucius Brutus, and then four of its matronly heroines. [return to English / Italian]

  129. That Saladin, for all the good report that he enjoyed, is included by Dante in Limbo (along with two other “infidels,” Avicenna and Averroes, at vv. 143–144) is nonetheless extraordinary. They are the only three “moderns” in Limbo, all representatives of that Islamic culture which Dante usually saw in negative terms and only as the enemy of Christendom. [return to English / Italian]

  131. This “master” of knowledge, the teacher of philosophy for nearly every major thinker in the Middle Ages, is, of course, Aristotle. For two important studies in English of the Aristotelian basis of Dante’s thought see Boyde (Boyd.1981.1 and Boyd.1993.1). [return to English / Italian]

  134–140. Socrates and Plato lead the listing of other Greek philosophers. Dante’s knowledge of the pre-Socratics is, of course, limited; but his interest in them was great. [return to English / Italian]

  140–141. The group of four combines poets (Orpheus, Linus) and moral philosophers (Cicero, Seneca). [return to English / Italian]

  142–144. The last grouping combines classical mathematicians and doctors of medicine with two “moderns,” both Muslims, Avicenna (eleventh-century philosopher) and Averroes (twelfth-century commentator of Aristotle). For Dante’s surprising “liberality” in including Avicenna and Averroes in Limbo see note to v. 129. [return to English / Italian]

  145–147. Dante’s abrupt switch to the role of author from that of narrator is noteworthy. With the exception of the invocation in Inferno II.7, this is the first time he has assumed that role, this time addressing remarks about the poem to us, his readers: “I cannot give account of all of them, for the length of my theme so drives me on, the telling often comes short of the fact.” The effect is, as we have observed before (note to vv. 64–66, above), to put together an appeal to his experience as voyager, returned from a veracious visit to the otherworld, and insistence on his absolute control over what he has in fact invented. As readers we are aware that it is he who has created the inhabitants of Limbo; his remark both insists that he is only recording what he observed and simultaneously allows a shared understanding of his contrivance. What is genial in it is that it turns his reader into a collaborator. The use of the word tema (here “poetic subject”) underlines the literary nature of the enterprise. [return to English / Italian]

  INFERNO V

  1–3. A descent again marks a border, this time between the Limbus and the second Circle. Singleton’s gloss argues that the presence here of Minos in judgment indicates that “real hell” begins only now, that Limbo is “marginal.” It is true, however, that the Limbus is inside the gate of hell. Not only does “real hell” begin there, it in a sense begins with those who are barely inside the gate, the neutrals. They are so pusillanimous that they are not even allowed “a proper burial,” as it were. One may not even say, as some have, that only with the second Circle do we begin to witness actual punishment being meted out for past sins, since the neutrals are indeed tormented by stinging insects as a fit punishment for their feckless conduct (Inf. III.65–66). [return to English / Italian]

  4–5. Padoan, in his gloss, argues that the present tense of the verbs in this tercet (sta, ringhia, essamina, giudica, manda, avvinghia) reflects the continuous condition of Minos’s behavior. In fact all the verbs in the passage describing Minos’s judgment, vv. 4–15, are in the present, as Dante leaves little doubt but that he wants his readers to imagine themselves—unless a life of good conduct and God’s grace combine to gain a better end—coming before that judgment in the future. This is the everlasting present of the moment of damnation, occurring, the text would make us feel, even as we read. For a study of the historical present in the Commedia, with attention (pp. 266–68) to this passage, see Sanguineti (Sang.1958.1).

  Dante fairly often portrays infernal monsters and characters as having bestial traits. For this particular one, canine vociferation, see also Cerberus (Inf. VI.43), Plutus (Inf. VII.43), Hecuba (Inf. XXX.20), Bocca degli Abati (Inf. XXXII.105; Inf. XXXII.108); Brutus and Cassius in Inferno XXXIV (described as “barking” retrospectively at Par. VI.74). See discussion in Spag.1997.1, p. 112.

  For the conflation here in the figure of Minos of the roles of Minos and of Rhadamanthus in Virgil’s underworld, see Moor.1896.1, pp. 183–84; the texts are found at Aeneid VI.432–433 and 566–569. [return to English / Italian]

  6. The precise way that Minos winds his tail about himself is a subject in dispute. Does he flap it back and forth as many times as he wishes to indicate the appropriate Circle? Or does he wind it like a vine around a tree? See Mazz.1977.1, pp. 104–5, for a brief summary of the debate and reasons to prefer the second hypothesis. [return to English / Italian]

  7. Sinners are “ill-begotten” in that their end is this, eternal damnation, because of their sins (and not because their procreation in itself so fated them). Padoan, commenting on this verse, points out that Dante himself is later described as “bene nato” (wellborn)—Par. V.115. [return to English / Italian]

  8. Dante presents Minos as a parody of a confessor meting out penance to a sinner (see Beno.1983.1). The word confessa marks the beginning of this canto’s concern with confession, which will be parodied again when Dante “confesses” Francesca (vv. 118–120). For now we are perhaps meant to ruminate on the perversity of sinners. In the world above they were offered, through this office of the Church, the possibility of confession and remission of sins. We may infer that those sinners whom we find in hell probably did not avail themselves of their great opportunity. (We never hear the word “confession” on the lips of any of them except for Guido da Montefeltro [Inf. XXVII.83]. And he, having confessed and become a friar, then sins again and is condemned. His second [and vain] confession is made, too late, in hell and only to Dante.) This moment offers a brief but cogent vision of human perversity: in their lives all those whom we see in hell had the opportunity to be rid of their sins by owning up to them in confession. They apparently did not do so. Here, in hell, what is the very first thing that they do? They make full disclosure of their sins … to Minos. [return to English / Italian]

  9–12. The mechanical nature of Minos’s judgment—he is a judge who renders judgment with his tail, not his head—underlines the lack of authority of the demons in hell: Minos is merely doing God’s work. Hell is presented as a perfectly functioning bureaucracy. If some of Satan’s minions are at times rebellious (e.g., the rebel angels in Inf. IX, the winged demons in XXI–XXIII), they are so in vain. Hell, too, is a part of God’s kingdom. [return to English / Italian]

  17. Once the narrated action of Dante’s descent continues (it had been suspended at v. 3), the tense moves back to the past definite: “Minos said.”[return to English / Italian]

  18–19. Minos, seeing a rarity, to say the least—a living man before him at the entrance—steals a moment from his incessant judgment to offer this warning. How kindly are his intentions? Most commentators seem to think he is the most “humane” of the infernal demons, and even courteous to Dante. However, and as Padoan points out (in his commentary), his calling into question, albeit indirectly, the competence of Virgil as guide (“beware … whom you trust”), is evidently meant to unsettle Dante. He would obviously prefer not to have such visitors. [return to English / Italian]

  20. Commentators customarily note that here Dante builds his line out of two sources: Aeneid VI.126: “Facilis descensus Averno” (the descent to the underworld is easy [but not the return from there]); Matth. 7:13: “spatiosa via est, quae ducit ad perditionem” (broad is the way that leads to perdition). [return to English / Italian]

  22–24. Virgil obviously understands that Minos’s words were meant to scare Dante off (and perhaps he also understands the implicit insult to himself contained in them). For the repetition here of the identical verses (23 and 24) used to quell Charon’s rebellious desires see I
nf. III.95–96 and note. It seems clear that Virgil would not have used them again had they not been efficacious the first time, that is, had Charon not relented and rowed Dante across (see note to Inf. III.136). [return to English / Italian]

  25. Here the present tense is an example of the “historical” (or “vivid”) present. [return to English / Italian]

  26–33. The “hellscape” that is established by the sounds in the darkness (once again Dante’s eyes need to adjust to the deepening shadows) mates well with the sin of lust: darkness, passionate winds in conflict that bear their victims in unceasing agitation in their storm of passion. For a passage that might have had some effect on Dante’s shaping of this scene, see II Peter 2:10–22, the Apostle Peter’s denunciation of the lustful. [return to English / Italian]

  34. One of the most debated verses in this canto because of the word ruina (literally, “ruin”). What precisely does it mean? Two discussions of the commentary tradition are available, the first by Letterio Cassata (Cass.1971.1), the second, still more complete, by Nicolò Mineo (ED, vol. 4, 1973), pp. 1056–57. Mineo points out that there have been six identifiable schools of interpretation for the meaning of la ruina. Unfortunately, there are severe problems associated with all of them. Many American and some Italian students of the problem have been drawn to Singleton’s solution (commentary to Inf. XII.32 and XII.36–45): Dante suppresses the meaning of the noun here only to reveal it at Inferno XII.32–41, where questa ruina (v. 32) refers to the crack in the wall of hell made by the earthquake that accompanied Christ’s crucifixion. However, it does remain extremely dubious, as many rightly point out, that Dante would, for the only time in his poem, hold back the reference necessary to a word’s clear literal sense for seven cantos. We agree with Mazzoni’s tentative judgment (Mazz. 1977.1, pp. 106–8) that the meaning of ruina here is not “ruin,” but “fury, violence,” as in the impetus of the wind that drives these sinners. [return to English / Italian]