Lectura Dantis Americana: Inferno III [Reprint 2016 ed.] 9781512806991

Table of contents :
Contents
Inferno III and translation
Preface
1. The Ante-Inferno
2. The Inscription
3. Spiritual Readiness to Enter Hell
4. The Sounds of Suffering
5. Scorned by Mercy and Justice
6. The Great Coward
7. Toward the Acheron
8. Charon
9. The Souls at the River
10. Divine Justice: Fear and Desire
11. Prodigy and Sleep
12. The Form and Meaning of Canto III
Notes
Bibliography
Index

Citation preview

LECTURA DANTI S AMERICANA

L E C T U R A D A

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MARIA PICCHIO SIMONELLI With a new translation of the canto by Patrick Creagfh and Robert Hollander

UNIVERSITY OF PENNSYLVANIA PRESS PHILADELPHIA

Copyright © 1993 by the University of Pennsylvania Press ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Printed in the United States of America Translation of Inferno, Canto III © 1992 by Patrick Creagh and Robert Hollander The Italian text of the Commedia reproduced here is that established by Giorgio Petrocchi and originally published by A. Mondadori, Milano, 1966. It is reprinted by the kind permission of La Società Dantesca Italiana. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Picchio Simonelli, Maria. Inferno III / Maria Picchio Simonelli: with a new translation of the canto by Patrick Creagh and Robert Hollander, p. cm. — (Lectura Dantis Americana) Text of canto 3 in Italian and English on opposite pages: Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0-8122-3229-1 ι. Dante Alighieri, 1265-1321. Inferno. Canto 3. I. Dante Alighieri, 1265-1321. Inferno. Canto 3. English & Italian. 1993. II. Title. III. Title: Inferno 3. IV. Series. PQ4445 jrd.P53 1993 851'.ι—dc20 93-13922 CIP

LECTURA DAΝ Τ IS AMERICANA a series of readings in Dante's Commedia under the auspices of the Dante Society of America

E D I T O R I A L

BOARD

ROBERT H O L L A N D E R Editor-in-Chief A N T H O N Y L. P E L L E G R I N I A L D O D. S C A G L I O N E JOAN M. F E R R A N T E (ex officio) President of the Dante Society of America 1985-1991

CONTENTS

Inferno III and translation by Patrick Creagh and Robert Hollander Preface ι

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The Ante-Inferno

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2 The Inscription

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3 Spiritual Readiness to Enter Hell

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The Sounds of Suffering

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5 Scorned by Mercy and Justice

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The Great Coward

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Toward the Acheron

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8 Charon

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The Souls at the River

10 Divine Justice: Fear and Desire

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11 Prodigy and Sleep

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12 The Form and Meaning of Canto III

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Notes

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Bibliography

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Index

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INFERNO

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T R A N S L A T I O N

X I INFERNO

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PER ME SI VA NE LA CITTÀ DOLENTE, PER ME SI VA NE L ' E T E R N O DOLORE, PER ME SI VA TRA LA PERDUTA GENTE.

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GIUSTIZIA MOSSE IL MIO ALTO FATTORE; FECEMI LA DIVINA PODESTATE, LA SOMMA SAPIENZA E ' E PRIMO AMORE.

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DINANZI A ME NON FUOR COSE CREATE SE NON ETTERNE, E IO ETTERNO DURO. LASCIATE OGNE SPERANZA, VOI CH'INTRATE.

Queste parole di colore oscuro vid' io scritte al sommo d'una porta; per ch'io: "Maestro, il senso lor m'è duro." Ed elli a me, come persona accorta: "Qui si convien lasciare ogne sospetto; ogne viltà convien che qui sia morta. Noi siam venuti al loco ovY t'ho detto che tu vedrai le genti dolorose c'hanno perduto il ben de l'intelletto." E poi che la sua mano a la mia puose con lieto volto, ond'io mi confortai, mi mise dentro a le segrete cose. Quivi sospiri, pianti e alti guai risonavan per l'aere sanza stelle, per ch'io al cominciar ne lagrimai. Diverse lingue, orribili favelle, parole di dolore, accenti d'ira, voci alte e fioche, e suon di man con elle facevano un tumulto, il qual s'aggira sempre in quell'aura sanza tempo tinta, come la rena quando turbo spira. E io ch'avea d'error la testa cinta, dissi: "Maestro, che è quel ch'i' odo? e che gent'è che par nel duol sì vinta?" Ed elli a me: "Questo misero modo tegnon l'anime triste di coloro che visser sanza 'nfamia e sanza lodo. Mischiate sono a quel cattivo coro de li angeli che non fiiron ribelli né fur fedeli a Dio, ma per sé fuoro. Caccianli i ciel per non esser men belli, né lo profondo inferno li riceve, ch'alcuna gloria i rei avrebber d'elli."

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I AM THE WAY TO THE CITY OF MISERY, I AM THE WAY TO EVERLASTING PAIN, I AM THE WAY TO THE PEOPLE W H O ARE DAMNED.

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JUSTICE PROMPTED MY H I G H ARTIFICER: CREATED WAS I BY THE POWER OF GOD, BY SAPIENCE SUPREME A N D PRIMAL LOVE.

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BEFORE I WAS, EXCEPT FOR THINGS ETERNAL, NOTHING WAS MADE, A N D I ENDURE FOREVER ABANDON EVERY HOPE, YOU W H O ENTER

These words, written in a somber color, I saw above a portal, so I said: "Master, to me their meaning seems severe." And he to me, that perspicacious one: "Here it behooves you to cast off all fear; All cowardice in you must here lie dead. We have now reached the place in which I told you That you would look upon the grieving people Who have lost the blessing of the understanding." And when he had stretched out his hand to mine With gladsome countenance, so that I took courage, He drew me in to the things which lie concealed. Sighs, cries, and strident lamentations There resounded upon the starless air, So that from the very first I was in tears. Weird languages, horrendous modes of speech, Words of anguish, accents of rage, voices Shrill or cracked, and with them the slap of hands, Made an uproar that goes round and round Endlessly in that grimy, timeless air As sand swirls in a whirlwind. And I, whose head was girt by circling doubt, Said: "Master, what is this I hear? What folk are these who seem so crushed by grief?" And he replied to me: "This abject state Is set aside for the paltry souls of those Who went through life with neither disgrace nor praise. They are intermingled with that iniquitous Crew of angels who were not rebellious Nor were loyal to God, but stood aside. Loath to impair its beauty, heaven rejects them, Nor does the depth of hell receive them, lest On their account the wicked angels gloat."

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E io: "Maestro, che è tanto greve a lor che lamentar li fa sì forte?" Rispuose: "Dicerolti m o l t o breve. Questi non hanno speranza di morte, e la lor cieca vita è tanto bassa, che 'nvidïosi son d'ogne altra sorte. Fama di loro il m o n d o esser non lassa; misericordia e giustizia li sdegna: non ragioniam di lor, ma guarda e passa." E io, che riguardai, vidi una 'nsegna che girando correva tanto ratta, che d'ogne posa mi parea indegna; e dietro le venia sì lunga tratta di gente, ch'i' non averei creduto che morte tanta n'avesse disfatta. Poscia ch'io v'ebbi alcun riconosciuto, vidi e conobbi l'ombra di colui che fece per viltade il gran rifiuto. Incontanente intesi e certo fui che questa era la setta d'i cattivi, a D i o spiacenti e a' nemici sui. Questi sciaurati, che mai non fur vivi, erano ignudi e stimolati molto da mosconi e da vespe ch'eran ivi. Elle rigavan lor di sangue il volto, che, mischiato di lagrime, a' lor piedi da fastidiosi vermi era ricolto. E poi ch'a riguardar oltre mi diedi, vidi genti a la riva d'un gran fiume; per ch'io dissi: "Maestro, or mi concedi ch'i' sappia quali sono, e qual costume le fa di trapassar parer sì pronte, com'i' discerno per lo fioco lume." E d elli a me: " L e cose ti fier conte quando noi fermerem li nostri passi su la trista riviera d'Acheronte." Allor con li occhi vergognosi e bassi, temendo n o Ί m i o dir li fosse grave, infino al fiume del parlar mi trassi. E d ecco verso noi venir per nave un vecchio, bianco per antico pelo, gridando: "Guai a voi, anime prave!

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INFERNO

And I: "Master, what is so very grievous To them, that it makes them wail so loud?" He answered me, "That I will tell you briefly: These people here are without hope of death, And their benighted being is so base They envy every other sinner's lot. The world does not permit report of them, Mercy and justice hold them in contempt: Let us not speak of them—look, and pass on." And when I looked at them I espied a banner Which went at such a rate that as it whirled It seemed to be disdainful of repose; And following behind it such a rout Of people, that I never would have thought Death had undone so many. When I had recognized a few of these I saw—and knew it for—the shade of him Who basely made the great renunciation. At once I understood, and I was certain That this must be the sect of caitiff souls Hateful to God and to his enemies. These nobodies, who had never been alive, Went naked and were very sorely stung By wasps and horseflies that were in that place. These made their faces run with streaks of blood Which, mixed with tears, Was sucked up at their feet by sickening worms. When I set myself to looking further on I saw a crowd on the bank of a great river, Wherefore I said, "Master, permit me now To know what sort these are, and what compulsion Makes them seem so eager to cross over, As I can make out even in this dusky light." And he to me: "These things Will be made known to you when we halt our steps Upon the mournful shore of Acheron." At this, with eyes cast down for shame, fearing That my words might have been irksome to him, I kept from speaking until we reached the river. And now, making toward us in a boat, There came an old man, white with ancient locks, Shouting, "Woe betide you, wicked souls!

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Non isperate mai veder lo cielo: i' vegno per menarvi a l'altra riva ne le tenebre etterne, in caldo e 'n gelo. E tu che se' costì, anima viva, pàrtiti da cotesti che son morti." Ma poi che vide ch'io non mi partiva, disse: "Per altra via, per altri porti verrai a piaggia, non qui, per passare: più lieve legno convien che ti porti." E Ί duca lui: "Caron, non ti crucciare: vuoisi così colà dove si puote ciò che si vuole, e più non dimandare." Quinci fuor quete le lanose gote al nocchier de la livida palude, che 'ntorno a li occhi avea di fiamme rote. Ma quell'anime, ch'eran lasse e nude, cangiar colore e dibatterò i denti, ratto che 'nteser le parole crude. Bestemmiavano Dio e lor parenti, l'umana spezie e Ί loco e Ί tempo e Ί seme di lor semenza e di lor nascimenti. Poi si ritrasser tutte quante insieme, forte piangendo, a la riva malvagia ch'attende ciascun uom che Dio non teme. Caron dimonio, con occhi di bragia loro accennando, tutte le raccoglie; batte col remo qualunque s'adagia. Come d'autunno si levan le foglie l'una appresso de l'altra, fin che Ί ramo vede a la terra tutte le sue spoglie, similemente il mal seme d'Adamo gittansi di quel lito ad una ad una, per cenni come augel per suo richiamo. Così sen vanno su per l'onda bruna, e avanti che sien di là discese, anche di qua nuova schiera s'auna. "Figliuol mio," disse Ί maestro cortese, "quelli che muoion ne l'ira di Dio tutti convegnon qui d'ogne paese; e pronti sono a trapassar lo rio, ché la divina giustizia li sprona, sì che la tema si volve in disio.

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INFERNO

Give up hope of ever seeing heaven: I come to carry you to the other shore, To everlasting darkness, to fire and ice. And you there, living spirit, Stand aside from the others, who are dead." But when he saw that I did not stand aside, "By other routes," he said, "through other harbors, Will you make landfall when you pass across, Not here: a lighter bark must carry you." And my guide to him: "Charon, stifle your anger: It is so willed where whatsoever is willed May be fulfilled—and ask me nothing more." From then on, silent were the shaggy jowls Of the ferryman of the leaden slough, Whose eyes were ringed around with hoops of But those souls, who were woebegone and naked, No sooner understood his brutal words Than they changed color, clattering their teeth; They cursed God, their parents, the human race, The time, the place, the seed Both of their begetting and of their birth. Then they huddled together, every one Bitterly weeping, upon the evil shore That waits for all of those who fear not God. Demon Charon with eyes of glowing coals Beckons to them and herds them all aboard, Strikes with his oar at anyone who loiters. Just as in autumn-time the leaves fall off One after another, until the bough Sees all its raiment strewn upon the ground, In like manner the evil seed of Adam One after another leap from shore, Summoned like a falcon drawn to lure. Thus they depart, over the dark water, And before they disembark on the other side Another crowd has massed along this bank. "My son," the courteous master said to me, "Those who go to their deaths in the wrath of God All assemble here from every land; And they are eager to traverse the stream Because the justice of God so spurs them on That terror is transmuted into longing.

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Quinci non passa mai anima buona; e però, se Caron di te si lagna, ben puoi sapere ornai che Ί suo dir suona." Finito questo, la buia campagna tremò sì forte, che de lo spavento la mente di sudore ancor mi bagna. La terra lagrimosa diede vento, che balenò una luce vermiglia la qual mi vinse ciascun sentimento; e caddi come l'uom cui sonno piglia.

INFERNO

Never does virtuous soul pass by this way; Therefore, if Charon grumbles on your account, Well may you know by this what his words imply." When he had said all this, the shadowy landscape Trembled with such a shock that to remember The terror of it bathes me to this day in sweat. The tearful earth sent forth a wind that came Flaming out with a vermilion light Which blotted out all consciousness in me; And down I fell, like a man seized with sleep.

(translated by Patrick Creagh and Robert Hollander)

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PREFACE

This study, which is divided into sections that correspond to the sequence of themes in the text, provides a step-by-step analysis of Canto III of Dante's Inferno and its interpretation through the centuries. Two verses—namely, "vidi e conobbi l'ombra di colui / che fece per viltade il gran rifiuto" (w. 59-60)—have received special attention for two reasons. First, the verses constitute the crux of the canto; second, their interpretation has remained an especially sensitive issue for successive generations of critics. Some commentators have sought to defend Dante from the accusation of heresy (see, in particular, the commentaries written toward the middle of the fourteenth century); others have aimed to protect the memory of a pope who had been proclaimed a saint (see the commentaries written in the nineteenth century as well as certain positions still advanced by "Catholic" scholars in recent times). The various explanations for these crucial verses seem to parallel the changes in intellectual moods that took place—especially in Italy—since the time of Dante's writing. Yet there are other reasons for dwelling at great length on "the one who out of cowardice made the great renunciation." In my opinion, it is the theme evoked in these two verses—and not Virgil's presence— which is central to the entire canto. Canto III long has been considered, most notably by classical scholars, "the most Virgilian of all cantos." Notwithstanding the unmistakable echoes from Book VI of thcAeneid (the Underworld, Charon, and the Acheron are all undoubtedly classical images), the fact is that little remains of the classical idea of the hereafter. The chief purpose of these classical references was to establish a link between Dante's Christian poem and the classical iter ad inferos, a genre for which Homer and Virgil had provided the supreme models. The Christianized version of this genre became highly developed in the Middle Ages and was an essential component in the spread of the "good spell." Dante, in his own way, considered himself part of the apostolate. His mission as poet was to restore the effectiveness of the two authorities XIX

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in which he profoundly believed, that is, a totally spiritual papal power and an entirely temporal imperial power. Though he might proclaim his unworthiness, he wanted to be both Aeneas and Paul. Dante's blunt attack on the "cowardice" of a pope who had raised the hopes of all good Christians only to deceive them a few months later is a confirmation of what Dante saw as his sacred task. Certain images and phrases are borrowed from Virgil, yet Dante's "Virgilianism" does not play a primary role in Canto III. The classical model, though cited, is profoundly altered. Here Virgilian echoes serve a totally different purpose and are secondary in importance; they act as a rhetorical signal that points to the conventions of a literary genre. This study makes use of the critical text published by Giorgio Petrocchi. This does not mean that Petrocchi's edition of the Commedia is the definitive one. Nonetheless, it remains, to date, the only edition based on a stemma codicum which, however limited, is scientifically established. Until scholars produce a new (and, perhaps, more correct) stemma based on a larger number of codices, any modification of Petrocchi's readings is arbitrary and should be rejected. I have endeavored to provide as complete a presentation of the commentary tradition as possible. Some comments or interpretations may have escaped my attention. For any omissions I apologize to both the authors (past and present) and my readers. *

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My dear friend and colleague Robert Hollander first asked me to write this study for the Lectura Dantis Americana almost a decade ago, when I was still teaching at Boston College. I enthusiastically accepted the invitation to participate in this most prestigious enterprise. My work was delayed for a variety of reasons, including my decision to return to Italy to teach at the Istituto Universitario Orientale in Naples. To Robert Hollander I express my special gratitude for all his patience, wise counsel, and encouragement. I am also deeply indebted to Cristina Gaiotto and Harvey Goldblatt, as well as to the four members of the editorial committee of the Dante Society of America—Joan Ferrante, Robert Hollander, Anthony Pellegrini, and Aldo Scaglione—for helping me provide an acceptable English translation of my Italian text and giving me extremely valuable suggestions. Finally, I wish to thank my husband Riccardo Picchio for his constant support and advice. M. P. S.

C H A P T E R

I

The Ante-Inferno

In examining a particular part of Dante's Divine Comedy, we must bear in mind the general structure of the poem as a whole and not allow individual details to divert us from our primary task: that of interpreting the component in the context of the entire poem and of its complex exegetical tradition. Dante always works on three distinct levels in his Commedia. The first is the level of the artifex, the author who gives substance and shape to his inventio and whose extrafictional voice is rarely heard in the poem.1 The second level is that of memory, by which the fictitious events of Dante's epic journey are set down for us as the product of recollection. On the third level, Dante the characterfiguresas the aßens or protagonist in his story. The action of Dante agens, however, is fictitiously filtered through memory, and Dante the author repeatedly emphasizes the importance of having chosen to express himself in this way. The story of his journey is not narrated in the present, as something happening here and now, but as something relived and thus distanced through the device of fictitious memory. In interpreting any single canto, we must always take into account the general strategies that Dante the author employs. At the same time, it is necessary to keep in mind the limits imposed by the form of the Lectura Dantis, which necessitates the privileging of the canto under consideration as distinct from the parts of the poem that follow it. To look ahead may have the effect of releasing the reader from the anguished suspense with which Dante intends him or her to experience the dangers of the Inferno. If, for instance, we were to say that the descent to the netherworld is for Dante a completely positive experience (which is true), what we would thereby lose irremediably is the sense of fearful uncertainty that dominates the opening cantos of the Commedia. Only after having ascended the mountain of Purgatory and the seven ι

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planetary spheres to attain the level of the fixed stars will Dante, attending to the advice of Beatrice, be able to look back down to this little earth of ours that his "donna di virtù" has now put beneath his feet. It is only then that Dante will be able to tell us: col viso ritornai per tutte quante le sette spere, e vidi questo globo tal, ch'io sorrisi del suo vii sembiante; e quel consiglio per migliore approbo che l'ha per meno; e chi ad altro pensa chiamar si puote veramente probo. [Back through the seven spheres I turned my eyes Until I saw our globe; to me it seemed So paltry to behold I had to smile; And that opinion I applaud as best Which holds it least; for only he whose thoughts Lie elsewhere can be considered just.] (Paradiso XXII, 133-38; trans. R. Hollander) The risk is to forewarn the reader, by instructing (or even consoling) him or her, that Dante's suffering in Hell is only temporary, that the penitential experience of Purgatory will make him or her worthy of experiencing the joy of Paradise, a joy conceded to this mortal being, even if "per altro modo che per lo contentare in Paradiso: [quello] è perpetuo, che non può ad alcuno essere questo" [in another way than by the happiness of Paradise that is everlasting, which this cannot be for anyone] (Convivio III, viii, 5; trans. R. Lansing). If our thoughts are allowed to run toward what is to come, we will thereby reduce the dramatic nature of the opening of the poem and thus betray the author's design. The criteria, then, to which I wish to conform, are two: first, to remain within thefictionin order to stay close to its expressive play; and second, to remain within the narrative limits set by the canto itself. Furthermore, Dante himself, in Epistola XIII, 9, seems to consider every canto an individuated part of the whole: "quaelibet cantica dividitur in cantus" [each cantica is itself divided into cantos]. Only in the third canto of the Inferno does Dante begin to describe his descent into the gloomy kingdom of Hell. The first two cantos—in which he sets forth the urgent reasons for his journey to the world of the

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dead (namely, a crisis in his own life and the moral and political turmoil then ravaging all of Christendom)—serve as an introduction not only to the first cantica but to the entire poema sacro. Canto III opens with words written "in a somber color" ("di colore oscuro") that Dante the pilgrim reads "above a gateway" ("al sommo d'una porta"). This narrative expedient is superbly effective. Canto II had ended on a reassuring note: Having overcome the "cowardice" ("viltà") that had led him to question whether he should undertake such an unusual journey—which Virgil had nevertheless shown to be the sole path to salvation—Dante the pilgrim is now firmly resolved. Virgil is to be his guide, his master, and his teacher, while Dante, as the fictional protagonist of his own narrative, is prepared to confront "the deep and savage way" ("lo cammino alto e silvestro"). The narrative tone is abrupdy interrupted when the reader must face the tragic inscription over the gates of Hell, an inscription fashioned according to the canons of the rhetorical sublime as an apt expression of profound metaphysical verities. The shift in tone could hardly be more pronounced. It is a signal to the reader that the journey has begun. The first realm, the realm of justice that punishes according to human fault, now unfolds before the stricken eyes of both wayfarer and reader. This canto is divided into three parts. In the first part he [Dante] places his exordium at the gateway of Hell. . . . In the second part he deals with the punishment of the sinners. . . . The third and last part is where he speaks about the general entrance to Hell via the crossing of the Acheron. And this continues to the end.2 Thus begins Pietro Alighieri's commentary on this canto. Guido da Pisa (1974, 55) also insisted on this sensible division into three parts, as did Guiniforto Bargigi (1838) in the fifteenth century. The bipartite structure proposed by Boccaccio (1918) and the division into five parts suggested by Benvenuto da Imola3 (if we restrict ourselves to fourteenth-century commentators) are, I think, much less acceptable. There are, in fact, three essential moments in this canto: the vision of the gates of Hell, the meeting with the pusillanimous souls who lived "with neither disgrace nor praise" ("sanza 'nfamia e sanza lodo"), and the scene at the thronging bank of the Acheron, where the poem's first demon appears—Charon, the "ferryman of the livid slough" ("nocchier de la livida palude"), who transports the damned across the murky river into Hell proper.

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The third canto opens and closes, however, with the crossing of two successive borders, the gates of Hell and the banks of the Acheron. Between them is a place, which, although within the "city of misery" ("città dolente"), is not part of Hell proper. This infernal vestibule fittingly accommodates the "lazy servant" ("servus piger") of the parable of the talents (Matt. 25:14-30) who, because of his utter uselessness, is cast "into the outer darkness: there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth."4 Despite its implicit evangelical justification,5 this vestibule, this ante-Inferno, with its souls damned for failure to act, remains somewhat problematic, especially if it is compared with Limbo, the actual first circle of Hell. In Limbo the fate of the damned is far less painful and degrading. Their suffering arises not from physical torment but from their lack of positive good and of hope; they sigh, but they do not cry out. Those consigned to Limbo ("children, women, and men") had either died without baptism "which is the gateway of faith" ("ch'è la porta de la fede") or, if they were born and had lived before the coming of Christ, "did not worship God in the proper way" ("non adorar debitamente a Dio"). They certainly had not hidden their talent like the slothful servant, yet like the sinners in the vestibule of Hell, they do not have to undergo the judgment of Minos (Canto V, 1—15). Indeed, those condemned to the ante-Inferno remain unsentenced. Because they have not acted for either good or evil, Minos cannot judge them. And yet, between the infernal vestibule and the first true circle of Hell there appears to be a retrograde movement from one evil to a lesser evil, which is the opposite of what might be expected. In structuring this first realm, Dante fits the punishment to the seriousness of the sin, but the pusillanimous souls of the ante-Inferno are subject to a torment determined by the same laws of retribution (contrappasso) that apply to most of the souls sentenced by Minos. In contrast with the inhabitants of Limbo, who suffer only from lack of Beatific Vision and thus live in eternally unsatisfied desire without enduring physical suffering, the pusillanimous souls are subject to torments in their insubstantial bodies that nevertheless are capable of experiencing physical pain. Only in the second circle of Hell, among the lustful, do we again encounter souls subjected to bodily torments. Limbo thus constitutes a kind of bracketed region devoid of physical pain; the punishment of its inhabitants is totally spiritual. Here Dante appears to have deviated from the structure he had imposed on his poem. The punishment endured by the pusillanimous is among the most painful, as Dante himself emphasizes: "And their benighted being is so base they envy every other sinner's lot" ("e la

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lor cieca vita è tanto bassa, / che 'nvidiosi son d'ogne altra sorte" [ w. 4748])· It is a blind life indeed, the perpetuation of the benighted existence they led on earth. It is a ferocious sentence in which, together with contempt, there appears a certain partisan spirit, the intent to anathematize "the one who basely made the great renunciation" ("colui / che fece per viltade il gran rifiuto"). That unnamed sinner, as soon as he is glimpsed and recognized by Dante the pilgrim, will justify by his mere presence the condign nature of the punishments suffered here. He will clarify "at once" ("incontanente") the identity of the other doomed souls, namely, "the sect of caitiffs hateful to God and to his enemies" ("la setta d'i cattivi / a Dio spiacenti e a' nemici sui"), those wretched ones "who had never been alive" ("che mai non fur vivi"). And all of this remains true no matter who the unnamed sinner might be. There is no doubt that the sin punished in the ante-Inferno is cowardice, a quality that here appears to be linked with the baseness defined in the Convivio (IV, χ, io) : "baseness means degeneracy, which is the opposite of nobility" ("s'intende viltade per degenerazione, la quale a la nobilitade s'oppone"). It represents a degeneration of the human condition itself: "Many men are so vile and base that they almost seem to be beasts" ("molti uomini [sono] tanto vili e di sí bassa condizione che quasi non pare essere altro che bestia") .6 If a person distinguishes himself from the animals by the use of reason, "he who strays from reason does not live like a man, but like a beast."7 Cowardice is thus the opposite of nobility, which is "the perfection of its own proper nature in each thing" ("perfezione di propria natura in ciascuna cosa" [IV, xvi, 4]). The coward, the individual who is "not noble," as Dante defines him (IV, xvi, 58), refuses to give the full measure of himself; he refuses to translate into action the "specific virtue" ("specifica vertute") that "every substantial form" ("ogne forma sustanzïal") "holds within itself, which is not perceived except in operation nor ever shows itself but by its effect" ("in sé colletta / la quai sanza operar non è sentita, / né si dimostra mai che per effetto" [Purgatorio XVIII, 51-53]). Thus, the cruel punishment of these ignoble souls meshes perfectly with the overall plan of the Commedia and the branch of philosophy that governs the work as a whole and its parts (sub quo hie in toto et parte proceditur), namely, moral philosophy: "For, if in some parts or passages the work proceeds in a speculative mode, this is not for the sake of speculation, but for the sake of practical results."8 And this remains the case even if what is stated in Epistola XIII were nothing more than a late reflection by Dante on his poem. Dante, moreover, had already taken

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pains to prepare the careful reader, for the entire second canto emphasizes the first advance of Dante the pilgrim along the difficult road of perfection, that is, his victory over the cowardice that had gripped his soul as he contemplated a journey into the unknown. And cowardice is an insidious sin capable of insinuating itself into the heart even in the guise of the prime virtue, humility. In this vein, Dante the pilgrim protests, "I am not Aeneas; I am not Paul. Neither I nor any man thinks mefitfor this" ("Io non Enea, io non Paulo sono, / me degno a ciò né io né altri Ί crede" [Inferno II, 32-33]). Had Dante continued to insist on his unworthiness, he would never have undertaken the journey, and the wild forest would have engulfed him again. Virgil's reproof and precise accusation, "your spirit is smitten with cowardice" ("l'anima tua è da viltade offesa" [II, 45]), help Dante conquer his weakness. Toward the beginning of this third canto, Virgil repeats his admonition to the poet on not allowing cowardice to overwhelm him: "Here it behooves you to cast off all fear; all cowardice in you must here lie dead" ("Qui si convien lasciare ogni sospetto; / ogne viltà convien che qui sia morta" [w. 14— IS])· In this light, everything makes sense and coheres. Nonetheless, there is no question that the harshness of the punishment and the profound contempt with which Dante regards these first sinners, who are not sentenced by Minos and who must remain outside Hell proper, cannot be fully understood without identifying the unnamed sinner for whom both the punishment and the contempt were initially conceived. To round out general discussion of the sinners of this ante-Inferno, one last precision is in order. In Italy, where commentaries on and editions of the Commedia are not only of greater antiquity but more numerous, it has become customary to refer to the sinners of Canto III as "cowards" (ignavi, w. 22—69). This identification has become so entrenched that in the Enciclopedia dantesca we read under ignavi: "This term, which is not documented in Dante's writings in the vernacular, is often used to refer to 'the paltry souls of those who went through life with neither disgrace nor praise' " ("l'anime triste di coloro / che visser sanza 'nfamia e sanza lodo"). The word ignavo does not occur in Dante, in either his vernacular or his Latin works.9 The unquestionable popularity of the term among commentators is not, however, sufficient to render it acceptable,10 since ignavia is semantically too akin to accidia. Both terms denote "indolence in acting for the good, negligence, narrowness,"11 according to the dictionary of Tommaseo-Bellini (1929). In the Vocabolario della Lingua Italiana (1986—87), accidia is defined as "any unhappiness that burdens

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the spirit to such an extent that it does not enjoy doing anything," 12 while ignavia is "a vice of the spirit that causes a man to do nothing with discretion"; 13 finally, both entries end with the definition, "lukewarmness of spirit, inertia."14 Considering that in Dante's Hell the "slothful ones" ("accidiosi") inhabit the fifth circle and are submerged in the "swamp which is called Styx" ("palude . . . c'ha nome Stige" [Inferno VII, io6]), I think it prudent to avoid a definition that is, at the very least, ambiguous. In addition, the sin of sloth (accidia), which is clearly set forth in ecclesiastical tradition as one of the seven mortal sins, will be encountered once again in the fourth terrace of the repentant souls in Purgatory. The early commentators usually speak of vili [vile souls], cattivi [wicked souls], and tristi [wretched souls], using adjectives drawn directly from the text. Only Guido da Pisa, when commenting on the phrase "colui che fece per viltade il gran rifiuto," speaks of the ignavia cordis of Pope Celestine V. 1S Nonetheless, in speaking of the throng of souls in the ante-Inferno, he refers to "a multitude of those who are called in the vulgar tongue captivi [wicked ones] and miseri [wretched ones]." 16 To find the term ignavi used to characterize the sinners of Canto III, we must await Gabriele Rossetti's commentary of the early nineteenth century. Rossetti (1826,65-70) applies the modifier to the neutral angels, yet in the summary preceding the commentary he speaks instead of poltroni, the adjective also used by Lombardi (1791, 35-42) in the late eighteenth century. 17 According to Rossetti, the term "poltroons" (poltroni) best suits the multitude of souls running after the wavering banner: "Indeed, the Teacher has also told him who these sinners are: they are those most despicable poltroons, citizens of no country, of whom Italy was so shamefully full in Dante's times" (69). It is in the commentary of Brunone Bianchi (1844) that the sinners in the vestibule of Hell are first defined as ignavi. This identification has been accepted by a majority of critics for the past 150 years, although several eminent Dante scholars were not satisfied with it. Tommaseo (1865) for example, uses the paraphrase da poco, (i.e., "l'anime dei da poco," or "inept, worthless souls") (cols. 31-44)· Michele Barbi (1926) calls these sinners pusillanimi [pusillanimous souls] (22, 29). Pietrobono (1915, 249-50) also distances himself from the more common opinion and appeals to the authority of the Convivio when he uses the term vilissimi [most vile souls], which seems to me preferable to ignavi.16 It is Barbi who points us in the right direction: since viltà [cowardice] is only one of the effects of pusillanimity, we must go to the root cause itself and speak of pusillanimous souls. 19

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Among the early commentators, the Ottimo had spoken of pusillanimità: "[the author] describes the first site, which is closest to the gate where the pusillanimous souls are suffering," writes Andrea Lancia in his Proemio to the third canto.20 In commenting on lines 13—15 (Virgil's words to Dante), the commentator once again demonstrates his "indisputable critical acumen"21 by adding that "Virgil. . . comforts him [Dante] . . . and says that here there is need to be great-souled [magnanimo]."22 According to the Ottimo, then, the vile sinners aie pusillanimi, and in contrast, the person who succeeds in overcoming cowardice is magnanimo. It is a line of thought that comes closest to Dante's own. This kind of interpretive uncertainty which, almost without exception, has characterized centuries of Italian critical thought, has also clearly influenced the numerous translations of the Commedia. I will here deal briefly with translations into English. It is my belief that Longfellow (1865, 121) offered the best interpretation when he called these sinners "pusillanimous." I reject as inadequate both "indifferent," proposed by Hamilton (1898), and "unworthy," proposed by Butler (1892). I would also dismiss "opportunist," suggested by Ciardi (1954), and "futile," offered by Mackenzie (1979). Singleton's interpretation merits separate discussion. In his commentary, Singleton (1970,4+ff.) defines the sinners in the ante-Inferno as "lukewarm" on the basis of a specific scriptural reference (Rev. 3:15—16): "I know your works; you are neither cold nor hot. Would that you were cold or hot! So, because you are lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew you out of my mouth." 23 To support his interpretation, especially regarding the neutral angels, Singleton cites two articles by Freccerò (1961 and 1962). Before evaluating the importance of this scriptural echo, I would like to trace its history in relation to the problem posed by the word ignavi. In reality, it is a relatively recent history, even if its roots are already evident in Boccaccio's commentary. Regarding the literal sense of the text, Boccaccio (1918, 245) spoke of beings who were "torpid, mean, and cold" ("torpenti e miseri e freddi"). For the allegorical sense he spoke of "spiritual coldness" ("freddezza d'animo") (258). As far as I have been able to determine, the first commentator to turn to Rev. 3:1416 as an aid in interpreting the sin being punished in the third canto was John Taaffe (1822), who spoke of "lukewarmness." As he notes, "lukewarmness deprived society of its vital principle. . . . It is a melancholy fact of which the Creator himself informs us, Ί would thou wert cold or hot; but because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spew thee of my mouth' (Rev. 3:15-16)" (174-76).

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Moore (1896) returned to the suggestion of this scriptural reference, but with considerable caution: "The peculiar detestation . . . expressed by Dante for the . . . neutral sinners . . . was probably suggested by the language of Scripture respecting the lukewarm Laodiceans in Rev. 3:1516" (80). Through Moore, the reference to Revelation seems to have entered various commentaries and become traditional.24 I would be even more cautious than Moore. The reference to this passage is useful and can be as helpful in clarifying Dante's lines as the parable of the talents from Matt. 25:14-30. Biblical parable is frequendy the basis and spiritual foundation on which Dante builds and from which he derives some of his speculative power. In this case, however, even if the scriptural underpinnings are present, Dante had already developed in the Convivio a line of thought that led him to an utter scorn of "cowardice" ("viltà d'animo") whenever and however it manifested itself. This was the case even when cowardice led to the preference of another language to one's own: The pretentious man always magnifies himself in his heart, and likewise the pusillanimous, conversely, always holds himself for less than he is. . . . And since man measures himself in the same way he measures his belongings . . . it happens that. . . the pusillanimous always believes that his belongings are worth little and those of others worth much.25 Imagine how much disgust "the great renunciation" ("il gran rifiuto") must have provoked in Dante, when a simple preference for a language different from one's own vernacular resulted in this bitter invective: All these together make up the detestable wretches of Italy who despise this precious vernacular, which, if it is base in anything, is base only insofar as it issues from the meretricious lips of these adulterers.26 Based on these arguments, the adjective pusillanimi seems to describe best the herd of sinners who run behind the banner in Canto III. Their neutrality is more the result of intention than of the more reactive behavior suggested by the word ignavi, which should probably be deprived of the favor so many commentators have lent to it.

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PER ME SI VA NE LA CITTÀ DOLENTE, PER ME SI VA NE L ' E T E R N O DOLORE, PER ME SI VA TRA LA PERDUTA GENTE. GIUSTIZIA MOSSE IL MIO ALTO FATTORE, FECEMI LA DIVINA PODESTATE, LA SOMMA SAPIENZA E 'E PRIMO AMORE. DINANZI A ME NON FUOR COSE CREATE SE NON ETTERNE, E IO ETTERNO DURO. LASCIATE OGNE SPERANZA, VOI CH'INTRATE.

(W. I - 9 )

The text printed here was established by Petrocchi (1966—67). The only reading that is still the object of debate is "etterno duro," transmitted by the oldest manuscripts of the alpha group (Triv., Mart.) and by Urb. of the beta group. To defend the traditional reading—"etterna duro"—as Francesco Mazzoni (1967, 334—36) does (though "not without hesitation"), a discussion of the Petrocchi stemma would be necessary. The reading etterna cannot be supported solely by the affirmation, which Mazzoni bases on a rich but not entirely pertinent series of examples, that it has an adverbial value similar to that of the form etterno. In addition, if the meaning remains unchanged, why reject the reading of the most authoritative codices? The reader will forgive this digression into textual criticism, but I feel I should reiterate an indispensable methodological principle: every type of interpretive criticism requires a textual foundation in order to be productive; otherwise, we will continue to lapse into the uncertain, if not the arbitrary. This can be argued without detracting from Mazzoni's outstanding essay. In the first nine lines of Canto III, the dramatic inscription above the 10

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gates of Hell, we find a complex interplay of recollections of Virgil, Scripture, and things actually seen by Dante, all condensed into three highly rhetorical tercets. Nor should we be surprised: the gates and the inscription are the pilgrim's first encounter with the divine, the first cognitive step toward the "Light Eternal" ("luce etterna" [Paradiso XXXIII, 12+]), toward "the Love which moves the sun and the other stars" ("l'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle" [Paradiso XXXIII, 145]). The road will be long and arduous, but it starts here. The "high artificer" ("alto fattore") manifests himself here and throughout the Inferno as the Supreme Justice that punishes those who have erred in the exercise of their free will. The words of "a somber color" ("di colore oscuro"), which are threatening in addition to being written "in black ink" ("inclaustro nigro"), as Benvenuto (1887,108) notes, are an admonition from the "power of God" ("divina podestate"), the "sapience supreme" ("somma sapienza"), and the "primal love" ("primo amore"): "the Lord spoke on the day of hisfierceanger" (Lam. 1:12),' because "the Lord is in the right, for I have provoked his mouth to anger" (Lam. 1:18).2 Even if other works may have played a role here, the stylistic structure also echoes Lamentations with its insistent anaphora at the beginning. In Lamentations, a text filtered through Saint Jerome's learning, anaphora is a dominant figure from the very first verse. So fond was Dante of this figure that he had used it to begin chapter 28 of the Vita nuova: "Facta est quasi vidua. . . . Facta est sub tributo." Similar in effect is the recurrent Vide, Domine (Lam. 1:9,11,20), Oculus metis (Lam. 3:49, 51), or Vidisti (Lam. 3:59, 60), to cite only a few examples.3 Scholars usually refer to Iacopo della Lana as the first commentator to emphasize the importance of anaphora in lines 1-3: "This way of speaking, in which one recites the same word more than once," he writes, "is known by rhetoricians as affective speech. In this type of speech, one shows that the emotion of the speaker is great."4 Yet the commentator perhaps most sensitive to Dante's rhetorical figures was Cristoforo Landino, who asserted that "the poet adorns this opening with two rhetorical tropes, using repetitio and exposition He then states that Kexpositio occurs when in several clauses, although the words are different, the meaning remains almost identical."6 Landino also observes the semantic crescendo stressed by all modern critics: "Moreover, he uses augmentation, since he shapes these three verses in such a way, that the one that comes after acquires something more."7 Gelli (1887, 237), the sixteenth-century commentator who was the most attentive to rhetorical devices, merely develops Landino's remarks.

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No new suggestions were made until those of Father Berthier at the end of the nineteenth century. To my knowledge, Berthier was the first commentator to observe that "there was once a custom of putting inscriptions over portals" (1892, 36). Among the examples he cites, the most important is the inscription over the old door of San Giorgio in Palazzo in Milan, published several years later by Forcella (1897, 257-58). Eighteen-year-old Giacomo Morpurgo, while doing research as a firstyear student in the Faculty of Letters for Guido Mazzoni's literature seminar, examined the problem yet again and expanded on these examples. Morpurgo (1926, 147) observed that the three fundamental elements of these inscriptions—the statement of the purpose of the building, the name of the architect, and the date of construction—are given in the same order as those of the inscription at the entrance to Hell. The examples he adduces, all of great interest, confirm the anaphorical style. Very often they have a leonine rhythm, as the inscription over the door of San Giorgio in Palazzo: "Ianua sum vite: precor omnes intro venite. / Per me transibunt qui coeli gaudia querunt. . . . Per me si qui introierit salvabitur."8 The Gospel citation (John 10:9)' concludes the inscription with anaphora,10 the very same {per me) that Dante uses. The inscription in Milan very likely dates back to the twelfth century (Ponzoni 1930, 432). It is doubtful, however, that Dante knew of it, and there is no record of Dante visiting Milan. (The mention of Milan in De vulvari eloquentia11 is too broad to prove that Dante knew the city firsthand.) Furthermore, on the door of Saint Mark's in Venice, a city Dante may have known much better, the following inscription is found: "Ianua sum vitae^rw^mea membra venite."12 Dante thus appears to have stood the phrase on its head, from Ianua vite to Ianua mortis, while maintaining a certain architectural realism that led the Anonimo Fiorentino to assert: In the first part, the author, as poets are wont to do, imagines . . . that each thing spoken of has its own principle, its proportions, its corresponding parts . . and if anyone speaks . . . of a house without mentioning its characteristics, one must imagine that the house has a door, an entrance and windows, and all other necessary things. . . . Similarly, the author imagines all of this, and thus he describes an entrance, a portal at the entrance to Hell, above which are written those words which will afterwards be clarified.13 In addition, according to Deut. 11:18-20, God's word is to be treasured in the heart and meditated on, but God also ordains that "you shall write

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them [i.e., my words] upon the doorposts and upon the gates of your house" (Deut. 11:18-20).14 We are thus dealing with realistic touches, biblical allusions, and no doubt Virgilian echoes as well. Thefirstto refer to Virgil in his commentary on these opening lines was Guido da Pisa (1974,57), but he did so in a rather strange manner, to judge from Cioffari's edition. In fact, though citing Book VI of the, Aeneid, he quotes in full lines 467-68 of Book IV of the Georgia. Is this a citation from memory? An error of transmission? Beginning with thefirstedition of his commentary, Pietro Alighieri (1978, 76—77) cites Aeneid VI, 126—27: " . . . facilis descensus Averno: / Noctes atque dies patet atri janua Ditis." We find the same citation in Landino,15 in Gelli (1887,236), and a century ago in Tommaseo (1865). Of the Romantic critics, Tommaseo was perhaps the most sensitive to Virgilian echoes (34, n. 3). Among the modern critics who note this citation from Virgil are Chiappelli (1917, 15), Sapegno (1957, 30, n. 9), Singleton (1970, 2:40), and Padoan.16 However, it has not become a generally accepted citation. Ronconi omits the reference to Virgil's "gate," informing us that "the third canto of the Inferno has already been identified by Vittorio Rossi as the most Virgilian of Dante's cantos," and that "Gino Funaioli once wrote that Book VI of the Aeneid is the most Dantesque of Virgil's cantos."17 Yet in his own way Pietro Alighieri (1978, 76-77) had already stressed Dante's syncretism by placing side by side a citation from the Gospel (Matt. 7:13: "Enter by the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is wide, that leads to perdition"18) and the citation from Virgil. In his image of the gateway to the "city of misery" ("città dolente") Dante in fact combines visual recollections and biblical sources: "Are the gates of death open to you and have you seen the dark gates?" (Job 38:17); "they drew near to the gates of death" (Ps. 106:18); and "the gates of Hell" (Matt. 16:18).19 In addition, classical allusions—not only Virgil but Ovid and Statius, as Guido da Pisa stressed—may also have contributed something.20 The inscription warns that the gate leads to the "city of misery," where the pain is "eternal" and the inhabitants are nothing but "the people who are damned" ("la perduta gente"). The description of Hell as a city was a bit dismaying to the early commentators, who were even in their day uncertain as to whether Dante was referring to the city of Dis or to Hell in general. Most critics now agree on the latter interpretation. As regards the relationship between infemo and città, Pietro Alighieri, beginning with the earliest version of his commentary, felt the need to cite passages from Saint Augustine in which there was a clear opposition

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between the celestial city and the carnal city of the wicked, that is, between Jerusalem and Babylon (Alighieri 1974, 77-78). As we can see in the latter commentaries of Benvenuto da Imola and Francesco da Buti, there must already have been a controversy at that time. In the former we read: Per me si va nella città dolente, that is, the infernal city full of punishment and of pain. But one can dispute this; in fact, according to Augustine in the City ofGod, and the Philosopher [Aristotle] in thefirstbook of the Politics, "a city is nothing but a multitude of citizens ordered so as to live for the good." This is, instead, a multitude of citizens ordered so as to live always dedicated to evil.21 Francesco da Buti comments: "We cannot properly call it a city, except mistakenly, since this is not a gathering of citizens who dwell in harmony; instead, among them there is constant discord."22 This gloss is also used by Guiniforto Bargigi (1838,55) and Landino.23 Gelli explains: "in that place dwell the lost people who are eternally damned to pain by the same sentence, just as many citizens dwell in a city under the same law."24 Gelli thus vindicates the appropriateness of Dante's language. Thefirsttercet of the inscription, therefore, points to the function of the gate. The second tercet states its purpose and identifies its author. God, the One and Triune, created Hell to fulfill the demands of justice. The motivating force for the creation of Hell emphasizes God's supreme unity (l'alto Fattore), while the creative act involves the three divine persons: the Father's power (podestà), the Son's supreme wisdom (somma sapienza), and the Holy Spirit's love (amore). As Benvenuto comments: "In fact, according to Augustine's testimony, the order of justice shines more in Hell than in Paradise. Indeed, no one is in Hell without utterly having deserved this fate."25 Landino translates and completes the citation: "as Aurelius Augustinus says, the order of justice shines more brilliandy in Hell than in Heaven, since no one is in Hell who does not deserve to be, while no one in Paradise fully deserves to be there."26 Among modern critics, only Rossetti (1826,65) has gone to Landino for this citation. It subsequendy ceased to be considered in the commentaries, despite its elucidative power and its consistency with Dante's conception. The other citation from Augustine dates back to Graziolo (1915): "This is what Augustine writes on the punishments of the damned souls when he says that it is fitting that perpetual justice never put an end to the torments of those who never wanted to give up sinning."27 This was taken up by the Ottimo (1827, 26) as well as by

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Pietro Alighieri (1978, 76-77) in the first version of his commentary but was later dropped by him in subsequent editions. Modern criticism has become more interested in studying the internal correspondences of Dante's linguistic choices. Berthier (1892,35) was the first to establish a connection with the Convivio. It subsequently became customary to refer to the passage in Convivio (II, ν, 7—8), where Dante speaks of "potenza somma del Padre," "la somma sapienza del Figlio," and "la somma e ferventissima caritade de lo Spirito Santo." Mazzoni (1967, 330-31) was well aware of this reference, and also cited another passage in the Convivio (III, xii, 12), where the Trinity is once again named but with slightly different attributes ("somma sapienza, sommo amore e sommo atto"). Commenting on "the high Artificer" ("l'alto Fattore"), Mazzoni, in addition to an apt reference to the Nicene Creed ("Credo in unum Patrem, factorem coeli et terrae"), emphasizes that "the term, designating God the Creator, used also in the Convivio, De vulvari eloquentia, and one of the Epistolae, will reappear often in the poem" (330). At this point, we can provide even more precise references: the term Fattore is used in Convivio I, viii, 3 ("universalissimo bene Fattore") and IV, xii, 14 ("principio de le nostre anime e fattore"); in De vulgati eloquentia I, vii, 4 ("suum superare factorem"); and finally, in Epistola XI, 8 ("neque Factori suo testimonium reddent"). It appears, therefore, that this was a term Dante had found fit for his purposes. We come now to the last tercet of the inscription, which concerns the question of when the "portal to Hell" was created. Lines 7-8 ("Dinanzi a me non fuor cose create / se non etterne, e io etterno duro") posed a serious interpretive problem for all the commentators, from the very earliest period on. After explaining that Hell could not have existed "except after Lucifer's ruin," Graziolo adds, "from that moment, since first of all and before anything else these four things were created: namely, the angels, time, the Empyrean heaven, and prime matter."28 This gloss became the most popular, although Guido da Pisa's explanation was quite different: Dinanzi a me etc. . . . that is, before me there was nothing except for God who is eternal. . . and I, too, after my creation, will last eternally. Note here that eternal is used with the meaning of sempiternal, since eternal is that which has no beginning and no end; and thus nothing is eternal except for God.29 The second part of Guido's gloss was to be taken up by all subsequent critics until the present day. Iacopo della Lana's comment is similar to that of Graziolo Bam-

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baglioli, although his phrasing differs: "Hell was the first thing God created after the universale."30 Pietro Alighieri (1978,77) and the Ottimo (1827, 26) say the same. In his commentary, the Anonimo Fiorentino limits the elements created before the infernal gateway to two, namely, "the Heavens and the angelic nature, which are eternal, that is, perpetual. And here with poetic license he uses 'eternal' instead of 'perpetual.'" 31 This critical uncertainty persists throughout the fourteenth century. Boccaccio confines himself to saying that Hell was "created by God before man was created."32 Benvenuto tends to agree with Guido da Pisa, adding: Others, however, say that in this instance "eternal" is used instead of "perpetual" or "coeval." They say that the angel seems to have been created before Hell, that is, that he had sinned at the very moment of his creation. In fact, it must be that sin came into being before punishment. . . . It is according to this second opinion that one must explain cose [non fuor create dinanzi arnese non etterne], that is, the angels.33 According to Francesco da Buti, the creation of Hell took place on the first day: "When God created the world, on the first day he made the Heavens and the earth, and he also made Hell." 34 Bargigi's interpretation (1838, 55) also follows that of Guido da Pisa. Some one hundred years after Buti, Landino provided the explanation still accepted today: the things that existed before Hell was created "were prime matter, the Heavens, and the angels."35 Yet the debate continued and indeed intensified from the end of the nineteenth century and through the first fifty years of this century (see Mazzoni's excellent article [1967, 332-34]). For information on the creation of the good angels, as well as the evil and neutral ones, Dante could find no help in Genesis, where angels do not figure at all. It seems, instead, that he had recourse to the apocryphal books of the Bible. As an example, I cite the Book of Jubilees, which was fairly well known in Latin translation: And the angel of the presence spoke to Moses according to the word of the Lord, saying: Write the complete history of the creation, how in six days the Lord God finished all His works and all that He created. . . . For on the first day He created the heavens which are above and the earth and the waters and all the spirits which serve before him—the angels of the presence, and the angels of sanctification. (Charles 1913,13-14)

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According to this apocryphal text, on the first day God created not only the angels but "the depths and the darkness." The gates of Hell should thus be coeval and without end like spirits, intelligence apart from matter, and the Empyrean heaven, as well as the earth and the waters, that is, that "prime matter" which the early commentators had discussed from the very beginning of the critical tradition. The influence of the apocryphal texts is extensive and most evident in Revelation, especially in the story of the "great battle in Heaven" (12:7-10) between the good angels led by Michael, and the wicked angels, the followers of the dragon, "that ancient serpent, who is called the Devil and Satan."36 The last line of the inscription does not convey any more information about hell, but serves as a warning to whoever approaches the gate: "Abandon every hope, you who enter" ("Lasciate ogni speranza, voi ch'intrate"). These are the words that affect Dante the pilgrim the most, and his fear returns. Once again Virgil must use his craft, as teacher and guide, to enable Dante to overcome his cowardice. The "fear of pain" ("timor doloris"), as well as the ways one can and must conquer it, are stressed in an effort to bring the world "which lives for evil" ("che mal vive") back to the proper path. This was Dante's aim throughout the poem, an aim from which he never deviated. It is clear that the dramatic closing line of the inscription echoes Virgil's verses: "facilis descensus Averno / Noctes atque dies patet atri ianua Ditis; / Sed revocare gradum superasque evadere ad auras, / Hoc opus, hie labor est" (Aeneid VI, 126-29). This reference was noted by Guido da Pisa, 37 by Pietro Alighieri (1978,79) in the third version of his commentary, and by Landino. 38 According to Mazzoni (1967, 336), the citation of Virgil is by now "customary." While this is true for the modern commentaries, such was not the case for the exegetical tradition which proceeds from Landino to the beginning of this century.39 Much more "customary" are the scriptural references (Matt. 25:41-42; Mark 9:43; 2 Thess. 1:9),40 which Boccaccio (1918,238—39) referred to generally as follows: "Lasciate ogni speranza 0 voi ch'entrate dentro di me quia in inferno nulla est redemptio." Boccaccio's gloss forcefully entered the exegetical tradition. The inscription thus represents a trinitarian confession of faith as well as an acknowledgment of Divine Justice that punishes sinners. The mode of representation appears to be that of descriptive realism. From the rhetorical standpoint, this is an example of sublime style in which Virgilian echoes and biblical references are harmoniously interwoven.

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Spiritual Readiness to Enter Hell

Queste parole di colore oscuro vidrio scritte al sommo d'una porta; per ch'io: "Maestro, il senso lor m'è duro." Ed elli a me, come persona accorta: "Qui si convien lasciare ogne sospetto; ogne viltà convien che qui sia morta. Noi siam venuti al loco ovY t'ho detto che tu vedrai le genti dolorose c'hanno perduto il ben de l'intelletto."

(w. 10-18)

Only after having elicited in the reader, as required by his rules offictio, the awe and fear that had been experienced by the ego-nator himself, Dante explains that "these words" were inscribed over the portal to Hell, and that they were "obscure" both in appearance and substance. The colore oscuro of the inscription has been interpreted in many ways. Landino's reading is among the most elaborate and acceptable: "It is a suitable color for Hell which, being beneath the earth, must be dark. Hell is dark because where there is no sunlight, there must be darkness. The sun signifies knowledge and truth." 1 1 would say that, for Landino, the qualifier oscuro has an allusive meaning that is more than allegorical, similar to the selva oscura in which Dante found himself (Inferno I, 2). Darkness is fully contrasted with the sunlight shining on the hill that Dante wanted to climb until the three beasts stood in his way. It also alludes to the fear which at that distressing moment ran through him to the "lake of his heart" ("lago del cor"). In these first cantos, fear and distress are like the motion of the waves: they seem to disappear, yet inevitably return to strike again with renewed strength. It is cowardice that grips the pilgrim and pushes him to seek Virgil's help and protec18

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tion. The meaning of the inscription was duro to him. Landino explained duro as "annoying and harsh"2 in accordance with an interpretive trend that dated back to Iacopo della Lana (1886,127). The Ottimo, instead, read duro at verse 12 as "difficult to understand." Boccaccio (1918, 239) followed the Ottimo (1827,27) by explaining duro as "difficult to comprehend" ("malagevole ad intendere"). The authority of Boccaccio and the Ottimo was such that their interpretation, which I believe is wrong, is found in the commentaries of several renowned scholars, such as Gelli,3 among the early commmentators, andPagliaro, among the modern critics. Pagliaro (1961, 314) interprets colore oscuro in reference to "these words" ("queste parole") as "difficult to comprehend." Pagliaro's reasoning is somewhat ambiguous and altogether not very convincing: "On the other hand the use of duro, in relation to senso, certainly means 'difficult to comprehend.'. . . And this is confirmed by the similar use of duro in relation to dire; see Inferno 1,4: Ah quanto a dir quai era è cosa dura" (314). Perhaps, it is the reference to Inferno 1,4, that confuses matters. In my opinion, the words cosa dura do not refer to a concrete "thing," but rather to the sense of dread which now returns to Dante's memory and makes it duro, that is, "painful," for him to speak about that experience. Rossetti's suggestion (1826, 66) is much clearer and more concise: "Senso duro stands for fearful meaning, because the cosa dura referred to the selva selvaggia." I am in complete agreement with Mazzoni (1967,341) when he finds Pagliaro's interpretation "unacceptable on both points." Nevertheless, Nicosia not only set forth the same view in 1967 (53-65), but proposed it again two years later (1969, 73-77), when he politely polemicized against Mazzoni. Singleton also seems to have had some doubts; he accepts in fact the two possible meanings: "Duro means 'hard to understand,' but it also may mean 'harsh,' 'ominous,' 'fearful' " (1970, 3:41). Singleton's gloss continues with the citation from John 6:61 ("Durus est hie sermo"), which he considers a confirmation of the first meaning, namely, "hard to understand." However, this biblical interpretation is rather daring and is not in keeping with the most common English translations of this passage from the fourth Gospel.4 Pagliaro's thesis was recently accepted by Ronconi (1981,1184—85), though with some reservations: "[duro] could also mean penoso, or aspro, such as the dura intenzione that St. Francis revealed to the pontiff." Ronconi, therefore, comes close to the semantic ambivalence suggested by Singleton. It is true that the text lends itself to some interpretive ambiguities. Both the Ottimo and Boccaccio are puzzled and in the Anonimo Fiorentino one reads, "'These words are hard for me to

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comprehend.' Some commentators say that the author understood them well enough, but to compel Virgil to clarify them further, he [i.e., Dante] decided to feign ignorance. In my view, however, one can assume that the meaning of those words seemed duro not with regard to their explanation, but because of the effect these words produced."5 The colore oscuro of the inscription itself also gave rise to contending interpretations. The first scholar to refer to Bonvesino de la Riva was Guido Mazzoni (1904, 45-58). He indicated that in the Libro delle Tre Scritture Bonvesino had imagined that the first "writing" regarding "worldly misfortunes and infernal punishments was black and very frightening" ("sui malanni mondani e sulle pene infernali, negra e de grande pagura"). Even though this suggestion was of great interest, it was ignored until the studies of Padoan (1968) and F. Mazzoni (1967, 339-41). 6 The latter asserted that "there are enough clues to conclude that the inscription which is negra or of colore oscuro and which is associated with the portal of Hell, was a detail Alighieri consciously took from tradition, within the context of an allusive style." In my opinion, it is time that the reference to Bonvesino became part of the critical tradition. After thé difficult twelfth verse, our analysis can proceed more quickly. Virgil's reply clarifies better than any other gloss the meaning that Dante had given to duro: the inscription frightened him, and Virgil is forced to admonish Dante again, in order to ward off cowardice. As to Virgil's speech paraphrasing the words that Virgil the author had given the Cumaean Sibyl when she urged Aeneas to undertake his journey to the netherworld ("And set out on your journey, and unsheathe your sword from its scabbard. / Now, Aeneas, you need your courage, now be of stout heart"), 7 it seems to me that here we are dealing not so much with an imitation of the Aeneid as with a device intended to characterize Dante's Virgil as the protagonist of Dante's Inferno. Dante is a pilgrim in search of eternal salvation, not a hero chosen by Fate to found an empire. He therefore has no need to draw a sword unless it is the sword of spiritual fortitude that can free him from cowardice. With regard to the relationship of the Aeneid to the Commedia, I believe that Padoan's observations (1968) are important. He recommends that we keep an eye on "the interpretation which at that time was given to the expressions of the Latin poet, and not refer to the text of the Aeneid established by modern editions with the humanistic and historical interpretations to which we are accustomed" (49-50). These recommendations are so sound that they seem almost obvious. Yet we are still far not only from resolving the issue but from defining the terms of the

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problem. As Padoan (1968,50) rightly concludes, "at the current stage of research we know very little about the text of the Aeneid studied by Dante; we also do not know exactly how Dante understood it, and which interpretation he gave to it." The earliest critical reference to this passage of Virgil is found only in the first edition of Pietro Alighieri's commentary. It would seem that Pietro Alighieri gradually moves away from the precise and exact commentary of hisfirstedition toward a more learned analysis and allegorical exegesis. The Anonimo Fiorentino is very close to the first text of Pietro Alighieri, noting as well that "Virgil used the same words which in Book VI of the Aeneid. he had the Sibyl use when addressing Aeneas."8 Thus did the reference become traditional. After the warning, as a persona accorta (i.e., one who understands the most intimate and profound meaning of the pilgrim's thought, beneath the surface of the words), Virgil explains: the journey, which is essential to Dante's salvation, has now begun. They had reached the place Virgil had spoken of where Dante would hear "desperate cries" ("le disperate strida") and see "the ancient spirits in pain who each bewail the second death" ("li antichi spiriti dolenti / che la seconda morte ciascun grida" [.Inferno I, iij-17]). Together they have crossed the threshold beyond which one meets nothing but "grieving people" ("genti dolorose") who have lost "il ben de l'intelletto." Beginning with Iacopo della Lana, the gloss for verse 18 has wonderful clarity: "it should be known that when we speak of a soul that is lacking intellect it is like speaking of a soul that is wanting of God, since God is the object of intellect."9 Pietro Alighieri perfects and enriches this comment, supporting it with citations from both Aristotle and Saint Thomas: He [i.e., Dante] will see those who lost the gift of reason, which is God Himself as the ultimate beatitude and truth. In fact, the Philosopher in Book III of On the Soul says that the¿fifi ofreason is beatitude itself And Thomas Aquinas in his Against the Gentiles writes, "Jf is necessary that the ultimate aim of the universe be the ¿¡ift of understanding; this gift, then, is the truth."10 In the final version of his commentary, Pietro Alighieri (1978, 77) expands the Aristotelian citations to include Book VI of the Ethics and reduces the reference to Saint Thomas to the explanation of Veritas as adequatio intellectus ad rem. The critical tradition accepted and confirmed the early interpretation. At the end of the nineteenth century, Father Berthier (1892, 37) enriched the citations from Saint Thomas without

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modifying, however, the fundamental interpretation. Most recent critics, such as Padoan and F. Mazzoni, buttress the early interpretation with other passages from Dante, namely, from the Convivio (II, xiii, 6) 11 and from the Monarchia (III, xvi, 7). 12 In my opinion, Iacopo della Lana's comment is sufficiently clear. Other references by both ancient (e.g., Pietro Alighieri) and modern (from Father Berthier to F. Mazzoni) commentators, however erudite, do not further our understanding of the text. As a matter of fact, the notion that il ben de l'intelletto resides in contemplating God was common to the entire Christian tradition, and one should not forget that Aristode was read in light of that tradition.

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The Sounds of Suffering

E poi che la sua mano a la mia puose con lieto volto, ond'io mi confortai, mi mise dentro a le segrete cose. Quivi sospiri, pianti e alti guai risonavan per l'aere sanza stelle, per ch'io al cominciar ne lagrimai. Diverse lingue, orribili favelle, parole di dolore, accenti d'ira, voci alte e fioche, e suon di man con elle facevano un tumulto, il qual s'aggira sempre in quell'aura sanza tempo tinta, come la rena quando turbo spira.

(w. 19-50)

Though Virgil's words transmit a warning, his gestures are comforting: he takes Dante by the hand, puts on a "gladsome countenance" ("lieto volto"), an almost confident smile, and introduces him to the segrete cose, the unknown world or, as Sapegno (1985, 31) says (paraphrasing Francesco da Buti 1 ), "to that unknown world which is inaccessible to the living." Up to this moment, Dante's impressions have been visual: the great portal with its black and threatening inscription. Now, once past the threshold, he can see nothing: the most obscure darkness surrounds him, the air is starless, eternally "dark" ("tinta"), with no hope of dawn. His eyes, as yet unaccustomed to the seemingly total darkness, cannot help him. Hearing is the active sense that is struck by the confused and discordant sound of the lamentations, the cries, and the imprecations which rise like a whirlwind from the black depths of Avernus. This is his first contact with the anguish of Hell, and Dante weeps: Dante the 23

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pilgrim, who is still inexperienced, who has barely come out of the selva, selvaggia, and in whose heart, oppressed by so many earthly passions, pain finds an immediate echo. Only the long walk through the circles of Hell—this descent into the depths of the universe, which, in reality, is a continuous ascent to true goodness and true happiness—will allow him to know God as Supreme Justice and only then to enjoy Him. But Dante is still very far from this first stage of perfection. The weeping seems to calm him; what was confused now becomes distinct: there are "diverse lingue." Rather than defining these languages as "strange," as Grabher (1936,33) suggests, like the majority of early and modern critics, I would speak of all the tongues born of the confusion of Babel and dispersed "per universa mundi climata" (De vulvari eloquentia I, viii, ι). Therefore, the first thing that strikes the pilgrim, and consequently the reader, is the universality of sin. There are also the "horrendous modes of speech" ("orribili favelle"), the "words of anguish" ("parole di dolore"), and the "accents of rage" ("accenti d'ira"). All of these (at times loudly shrieked, at times faindy whispered by voices hoarse from screaming) are accompanied by the sound of hands beating as a sign of desperation. (Let us recall, in this regard, the gesture of the peasant [Inferno XXIV, 7ff.] who, in despair over the unexpected hoar frost, "smites his hip" ["si batte l'anca"].) The description, arranged in an expressive crescendo, culminates in the wonderfiil comparison of verse 30: "as sand swirls in a whirlwind" ("come la rena quando turbo spira"). The sound effect is transformed into a visual image of what today we call a tornado. The group of three tercets (w. 22-30) is particularly interesting, both in form and content and from a variety of viewpoints. It opens with a verse that is a cry of pain based on a sophisticated sound pattern stressing the i and the a in juxtaposition with the i (i.e., expressive sounds of lamentation and pain): quivi sospiri is the first hemistich, and after the caesura, piAntl e Alti¿¡uAI. Considering that, generally speaking, the use of sound effects is not very frequent in Dante, although in the Commedia the use of phonic figures is more pervasive (Beccaria 1975, 90-135; Simonelli 1978,1-15), it should be stressed that Dante intended to strike the reader's sense of hearing in the same way that the pilgrim had been affected. In regard to the content, the beginning of this group of verses is clearly Virgilian. As far as I know, the first scholar to stress the connection with verses 557-61 of Book VI of the Aeneid was Taaffe (1822). "I cannot assert," he writes, "that this passage, however powerful, is equal to the fine one of which it is evidently a copy: 'Hinc exaudiri gemitus et

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saeva sonare / Verbera: tum stridor ferri tractaeque catenae'" (170). The reference was suggested again by Moore (1896,192) and became part of the critical tradition, as did the comparison between the art of Virgil and that of Dante. Whereas Taaffe had preferred Virgil, Padoan (1968,53), for example, believed instead that here Dante surpassed "his teacher and his author." The most recent and astute critics, such as Padoan and F. Mazzoni, have felt that something biblical is interlaced with this Virgilian language. According to Padoan (1967, 53), "the sorrow of classical Avernus . . . is drawn with the crude and terrible hues of the biblical Gehenna." Mazzoni (1967, 349-52) closes his erudite comments on verse 30 with a citation from the Psalms: "Tamquam pulvis ante faciem venti" (Ps. 34:5). However, neither of these two eminent scholars observed that the comparison of verse 30 is almost a verbatim translation from Isa. 17:13: "Sonabunt populi sicut sonitus aquarum inundanti um . . . et rapietur sicutpulvis montium e facie venti, et sicut turbo coram tempestate" ("The nations will roar like the roaring of many waters . . . and they will flee far away, chased like chaff on the mountains before the wind and whirling dust before the storm"). The Assyrians, at whom Isaiah's prophecy was directed, represented in Dante's mind all infidels and all sinners. It is therefore not necessary to turn to Isidore of Seville to elucidate Dante's comparison, as did the early critics. 2 1 believe that the text of the Vulgate is sufficient; here we even find the lemma turbo, which Dante not only uses but highlights. In conclusion, we must note how Dante opens the first description of the torment of Hell by reshaping Virgilian images and closes with the words of the great biblical prophet. In this way, Dante Christianizes his use of his teacher and his author.

CHAPTER

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Scorned by Mercy and Justice

E io ch'avea d'error la testa cinta, dissi: "Maestro, che è quel ch'i 'odo? e che gent' è che par nel duol sì vinta?" Ed elli a me: "Questo misero modo tegnon l'anime triste di coloro che visser sanza 'nfamia e sanza lodo. Mischiate sono a quel cattivo coro de li angeli che non furon ribelli né fur fedeli a Dio, ma per sé fuoro. Caccianli i ciel per non esser men belli, né lo profondo inferno li riceve, ch'alcuna gloria i rei avrebber d'elli." E io: "Maestro, che è tanto greve a lor che lamentar li fa sì forte?" Rispuose: "Dicerolti molto breve. Questi non hanno speranza di morte, e la lor cieca vita è tanto bassa che 'nvidïosi son d'ogne altra sorte. Fama di loro il mondo esser non lassa; misericordia e giustizia li sdegna: non ragioniam di lor, ma guarda e passa."

(w. 31-51)

These verses lead to the first meeting with those souls who are eternally deprived of the highest good. We cannot speak of them as "damned" in any usual sense, for they "have not been judged because of the lack of either good or bad actions."1 The presentation of this group of afflicted souls (only later in verses 56-57, will we learn that it is numberless) is developed by means of a rapid exchange of questions and answers 26

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between Dante and his guide. It seems that Dante is still deprived of his sight by the darkness that surrounds them: only when Virgil says "look" will Dante be able to see ("guarda . . . E io, che riguardai" [w. 51-52]). In fact, Dante's questions are typical of a person who can hear but cannot see ("che è quel ch'i'odo? . . . che è tanto greve / a lor che lamentar li fa sì forte?"), and Virgil answers patiently. But while he carefully explains to the pilgrim which souls are crying and for what reason, his disdain for the souls gathered there steadily increases, to the point that it finally explodes in that very strong statement urging Dante not to speak to them but rather to "look, and pass on" ("non ragioniam di lor, ma guarda e passa"). This is the general direction in which the passage develops; nevertheless, when we begin to analyze each verse, it is evident that the difficulties encountered are not insignificant. They begin almost immediately with verse 31, where we must choose between two readings: error and orror. Even Petrocchi (1966-67,1:168), who prepared the most recent edition, was obliged to recognize that "the two variants, which were alternatively preferred by one or another of the commentators, both offer an acceptable solution." From a contextual point of view, therefore, it would appear to be an "indifferent" variant; that is, a case in which the editor chooses one of the two readings ad arbitrium (a decision, it is understood, which is dictated, e.g., by reasons of style, frequency, the author's usus stribendi). The other variant is relegated to the apparatus. The editor then justifies his choice by giving reasons for it. As to the stemma codicum, however, it seems to me that the terms of the problem are different: the reading error is found in codices of the two branches (alpha and beta) into which the entire manuscript tradition is divided; what is more, error appears in codices which are situated in the uppermost parts of the stemma because of their age and their place in the transmission process (e.g. : Mart., Triv., anáAsch. of alpha, as well as Rb. of beta).2 The reading orror has come down to us in only one codex of branch beta (i.e., La.); this codex, however, shows contamination with branch alpha through subgroup c, from which derive those codices of branch alpha that have the reading orror (i.e., Lau., Lo., Tz., Va., Cha.). Another small group of manuscripts from alpha with the reading orror appears to depend on Co., a manuscript of subgroup b of branch alpha. By carefully studying Petrocchi's stemma and commentary, we might conclude that the reading orror arose sporadically in some of the manuscripts of alpha approximately twenty years after Dante's death. However, at least in this specific case, Petrocchi's stemma is not entirely

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satisfactory. For example, one wonders what reading is given in Ga., which in the stemma is considered the antigraph of four manuscripts which read orror. Unfortunately, we do not have the answer, for the reading in Ga. does not appear either in the introductory note or in the apparatus. Although it leaves a good many questions unanswered, the fact is that Petrocchi's classification is more reliable than any other. On purely stemmatic grounds, therefore, one has no other option but to accept the reading error. Nor would our uncertainty concerning the choice between error and orror be alleviated by studying the early commentators, whose work is, in some instances, older than the earliest manuscripts. Indeed, an examination of the oldest commentaries would seem to increase our doubts rather than diminish them. Let us take as examples two of the earliest commentaries, those of Iacopo della Lana and Guido da Pisa. Iacopo della Lana reads error and notes that "the Poet goes on to show how he was looking in wonder. And it should be known that in all those places where Dante shows wonder, there is doubt or a motive to question."3 Guido da Pisa (1974, 58), without any special comment, offers the reading, "Et io c'avea d'orror." Thus, the two readings, unless there might have been a misreading by one of the two editors of the commentaries, must already have been in circulation by the end of the second decade of the fourteenth century. The reading error, which we observed in Iacopo della Lana, is preserved by the Ottimo, Benvenuto Rambaldi, Francesco da Buti, and others up to Landino. The reading orror, which is found in Guido da Pisa, is also accepted by Boccaccio, the Anonimo Fiorentino, and Bargigi. Boccaccio's choice (if we can speak of choice, for Boccaccio wrote his commentary with one or more manuscripts of the Commedia at his side) was the determining factor for many later critics. Taaffe admitted to this with great honesty. In reacting to the text proposed by various eighteenth-century editions, which all read error, Taaffe (1822,171) wrote: "Error instead of horror is the usual reading, but I tend to adopt the latter without reserve, not because it is the most intelligible and poetical, and much less because it is authorized by Vellutello and Lombardi. . . but on what I take to be the very best possible authority—that of Boccaccio." Most serious sixteenth-century commentators, like Gelli and Castelvetro, accept the reading error. Gelli (1887, 251-52), who also had in mind Boccaccio's commentary, felt obliged to explain his choice: "Where Boccaccio, whose text reads orrore, writes of fear, Landino, whose text reads errore, writes of ignorance. This fits the text better, because it was not fear, but ignorance that made him question."

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Notwithstanding Boccaccio's reading, the early nineteenth-century editions referred to those of the preceding century and read error. Tommaseo (186$, 3) was the one who restored the reading orror, supporting his choice with the Virgilian references, "Orror: Aen. II [559]—Me turn primum scuvus circumstetit horror. Here orror is better than error, which is weak and imprecise." It is mainly because Tommaseo cited such an authoritative source that his commentary (although somewhat enriched and elaborated) reappeared in the editions of Berthier, Casini, CasiniBarbi, Scartazzini-Vandelli, and the most recent publications by Grabher and Sapegno. In his commentary, which appeared in the well-known series published by Ricciardi, Sapegno (1957,32) defended the reading orror. In his opinion, it was the preferable reading, although in his note he gave the variant error. Almost thirty years later, Sapegno revised his commentary; although he still preferred orror, Petrocchi's edition, which had appeared in 1966-67 and was used in more recent editions (including those of Padoan and Singleton), received due consideration. In the most recent version of Sapegno's commentary (1985, 32), the comment to verse 31 ends with the following words: "See also in support of orror the arguments proposed by F. Mazzoni, [1967], pp. 352-55, and by Pézard [1965] in his commentary." It seems to me, however, that Mazzoni's position is not all that clear. He presents arguments for and against the two readings, while accepting Petrocchi's choice. Pézard (1965) on the other hand, defends the reading error to the last, reacting against Grabher, Sapegno, and Chimenz, all of whom accept Tommaseo's gloss. He does so by offering as proof, in addition to the Virgilian reference in Georgia III, 513 ("di meliora piis erroremque hostibus ilium!"), the inscription on the tympanum of the cathedral in Autun, under the bas-relief representing Hell: "Terreat hie terror quos terreus alligat error" (896). (One should not forget that Pézard's commentary predates the Petrocchi edition.) In defense of orror it is important to recall the recent excellent article by Brugnoli (1982,15—30). Using the most advanced critical techniques, he shows the importance of the Virgilian influence in the third canto, and how the Virgilian text requires the reading orror. Brugnoli's study is truly impressive, yet it does not resolve the uncertainty. Are we sure that Dante wanted to adhere to Virgilian language up to the last detail? I am not convinced that he did; to the contrary, it seems to me that when Dante imitates, he imitates freely, seeking innovation. The critics who have accepted the reading error tend to repeat Benvenuto Rambaldi's gloss ("that is, that I had my imagination agitated by so much confa-

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sion,"4), though they do so variously, reflecting the historical period and their personal taste. It is perhaps appropriate to conclude this subject with the comments of Pompeo Venturi, the eighteenth-century Jesuit scholar. The text he was annotating read error, as was customary in the eighteenth century; thus, in regard to verse 31, he writes: "Encumbered, not knowing whence that noise came. . . . Some read orrore and Boccaccio explains that it means fear,5 with the result that we can well suppose that the horrible confusion caused in the poet's mind more properly leads to the curiosity which was born in his heart to ask questions."6 Venturi too remains doubtful; perhaps orror sounded better to him, but error was also acceptable. In defense of error, it would perhaps be useful to consider the expression "the encircled head" ("la testa cinta"). Horror or fear is a passion that settles "in the lake of the heart" ("nel lago del cor") and not in the mind, whereas doubt, uncertainty, and the unknown oppress the mind, that is, the head. Nonetheless, it is necessary to conclude that the documentation available is insufficient to provide a definitive solution to the problem. To depart from this quarrel, let us turn to Dante's questions ("che è quel ch'i'odo? / e che gent 'è . . . ?"). These are somewhat redundant. The second question in fact contains an answer implicit in the first: what he hears are the lamentations, the weeping, the cries (which he had already described), an eddy of sounds produced by a mass of people. What Dante truly does not know is the identity of the people who are crying so loudly. Virgil's answer clarifies this point: those who are overwhelmed by pain are the souls of men who "went through life with neither disgrace nor praise" ("visser sanza 'nfamia e sanza lodo"). I have already dealt with the pusillanimi at some length. The pusillanimous souls are those who during their lives were unable to act either for good or for evil; they were constantly weakened by cowardice. Before reviewing the history of the commentaries,7 I would like to elucidate further the distinction between these sinners of the anteInferno and those of the fifth circle. It is not the "muddy people all naked" ("genti fangose . . . / ignude tutte" [Inferno VII, no—11]), or the wrathful sinners who have never awakened interpretive doubts, but rather the sinners fixed "in the black mire" ("ne la belletta negra") who are the people submerged in the water of the Styx, those who "make the water bubble on the surface" ("e fanno pullular quest'acqua al summo"), that is, the "slothful ones" ("accidiosi"). I believe that a further clarification of the difference between the sin of "cowardice" {viltà) and that of "sloth" (accidia) has some relevance. Here the Summa théologien of Saint Thomas Aquinas can play an important role.

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Among the various vices, Saint Thomas distinguishes between timor and negligentia. To explain the vice of timor (i.e., cowardice),8 which opposes the virtue offortitude, Saint Thomas cites a verse from Revelation: "But the cowardly and unbelieving . . . shall have their portion in the pool burning with fire and brimstone which is the second death."9 He then continues: "Cowardice is a sin in the sense that it is disordered, that is to say, insofar as it shuns what ought not to be shunned according to reason."10 In another passage Saint Thomas also wrote: "Everyone in cowardice shuns that which he fears: and therefore, since laziness is cowardice about work itself as being toilsome, it hinders work by withdrawing the will from it." 11 As regards negligentia, a vice that stands in opposition to the virtue of prudentia ("negligentia opponitur prudentiae") , 1 2 Saint Thomas explains that "negligence is a defect in the internal act, to which choice also belongs, whereas idleness and laziness denote slowness of execution. Hence, it is becoming that laziness should arise from sloth [ex acedia], which is an oppressive sorrow, that is, hindering, the mind from action."13 Saint Thomas devoted a separate Question (q.35, aa.i—4) to acedia in Part II of the Second Part of the Summa theologica. Here he wrote that acedia in and of itself was the opposite of caritas: "For the proper effect of charity is joy in God,. . . while sloth is sorrow about spiritual good inasmuch as it is a divine good."14 Dante adjusts his poetic language to the scholastic language that Saint Thomas had reelaborated and perfected. During their earthly lives the accidiosi of the fifth circle were tristi ("Tristi fummo / ne l'aere dolce che dal sol s'allegra, / portando dentro accidioso fummo" [Inferno VII, 121-23]); they lacked prudentia (i.e., a cardinal virtue) and caritas (i.e., a theological virtue). The timidi, those who had manifested cowardice during their lives, had failed to demonstrate fortitudo (i.e., a cardinal virtue) by refusing to prove themselves and by forgetting that God had created man "so that he would work" ("ut operaretur" [Gen. 2:15]). Whereas the accidiosi were tristi in life, that is, made worse by tristitia, the pusillanimous souls became anime triste after they died: in the sweet air filled with sunlight they lived "with neither disgrace nor praise" ("sanza 'nfamia e sanza lodo"). If one rereads Rev. 21:8 ("But as for the cowardly, the faithless, the polluted, as for the murderers, fornicators, sorcerers, idolaters, and all liars, their lot shall be in the lake that burns with fire and brimstone, which is the second death"15), it almost seems that Dante did in fact draw his inspiration for the composite structure of the Inferno from this text. The verse from Revelation does indeed offer a classification of sins, from the least to the most serious: from cowardice to mendacity. The cowards (timidi) are placed by Dante in the ante-Inferno; and with them

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the gradual descent to the lower circles begins. Revelation also begins its list of sinners with the cowardly; they are followed by the faithless, who correspond in the Commedia to those who did not duly honor God and who are encountered in Limbo. The text of Revelation then lists the execrable, that is, those cursed by God, which suggests a correspondence between all those sinners suffering the judgment of Minos and those whom Revelation enumerates as murderers, fornicators, and sorcerers. These sorcerers or evil-doers can be said to parallel Dante's wicked maliziosi ("D'ogni malizia, ch'odio in cielo acquista, / ingiuria è Ί fine" [Inferno XI, 22-23]). Revelation ends with liars. Because every act of fraud is a mendacium, Dante places in the eighth and ninth circles of Hell both the fraudulent sinners who cheated those who had no particular reason to trust them and the sinner who committed mendacium "against the one who confided in him" ("in colui che 'η lui fida" [Inferno XI, 53]). The latter sin is more serious, for it is a true betrayal. The verse from Revelation can therefore be taken as the primary inspiration for the much more elaborate and complex classification of sins that Dante presents in thisfirstcantica. There is no doubt, moreover, that Dante had long pondered the text of Revelation, from which he had drawn much poetic inspiration from the time of his youth. Verse 36 created some difficulties for the early commentators because of a variant reading found in several manuscripts. Indeed, many codices reveal the reading sanza fama instead of sanza 'nfamia. Iacopo della Lana, for example, read sanzafama, explaining that these were "the souls of those who were in the world without renown [senza fama] and people with sad lives."16 We find this reading again in Iacopo Alighieri, Francesco da Buti, and Benvenuto Rambaldi. Benvenuto in fact defends it: "without virtue and without value: others, however, read senza infamia, but the preceding reading is better, for they [i.e., the sinners] did not live without disgrace, as will soon be made clear."17 Bargigi was the last critic to defend this undoubtedly incorrect reading. In fact, Castelvetro (1886,52) coming across the misreading once again, commented, "the best texts read senza infamia." Verses 37—39 present a much more complex interpretive problem. The literal meaning is absolutely clear: the spirits of the pusillanimous souls are mixed with the coro, the host of angels that did not side either with God or with Satan in Lucifer's rebellion, angels who, as Freccerò (1962, 37) says, "remained aloof," refusing to choose. The Bible, however, makes no mention of such a host of neutral angels, and the problem that immediately arises is to attempt to discover the basis for Dante's statement. The earliest commentators, those who wrote before 1330, were con-

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tent to paraphrase the text, neglecting to offer any interpretive gloss. The Ottimo does not deviate much from this position, but does provide a definition of these fallen angels, "[Dante] states that mixed together with these souls are certain devils who were not faithful to God, and who did not follow Lucifer."18 Thus, according to the Ottimo, they are actually "devils." This is thefirstevidence (faint though it is) of a legend we now know well, thanks to the research of many scholars.19 The Selmi Glosses (Avalle, 1900) relate the legend the way it was probably circulated: Know reader, that after God created the Heavens, he made nine orders of angels. One among them, because of its beauty and pride, believed itself to be, and wanted to be, equal to God. This order formed a sect with many angels and contaminated the other orders of angels. It also wanted to place its own throne before that of God. There were some good angels who took God's side; they rose up and chased Lucifer and his followers to Hell, and from that moment on he was called Lucifer, and he is a devil. The majority of the angels did not side with Lucifer, but they did not side with God either, and therefore, were cast out of Paradise with Lucifer. However, they did not go to Hell, since they had not really sinned, but they did not remain in Heaven either, for they did not act virtuously. They are suspended in the air, and envy one and all.20 The popularity of the legend, evident in this account of the Selmi Glosses, is confirmed by the following comment of Benvenuto: "This battle, which is said to have occurred in the Heavens, was not a physical battle with lances and shields, as the common people say, but a battle of minds."21 The first commentator careful to indicate a source, or more precisely, an orthodox auctoritas, in order to justify Dante's position is Pietro Alighieri, in the two subsequent versions of his commentary. I cite from the third version: The souls ofthe above-mentioned evil ones are united with those angels who were neither good nor wicked, siding with neither God nor Lucifer. Of these Hugh of Saint Victor says that they are punished outside Hell in a dark place with foggy air.22 As we shall see later, Pietro had valiandy defended his father's orthodoxy, especially after the condemnation of the Monorchia by Bertrando del Poggetto and the furious attacks by Trionfi and Vernani around 1330.23

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Later in the century, Boccaccio seems to have believed that the angels who 'Svere for themselves" ("per sé foro") were a poetic invention of Dante: "Here it seems that the author likes to think that these evil angels are divided into two species."24 Francesco da Buti and later Bargigi agreed with this assessment. The Anonimo Fiorentino, instead, went back to recounting the legend, enriching it with details but omitting its source. To find a scholar concerned with the actual source for Dante's idea of the group of the neutral angels, one must wait until the end of the eighteenth century. Father Lombardi (1791, 38) was the one who indicated a possible similarity to Clement of Alexandria: "It seems that Clement of Alexandria speaks of that chorus of Angels in the seventh book of his Stromata, Novit enim aliquos quoque ex Angelis propter socordiam humi esse lapsos, quod nondum perfecte ex ilia in utramque partem proclivitate, in simplicem ilium atque unum expediissent se habitum." This citation entered the critical tradition and was enriched as a result of the study by D'Ancona (1874) with its reference to the Navigatio Sancii Brandani.25 Other texts in which the third host of angels who are neither good nor bad is mentioned have been noted in the above-cited study by Freccerò. But the most important contribution came from A. Mellone, who moved the research toward Franciscan texts, from Alexander of Hales to Duns Scotus and, most importandy, to Pietro di Giovanni Olivi.26 It is true that Olivi does not offer an extremely precise reference; rather, in the many pages he dedicates to the study of angels, he observes a continuous gradation of imperfection for the fallen angels that in some way reflects the continuous scale of perfection which one can assume to exist in the hierarchy of good angels. This scale of being, in goodness as well as evil, is quintessentially Dantean, but is not directly related to the verses in question. The idea that the fallen angels, that is, the devils, could be divided into two hosts, goes back to early Christianity. The oldest text I know of is that of Lactantius.27 Let us return for a moment to the citation of Hugh of St. Victor by Pietro Alighieri. Critical tradition ignored it for centuries; only F. Mazzoni recalled it, admitting, however, that he was unable to locate it in Hugh's work. In this regard, I believe it is important to mention a passage of his On the Creation and State ofAngelic Nature. Although Hugh of St. Victor does not divide the angels into three hosts (i.e., angels faithful to God, Lucifer's followers, and neutral angels) at the moment of Lucifer's rebellion, the text does present some ambiguities which could justify Dante's position. In fact, after having

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stated that Lucifer and his followers were thrown into the "fog" ("aerem caliginosum") because "they are not permitted to live in Heaven, which is the bright homeland, nor on earth . . . but in the fog which is their jail until judgment day," Hugh doubts the common fate of all the fallen angels: "There is finally uncertainty as to whether all are in this fog until judgment day or if some of them are lower in Hell."28 Pietro Alighieri is therefore correct when he says that Hugh of St. Victor imagines a host of devils condemned "outside Hell" ("extra infernum"). It is thus possible that popular legend and learned theological disquisitions had come together in Dante's text. The following tercet (w. 40-42) explains the reason why these angels, whom we could define as "lukewarm" according to Rev. 3:15— 16,29 are not received either in Paradise or in Hell. There is the possibility, often pointed out by critics, that the passage from Revelation is at the origin of both the legend and the demonology of the Fathers and Doctors of the Church. The Fathers and Doctors could not accept the idea that Lucifer and his followers suffered the same condemnation, feeling that they were more or less guilty according to their cognitive potentiality. In any case, even to the least guilty ones, those who 'Svere for themselves" ("per sé foro"), the celestial "bright homeland" ("clara patria") is denied. They were certainly not worthy of Paradise, but neither did they deserve Hell, because their guilt was less great. Divine justice would not have given such glory to the most guilty, who would have observed equal punishment for themselves and the "lukewarm ones." This interpretation is straightforward and did not raise doubts or arguments. The oldest gloss is probably that of Bambaglioli and is still accepted today: [He] says that Heaven chased away the said angels, because it does not want to welcome them in its glory, and also the depths of Hell do not torment them. The reason for this is that the angels of darkness were explicidy and voluntarily rebellious against the divine majesty. The angels of darkness thus would have some kind of pleasure seeing them tormented along with themselves in the depths of Hell, since they deserve a greater punishment for having sinned more gravely.30 The only issue that has prompted some debate has been the phrase "alcuna gloria." Beginning with the early commentaries, alcuna had always been interpreted as qualche, that is, an indeterminate adjective of

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positive value. In 1816, Vincenzo Monti31 changed the value of alcuna from positive to negative, giving it the meaning of nessuna, even though there is no negative particle preceding it. Monti's interpretation was accepted by Biagioli,32 Taaffe (1822,180-81), and later Betti (1893,17-18). But the critical reaction was almost immediate. Indeed, in the third Roman edition of Lombardi's commentary, published posthumously in 1820 together with the notes "of the best commentators," we read: Here . . . Monti, followed by Biagioli, with an extremely learned apparatus, states, that alcuna gloria means niuna ¿loria. . . . However, we do not wish to be the arbiters of such a debate, which would appear to us to have been solved by a few words on the part of Magalotti, whose opinion is the same as that of Lombardi, "that is, for Heaven they are too ugly and for Hell they are too beautiful" (cioè pel cielo son troppo brutti, per l'inferno son troppo belli).33 Six years later (1826), instead of offering a discussion, Rossetti let Boccaccio's commentary speak for itself: "The cowardly angels are not received by lower Hell, meaning that the wicked angels would have from them alcuna gloria, that is, pleasure, when they see them in the same torment" (70). There is no doubt that, despite his learning, Monti had blundered on this occasion. Arguing against Monti, Berthier (1892,40) put his case concisely: Against such an explanation one should note: (a) that it is contrary to common usage (and this, I would say, is an observation of little value); (b) it considers alcuna a synonym of nessuna; (c) it is contrary to Dante's concept of the hierarchy of sins; (d) it supposes that the damned souls themselves can choose their place and their company in Hell. Ail this makes no sense. Not all Berthier's points are clear, and their argumentative power is sometimes unconvincing; yet I completely agree with his opinion that Monti's argument makes no sense. By now, Dante knows who "the grieving people" are, but he does not yet know the torment, the suffering that drives them to such violent lamentation. The explanation Virgil provides (w. 45-51) is entirely of a spiritual nature. He does not refer at all to their corporal punishment;

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this will be described later when Dante the pilgrim begins to see them. For the moment, Virgil dwells only on the reasons for the torment, all of which are intellectual. These reasons will be exemplified by physical pain to facilitate the pilgrim's understanding (and the reader's as well). It seems that Dante as author presents two distinct levels: the first is the intellectual level, lived and expressed by Virgil; the second level is corporeal and sensory, and this is the one seen by the eyes of the viator. In this first meeting in the world of the dead, I think that Dante wants to remind the reader of what for him is an axiom: human knowledge stems from the senses (Convivio II, iv, 17). This is a truth that Dante will have Beatrice speak in Paradiso II, 53: in order to acquire knowledge, individuals need the "key of sense" ("chiave di senso"); and even more explicitly in Paradiso IV, 40-42: "It is needful to speak thus to your faculty, since only through sense perception does it apprehend that which it afterwards makes fit for the intellect" ("Così parlar conviensi al vostro ingegno, / però che solo da sensato apprende / ciò che fa poscia d'intelletto degno"). In anticipation of the vision of the damned souls that was granted to the pilgrim through grace, Virgil explains the profound meaning of what Dante will see. The grief of this mass of afflicted souls is the consequence of their total hopelessness, and as Francesco da Buti comments, "to them has been denied the hope of second death, understood as annihilation."34 Hell is "death without death" ("mors sine morte"), as Benvenuto (1887,114) emphasizes. If death without death is the shared fate of all the dwellers of the first realm, the pusillanimous souls are denied even that semblance of life on which the spirits of the abyss often rely. This semblance of life resides in the memory of the living, the memory that remains of their work (as in Farinata's case) or of their writings (as in the case of Brunetto Latini). To the pusillanimous souls even this is denied ("Fama di loro il mondo esser non lassa"). These sinners, as Bargigi observes,35 "do notfindany relief in the hope of the time to come, or in the memory of the time passed, or in the present." Padoan's gloss (1967, 57) is also unambiguous: "their condition is not death, that is, true damnation: it is life, but a blind {cieca) life similar to death, a life which is base (bassa) and vile, as was their earthly life." For this reason they are the ones "envious" ("invidiosi") of any other condition, even that of the truly doomed souls. Their suffering is increased by the fact that they feel "scorned" ("sdegnati") by both divine mercy and justice. They "are" and they suffer truly, but they are "mere nothings": repudiated by God, not accepted by Satan, and,finally,rejected even by death. In this regard, Singleton (1970,2:46) cites Rev. 9:6 ("And in those

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days, man will seek death and will not find it; and they will long to die and death will flee from them"), 36 a citation which I believe is appropriate. Divine contempt demands human contempt: "Let us not speak of them—look, and pass on" ("non ragioniam di lor, ma guarda e passa"). Dante must "look" in order to know. As a matter of fact, Virgil had already explained the sin that makes these sinners weep and for which they are so severely punished. And this was necessary. In this regard, Iacopo della Lana commented: "Lest the wickedness of these [souls] introduce imperfection into the world order, it is fitting that one speak about them a good deal so that one might know what this state is."37 It is one thing to understand sin in order to flee from it; it is quite another thing to speak about people so contemptuous that they do not even deserve to be named ("fama di loro il mondo esser non lassa"). Thus, as Virgil puts the case, despair and envy represent the punishment of the pusillanimous souls, humiliated as they are by the contemptible state to which God's justice has relegated them.

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The Great Coward

E io, che riguardai, vidi una 'nsegna che girando correva tanto ratta, che d'ogne posa mi parea indegna; e dietro le venia sì lunga tratta di gente, ch'i' non averei creduto che morte tanta n'avesse disfatta. Poscia ch'io v'ebbi alcun riconosciuto, vidi e conobbi l'ombra di colui che fece per viltade il gran rifiuto. Incontanente intesi e certo fili che questa era la setta d'i cattivi, a Dio spiacenti e a' nemici sui. Questi sciaurati, che mai non fur vivi, erano ignudi e stimolati molto da mosconi e da vespe ch'eran ivi. Elle rigavan lor di sangue il volto, che, mischiato di lagrime, a' lor piedi da fastidiosi vermi era ricolto.

(w. 52—69)

The first thing that strikes Dante's sight, for he has finally begun to see again, is a banner. This banner is not fully described; we are only told that it runs rapidly around in a circle without ever slowing down or stopping. After the banner, almost as if chasing it without any possibility of catching it, runs the crowd of damned souls. The crowd is so dense and numerous that Dante the pilgrim confesses he had never imagined so many had been born, lived, and died from the day of creation to 1300. The contrappasso (i.e., punishment in analogous relation to the sin committed) is evident here: he who never succeeded in taking a stand, 39

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who could never choose one way over another, is condemned to chase this self-propelled banner eternally. Through its circular movement it always returns to its starting point, eliminating the possibility of an end point. The beginning and the end in fact coincide and are as infinite as the points of the circle. "All these scoundrels are drawn to a signum" writes Benvenuto.1 This was, perhaps, too concise an interpretation but certainly an acceptable explanation. On this occasion, the first critic to mislead the commentators was Boccaccio, apparendy through an excess of reason. He writes: "vidi una insegna che girando, that is, going around, correva, that is, while running it was being carried."2 Boccaccio cannot accept the notion of a banner that moves on its own. It is too unreal, and for this reason he imagines a standard-bearer who is not in Dante's text and for whom there is nothing which might suggest that he exists. We have to recognize that Boccaccio missed the grandeur of thisfirstvision of Hell; this vision is marked by a signum that is moved only by divine justice and which draws behind it the troop of anguished souls. Francesco da Buti, too, tries to define what Dante had left vague, observing that "never will those rest who always rested, who lived like beasts to eat and drink and sleep. They run after the banner of carnality."3 For Francesco da Buti the Signum is "the banner of carnality" and is thus interpreted in a trivializing manner. The need to clarify and to specify beyond the text seems to be a characterizing feature of the commentaries throughout the centuries. For Gelli (1887, 257) the banner is "a huge flag," only in order to give a concrete quality to what Dante had left in the vagueness of the unintelligible. In my opinion, such efforts to clarify and specify are useless and damaging attempts to read into the text. No critic managed to distort (or, more precisely, betray) Dante's passage as much as Pascoli (1900, 351-52). In the banner he saw the cross, and in the shade recognized by Dante he saw the cross-bearer. Few critics accepted such an aberration.4 A few years later, Guido Mazzoni (1904,49), in a veiled polemic, led the interpretation back to the right track: "The poet speaks about una insegna with intentional imprecision. He adds that the banner seemed scornful of rest; this confirms that it cannot be Christ's cross or any other specific sign of religious or political beliefs." Among the most recent commentaries, Grabher's gloss (1936, 36) is excellent: "Dante does not specify if it is aflag,a banner or anything else, since what is striking is not its particular configuration, but its function, its purpose." In my opinion, Grabher's astute observation is noteworthy.

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The adjective indegna at verse J4 has been explained in various ways, even though its meaning remains clear whatever the interpretation. The banner did not grant a moment's rest to the damned or to itself. Perhaps the equivalent phrase suggested by F. Mazzoni ("not susceptible to stopping"5) is the most appropriate. Verses $8-60 are the functional center of this first episode in Hell. One might think that the whole labored construction of the anteInferno, with its souls doomed "extra infernum," was conceived and executed so that Dante could vent his great contempt for "the one who out of cowardice made the great renunciation" ("colui / che fece per viltade il gran rifiuto"). The literal meaning is simple and unambiguous: Dante sees and recognizes some of those wretched ones. We might imagine them to be the indolent Florentines who had lacked the courage to side with either the Whites or the Blacks, but this would be an "imposition" on the text. However, only when Dante sees and recognizes "him" ("colui"), unnamed just like the others, does he understand who the doomed souls are: they are "the sect of caitiff souls hateful to God and to his enemies" ("la setta d'i cattivi / a Dio spiacenti e a' nemici sui"). We are therefore dealing with an emblematic "him," with the most cowardly of the cowards. To have such emblematic value, the figure of this sinner must have been easy to identify and well known to the public Dante was addressing, otherwise the exemplum would have lost all its effectiveness. Dante entrusted the recognition of this figure to the concrete act that had characterized his earthly life, that is, "the great renunciation" ("il gran rifiuto"). Indeed, thefirstcommentators, from Graziolo to Iacopo della Lana and Iacopo Alighieri, who were presumably writing in the years before the Monorchia was condemned by the papal legate Bertrando del Poggetto, had no doubts. According to Graziolo, "the shade of this man was Brother Pietro da Morrone, who was so full of pusillanimity that, as a consequence of the cunning and sagacity of Pope Boniface, he renounced the pontificate."6 Lana repeats, "He was Brother Pietro da Morrone, who was elected pope, and took the name of Pope Celestine."7 And Iacopo Alighieri stated, "For a better understanding, here the text speaks of someone of the present quality, the man who was the Roman pope named Celestine; fearing someone, out of the cowardice of his heart, he renounced the great apostolic office of Rome."8 Thefirstdoubts, or more precisely, thefirstdesire to defend Dante, can be detected in Guido da Pisa, a fact that confirms a rather early date of composition for his commentary, namely, around the tragic years 1328-29.9 Though Guido da Pisa does identify colui with Pope Celestine

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("Iste fuit Celestinus papa"), he feels the need to explain and justify what seems to him to be the condemnation of a holy pope: After his death, [Celestine] was canonized and added to the number of saints by Pope Clement, and he was called St. Peter the Confessor. But since Dante wrote the Commedia at the time of Pope Boniface, that is, before St. Peter was canonized, he [Dante] considered only his indolence [ignavia] and misery of heart, by which he was so completely darkened that he could not remain in the See of Rome. 10 The justification found by Guido da Pisa, namely, that Dante had written his poem before Celestine's canonization, would be suggested again by the Selmi Glosses (p. 12) and by Boccaccio. Boccaccio, however, proposes an alternative choice, that of the biblical figure Esau. Yet both identifications are given as uncertain, and it is clear that Boccaccio does not prefer one over the other. 11 The identification of the figure of Esau as an alternative to Celestine (characterized as well by surrounding uncertainty) is also found in Benvenuto (1887,117—20), in Francesco da Buti (1858, 92-93), and in the Anonimo Fiorentino (1866, 69-70). The Ottimo had suggested the identification of colui with Celestine, but as if he were reporting the opinion of others, perhaps to avoid any responsibility: "While not disclosing the name, the author speaks of one of these evil-doers. . . . There are those who say that the author intends this person to be Brother Pietro del Morrone." 12 The attempt to identify the character "who out of cowardice made the great renunciation" with Esau must have originated in the second half of the fourteenth century. We read it in Boccaccio, but Boccaccio already cites it as if it were concurrent with the identification of Celestine. In this regard, the different positions taken by Pietro Alighieri in the various editions of his commentary are noteworthy. He made the effort to write about his father's major work during very difficult years. The first edition likely dates back to the years of the papacy of John XXII (who died in 1334), that "Cahorsine" who is severely stigmatized by Saint Peter in Paradiso XXVII, 58-60, and whose papal legate was Bertrando del Poggetto. On the other hand, it is possible that this first edition goes back, instead, to the papacy of Benedict XII, the terrible Inquisitor Jacques Fournier, whose deeds prior to his election to the throne of St. Peter are described in Pamiers' record of the Inquisition.13 Under Pope Clement V I and Pope Innocent VI, the war against the hereticam pravitatem became more of a political and diplomatic struggle,

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but the fear remained, to wane and disappear only during the Great Schism. One can well understand how throughout the fourteenth century Dante's commentators tried to defend him from more serious accusations, for he could easily have been accused of heresy. Pietro Alighieri, besides having an interest in defending the poet's memory, as did the other admirers of the Commedia, had a strong personal interest in avoiding a sentence that would have affected not only his father but himself as well. We should recall, in fact, that unlike his brother Iacopo, who led a dull and troubled life, Pietro was a well-known person. He had diplomatic duties and was heir to a considerable estate, which he intended to keep. This made him particularly desirable in the eyes of an inquisitor, who would have received the majority of the wealth seized. Therefore, in the first version of his commentary Pietro Alighieri repeats what had already been said by preceding commentators, reinforcing it with an ut credo: "He places among them, I believe, Brother Pietro da Morrone, who is known as Pope Celestine V."14 In the second edition, almost as if he had realized how dangerous this affirmation could be, he corrected himself and tried to suggest an identification that was as harmless as it was inoffensive in the eyes of the harshest inquisitor, yet which defended both his father and himself. It reads: "[The author] imagines that he sees among those spirits the shade of Pietro da Morrone . . . as some people say and explain, the author wanted to speak precisely of him, that is, of Celestine."15 Up to this point, Pietro Alighieri reports the considerations of others. He now offers his own opinion: But as it is written in the Decretals: the See of St. Peter eitherfinds a saint or makes a saint. We thus call into question that Celestine, as a saint, could do this and we say here that the author did not speak of him, but of Diocletian, who as emperor renounced the empire, as Eutropius writes.16 Pietro's worries are all too apparent: his choice of the ecclesiastical Decretals and his assertion that Dante was so respectful of the Holy Church that he certainly could not have condemned a holy pope, confirm his defensive attitude. What is truly far from convincing is his choice of Diocletian. It appears that he was unable to find anyone better. On the other hand, it gave him the opportunity to provide a new scholarly interpretation. In the third and last version of his commentary, Pietro does not abandon the two possible identifications—here Celestine is associated with what "some say," while Diocletian is presented as his

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own opinion—but he nonetheless attempts to generalize them into a larger perspective. If the verses referred to Celestine, they would be an insult to the papacy; if they referred, instead, to Diocletian, they would be an insult to the empire: "among whom the author imagines he saw the shade of him who, because of a certain pusillanimity and out of cowardice, renounced the papacy—that is, it was Celestine V, as some say—or the empire, if it was Diocletian."17 The candidacy of Diocletian was not accepted by the other early commentators. I believe, however, that in this same span of years there was a very strong need to find an identification that was less dangerous, more in keeping with the ecclesiastical decrees and, at the same time, more worthy of Dante's text. This is probably why someone thought of Esau, who had renounced his right of primogeniture. Let us see how this debate endured and developed through the centuries. The legacy of the early commentaries is not diminished by the changing schools of thought or political conditions. Landino seems to lean toward Pope Celestine V, although his comment is preceded by the words "some say." But he then continues: I believe that, for several reasons, the poet put forward the exemplutn without a name. First of all, he did not want to blemish such a holy man with disgrace, for although the author held him in great esteem for his saindy life, it was nonetheless his opinion that while governing [the Church] he might have been debased . . . or, perhaps because he was speaking of men without fame, it seemed appropriate to him [i.e., the author] that no one be given a name.18 Landino's gloss is strange indeed: on the one hand, he accepts the identity of the "saint" as a damned soul, on the other hand, he says that Dante does not name him because he had led a "holy life" and did not want to defame him. On this point Landino is so uncertain of the position to adopt that he openly contradicts himself. Yet it is a fact that the identification of the spirit described by Dante in verses 59-60 has managed to confound the major and minor critics of all periods. I wish to enter here a note I find particularly amusing. It is the gloss of a seventeenth-century author, which I found in a copy of Landino's commentary preserved at the Biblioteca Nazionale in Rome. Even this unknown commentator-reader is doubtful and bewildered by the idea that Dante may have condemned to Hell a pope who was canonized by the Church:

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Since it is not really possible that Dante put Pope Celestine, a holy man, in Hell for renouncing the papacy, one should rather believe that by "him who out of cowardice made the great renunciation" Dante intended Michele di Lando who refused to be a perpetual gonfalonier of the Florentine Republic. This was no small renunciation, and this behavior can certainly be considered cowardly, because he was a wool-draper. 19 Everything is solved: disgrace is lifted from a pope and placed on a man who was a coward by nature, for he "was a wool-draper." But then the anonymous reader thinks further and with evident displeasure is forced to admit: "We really cannot defend Dante in the identification of Michele di Lando, for in reality it [i.e., his renunciation] occurred several years later, after his [Dante's] death, and that is in 1374 [sic\ ."20 This remark, which must have been scribbled hurriedly in the margins of a printed edition, is useful; it documents the extent to which the need to "defend Dante" was felt precisely because it did not seem "believable" that Dante would put "Pope Celestine, a holy man, in Hell." The need to defend Dante compelled critics (and still compels them today) to find a substitute for Celestine. And so they set about to find a replacement. Similar attempts to discover a learned and more or less defensible substitute would be repeated over the centuries. Even during the sixteenth century, the major concern of the critics is to defend Dante. Gelli scornfully rejected the various identifications with Diocletian or Esau and insisted on Pope Celestine V. Nonetheless, he attempted to prove that, in the case of the canonized pontiff, Dante was not guilty of a crime of lèse majesté. Guido da Pisa provided him with arguments: when Dante wrote, Pietro da Morrone had not yet been declared a saint ("such a thing had yet to occur") (Gelli 1887,25859). Castelvetro (1886, 53-54) took the same position. Not until the Enlightenment do we find a commentary dictated by common sense. It was written by Pompeo Venturi (1757, xxxv), and I take it from the Venetian edition of 1739: Here the poet intended to allude not to Esau, but rather to St. Celestine, because the epithet is much more suitable to the latter's papacy than to the former's primogeniture; also because the author could have recognized Celestine, who renounced [the holy office] when Dante was no more than thirty years of age, but not Esau, who lived so many centuries before him; also because the renunciation of Esau was barter, while only that of

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Celestine was renunciation; and finally because in Canto VIII of the Paradiso (v. ijo) he uses Esau as a figure for the reprobates and wicked men, not the slothful and the worthless. However, he who out of respect and for religious reasons wants to relate this passage to Esau . . . would do best to warn the reader that the poet here erred either out of wickedness or ignorance. Venturi's concise and unambiguous remarks underscore a change in direction: from the defense of Dante the critics gradually shift to a defense of Celestine "out of respect and for religious reasons." Barcellini's reference is typical in this regard. In his commentary of 1701, in order not to tarnish Celestine's sainthood, he proposed to identify colui with Giano della Bella or Giano's brother, who had refused to lead the Florentine people after Giano fell. Toward the end of the century, Father Lombardi (1791, 41—42) adopted this proposal and did his best to defend it. His commentary was very widely circulated and continued to be reprinted, sometimes with additions and revisions, until several years after Lombardi's death. Thus the proposal, which appeared in that commentary and which we can consider fanciful and unacceptable, was not only taken into serious consideration but shifted the search for an alternative to Celestine from the historical and biblical legacy to the local political tradition. In 1862, while searching for a colui other than Celestine, Barlow (1862) focused his attention on Vieri de' Cerchi, or on another head of the Whites. It mattered little that at the time of Dante's fictio Vieri was still alive and powerful, for if colui could not be identified with him, he could always be easily identified with Vieri's father, Torrigiano de' Cerchi, as the priest Don Stefano Monini (1892) attempted to demonstrate. Nevertheless, Vieri interested the critics more than Torrigiano, so much so that he was preferred by Pietrobono 21 and perhaps implicitly by Eroli (1893). One needs to keep in mind that the political and religious climate in Italy toward the end of the nineteenth century was unique. Once the "Roman Question" was resolved unfavorably for the Papal State, the Curia and the clergy tried to reassert some measure of their power over practicing Catholics. For this reason, the ecclesiastical authorities withdrew behind a rigid line of Counter-Reformation religiosity, even threatening to excommunicate those Italians who exercised their right to vote. Dante criticism did not escape the pressures created by this climate. By then, the commentators no longer sought to defend Dante. After five centuries, the poet hailed as the "bard of resurrected Italy"

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("vate dell'Italia risorta") was in no danger of being excommunicated; the Catholic commentators could thus defend Saint Celestine, that is to say, Saint Peter the Confessor. The extent to which this defense was approved and appreciated by the Roman Curia, which desired the complete reappraisal of a holy pope, is clearly shown by an article in the Osservatore Romano, the official journal of the Curia. The article, which appeared on 29 March 1892, devoted a great deal of attention to Eroli's lecture (read the day before and published at once in Arcadia), calling it "a masterpiece of erudition and literary criticism in praise of that pope." Pietrobono followed suit, both by praising Celestine's saintly humility, and by accepting Vieri de' Cerchi as "the one who out of cowardice made the great renunciation." Bulgarini (1878) was much less successful than Eroli when he claimed that it was possible to substitute, for Celestine, Romulus Augustulus, the last Roman emperor in the West, who, however, had never refused anything and had simply been deposed. This was a compelling reason to minimize the importance of Bulgarini's suggestion. During the last years of the nineteenth century, Barbarani (1897) suggested yet another identification for colui, namely, Pontius Pilate. What other renunciation could be "greater" than the refusal to judge Christ? The fact that Dante the pilgrim would have had difficulty "recognizing" Pilate was of no great importance when compared with the other more or less popular names that had been proposed: Diocletian, Esau, and Romulus Augustulus. These, too, werefiguresDante would never have been able to recognize. The suggestion, as painless to the Roman Curia as it was to Catholics in general, appealed to Pascoli (1902) and Rostagno (1903) and has found vigorous defenders to this day.22 One of these contemporary critics is latinucci, a gifted and deeply religious scholar with a sound background in Church doctrine. Among the many names apdy (and inepdy) proposed to identify colui, Pilate would seem to be the one which would most correspond to the hie et nunc interpretation of the text. By accepting this interpretation, however, we would immediately have another knot to untangle. In fact, if for the other suggested names of antiquity the only problem is to match the phrase "I saw and knew" ("vidi e conobbi") with a figure whose features were completely unknown to Dante, Pilate presents an even more difficult problem. In the Commedia, Dante mentions Pilate only once, in Purgatorio XX, 90, and he does so as a concise metaphor for Philip the Fair, King of France. It is Hugh Capet who speaks and who describes with painfül crudeness the increasing corruption of his descendants that culminates in Philip's horrible actions. Philip is capable of renewing Christ's passion in his

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Vicar on earth: Philip is the "new Pilate so cruel" ("novo Pilato sì crudele"). As Padoan has already observed, there is no doubt that Pilate is here held responsible for Christ's crucifixion just as Philip is held responsible for the insult in Anagni.23 Pilate is far worse than the pusillanimous souls of the ante-Inferno who could not, and would not, make a decision. By washing his hands, Pilate consciously condemned "that just one" ("quel giusto"); and Philip the Fair repeated Pilate's act when he granted freedom of actions to Guillaume de Nogaret. These two characters are both guilty of that malice "that wins hate in Heaven" ("ch'odio in cielo acquista"). To erase the guilt, it is not enough to say "I did not know" or "I did not want to know," when that "not knowing" means a certain and undeserved condemnation. Pilate and Philip were well aware of this. Or at least this is what the passage from the Purgatorio suggests, a passage, however, that was not among the numerous citations that latinucci presents in his study. Yet, in my opinion, that very verse destroys the entire construction of colui as Pilate. If we leave aside the isolated hypothesis of colui as Julian the Apostate (Bergmann 1877), there is another proposal that functions almost as a compromise; this proposal, introduced by Sapegno, aims to put an end to all the arguments and conclude a debate that has continued unabated for centuries. Sapegno (1967, 62), certainly one of the most noteworthy scholars of our century, wants no more names and claims that colui is only a character-emblem, an allusive term reflecting a polemical disposition that involves not just one person, but the entire coundess mass of pusillanimous souls. This solution leaves us uncertain. I think I should remind the reader that Dante insists, both in Epistola XIII and in Paradiso XVII, on the fact that his work becomes concrete and positive by means of examples which, in order to be truly effective, must be drawn from characters and events that are well known and recognizable to the public. In the Epistola he states: "The form or manner of treatment is poetic, fictive, descriptive, digressive, and figurative: and further, it is definitive, divisible into parts, offering proof, disproving, and providing examples."24 This statement is confirmed by Cacciaguida in Paradiso XVII: Però ti son mostrate in queste rote, nel monte e ne la valle dolorosa pur l'anime che son di fama note, che l'animo di quel ch'ode, non posa né ferma fede per essempro ch'aia la sua radice incognita e ascosa, né per altro argomento che non paia.

(w. 136-42)

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It is true that the world bears no trace of the souls in the anteInferno, and it is because of this that Dante does not name any of them; nonetheless, one of them is distinguished by an action ("il gran rifiuto"). This "great renunciation" immediately clarifies for the pilgrim the identity of those wretched people. If we accept Sapegno's hypothesis, we have a merely speculative example, from "roots unknown and hidden" ("radice incognita e ascosa"), with no real hold on the public. But Dante's aim was the morale negotium, that is, to help the mondo errante rediscover the path to goodness and happiness. The Commedia "was conceived, whether altogether or in part, not as speculation but as moving to action."25 For this reason, the examples have a fundamental importance; and this is why, in the above-cited passage from Epistola XIII, the words "providing examples" ("exemplorum positivus") conclude the series of qualifiers. In fact, Dante states in the Convivio that "what the speaker intends above all to stress must be reserved for the last, because what is said last remains most in the mind of the listener" (trans. R. Lansing).26 In the Ricciardi commentary of 1957, Sapegno was uncertain as to the correct identification and thus limited himself to reporting the various names that had been suggested. However, three years later (1967) he provided his own specific interpretation and remained faithful to it in the most recent edition of 1985. This scholar's great prestige certainly encouraged F. Mazzoni ( 1 9 6 7 , 4 1 4 - 1 5 ) to follow the same interpretive direction. Finally, we should note the salient points in the heated controversy which for almost fifteen years pitted some of the great names in contemporary Dante criticism, including Petrocchi, Nardi, and Padoan, against one another.27 The vexata quaestio concerning the identification of the spirit described by Dante in verses 5 9 - 6 0 (specifically, the candidacy of Celestine) was faced once again, but this time the problem was addressed with the proper means and with adequate preparation. One immediately notices a certain isolation of Petrocchi (1953). Indeed, he is the only critic to reject totally the idea that Dante might ever have condemned, even if only to the ante-Inferno, Pope Celestine, "a spiritual leader who had felt the problem of the salvation of the Church in all its urgency but who, because he was impotent to work toward that end, had returned to his life of prayer and penance" (74). Here, I believe, we are returning to a pure defense of the holy pope, rather than an interpretive effort which might resolve the problem in Dante's passage. Thus, on the one hand, Petrocchi is close to Pietrobono, from whom he draws the general organization of his approach to the problem, and on the other, he somehow opens the way for the agnostic interpretation of Sapegno and of F. Mazzoni.

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In 1957 Nardi wrote a fiery response to Petrocchi's 1953 study. It was, after all, a period of intense political discussions which often affected even literary polemics. In defending the identification of colui as Celestine, Nardi was carried away by the heat of the debate and accused Petrocchi of having adopted a partisan (i.e., fideistic and Catholic) position. Petrocchi replied calmly but insisted on his original position. It was fortunate for Dante studies that Padoan published the results of his research in 1962. Erudite and well balanced, his article avoided any explicit controversy. Even Nardi (1962, 321) had to recognize its merit, observing: "It is a splendid little essay, the fruit of careful research in literature and the chronicles of the time," which gathers "valuable information, that explains the unanimity of the first commentators in considering colui che fece per viltà ilgran rifiuto to be Pope Celestine V." Padoan is much more precise; he does not speak of "unanimity" but rather he questions—and he is the first to do so—the historical and political reasons that led the fourteenth-century commentators to change their tone and modify the gloss. The fundamental points that Padoan stressed with substantial documentation can be summarized as follows: ι. The election of Pietro da Morrone to the papacy had aroused great expectations among all those who hoped for a reform of the Church and a return to an original purity, to the poor Church of the Apostles, to a Church totally removed from the intrigues of earthly powers. Among those who were expecting much were the Franciscans, especially the Spiritual Franciscans. 2. Celestine V's rejection of the papacy after only five months prompted equally great disappointment. It was at once rumored that the "renunciation" had been obtained from Celestine through the deception of Cardinal Benedetto Caetani, who immediately secured his own election to the same throne as Boniface VIII, and whose appointment was made, according to some, by Celestine himself. 3. Through this unprecedented act, evil befell a Church already rent by internal dissension. This dissension would soon become open war when Boniface called for a "crusade" against the Colonna family, which had two members in the Sacred College of Cardinals. 4- Dante repeats the condemnation of Celestine—and this is a fundamental point—through the words Guido da Montefeltro presents as those uttered by Boniface V i l i ("Lo ciel poss' io serrare e diserrare, / come tu sai; però son due le chiavi / che Ί mio antecessor non ebbe care" [Inferno XXVII, 103-5]). Padoan's comment on the above passage is unassailable: "Dante, therefore, lets Boniface himself say that his pre-

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decessor renounced the throne not because he was aware of his own inadequacy (according to the theory that Caetani upheld publicly), but because he did not hold dear (non ebbe care) the keys of the Church, which are to absolve and condemn: that is to say to make judgments and take sides" (1962, 82). The fact that Celestine's gesture dumbfounded even those who were removed from the religious disputes of the time is certain. In this regard, it is sufficient to read the unrefined and relatively unknown contemporary chronicle of Paolino Pieri, a Florentine who lived between the end of the thirteenth and the beginning of the fourteenth century. In the entry for the year 1294, Paolino writes: "One who was called Celestine, became pope." He then goes on to describe at some length the Florentine form of government and the Florentine wars of that year. Finally he adds: In this year Pope Celestine went to Naples, and since he was a very holy and religious man leading a good life, King Charles honored him gready and received him graciously. [The pope] wrote up a new decree, which none before him had ever conceived. This decree allowed each pope from then on to renounce the papacy for the welfare of his soul. And when he had finished this decree, and his companions had approved it on the feast day of St. Lucy, which is 13 December, in consistory, in the presence of the Cardinals, he removed his mantle and renounced the seigniory and the papacy; and he had the document so prepared, and put down the crown and the mitre, and this deed was met by many with great astonishment.28 Our chronicler, as usual, recounts the events without commenting on them. There is no question that "the great astonishment" provoked by Celestine's renunciation was a "fact" and as such had to be reported. Adami, the eighteenth-century scholar who prepared the edition of the chronicle, emphasizes the honesty of Pieri's narration: "Indeed Paolino deserves praise, for even though he was a Guelph and consequently an apostolic and papal man, he still managed to maintain some historical objectivity, in the midst of the Ghibellines' hatred and of the malevolence of the Whites and the Blacks."29 It might be more proper to speak of "impassivity" than "historical objectivity." Paolino tells what he knows because he found it written somewhere or because he was an eyewitness to the event. In either case, he never takes sides. He informs us both of the expulsion of Giano della Bella, and of the stormy relation-

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ship between Pope Boniface VIII and the Colonna family "against whom the said pope preached and gave the indulgence of the cross." But there is never a comment. What Paolino does not recount is perhaps more indicative of his feelings than what he does tell: there is no indication, for example, of the deception plotted by Boniface to discredit Celestine, although accounts of Boniface's cunning fill numerous chronicles and that cunning is something that Dante himself seems to insist on {Inferno XIX, 55—57). There is also no mention of Celestine's imprisonment or of his death, for which Boniface was often blamed. Adami was right when he defined Paolino Pieri as an "apostolic and papal man" who never discussed the pontiff's actions. For these reasons, the reference to "great astonishment" ['gran maraviglia] at Celestine's gesture, an act "which none before him had ever conceived" and which Paolino feels the need to record, reveals much more than the few words of the chronicler. It must have been an "astonishment" that at once embarrassed and was embarrassing, a deed that struck and overwhelmed Christendom. It is worth remembering that, though not an "apostolic man nor a papist," Dante was most decidedly a fervent Christian who fought with all his might for profound changes in the behavior of the high clergy who were meant to serve as models for laymen. In Dante's view, ecclesiastical corruption led to political corruption and, as a consequence, to the corruption of the individual and to the destruction of that happy life to which human beings were called. Although Dante devoted his writing almost exclusively to this idea during his years in exile (i.e., the Convivio, Monarchia, and Commedia), he never desired a reform in the structure of the Church. In fact, he consistendy showed his fervent respect for its hierarchical order. Dante regarded the sacred mantle of the pontificate always with unconditional reverence, over and above the greater or lesser dignity of the person called to that high office. This position is very clear and entirely corresponds to that of the moderate Spirituals, whose most learned representative was Pietro di Giovanni Olivi (d. 1298). Later, it was upheld by Michele da Cesena, especially during the first years of his office as vicar-general of the Franciscans, a position to which he was elected in 1316. What he wrote and what happened to him after Dante's death, namely, his extreme defense of poverty as an evangelical virtue, his confrontation with John XXII, his ensuing excommunication and escape to Ludwig the Bavarian, are beyond the scope of our research (Dolcini 1977). By then Dante could no longer be influenced or render judgments. The Commedia was completed and its author no longer alive. Dante had always prophesied the past, never the future, and his pseudo-prophecies had been offered in

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order to help individuals back to the true path of earthly happiness which leads to happiness in the other world. By that time all that was left of his dedication to the struggle were his writings, which would bear witness to his commitment throughout the centuries. Evidence of the influence of Spiritual trends on Dante's politicalecclesiastical ideas has been provided by Manselli on more than one occasion.30 He insisted, above all, on the possible influence on Dante of Olivi, who was a lecturer at the school of Santa Croce in Florence for roughly two years (1287—89). Here he bequeathed to his fellow brethren and their future students a legacy of thought and writings that Manselli has managed to document up to the beginning of the fifteenth century, despite "the fury with which Olivi's memory was persecuted from the first years of the fourteenth century on."31 One passage, among the many that can be cited to support Manselli's hypothesis, and which I believe is of great importance, is the one in which Olivi distinguishes with great clarity between the concepts of "office" and "officiant": Papal potestas can be considered in itself, and then it is greater than the papal See since it commands it and presides over it. Or it can be considered in regard to the person in whom the power resides; in this sense, for the purpose of assuring its continuity, it is not greater than the See, because the person of the pope can more easily be corrupted and become useless to the governing of the Churches of the Roman See.32 This distinction clarifies both a difficult passage of the Convivio33 and the apparent contradiction between, on the one hand, Boniface awaited in Hell and already condemned in Canto XIX of the Inferno and, on the other, Boniface the 'Vicar of Christ," offended and crucified once again by order of Philip the Fair in Canto XIX of the Purgatorio. In my opinion, Olivi's little treatise On the Renunciation of Pope Celestine is fundamental to our research, but less for the position taken by the Provençal Franciscan to defend Celestine's right to renounce the papacy—and consequendy the full legitimacy of Boniface VIII—than for the list of twelve points he intends to confute. These points represent for us crucial evidence of the opinions then current among many Spirituals. It was the time when Saint Francis's followers in general and the Spirituals in particular gave life and voice to that lay-popular religion in which Dante himself participated and of which Francis himself had been the highest expression.34 This list of controversial points enables us to

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penetrate the feelings of the Christian lay community. For the preceding two centuries this community had been fascinated by the various schools of pauperism, orthodoxy, and heterodoxy that preached the need of individuals to abandon earthly riches and that asked the ecclesiastical hierarchy, from the pope, cardinals, and bishops down to the last parish priest, to give up its riches, power struggles, and worldly displays and return to the poverty of Christ and his Apostles. The Spirituals asked all of this and practiced what it asked of others. Not even the stakes at which the Spirituals, the Beguines, and the Fraticelli were burned succeeded in silencing the call to poverty and repentance that had dominated and would continue to rule lay Christians throughout the fourteenth century. If we remove ourselves from this historical-social context we remove ourselves from Dante himself. Summarized in these twelve points are the aberrant opinions which Olivi feels the need to rebut. The first five points concern the proposition, defended by many, that a pope does not and cannot have the authority to dissolve the bond that ties him to the Church. The groom cannot abandon the bride to whom he freely pledged fidelity and assistance. Only God can absolve such a duty by decreeing the end of earthly life. According to this proposition, Celestine could not have refused the papacy, nor could anyone else have taken his place as long as he was alive. The sixth point presents another thesis, namely, that the Church has the duty to avoid changes that are dangerous to itself. Up to that point, no pope had ever refused the papacy, even if he had perhaps recognized his meager abilities or realized that others would have been more suited to the position. Given this precedent, Celestine had introduced a change that could have become pernicious to the Church. Therefore, he should not have and could not have done so; it was as if he had abandoned the Church itself. This is yet another accusation of abandoning the Church that falls on Celestine. The twelfth and final point is perhaps the most interesting. As Olivi writes: Nothing in the Church is more necessary than a solid authority of faith, especially on the part of those who have to interpret it, define it, defend it, and preserve it. And opposed to this, nothing is more dangerous than to give rise to a situation whereby the main power and authority of the faith is shown disdain, uprooted and degraded by schism, and usurped in a tyrannical and ambitious manner.35

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Celestine's renunciation gave rise to a "grand occasion" when the throne of St. Peter could be "usurped in a tyrannical and ambitious manner." Even if Olivi countered the accusations against Celestine and Boniface point by point, for many Spirituals and many of the faithful36 the accusation of cowardice directed by Dante against Celestine must have appeared not only unambiguous but fully justified. Manselli (1985, 133) has written that, "when on 5 July, 1294 the College of Cardinals decided to elevate Pietro da Morrone, namely Celestine V, to the pontifical throne, it was heeding the call of popular religion." And it is precisely this popular religion that rebelled, feeling that its deepest expectations had been betrayed. The Christian people had hoped for a pope who could lead the Church back to the right path, who would set St. Peter's boat back on course, who would destroy that ecclesia carncdis whose shepherds were lupi rapad, and who would found the ecclesia spiritualis, the source of peace and a good life for all humanity. Celestine's "great renunciation" dashed all these hopes, "and his successor, Boniface VIII," as Manselli (1985, 133) once again observes, "a learned jurist, proud of his nobility, was certainly not the man most willing to understand mass movements." If this is the dispassionate opinion of the modern historian, how much harsher and deeply felt must Dante's opinion have been? He saw in the usurper Boniface VIII and his direct successors the origin of all evil afflicting the world and his own life. Celestine had managed to be hateful to God and "to his enemies" ("a' nemici sui"). By his cowardly gesture he had reopened the purulent wounds which had disfigured the Church for so long and which both orthodox and heterodox writers strongly denounced. Olivi, the official defender of both Celestine and Boniface, is also among those who most vehemently lamented the corruption of the ecclesia carnalis: In fact, when the Church is in the hands of heretics or of whoever is wicked, then our heritage passes to strangers and the sons of the Church lack the holy fathers and the good husbands of the Church itself, and each grace is sold and bought in a simoniacal manner, so that even the seals of the sacraments, that is, their sacred elements, may be obtained for a price. What happens, then, is a general and universal lack of divine grace and doctrine in the Churches that the servants and the scoundrels dominate. . . . Because of this . . . foxes, hypocrites and very fraudulent and cunning men are looting on the highest moun-

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tains, that is, among the supreme manifestations of the religious communities and of the Churches. 37 In this spiritual atmosphere, made harsher still by the exile to Avignon, by the councils imposed by the French king to declare Boniface VIII a heretic, by the burnings at the stake, and by the persecution of those who defended the pauperism of the Franciscan rule, Celestine's condemnation among the damned souls of the ante-Inferno would appear completely acceptable, certainly before and perhaps even after the canonization of Pietro da Morrone. Celestine's presence (I believe it is now clear that it is he of whom Dante speaks) among the grieving people immediately clarifies for Dante the nature of the sin that this host of wretched souls had committed. These sinners lived on the earth without leaving a trace, as if they had never received the gift of life. Only after having understood it himself, and making the reader understand the gravity of the sin of inaction, does Dante describe the punishment inflicted on the pusillanimous souls. Like all the infernal and purgatorial torments described in the Commedia, the punishment of these first damned souls is a corporeal one. Even in this respect, Dante conforms to popular religion. He conforms to the masses who "are left suffering for human hunger" ("ne la umana fame sono rimasi"), who because they are "common and uneducated" ('Volgari e non litterati") 38 are able to comprehend physical pain more easily. Physical pain is concrete, even when it is only a metaphor, a representation of a spiritual and intellectual pain. Therefore, the pusillanimous souls are naked as they chase a banner, continuously tormented by the stings of horseflies and wasps. The blood runs from the wounds opened by the swarming pests and mixes with the tears of the damned as it falls to the ground at their feet. There the earth teems with worms that feed on the blood and tears. It is a didactic folk tableau, intended to inspire revulsion and fear, and it is similar to many frescoes on the interior walls of churches. Their purpose was to instruct the less educated, just as the gargoyles on the façades and portals showed that Satan's power extended only to the walls of the sacred enclosure. Various commentators gave allegorical interpretations to the punishment. The first was Guido da Pisa who writes: "These evil animals, which are flies and wasps assigned to the perpetual torment of the sinners, have the likeness and the look of their very cowardly thoughts and actions, which these wretched persons of small heart considered and carried out in this world." 39 Only in the second edition of his commentary does Pietro Alighieri

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seem to pay attention to Guido's observation, noting: "In truth, the flies and the wasps which are stinging these people represent their cares and actions. These cares and actions were as insignificant, cowardly, and miserable as such creatures."40 Benvenuto Rambaldi's gloss is complex, and he draws inspiration from the passage to teach readers how to escape the dangers of a dishonest life: "Most properly Dante invents this for, because of their disorderly life, these wretches develop scabies, leprosy and otherfilthykinds of sickness for which they lie miserably in hospitals and often in the streets and in ditches without having anyone to visit them except for the flies and the wasps."41 Benvenuto insisted on his realistic and macabre description without perhaps realizing how much he was deviating from the text he was discussing. The sight of the wretched and forsaken described by Rambaldi must have been fairly common from 1348 on, when the plague became endemic. Rambaldi states his purpose in a digression that closes the paragraph: "And note, O reader, that although this matter might be annoying, it is useful to show as an example to terrify others, so that they will beware falling in with such a miserable sect of evil souls."42 It is not clear whether Benvenuto is alluding to that "sect of evil souls" of Hell described by Dante or that group oppressed by "very filthy" sicknesses about which he had written at length. Francesco da Buti follows the lead of Guido da Pisa and comments: This is what he who was lazy in this life deserves, namely, to be stung in the other [life] by flies and wasps, wicked creatures, since their earthly life has been wicked and given to idle thoughts, deprived of any protection. . . . Now, one should note that allegorically this punishment is found in the realm of the evil souls who lived this way in the world. Because, if we think about it correctly, these souls, as they are, are deprived of any actions and virtuous occupations. They are stung from head to toe by flies and wasps, which are the most vile, annoying and burning thoughts which draw the blood from the body, that is, they consume life . . . and [this blood] is collected by sickening worms at their feet. This means that their affections are accompanied by very evil and loathesome occupations to which their wretched life is committed and by which it is consumed . . . , [a life which] is full of grief and unhappiness."43 The critics who commented on verses 64-69 followed this interpretation more or less precisely. In order to find an innovative contribu-

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tion, one needs to read Tommaseo, who suggests a reference to the Wisdom of Solomon: "For they [who have escaped both the praise of God and his blessing] were killed by the bites of locusts andflies,and no healing was found for their souls" (Wisd. of Sol. ιό:«?).44 I believe that this biblical citation helps explain Dante's language. On the other hand, the image itself of the wasps and theflieswhich plague the pusillanimous souls recalls the fourth plague of Egypt, that is, the flies that invade the lands of the Pharaohs (Exod. 8:20-32). Yet another biblical passage can be applied to these verses, namely, the curse on the impious man that we read in Job 24:20: "Mercy forgets him, the worms feed on his sweetness. Let him not be remembered but felled like a tree that fruits not."45 In conclusion, there seems to be no reason to doubt that the colui to whom Dante refers is Pope Celestine V. Dante manages to introduce here his polemic against that ecclesiastical corruption which could lead to the debasement of earthly values, including imperial power. This is a polemical motif that runs through the entire Commedia, culminating in the words of Saint Peter (Paradiso XXVIII) and the severe judgments uttered by Beatrice (Paradiso XXIX).

CHAPTER

VII

Toward the Acheron

E poi ch'a riguardar oltre mi diedi, vidi genti a la riva d'un gran fiume; per ch'io dissi: "Maestro, or mi concedi ch'i' sappia quali sono, e qual costume le fa di trapassar parer sì pronte, com'i' discerno per lo fioco lume." Ed elli a me: "Le cose ti fier conte quando noi fermerem li nostri passi su la trista riviera d'Acheronte." Allor con li occhi vergognosi e bassi, temendo no Ί mio dir li fosse grave, infino al fiume del parlar mi trassi.

(w. 70-81)

These verses mark the transition from the story of Celestine to the final part of the canto. It is a dialogue between teacher and pupil. The pupil's question prepares the reader for a new and mysterious sight: a great river and a multitude of souls who crowd the bank, anxious to cross over. Only later will we learn from Virgil who those spirits are and why they look "so eager" ("sì pronte"). For the moment, in reply to Dante's questions, Virgil reveals only the name of the river. It is the Acheron, the first of the four rivers of the Underworld. The name alone is enough to evoke classical memories, which as we shall see, will be interwoven throughout the third part of the canto. Ettore Paratore (1986,30), who is without doubt the critic most sensitive to Virgilian influences, stresses that in this last part of the canto, "the borrowing from Virgil is once again striking." Yet it is precisely in these tercets that one clearly sees both the influence of Virgil and Dante's inventive distance from his author. In fact, if Dante's question echoes that of Aeneas ("Die, ait, o 59

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virgo, quid vult concursus ad amnem? / Quidve pctunt animae?" [Aeneid VI, 318-19]), Virgil's reticent answer and implicit invitation to Dante to keep silent until they reach the "mournful shore" ("trista riviera") is entirely Dante's invention and is of striking narrative effect. The quasiVirgilian citation could create a sense of déjà vu in the reader. However, when the pilgrim, filled with humble shame at the veiled rebuke he detected in his guide's words, lowers his eyes and silently and pensively follows his teacher, the reader is removed from the Virgilian world to an atmosphere of puzzled expectation that heightens and renews his or her attention. Once the drama of Celestine and of the multitude of pusillanimous souls is past, there is the risk that interest in the last episode might wane, even though Dante as author wanted it to have primary importance. A pause was needed, and the dialogue between Dante and Virgil serves this purpose. Yet this pause was not intended to relax but rather to renew the dramatic tension. Dante's courteous and equally insistent requests— "permit me now to know what sort these are" ("or mi concedi / ch'i' sappia quali sono")—and Virgil's terse, almost abrupt answer—"These things will be made known to you" (" 'Le cose ti fier conte' ") when it is time—suit the purpose perfectly. The reader already knows that something unpleasant and painful awaits him. The importance of these twelve verses often escaped the commentators, especially the early ones. Indicative of this is Graziolo's commentary. After overcoming the obstacle of colui, he concluded his analysis. Evidently, he did not think it necessary to have a gloss for this last part of the canto. Dante's narrative strategy completely escaped Lana, who was only interested in the possible allegorical meaning of the name of the river which, according to him, "Dante calls Acheron, and this allegorically means carnal pleasure, which is the beginning of all vices."1 In all three editions of his commentary, Pietro Alighieri (1978,80—83) noted that with verse 70 the last part of the canto begins, yet he immediately focused on the Virgilian references which underlie the image of the river and Charon. Benvenuto Rambaldi was the first commentator to concentrate on the dialogue between Dante and Virgil. In his search for the correct interpretation, he was the first critic to ask why Virgil delays answering Dante's question ("quare Virgilius retardai et differt facere istam responsionem autori"). In his commentary Rambaldi continues: "Perhaps to warn him that one should proceed quietly and with care to this first part of Hell." 2 Boccaccio, following in the wake of Pietro Alighieri, noted the beginning of the "third part," but was more attracted by "what the author wanted to signify by the river, the ferryman

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and what is happening to himself."3 Francesco da Buti, always quick to grasp the nuances of verbal art, was the only one among the early commentators to consider these tercets an integral part of Dante's narrative: "In this part there is no allegory; rather the author sets this down to continue his story."4 This perspective clarifies both Virgil's evasive answer and Dante's timid silence. Perhaps it was Francesco da Buti's gloss itself ("in this part there is no allegory") that led the later commentators to feel it was useless to dwell on these verses. The literal meaning was clear and did not need further explanation. It was only in the late sixteenth century that Castelvetro attempted to explain Virgil's abrupt answer. According to Castelvetro (1886,54-55), "I [i.e., Virgil] have many other things to say both about the river and about Charon . . . which I shall state all at once after we have journeyed up the bank of the Acheron, so that I will not have to discuss them separately or twice." Castelvetro thus explains the silence imposed on Dante by Virgil as a device to avoid needless repetition. In my opinion, this seems to be a rather simplistic explanation. Only modern criticism has addressed the problem of the transition between the two principal episodes and has offered a variety of interpretations, none of which is totally convincing. In my view, the most persuasive argument is that offered by Mazzoni (1967, 420) : "The prolonged and thoughtful silence [of Dante] has the evident function of preparing (by means of a judicious pause which acts as a transition to the ensuing tercet) the appearance of a new character, the first (and truly Virgilian) demon, namely, Charon." One must observe how Dante constructs the new tableau for the reader: a great river on the banks of which a crowd presses together. Though anxious and afraid to cross the Acheron, they push and crowd one another as if they were driven (and they are!) by an order which is as binding as a natural urge.5 The image is seen "through a dim light" ("per lo fioco lume"). It is the half-light that will enable the pilgrim to see throughout his entire descent into Hell. In this third canto, Dante had to arrive at this solution: after beginning in an absolute darkness that forced him to perceive the external world only through sound, he begins to see once he passes the infernal gate and his eyes adapt to the darkness. Now he speaks of "dim light," thus resolving the problem of vision in a world without light, in the world of eternal darkness.

CHAPTER

Vili

Charon

Ed ecco verso noi venir per nave un vecchio, bianco per antico pelo, gridando: "Guai a voi, anime prave! Non isperate mai veder lo cielo: i' vegno per menarvi a l'altra riva ne le tenebre etterne, in caldo e 'n gelo. E tu che se' costì, anima viva, pàrtiti da cotesti che son morti." Ma poi che vide ch'io non mi partiva, disse: "Per altra via, per altri porti verrai a piaggia, non qui, per passare: più lieve legno convien che ti porti." E Ί duca lui: "Caron, non ti crucciare: vuoisi così colà dove si puote ciò che si vuole, e più non dimandare." Quinci fuor quete le lanose gote al nocchier de la livida palude, che 'ntorno a li occhi avea di fiamme rote.

(w. 82-99)

Dante the pilgrim and his guide are walking in silence toward the "mournful shore" ("trista riviera"), when suddenly ("ed ecco") Dante sees a white-haired old man coming toward them in a boat. It is the first demon Dante encounters on his journey. His most striking features are his filthy white hair and his scream—a threatening scream directed at the "wicked souls" ("anime prave") crowding the shore. It is a scream that repeats even more concretely the frightening last words of the inscription over the portal that leads to Hell. While there the warning was to "abandon every hope, you who enter" ("Lasciate ogne speranza, voi 62

CHARON I 63 ch'intrate"), here the old ferryman shouts loudly, "Give up hope of ever seeing heaven" ("non isperate mai veder lo cielo"). Any hope of seeing the light ("heaven" is light, which, in the atemporal perspective into which we have descended after crossing the infernal threshold, stands for God and his grace) must be abandoned, because the old man will lead the damned into the eternal darkness, toward the chastisement they deserve, be it fire or ice. There is no doubt that Dante uses the Aeneid to describe Charon (we will learn the name from Virgil only at verse 94), but the changes Dante makes to the Virgilian text are substantial. The differences between the two portraits do not depend only on Dante's fragmentary use of details from Virgil. Dante transforms the tranquil description he reads in thc Aeneid, which is almost a complete portrait (Aeneid VI, 298-304), into broken images and intersperses them with the words of Charon and Virgil. Description becomes action. As Sapegno (1967, 69) notes: The characterization of Charon is completely revised (even if the entire context of details is not new) only by virtue of the careful distribution, reshaping, and reordering of these same details. Hence, features that Virgil lines up in a quiet and passive scene are reworked and made particular by Dante. It is an active representation, not described but dramatized, in which details are selected and placed where they most appropriately render movement and intensity. However correct and eminently acceptable Sapegno's observation is, it does not reveal all the novelty of Dante's characterization. In fact, while Virgil describes "a god who is elderly yet healthy and vigorous" ("iam senior, sed cruda Deo viridisque senectus" [Aeneid VI, 304]), Dante describes a demon, one of those "malign spirits, whom they [i.e., the pagans] hold to be gods."1 He is one of the "false and lying" ("falsos fallacesque") who "are not gods, they are malignant spirits, for whom your eternal happiness is their punishment."2 Many other passages from Saint Augustine could be cited, yet Saint Augustine was only explaining what he was reading in Psalm 95(96) ("omnes dii gentium daemonia"), a psalm that is cited quite aptly by Tommaseo (1865,38) as a comment on verse 107. Therefore, Dante's description developed along a line totally different from that of Virgil. Charon is the same Charon of classical mythology (as will be Minos, Pluto, Cerberus, and the others), but he is stripped of all divine dignity and invested with a ferocious demonic

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malignity ("Caron dimonio" [v. 109]). If we follow this interpretive direction, it will be easier to understand the references to Virgil and the very specific use that Dante makes of them. The menacing scream itself—"Woe betide you, wicked souls!" ("Guai a voi, anime prave!")— is outside the Virgilian context. The earlier Charon retains the full dignity of a god. The son of Erebus and Night does not shriek like a beast; for a god, a gesture is sufficient to choose between the spirits of the buried and of the unburied ("navita sed tristis nunc hos nunc accipit illos / ast alios longe summotos arcet harena" [Aeneid VI, 315-16]). The task of the earlier pagan god had been, in fact, to ferry all the dead, good or evil, once they had been buried. When he turns to Aeneas, alive and armed, he refuses to transport him. His refusal is well justified, for each time he had made exceptions, as he did for Hercules, Pirithous, and Theseus, "although they were descended from gods and invincible in strength" ("diis quamquam geniti atque invicti viribus essent" [Aeneid VI, 394]), great problems followed. Charon's refusal of Aeneas's request is a refusal in defense of his dominion and his power. Beside the descriptive details, Dante also borrows the narrative formula of the Aeneid. Charon declines to ferry one who is alive and speaks to him directly, while Charon's apostrophe is answered by the guide, whether the Sibyl or Virgil. Yet the imitation stops here. Just as the descriptive details were used with different purposes and with different results, so is the narrative formula. The verbal exchange between Charon and the guide exists in both the poems, but the words are different, as are the purposes. As I stated, the earlier Charon remains stationary and on guard, and lets himself be won over not by the Sibyl's art of persuasion but by the magical golden bough that the Sibyl kept hidden under her garments. It is Virgil's way of representing the oboi (which according to tradition had to be given to the divine ferryman) against the background of a "complex Orphic-Pythagorean religiosity."3 The behavior of Dante's Charon is vastly different. His evil perversity leads him to attempt to prevent the pilgrim from continuing his journey toward salvation ("Falsi autem illi fallacesque daemones non viam praebant ad Deum, sed ne via teneatur impediunt"4). First he tries to dissuade Dante with a factual observation: "And you there, living spirit, stand aside from the others, who are dead" ("E tu che se' costì, anima viva, / pàrtiti da cotesti che son morti"). Here life and death have both a literal and a spiritual value. Seeing that Dante does not leave, he tries persuasion, observing that this is not the place where Dante will arrive even when he leaves his earthly fetters, for then he will be among the saved and not among the damned souls. He must thus go to the Lido

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of Ostia where a lighter vessel will transport him. Charon does not cheat, as Nicosia (1969,81—98) hypothesizes on the basis of an idea advanced by Fornaciari.5 Charon uses the truth as a weapon, but it is a truth that, if spoken at that precise moment, could have done great harm. As Saint Augustine said, in demons there is knowledge without love ("Est in daemonibus scientia sine caritate").6 Charon knows and tells the truth, as Virgil will confirm in verses 127-29: "Never does virtuous soul pass by this way; therefore, if Charon grumbles on your account, well may you know by this what his words imply" ("Quinci non passa mai anima buona; / e però, se Caron di te si lagna, / ben puoi sapere ornai che Ί suo dir suona"). But he tells it with an evil purpose in mind. Charon's intent is to do harm and to obstruct Dante's way to God. His evil makes him speak in such a way as to prevent Dante from reaching "other harbors" ("altri porti") to which he is destined; he will be forced to return to the mournful shore of the Acheron, as Charon's prey to be carried, to be led "into fire and cold" ("in caldo e 'η gelo") for eternity. Virgil, as guide, understands the poison hidden behind Charon's words, and briefly addresses him: "Charon, stifle your anger: it is so willed where whatsoever is willed may be fulfilled—and ask me nothing more" ("Caron, non ti crucciare: / vuoisi così colà dove si puote / ciò che si vuole, e più non dimandare"). Charon is not to attempt to oppose that Supreme Will which he is forced to obey. Charon is calmed by Virgil's words (which seem almost spellbinding), as will be other demons, such as Minos (Inferno V, 22-23) and Plutus (Inferno VII, 11—12). Now Dante can return to making use of his "author," by inserting scattered borrowings from him into his own verbal texture. Verses from the Aeneid ("tumida ex ira tum corda residunt" [VI, 407]; "plurima mento / canitia inculta iacet" [VI, 299]) can be considered the sources of "silent were the shaggy jowls" ("fuor quete le lanose gote"). Virgil's "livid stream" ("vada livida" [Aeneid VI, 320]) anticipates "the leaden slough" ("la livida palude"), and his words, "his eyes are staring orbs of flame" ("stant lumina fiamma" [Aeneid VI, 299] ) are the origin of Dante's phrase, "whose eyes were ringed around with hoops of flame" ("che 'ntorno a li occhi avea difiammerote"), as well as "Demon Charon with eyes of glowing coals" ("Caron dimonio, con occhi di bragia" [v. 109]). In commenting on the "fiery eyes," F. Mazzoni (1967,434) cites also a phrase from Revelation (1:14; 2:18; and 19:12): "et oculi eius tamquam flammae ignis." In Revelation,7 however, "the eyes like aflameof fire" are attributes of the One who "lives for ever and ever" ("in saecula saeculorum" [Rev. 1:6]). It seems to me that applying to Charon what is presented in Revelation as an attribute of the exalted

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Christ is a bit farfetched, unless we are to understand the phrase as infernal parody. Far more appropriate are the references to eyes like glowing coals which are often features of the heroes of the Chansons de geste, as Parodi (cited by Mazzoni 1967,434) observed. The early commentaries do not really help very much in interpreting this passage. Graziolo, as we have already seen, interrupts his commentary of Canto III to move on to the succeeding canto. Lana initiates a rather abstract allegorical interpretation, probably dependent on the medieval tradition of thcAeneid first sponsored by Fulgentius. According to Lana, the Acheron represents "the pleasure of the flesh," and "through a similar allegory . . . Charon . . . represents carnal desire, which is like greed [cupiditate], that is, lust [concupiscenza] for all carnal pleasure." Thus, to remain consistent with what he has said, Lana is obliged to explain what Charon's refusal to transport Dante "demonstrates . . . as though to imply that Dante was not a dissolute man who craved the pleasures of the flesh, and that therefore that place was not his harbor."8 Guido da Pisa must have kept Lana's commentary in mind. From it he accepts the allegorical reading, enriching it with a pseudo-etymology: "Note that the first diabolic spirit that appears to Dante is this Charon. . . . And he is a figure and a similitude for the flesh. . . . In fact, Charon can be interpreted as 'all flesh.' The Selmi Glosses (p. 13) also repeated this interpretation. Guido da Pisa (1974,62), however, was the first to note Dante's dependence on the Aeneid, from which he cites verses 298-300 of Book VI. Pietro Alighieri did not discard the allegorical interpretation, but rather he modified its tone. In the three versions of the commentary, Charon is always considered a representation of Time (a formulation first found in Fulgentius): "In this way, he presents Charon, that is, time" (first version); 10 "Charon, then, is understood here allegorically as time; in fact, he is called Charon almost as Chronum which means 'time' " (second version); 11 "In fact, Charon means 'time.'. . . Indeed, he is called Charon, almost as Chronum, which means 'time,' because it is true that time drags us along the path of our world as a ferryman, and finally he carries the souls of the evil ones from this life into Hell" (third version).12 From the first to the last version of his commentary, Pietro cites Virgil with increasing frequency. In the first version he refers to Virgil only for verses 112-14. In the second version the citations become more numerous and are drawn not only from Book V I of thc Aeneid but also from Macrobius, Seneca, Ovid, and Servius, whom he uses to support

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his allegorical interpretation of the river as life and of Charon as time. In the third version of his commentary, he drops several citations. It would appear that, having exhibited his learning, Pietro feels the need to control himself and cites only the Virgilian passages that truly pertain to Dante's text. The allegorical reading proposed by Pietro was accepted and amplified by both Benvenuto (1887,125-28) and Boccaccio (1918, 261). Francesco da Buti does not reject the direction taken by Lana and other commentators; however, he approaches it in a lighter manner, trying to find in the text an allegorical function that would betterfitthe structures of Dante's thought. According to Francesco da Buti, Charon signifies "the disorderly love which guides souls toward all sins."13 Such a definition allows him to explain the moral structure of the Inferno, preparing the reader to understand Canto XI. In conclusion, he asserts: "Having seen how the fiction fits the letter, we must now consider the allegorical exposition. . . . And, in this respect, we can say that this river Acheron... is obstinacy. . . and the ferryman Charon is disorderly love, as mentioned above."14 The custom of allegorizing every detail of the narration does not decrease in thefifteenthcentury. Rather, I would say that it reaches its peak precisely with the commentary of Landino, who writes: "We would say, therefore, that if the Acheron is the way of the soul to sin, Charon represents the free will, the ship is the will and the oar is power of choice."15 The sixteenth-century commentators freed themselves from most of the encumbrances of surreptitious allegory. However, Gelli felt the need to mention it, observing: "Charon—identified by some as lust [concupiscenza], by others as time and by others as custom [consuetudine] and by still others as free will—guides the souls with his ship of voluptuousness into the Hell of sin and of sorrow."16 Castelvetro decided to refrain from citing all that had been said. His interests led him, instead, to analyze the manner in which Dante imitates the Aeneid. In fact, Castelvetro (1886, 55) was the first commentator to observe how Dante divides the Virgilian description of Charon into three parts: [Dante] describes Charon, but in three separate instances: in the first one (v. 83), Un vecchio bianco per antico pelo; in the second (v. 97), Quindi far quete le lanose ¿¡ote Al noccbier de la livida palude Ch'intorno agli occhi avea difiammerote; and in the third (v. I09), Coron dimenio con occhi di bragia. But Virgil describes him only on one occasion . . . and he did it better.

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In Castelvetro's commentary, one can detect a certain intolerance toward Dante's text, about which Bembo had theorized at the beginning of the century. The technique and language of the great Tuscan poet sounded "coarse and dishonored" ("rozze e disonorate") to the refined ears of Cardinal Bembo (1961, 315). The interest of modern critics has focused on a different problem, namely, how to explain the use of classical mythology in a poem of pure Christian edification. One of the first critics who attempted to provide an answer was Taaffe (1822,199) who saw in Dante, followed by Petrarch and Boccaccio, the beginning of the new age that would conquer the "darkness" of the Middle Ages: "Dante rose ere the age of Classical erudition. Latin, and even Greek were indeed still extant: but the latter was very imperfectly known, and the former, barbarously though fluently spoken and worse written. . . . It was Dante and his two successors that awoke the world to ancient literature." We are in the early 1820s, and the legend of a humanist Dante is just beginning. It is a legend that was born in the Romantic period from a mythical vision of the Middle Ages as primitive and uncultured. The fact is that in the early years of the nineteenth century very little was known about the Middle Ages. It was the scrupulous historical and philological methods applied to medieval studies throughout the nineteenth century that permitted us to understand the great literature, philosophical thought, and profound culture of the "dark" ages. These studies helped to destroy the legend of Dante the humanist, although this myth continues to be resurrected from time to time, even in these final years of the twentieth century. Nonetheless, given the research of the past six decades devoted to the problem of the Middle Ages in relation to humanism and the Renaissance, we cannot help but see Dante as the most complete and perfect product of the Middle Ages. On the other hand, Taaffe was a well educated man who brought to his task of analyzing the Commedia a considerable wealth of reading from the works available to him at the time. For this reason, various allegorical interpretations resurface in his commentary: "Acheron was emblematic of eternal grief; Charon of time: what law of Christianity forbids their being so still?" (210). Taaffe obtained this interpretive clue from Boccaccio's Genealogy of the Gods, as the scholar himself confirms. The most recent commentators have tended to work against a background of the tradition I have tried to describe. Among these studies, Ronconi's observations on "Ed ecco" in verse 82 is particularly interesting. According to Ronconi (1981,1198):

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The stylistic gesture is one of sudden revelation, similar to the one which announces the appearance of the leopard (Inf. I, 32), of the angelic ferryman (Purg. II, 13), or the sudden blazing of the seven chandeliers (Purß. XXIX, 16). It is a Virgilian gesture, and in xhcAeneid, too, more than one character comes onto the scene in this way: "Ecce autem telis Panthus elapsus Achivum" (II, 318); "Ecce autem elapsus Pyrrhi de caede Polîtes" (II, 526); "Ecce autem complexa pedes in limine coniunx" (II, 673). Another important critical idea is the contrast between Charon and Cato, or between the infernal ferry and the "swift and light vessel" ("vasello snelletto e leggero" [Purgatorio II, 41]) piloted by an angel that carries the souls to the shores of Purgatory. As far as I have been able to determine, the first critic to call attention to the two episodes, which have some elements in common, was G. Mazzoni (1904, 54) : Indeed, for those who might notice it, there could be a good parallel drawn between the arrival of the old man "white with ancient locks" ["bianco per antico pelo"] and the arrival of the angel with white garments and wings. . . . To Virgil's sententious intimation to Charon, I would also like to contrast his polished and polite oration to Cato. Francesco Mazzoni (1967, 424) accepted his grandfather's suggestion and, commenting on verse 83 ("bianco per antico pelo"), compared it with Purgatorio 1,34-36, noting: "The composed figure of Cato is serene and also solemn and more elaborate at the descriptive level, Lunga la barba e di pel bianco mista / portava, a' suoi capelli simtgliante, / de quai cadeva al petto doppia lista.'" Mazzoni's brief remark would be picked up and amplified by Sacchetto (1975,16—17). It is important to recall that the classical myths of Acheron and Charon are significantly transformed when they are Christianized. Charon becomes the first personification of the limitations of the demonic power which, although it rebels, must ultimately obey and respect divine will. Notwithstanding the presence of certain phraseological echoes, the quite different cultural ambience into which these Christian myths are inserted distinguishes them considerably from their classical models.

CHAPTER

IX

The Souls at the River

Ma quell'anime, ch'eran lasse e nude, cangiar colore e dibatterò i denti, ratto che 'nteser le parole crude. Bestemmiavano Dio e lor parenti, l'umana spezie e Ί loco e Ί tempo e Ί seme di lor semenza e di lor nascimenti. Poi si ritrasser tutte quante insieme, forte piangendo, a la riva malvagia ch'attende ciascun uom che Dio non teme. Caron dimonio, con occhi di bragia loro accennando, tutte le raccoglie; batte col remo qualunque s'adagia. Come d'autunno si levan le foglie l'una appresso de l'altra, fin che Ί ramo vede a la terra tutte le sue spoglie, similemente il mal seme d'Adamo gittansi di quel lito ad una ad una, per cenni come augel per suo richiamo. Così sen vanno su per l'onda bruna, e avanti che sien di là discese, anche di qua nuova schiera s'auna.

(w. 100—20)

Charon introduced himself by fiercely screaming at the souls waiting on the banks of the Acheron; but his attention is then attracted by Dante, a living soul among the shades of the dead. This upsets the order of his limited universe. At that moment, it seems as if the crowd of shades disappears and only the three main characters, that is, Charon, Dante, and Virgil, remain in the foreground. But when the grizzled old demon 70

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is silenced by Virgil's almost spellbinding words, the crowd o f the "forlorn and naked" ("lasse e nude") souls comes back to dominate the scene in all its dramatic force. It has often been said that the third canto has a fragmentary and episodic development. It is almost as if Dante had not mastered the great art o f harmonizing characterization. Some critics, like Tommaseo, believed that this canto had been written before the others, during an experimental phase. I do not think such a hypothesis can be supported, even if it has been accepted by renowned scholars. In my opinion, Canto III has an extremely sophisticated and skillfully crafted narrative structure, in which Dante alternates close-ups with scenic backgrounds in a way that seems to anticipate the most refined modern film techniques. Let us consider as an example the very last part o f the canto, which has created the most uncertainty for modern critics and held the least interest for the early commentators. Dante handles this multitude o f souls on the A c h e r o n — a multitude in continuous motion, which renews itself at each instant—like an experienced film director. H e knows h o w to move crowds and h o w to distribute them skillfully in the foreground so that the reader's attention can focus from time to time on the faceless multitude or on fully rounded figures. Dante arranges his scenes in perfect balance, always careful to present them through the eyes of the narrator, and it is this that the reader must recreate in his mind. A t verse 71 we have the first confused view o f the crowd that presses together on the riverbank ("vidi genti a la riva d'un gran fiume"), but with verse 7$ the scene becomes more focused: indeed, the crowd seems anxious to be carried to the opposite bank o f the river. The t w o subsequent tercets ( w . 76—81) mark a descriptive pause. It is the eye o f the narrating persona that moves, attracted by the appearance o f the new character. The next eighteen verses in fact center on Charon and on his relationship with Dante. We do not see the crowd any longer; it is as if the director has ordered the lights taken off the masses that now fade into the dark background, and has aimed them, instead, at the main characters. In the twenty-one verses that follow, the lights move once more, and the crowd o f shadows becomes the focal point again, so that w e can make out every detail. Here the language o f film or, more generally, theater, is, in my opinion, the most useful for describing the narrative skill through which Dante gives life to this undoubtedly most difficult part o f the canto. Verse 100 begins with the adversative conjunction ma, which gives validity to my interpretation o f the passage. Indeed, in the use o f the conjunction ma one can see combined both a temporal function

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(while all this was happening) and a more properly adversative function (Charon's anger at Dante was spent but not his anger at the crowd of shades). Finally, the conjunction ma brings the reader's imagination back to the moment Charon arrives and to his cry, "Woe to you, wicked souls" ("Guai a voi, anime prave") the "wicked souls" are frozen in their terror without reacting to, or revealing any interest in, the living soul in their midst. Only Charon's harsh threats arouse their passion as individual characters. Moreover, during the journey through Hell, there are few damned souls encountered by Dante who seem to notice the exceptional situation of the pilgrim. Those few are special characters. They are those who in their earthly lives had "minds set on doing good" ("a ben far puoser l'ingegni" [Inferno VI, 81]), even if they were guilty of more serious sins, such as Farinata or Brunetto Latini. More often the damned soul, lost in his blind individuality, reacts to the novelty of seeing a living person in the realm of the dead only after having been made aware of it by Virgil or Dante. Those shades awaiting the ferry on the mournful shore of the Acheron do not hear or see anything but Charon's threats and terrifying figure. They do not care about anything else. They are "forlorn and naked" souls weakened by weeping and by pain. One should note that the author insists upon their nakedness (v. 65), which indicates their absolute helplessness before their present anguish and future punishment. They are totally abandoned and overcome by terror; they tremble and gnash their teeth (cf. Matt. 13:42). Their only release is in cursing, as fierce as it is futile. Their cursing assaults everything and everyone: first God, who is the cause of all that exists, then their own lineage (parenti), all of mankind, andfinallythe place and moment of their conception (" Ί seme / di lor semenza") and birth. By cursing, they want to charge life with the pain they are suffering: it is not an attempt to justify themselves, but only a desperate, irrational cry of sorrow; they are those who have lost the blessing of understanding ("hanno perduto il ben de l'intelletto" [v. 18]). They act on instinct, like animals. After much cursing, they gather along the shore, weeping loudly ("forte piangendo"). The shore is termed malvagia, for it brings "evil" to those who do not fear God's justice. When he discharges his duty as "ferryman of the livid marsh" ("nocchier de la livida palude"), Charon regains a kind of Virgilian dignity. He is most certainly not a god, but he does follow divine will. He no longer screams; a gesture by him is sufficient, a look with "eyes like glowing coals" ("occhi di bragia") is enough to compel the spirits to fall one by one into his boat. A stroke of his oar urges on any of those spirits who do not hurry to obey his gesture.

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Verses 112-16 describe the scene with one of Dante's most famous similes. The reference is undoubtedly Virgilian: Quam multa in silvis autumni frigore primo lapsa cadunt folia aut ad terram gurgite ab alto quam multae glomerantur aves, ubi frigidus annus trans pontum fiigat et terris immittit apricis. (Aeneid VI, 309-12) In Virgil, therefore, we find the two fundamental elements of the metaphor: the falling autumn leaves and the flight of the birds. Yet the two metaphors, those of Virgil and Dante, have very different values and functions. In Virgil both the falling leaves and the flight of the birds toward a more serene shore "serve to underline primarily the great number of shades, whereas in Dante, instead, they are meant to indicate the way in which the souls board the boat in answer to Charon's call. The emphasis [in Dante] is thus placed on details which elucidate these specific correspondences (Puna appresso de l'altra .. .ad una ad una .. ., per cenni. . .per suorichiamo)'"(Sapegno 1985, 38). The shades on the boat move toward the other bank of the black river. Before they have contact with it, a new crowd of wicked souls has gathered to wait for the ferry. It is a continuous flow: the individuals who make up the crowd are different, but the scene is the same, and it repeats itself in time for as long as time lasts and human beings live without fearing God. Their souls will continue to fall one by one from every part of the earth; they will fall prey to Charon and to the eternal fate that awaits them. Iacopo della Lana commented that all of this "shows the evil disposition of the world, which is so inclined to vice and sin that the ferryman can barely do the job he was assigned."1 All the early commentators (the first was Guido da Pisa) as well as the modern critics have stressed the Virgilian derivation of the metaphor of the falling autumn leaves. The most debated portions are verses 103-5, HI, and 114. In the detailed description of the cursing of the damned souls, some doubt arose about "the seed both of their begetting and of their birth" ("Ί seme di lor semenza e di lor nascimenti"). Lana interprets this (unacceptably) as, "their sons and their descendants" ("li lor figlioli e discendenti") (134). Pietro Alighieri neglected to comment on this passage. Benvenuto Rambaldi devoted to the passage a comment that would later be used by Boccaccio and Francesco da Buti: And later he reports their desperate words, saying bestemmiavano Dio; and this was said by Isaiah, e i lor parenti,2 that is, the

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father and the mother who had generated them; l'umana specie, because they would have preferred to be brute animals whose soul dies together with the body, so as to avoid eternal death, which now was promised to them; il loco e Ί tempo, which provoked their procreation; in fact, we see that some animals are born in a determined place and in a determined time, and others in another; e Ί seme di lor semenza, that is, their first descendants. And thus he says, e di lor nascimenti,3 This interpretation was accepted up to the end of the eighteenth century. Lombardi (1791, 45) attempted to be more precise and claimed that "il seme di lor semenza" were the grandfather and grandmother; and the "seme de lor nascimenti" were "the father and the mother of the blasphemers." The majority of nineteenth- and twentieth-century commentators adhere to Lombardi's interpretation. F. Mazzoni (1967,436— 37), perhaps influenced by Lana, observed that "together with the curse against God it was common to hypothesize the damnation of the, parenti, in Latin parentes, to involve the day of their own birth, as well as that of their sons, on the basis of the patterns of biblical lineage (cf. Job. 3:3 ff.; Jer. 2o:i4ff.)." Mazzoni buttressed his interpretation with examples in both Latin and the vernacular. Padoan (1968, 64-66), too, devoted an extensive comment to these verses. After having analyzed all the instances in which Dante uses seme and semenza with "a range of meaning which is rather broad," he observed that "in the meaning most interesting to us, semenza is used to indicate human kind in general or descendants." Padoan continues, however, saying that the expression, "seme di lor semenza" is evidendy and closely linked to "e Ί loco e Ί tempo," and is equally "il seme di lor nascimenti." This observation, which dates back, as Padoan himself stresses, to Chimenz, leads him to conclude that "the maledictions of the damned souls thus strike at the Creator, parents, mankind, and the place, moment, and seed of their own conception and birth." Padoan's interpretation is, for the most part, impeccable. I personally am convinced that in this specific ease parenti means forefathers. It seems to me that the curses of the damned souls move gradually from the general to the particular, and that "parents" are referred to by the phrase "seme di lor semenza." I have based my paraphrase on this consideration and spoken of "lineage" as an equivalent ofparenti. I know that this is slighdy forced, but as Cacciaguida is called padre by Dante {Paradiso XVI, 16), so parenti can have the value of ancestors, that is, "lineage" or "stock." Verse hi ("batte col remo qualunque s'adagia") has been variously

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interpreted by both early and modern commentators. At the root of the discussion is a verse from the Aeneid ("Inde alias animas, quae per iuga longa sedebant, / deturbat laxatque foros" [VI, 441]). The Virgilian Charon chases away the spirits who are sitting along the benches inside his boat to make room for Aeneas. Dante describes a very different situation. Yet that sedebant has in some way influenced the commentators, especially those who see Charon beating with his oar those spirits who slacken inside the boat. Its force is evident in the comment of Iacopo della Lana, who observed: "in their sorrowful boat in which anyone who slackened was beaten by the oar."4 The Virgilian sedebant can be even further documented in Boccaccio's interpretation: "any of those spirits who malingers by sitting or in some other way."5 After saying this in his literal explanation, he adds in his allegorical explanation: "those who slacken in his boat, meaning by this the care of those who are all devoted to the acquisition of temporal things."6 Benvenuto (1887,129) had, instead, translated s'adagia as "late in going" ("retardat ire"), an explanation accepted by Francesco da Buti and the fifteenthand sixteenth-century commentators. Castelvetro (1886, 57), who accepted the then current interpretation, observed: "This contradicts what is said earlier (e quid costume le fa parer di trapassar sì pronte), and what will be said later (E pronte sono a trapassar lo rio)." The idea that there was an internal contradiction in the canto has been very popular with the most recent critics, as we shall see. Perhaps because of the great authority of Boccaccio, his interpretation can be found here and there throughout the centuries (and even in recent publications). In the 1700s Venturi (1757, xxxvi) stated: "s'adagia: either 'is moving slowly,' 'is careful,' or 'he looks for the most congenial and comfortable spot on the boat.'" In the nineteenth century, Berthier (1892, 47), citing Cesari, observed: "s'adagia, 'he lingers' or, preferably, 'he assumes a better position which is not upright.' " And now we come to Grabher (1936, 43) who explained: "s'adagia means not that he hesitates, for this would be in contrast to verses 74 and 124-26, but it means 'he puts himself in a position that is better for his comfort, thus encumbering the boat more than necessary.' " Relying on Boccaccio, Grabher endeavored to avoid the contradiction observed by Castelvetro. Finally, Ettore Paratore (1986, 40) once again underscored the contradictory behavior of the damned souls and concluded that "the two differing reactions of the crowd of the damned stand out in too sharp a contrast, which the more mature Dante of the later cantos would have better been able to tone down." Thus Paratore sees in this canto an experimental or immature phase of Dante's art, a hypothesis I find difficult to accept.

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Another much debated point involves the verb form vede in verse 114: "fin che Ί ramo / vede a la terra tutte le sue spoglie." The early commentaries, as well as some of those produced until the end of the eighteenth century, expressed no doubts as to the meaning of vede. In this regard, Benvenuto offers an appropriate gloss: "[The author] attributes to the tree the capacity of seeing. . . . The author takes this simile from Virgil, and he magnificendy adds this last detail."7 Father Lombardi preferred to accept rende, noting that vede is the reading of other manuscripts, but that rende is accepted by the majority of the nineteenth-century editions. Foscolo (1842, 31) returned to the form vede, stating: "The tree widowed of her leaves is full of life and sensation." Tommaseo (1865, 38) defends vede by recalling a passage in the Georgics (II, 82) : "Miraturque novas frondes et non sua poma." Berthier (1892, 48) leans toward vede and observes that "vede is very expressive. Others have rende.'" At the present time, after Petrocchi's critical edition, which offers the reading vede, we should no longer have any doubts. Nonetheless, scholars continue to express uncertainty; indeed, Ronconi has lent his authoritative voice to the doubters: "'rende alla terra is the commonly accepted form in the nineteenth century in contradistinction to vede a la terra" Casella (1944, 73ff.) defended the variant "vede a la terra." To support his choice, he presented other examples from Dante. In these examples, however, alia terra functioned more as a dative than a locative. Most modern editors and commentators follow him. As mentioned above, Petrocchi accepts the reading vede, though he admits that, at first glance, rende seems more appropriate and is an old variant. Yet Petrocchi decides in favor of vede, especially "because of the precise Virgilian echo, miraturque novas frondes.'''' However, as Ronconi (1981,1202) notes: if the presumed Virgilian echo has to be . . . the most convincing piece of evidence in support of the reading vede, it must be clearly stated that Virgil's miratur has very litde to do with Dante's vede. Virgil speaks about a tree which has undergone grafting,. . . that is, a tree that is surprised by its unusual foliage and fruit which does not belong to it. In defense of vede, on the other hand, there is not only the Virgilian reference noted for the first time by Tommaseo, but the entire early commentary tradition and very reliable codices. Here too Petrocchi's choice must be accepted. In fact, in selecting a

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reading one should consider only the direct witnesses as arranged in a stemma codicum. Indirect evidence, such as references to other authors, even to as privileged an author as Virgil, cannot be considered. In order to reject one particular reading based on the stemma proposed by Petrocchi, one would have to reject the entire stemma and replace it with a new one that would offer a different arrangement of the manuscript tradition.

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Divine Justice: Fear and Desire

"Figliuol mio," disse Ί maestro cortese, "quelli che muoion ne l'ira di Dio tutti convegnon qui d'ogne paese; e pronti sono a trapassar lo rio, che la divina giustizia li sprona sì che la tema si volve in disio. Quinci non passa mai anima buona; e però, se Caron di te si lagna, ben puoi sapere ornai che Ί suo dir suona."

(w. 121-29)

Dante silently observed the drama of the shades who wait and then gather on Charon's boat. He heard Charon's angry words directed at him, a living man waiting to be ferried to the other shore of the river on the boat of the dead. He also heard what Virgil said to Charon, as well as the blasphemous imprecations of the "wicked souls." He was able to observe their conflicting feelings, that is, their terror coupled with their desire to reach the opposite side. In his commentary Castelvetro detected a contradiction in this contrast of feelings. His opinion is still shared by many critics, including Paratore. In my opinion, however, this is not a contradiction, but rather evidence of Dante the author's hesitation in grasping and representing the inner drama, the war of contradictory feelings experienced by the damned. This drama is part of the punishment; it is the first contact with that eternal suffering to which they will be subjected. On the one hand, they are driven almost by instinct toward the shore; on the other hand, fear (they tremble and gnash their teeth) causes some of the spirits to delay in obeying Charon's command. Charon punishes these spirits at once, beating them with his oar. This interpretation (which is very close 78

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to Sapegno's1) is not too "psychological and modern," as Paratore (1986, 40) maintains. Be that as it may, Dante the pilgrim witnessed all of this, without yet knowing the underlying reasons for the activity. Since Virgil previously admonished him, Dante does not have the courage to ask further questions. But Virgil, the "courteous master" ("maestro cortese")—and one should remember that "cortesia si è onestate in tutto" (Convivio II, χ, 8)—is now ready to explain, without solicitation, what Dante asked as soon as he saw the great multitude running toward the river. Virgil—who represents natural reason, by which he guides Dante through the first two realms but who cannot ascend any higher because he lacks the wings of faith2—first reassures the pilgrim by calling him "my son" ("figliuol mio"). Virgil thus acts as a caring father, teaching his son the identity of those shades who crowd the riverbank. They are all those who die in the wrath of God, that is, who die in mortal sin and without repenting. All of them meet there, no matter where they were born or where they committed their sins. Thesefirstwords of Virgil do not present to the reader much that is new. The second part of the simile of the autumn leaves had already clarified the identity of the people Dante saw. The "bad seed of Adam" ("mal seme d'Adamo") referred to all human beings who had not feared God during their lives, without further distinction. Virgil only now answers the questions that Dante asked at verses 72—75. Therefore, the first part of the answer concerns "who are" ("quali sono") the people Dante discerned "by this dusky light" ("per lo fioco lume"). The ensuing tercet (w. 124-26) explains "what custom makes them seem so ready to cross over" ("qual costume / le fa di trapassar parer sì pronte"), and it is a useful explanation for both the pilgrim and the reader: divine justice spurs the damned souls to such an extent that their fear is transformed into desire to cross the river. This is one of the fundamental points in understanding Dante's Hell: in the darkness of the absence of grace, God is present as justice that punishes. It is a divine stimulus to fulfill God's will, which all of Hell, both the demons and the damned, must obey. It is the law which nobody escapes and to which are subject the divine souls as well as the rebel angels who consumed all the freedom of their will in the fatal act that led them to oppose God. When the devils and the damned souls lost il ben dell'intelletto, that is, the beatitude which comes from the contemplation of God, they became like brutes. They are sustained by a kind of instinct which is itself God's will and which wants them to be justly punished. Rushing toward punishment becomes an unavoidable necessity that overcomes fear and

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grief. Thus, Dante's purifying journey has to begin in the realm of the second death, so that he might arrive at the knowledge of God as justice that punishes according to each person's failings. Only that knowledge leads to possessing and living that "fear of God" (timor Dei) without which human beings are lost in the dark wood of sin. There are several biblical passages which support this interpretation,3 but most important is the reference to Dante's words from Epistola VI suggested by Padoan (1967, 65, n. 108): No condition of the delinquent is more terrible than when he does whatever he likes brazenly and without fear of God. More often than not, the impious man is struck by the following punishment: that in death he should be forgetful of the sense of self which in life has forgotten God.4 In the tercet that follows (w. 127-29), Virgil goes beyond what Dante had asked and explains the reasons for Charon's refusal to transport him: no good soul comes to that shore of the Acheron to be ferried to true Hell (we must remember that the ante-Inferno extends only to the river). Thus Charon's refusal signifies that the pilgrim is a "good soul" ("anima buona") who does not deserve eternal punishment. Dante as author shows he is certain that Dante the pilgrim belongs to the chosen few. In fact, this prediction of salvation, clearly announced for the first time by Charon and confirmed by Virgil, will acquire a unique value when it is repeated in the Heavens above Mars by one who knows Dante's entire future, both near and distant, by reading it in the "great volume where white or dark is never changed" ("magno volume / du' non si muta mai bianco né bruno" [Paradiso XV, 50-51]). It is Cacciaguida who welcomes his descendant with these words: "O my own blood! O grace of God poured forth above measure! To whom as to you was Heaven's gate ever opened twice" ("O sanguis meus, o superinfusa / gratia Dei, sicut tibi cui / bis unquam coeli ianiia reclusa?" [Paradiso XV, 27-29]). Neither early nor modem criticism has been very interested in the answers Virgil gives to the questions Dante asks at the beginning of this third and last part of the canto. The early commentators, from Lana to Pietro Alighieri, either do not comment at all on this matter or limit themselves to saying that these verses are Virgil's answers to Dante's doubts. Modern critics have reacted more or less in the same way, with some noteworthy exceptions to which I shall refer. Among the fourteenth-century commentators, the first one to at-

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tempt an interpretation of these tercets was Benvenuto, who explained them this way: "The courteous master: Virgil is liberal in his explanation . ..all those who die in the wrath of God: to whom God intends to give a just punishment, because they provoked his wrath."5 To illustrate the meaning of the phrase, "so that terror is transmuted into longing" ("sì che la tema si volve in disio"), Benvenuto used the completely earthly example of a person condemned to death "who willingly goes towards his death and towards his torment, even though he could have escaped."6 The example is anything but well chosen, for those who are condemned by God do not have any possibility of escape. For verses 127-29 Benvenuto offers the strangest explanation. According to him, there are human beings who go to Hell to stay there eternally; these are the sinners who refuse to repent and to do penance. Then there are, instead, those who go to Hell only temporarily, and who by repenting and doing penance can leave. Dante would seem to belong to this particular category. It is clear that Benvenuto interprets Hell as a symbol of sin committed in life, otherwise his gloss would not make any sense. I have concentrated on this probably unacceptable hypothesis because Boccaccio seems to have expanded upon it. Boccaccio also believed Hell to be an earthly condition of sin from which man could free himself: "Anyone who falls into mortal sin is at once thrown into the devil's prison. . . but with this condition: i f . . . he is willing to recognize himself [as a sinner] and through penitence is willing to reconcile himself with G o d . . . he may thus leave this prison and return to his freedom."7 Francesco da Buti took a different interpretive direction. In analyzing verses 127-29, he paraphrased the text in the following manner: "You can easily see that he [i.e., Charon] is sorry that you are good; he would prefer you to be a sinner like the others, and for you to cross on the boat; and thus the author honestly set down the praise offered him; . . . in no part of the text does he write that he crossed the river on Charon's boat."8 This gloss, which replaced the verb form si lagna ("he grumbles") of verse 128 with si duole ("he is distressed") has become traditional over the centuries. As I have already mentioned, these verses usually do not prompt much discussion or innovative interpretation, and when attempts are made to provide an explanation, they are not always very helpful. Let us take as an example Porena's comments (1946, 38) on verses 125—26: This desire to satisfy divine justice (which we shall find in the souls of Purgatory and which is fully justifiable in them, for they

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have converted to God) is not really applicable to the damned souls, and we shall find no further indication of it. Here, too, the imitation of Virgil hampers [the text]. This comment is both unacceptable and inaccurate. In fact, it is not true that there are no further indications of this desire to carry out God's will. One need only recall the episode of Minos, as noted first by Parodi and later by F. Mazzoni,9 to realize the extent to which the damned souls are forced to obey God's will. This is true not only for the souls who died a second death but also for the demons who must calm themselves at Virgil's words. As far as the imitation of Virgil is concerned, which according to Porena distorts Dante's text because it confuses pagan Hell with Christian Hell, I have already pointed out that Dante employed ideas that came from Virgil and modified them radically. He does this because the slavish imitation of a pagan text would be ill suited to a Christian vision of the universe. For Canto III, Book VI of thcAeneid served as a source of emulation but never as a fixed model that did not allow modifications. In my opinion, Ronconi's observations on verse 127 provide the most significant interpretation. Ronconi (1981,1204) also begins with a reference to theAeneid (VI, 563) and documents how Dante used it and with what variations: In theAeneid the Sibyl explained that "nulli fas casto sceleratum insistere limen" (VI, 563). Dante replaces the Virgilian casto ["chaste person"] with anima buona ["virtuous soul"] and lets his guide explain to him what Charon meant by anima viva ["living soul"]. He meant a soul who has not undergone the death of damnation, but who is still capable of turning towards the good. . . . The body and the soul of Dante the pilgrim are not dead. His spirit can still be an anima buona, that is, a soul sent by the heavenly will on a purifying journey for which Virgil will accompany him, using means other than Charon's boat. In Francesco da Buti's analysis we have already read that "in no part of the text does he [i.e., Dante] write that he crossed the river on Charon's boat," and as we have seen, Ronconi's position is in accordance with this. But Hollander (1984,287-96) defends Dante's entry into Hell by means of Charon's boat since, after Virgil's words, the ferryman could hardly have refused passage: "For Charon to be able to resist such a command would involve Dante in a theological or at least a poetic absurdity."

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With all due respect to these illustrious scholars, I do not believe that this manner of discussing the problem helps elucidate the text. The fact is that Dante does not make any reference to being transported on Charon's boat; instead, he shrouds this particular detail of his voyage in magical mystery. The real question that must be answered here concerns the purpose of Dante's use of silence as a literary device. It seems to me that it makes little sense to attempt to describe what Dante leaves undescribed. The crossing of the Acheron is a miracle, a gift: from above which Dante the pilgrim receives but which he is not supposed to be aware of or explain. What Dante wants to tell his readers is that on the "long path" that moves the pilgrim away from sin, human will, though required, is not enough, for what is also needed is the miracle of grace. Yet precisely how this miracle takes place remains unknown to its recipient. It is now time to come to grips with the final and most debated verses of the canto.

CHAPTER

XI

Prodigy and Sleep

Finito questo, la buia campagna tremò sì forte, che de lo spavento la mente di sudore ancor mi bagna. La terra lagrimosa diede vento, che balenò una luce vermiglia la qual mi vinse ciascun sentimento; e caddi come l'uom cui sonno piglia.

(w. 130-36)

Virgil has justfinishedspeaking when something dreadful and frightening happens. The gloomy plain where the two poets stand shakes violently. It is a subterranean earthquake. The memory of it brings beads of sweat to the forehead of the narrator who now recalls his adventure in the realm of the dead. The memory of the narrating persona is always present in the Commedia, from beginning to end. It is a rule that the author Dante imposed on himself. It is for this reason that in the Commedia, in addition to the polysemy (i.e., a literal meaning and an allegorical sense, either moral or anagogical),1 we must recall the three narrative levels of the work to which I alluded in my introductory remarks. If we begin with the narrative level, which can be most easily identified, we understand the vision of the three realms of the afterlife as an experience of the persona undertaking the journey, that is, by the pilgrim whom Dante the author calls io ["I"] from verse 2 of Canto I ("i' mi trovai"). Another narrative level is the memory of the pilgrim who, once the vision is over, recounts it: this is the narrating persona. Finally, there is the author Dante who intervenes on his own, outside the artifice of memory, with comments, sometimes called "digressions" (e.g., the invective against Italy in Canto VI of the Purgatorio). Most often these 84

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digressions are not particularly marked, but are clearly admonitory and full of the disdain of a righteous man. They draw their inspiration from what is seen, but nonetheless remain completely distinct from it. These direct interventions by the author, who becomes therefore one of the dramatis personae, together with the narrating persona and the journeying persona, are readily identifiable. I would say that these interventions are delivered in a voice that is different from that of the narrating persona, and more distinct still from that of direct experience, which we hear in the dialogues with the shades or in the words of Virgil and Beatrice. The author's voice is usually harsh or filled with rebuke, and often it is meant to instruct the reader. I will limit my examples to the first Cantica·. XIV, 16-18 ("O vendetta di Dio, quanto tu dei / esser temuta da ciascun che legge / ciò che fu manifesto a li occhi miei"); XXVI, 1-12, (the famous invective against Florence); the beginning of XXXII, 112; and the invective against Pisa in XXXIII, 79-90. These are all passages in which the author speaks direcdy; a similar number or even more can be found in the other two cantiche. This narrative play, with the narrative voice in a central and dominant position, asfictiorequires, permits a continuous variation of tone and keeps the reader alert. It is a rhetorical device that Dante drew from the narrative tradition of the various "Visions" (I am thinking here of texts like the Visio Pauli or the naïve description of the afterlife by Raoul de Houdenc), and especially of the Roman de la rose, whose protagonist is the narrative persona in both the part composed by Guillaume de Lorris and the one written by Jean de Meung.2 Dante perfects the technique in order to give life to his "fictio rhetorica musicaque poita" (De vulvari eloquentia II, iv, 2), to which he entrusted his grand and ambitious purpose, namely, to remedy the evil in the world. The public he hoped to address must have been a particular one, made up of people with noble hearts who possessed the power and political strength to change the evil ways of the world. In so doing, they would create harmonious neighborhoods, cities, kingdoms, and ultimately the entire empire. Most important, they would help straighten the course of St. Peter's vessel. Dante had resolved to help the Churchfindthe right way, the way of apostolic poverty, and free itself from the corruption and wickedness that were sullying it. His mission, as he himself felt, was that of Aeneas and Paul, but the only instruments he had at his disposal were the words of fiction, if these are full of truth and of great poetry. It is not by chance that after the two introductory cantos, the Inferno opens with the emblematic figure of a Church lacking the courage to look at the sores that

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afflict it, reflected in the case of Pope Celestine V. Dante's work is a sublime moral and political effort translated into great poetry. He was fully aware of his effort, and speaks of it in one of his direct addresses at the beginning of Canto XXV of the Paradiso: "If ever it come to pass that the sacred poem . . . should overcome the cruelty which bars me from the fair sheepfold where I slept as a lamb . . . with changed voice now and with changed fleece a poet will I return, and at the font of my baptism will I take the laurel crown" ("Se mai continga che Ί poema sacro / . . . vinca la crudeltà che fuor mi serra / del bello ovile ov3 io dormi' agnello / . . . con altra voce ornai, con altro vello / ritornerò poeta, e in su Ί fonte / del mio battesmo prenderò Ί cappello" [Paradiso XXV, 1-9]). His being "a poet" is exacdy what the critics so often forget, while Dante reminds both himself and his readers of this point. Returning to the end of Canto III, so full of wondrous events, we discover that after the earthquake "the tearful earth sent forth a wind" ("La terra lagrimosa diede vento"). From the tearful earth a windstorm raged and caused such a powerful "vermilion light" ("luce vermiglia") that it overcame the senses of the pilgrim, who fell, as if asleep. He will be awakened by the sound of thunder ("ruppemi l'alto sonno ne la testa / un greve truono . . .") in thefirstcircle of Hell at the beginning of Canto IV. Dante's sleep is therefore very brief, that is, as long as the time that elapses between lightning and thunder. It is a brief but "deep sleep" ("alto sonno"), as deep as was necessary to have the pilgrim somehow cross the Acheron. The narrating persona cannot have any memories of it, for the journeying persona was asleep. Nor does the author's direct voice help the reader with any comment. Everything is left vague and indefinite. If the journey is being undertaken by divine will ('Vuoisi così colà dove si puote / ciò che si vuole"), then the crossing of the Acheron and the entrance into true Hell, which occurred during the pilgrim's sleep (it was sleep and not a dream; indeed, it was a deep sleep devoid of images and thus not to be confused with the dreams that will be narrated in Purgatorio), were also the fulfillment of divine will. Assistance from above seems to be suggested by the trembling of the earth, the sudden windstorm, and the light that stuns the pilgrim. It all has a miraculous quality. Charon has disappeared: the last image of the ferryman shows him reaching the opposite bank while a new crowd of souls gathers to wait for the boat. The only thing of which we can be certain is that Charon's vessel was of no use to the pilgrim, at least at the conscious level. Even if Dante had used it, he was not aware that he had done so. Objectively, the text only offers interpretive possibilities which en-

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courage dangerous inferences and additions. As we shall see, both early and modern commentators worked at using their imagination and erudition. Iacopo della Lana, perhaps with excessive caution, offered a brief gloss: "Now it is to be known that Dante was not guilty of such a sin [i.e., sensuality]. However, he does not explain how he crosses that river, but shows poetically how he was overcome by sleep, as it appears in the text."3 The Ottimo, too, does not linger over his explanation: "[Dante] ends this chapter, and in its conclusion speaks of an earthquake and lightning which cause the author to fall senseless. This indicates that he crossed the river without being beset by emotions . . . (w. 1 1 8 - 2 2 ) , " 4 In the first version of his commentary, Pietro Alighieri does not take any position and neglects to comment on the closing of the canto. In the second version, which is the longest and most rich in citations, he ends his commentary to the canto by saying that Charon carries the sleeping Dante: Finally, the author, since this passage of his was not in fact to be seen, but only to be spoken (indeed, the things which we say can be false, but not the things which we see), pretends that he was carried while he slept by the said Charon across the said river, following Virgil's manner.5 He closes by citing verses 8 9 3 - 9 8 of Book V I of the Aeneid. The gloss was revised and abbreviated in the final version and reads: "And since one comes to contemplate such things in a speculative manner, the author pretends that he was carried, while he was asleep, from one shore to the other of the said river through the effort of the said Charon."6 Pietro's care to emphasize his father's poetic fictiveness is especially evident in the second version. It was too dangerous for Dante to state that he was a prophet and that he had experienced the condition of souls post mortem. As we have seen on other occasions, Pietro tries with great caution to defend his father's memory from possible accusations on the part of the Inquisition. His decision to give greater importance to the Virgilian sources was a way of shielding his father's work behind Virgil's auctoritas. As we can see, the earliest commentators did not dare to provide too sharp or precise an interpretation. There are two salient arguments, one suggested by the Ottimo (Dante crossed the Acheron "without being beset by emotions") and the other proposed by Pietro (Dante was ferried by Charon). Only at the end of the century do we encounter more daring inter-

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pretive attempts by Boccaccio, Benvenuto Rambaldi, and Francesco da Buti. In explaining the literal sense, Boccaccio suggested a similarity between the earthquake that shakes Hell and the earthquake that shakes the Mount of Purgatory: "as when a cleansed soul rises up to Heaven . . . , so in Hell the damned souls . . . perceiving the arrival of new souls to increase their torment, are saddened and weep beyond their habitual sorrow."7 Boccaccio's interpretation contradicts the text, given the continuous flow of souls who are ferried to the other shore of the Acheron. If Boccaccio were right, the earthquake would be a usual characteristic of Hell and not an exceptional event. On the other hand, Boccaccio is fairly ambiguous, even as he explains the allegory: Because of his sleep the author did not notice how he entered the devil's prison. Dante finds himself on the other side of the river, and one can learn rather easily his sin and God's sentence in having transported him there. And it would be foolish to think that this journey was a corporeal one. Thus, it was a spiritual journey.8 If we listen to Boccaccio, it seems that Dante enters Hell because of "God's sentence," that is, as a condemned soul. It is true that Boccaccio accepted the strange idea of a temporal Hell as opposed to a permanent Hell and believed that Dante was in the temporal Hell, but all this is totally unconvincing and unacceptable. Benvenuto polemicized against the various commentators who preceded him. In his commentary, he seemed at first to be attacking the Ottimo and those who followed his ideas, stating: "some commentators explain these words in a very superficial way, saying that the author pretends to have fainted so that he could cross the putrid marsh without any offense to his senses."9 He then alluded to others who are not easily identifiable, but to whose ideas Boccaccio seemed to give merit: "Some famous men . . . say that behind this fiction the author wanted to state that he himself had entered Hell, that is, the way of the vices, owing to pride and conceited glory."10 Benvenuto contrasted this interpretation with his own: "But whatever all the others may say, it seems to me that this is not the author's intention. . . .The author wants above all to show in what way, in accordance with reason, he entered into speculation on vices so that, after having learned about them, he could move away from them."11 This was the first interpretation that attempted to uncover the meaning of this canto's difficult ending. And when Benvenuto went on to explain the text word by word, he holds to this overall interpretation. Thus, the "vermilion light" is explained as "the bright clarity of knowl-

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edge, which illuminated my intellect in such a way that I totally separated myself from these exterior things; in fact, [the light] closed my physical and opened my mental eyes."12 Although we might accuse Benvenuto of excessive abstraction, we certainly have to recognize that he is much more cautious than his predecessors. We find the same reference to the Purgatorio in his commentary as well; however, it is in relation not to the earthquake but to the sleep that overcomes Dante. Benvenuto writes: "And note, O reader, that in thisfirstentrance into Hell the author most subdy uses the fiction that he will frequendy employ on other occasions as well. Likewise, when he wants to enter Purgatory, he pretends to have fallen asleep and, while being so asleep, to have been carried off by a certain eagle; and thus it often occurs other times as well."13 What escapes Benvenuto and will also escape other commentators, even the modern ones, is the difference between the "deep sleep" into which Dante falls at the entrance into Hell and the dreams in Purgatory, which are oneiric images of the reality of the fictio. Francesco da Buti seems to treasure what Benvenuto had suggested, and he is perhaps less abstract. He repeatedly and more vigorously underscores the fact that we are still dealing withfictio.Nonetheless, for Francesco da Buti the events described at the conclusion of the canto refer in some way to the 'Verisimilitude of the poetry. Yet the lightning is quite the opposite of verisimilitude, unless one justified it as something beyond nature like the other things which the author imagines . . . and this he imagines in order to let us understand the coming of the Angel, who carried him to the other side of the river."14 Thus, for Francesco da Buti the "vermilion light" is an angel. This particular imposition on the text was to enjoy great success in the centuries to come. It was accepted by Bargigi (1838, 72) in the first half of the fifteenth century, while the Anonimo Fiorentino had returned to Boccaccio's interpretation. Landino does not speak of angels, but of divine grace: Thus, it is necessary that Dante, that is, sensuality, be carried into Hell while asleep, so that it would not rise up against reason . . . una luce vermiglia is divine grace, which God . . . sends at once to strengthen and straighten such a will. . . light because it illuminates . . . vermilion . . . because besides showing the way, it lights up and inflames it [i.e., the way] with the seraphic love of that [divine grace].15 To Landino's commentary Vellutello, like Buti, adds those passages of the Purgatorio in which Dante narrates his dreams.

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In the sixteenth century both Castelvetro and Gelli seem to turn to the earlier commentaries rather than to those closer to their own time. Gelli goes back to give credit to Pietro Alighieri by assuming that it was Charon or Virgil who carried Dante to the other side of the river. Castelvetro seems to adhere to Boccaccio's commentary by insisting on the similarity between the trembling of the infernal earth and the "earthquake of Purgatory." Castelvetro, however, never misses the opportunity to highlight the flaws he finds in Dante's work. For example, he is surprised that Dante does not ask for any explanation of the infernal earthquake: "He [Dante] does not act this way with the earthquake in Purgatory. . . . Therefore, I cannot approve of this unevenness in the poet." 16 Gelli's attitude is the opposite; he has great admiration for Dante, even if his interpretation is often digressive, replete with excessive rhetoric and redundant erudition, but with litde interpretive novelty. The conclusion to his commentary on this canto, with its analysis of the dreams in Purgatory (though Gelli says it was first suggested by Vellutello, it actually goes back to Benvenuto), does not make any noteworthy contribution. In the 1 7 0 0 S , commentators from Magalotti to Lombardi referred to Francesco da Buti and accepted his argument for the presence of a transporting angel. Lombardi (1791, 77) summarizes the history of this exegesis and concludes, with Scolari: "The Angel comes, announced by an earthquake (v. 131); the Angel advances, he is preceded by a violent wind (v. 133); the Angel arrives (v. 134); Dante must not see, and a vermilion light blinds him and knocks him to the ground as if he is suddenly overtaken by sudden sleep (w. 1 3 5 — 3 6 ) . " Everything here is made to work with the force of logic; the only thing missing is corroboration from Dante's text. Early nineteenth-century criticism was more cautious. It generally limited itself to paraphrasing the text without going beyond a literal interpretation. Foscolo's comments ( 1 8 4 2 , 32) are noteworthy: "Magalotti dedicated two or three unintelligible pages to this passage, which fill with doubt the minds of those who previously were easily able to explain it on their own." To how much Dante criticism, both early and modern, could Foscolo's words apply! Yet often the process of making matters less complicated seems synonymous with trivialization, not an easy thing to accept. Tommaseo (1865, 4 0 ) , also a scholar of great erudition and intelligence, limited himself to indicating the references to Virgil: for the tremò of verse 131 he cites Aeneid VI, 256 ("Sub pedibus mugiré solum") ; for the lagrimosa of verse 133 he refers to Aeneid VI, 441 ("lugentes campi") ; and for the sonno of verse 136 he quotes Aeneid VI, 390 ("Noctis soporae").

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In the second part of the nineteenth century, the explanatory notes once again became difficult and intricate. Scartazzini had already remarked that "from Francesco da Buti on, it is commonly held that while asleep the poet was carried to the other riverbank by an angel." This was the commonly held opinion of eighteenth-century scholars, but many critics after Francesco da Buti did not accept this interpretation. In any event, Scartazzini rejected Francesco da Buti's explanation. He went back to Pietro Alighieri's commentary because he believed it more credible that Charon took care of the crossing. Scartazzini's discussion (1903, 32) of the allegorical meaning is especially interesting. He writes: "Allegorically, John 3.8, 'The wind blows where it wills; and the sound that you hear, you cannot know from where it comes, nor where it goes. So it happens to whoever is born of the Spirit.' The poet describes here the beginning of his own birth of the spirit." Some years later, in an article on the conclusion of Canto III, Fomaciari discussed old proposals that had been accepted by his contemporaries in order to propose something new. The sleep into which Dante falls is, according to Fornaciari (1887, 656-57), "the effect of an infernal trap . . . symbolized by the earthquake with the wind and lightning . . . which permits the death of the souls, that is, the crossing of the Acheron," while the "vermilion light" is "a clear symbol of earthly splendors." Fornaciari developed and reelaborated, as the scholar himself admitted, "what Boccaccio only mentions in his commentary" (659). Even more surprising is the conclusion Fornaciari reached. In this passage, he says that one cannot "see anything other than the infernal trap . . . set by Charon"; and, indeed, it is very similar to the trap of the Gorgon who wanted to turn him into stone and to "the one in the pit of the fraudulent sinners for abandoning him without defence to the hook of the barrators. But he is saved from all three: the first time by Lucia's intervention, the second time by the heavenly messenger and the third time thanks to Virgil's promptness" (662-63). It is clear that to extrapolate Lucia's intervention from the text, Fornaciari had to refer to the first dream of the Purgatorio, creating a rather strained parallelism. To my knowledge, only Zardo (1901, 29-30), at the beginning of this century, accepted Fornaciari's hypothesis. At the end of the nineteenth century, Berthier (1892, 50) once again proposed the possible personification "of the action of grace in the intervention of an angel." His comments end with the following point: "Since Dante could not cross the Acheron on Charon's boat, he had to be carried by a higher power." This is a very acceptable observation, which was then developed in a more elegant way by Donadoni (1921, 389—99), and was later included in the commentary of Casini-Barbi.

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Pascoli, followed by Pietrobono and Valli, saw in Dante's sleep a mystical death. His was finally an attempt to carry to its extreme the observation of Scartazzini, who had spoken of a "birth of the spirit." 17 Let us see how Pietrobono (1915, 27$), certainly the most moderate of Pascoli's followers, commented on the passage: Dante . . . therefore dies: a mystical death, of course, by which is meant a death that, although mystical, resembles natural death more than one might believe. A part of us always dies when we sin. . . . The same occurs when from a life of vice we turn to virtue and good. In Christian language this passage is called mystical death, because we rid ourselves of the old man and put on the new. Mazzoni (1967, 454) commented: "Pascoli's observation, while underscoring the ontological progression Dante experiences through his loss of consciousness, is perhaps closer to the spirit of Dante than is usually believed." But then Mazzoni insisted on the fact that this sleep seems to be "an artistic expedient which alludes to a supernatural event the poet experiences and accepts" (454). His remark bears witness to a particular aspect of Dante criticism that followed the wave of Benedetto Croce's popularity. Critics tried, as did Mazzoni, not to neglect the scholarly sources (as is evidenced by his extensive use of Aristotelian-Thomist citations to support the verisimilitude of the earthquake, the wind, and the lightning in the depths of the earth, in accordance with the science of the time) and to pay equal attention to the aesthetic quality of poetry. Grabher's gloss (1936, 46) was, typically, influenced by Croce: Here, not a few [critics] have seriously asked themselves a question: how Dante crossed the Acheron, and they have amply discussed the most likely hypotheses. It is superfluous to show the vanity of certain intricate games in which some people, in many ways very respectable, let themselves get carried away, forgetting that the poet's dreams . . . are not susceptible to measurement and to probings . . . nor can they be reduced to fit rigid timetables or tourist itineraries. We are in the world of the miraculous and art is in and of itself a miracle. Porena's proposal departs from the commentary tradition, and is completely new. I point it out because it is an example of misguided criticism and also because I think it is a useful warning not to seek the new for its own sake. Porena (1946, 40) believes:

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The crossing of the Acheron had already occurred before Dante's loss of consciousness and was not described because there was no need to do so. . . . Charon expressed his objection to transporting Dante on his boat. Virgil responded by using the same argument with which, in many other cases, we will see him winning over opposition of this kind: "Thus is God's will"; in this case, the word "thus" [COTÍ] cannot but signify that Dante crosses the river on his boat. Charon is calmed. What else is left for the protagonists to do but embark? Today critics are inclined to believe, together with Ronconi (1981, 1205) that "in Dante's sleep, thus in an arcane way, the unaware pilgrim descends into the blind world." I believe it is correct to adhere to this solution, at least on the basis of the information available to us.18

CHAPTER

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The Form and Meaning of Canto III

The third canto of the Inferno is a difficult and harsh one. It is hard for the author even before it is difficult for the reader. It has been suggested that this canto might represent Dante's first attempt to shift from a lyrical style (still predominant in the first two cantos, and especially in the second one) to a narrative-dramatic style. This is only partially true. In fact, in Dante's lyrics and in his early writings the narrative factor is already predominant. Moreover, in the canzone relating the premonitory dream of Beatrice's death ( Vita nuova XXIII), there is no doubt that Dante had experimented with the dramatic tone of the apocalyptic vision. Indeed, in the Rime petrose (in particular in the fourth one, Così nel mio parlar) he had experimented with "harsh and dissonant" ("aspre e chiocce") rhymes. Therefore, to speak of new experiences that could disorient the author and compel him to lock himself up behind the Virgilian example, almost as if he did not have the strength to walk without being supported, seems to me daring, to say the least. Yet these are exactly the observations that Sapegno (1967, 62, 70) makes on this canto. Paratore also believes that the canto proceeds with difficulty, that it is sustained by rhetorical knowledge but lacks fluidity. According to Paratore (1986,41), each verse contains a logical unity, "a well-concluded turn of phrase." It is a kind of metrical-logical structure that gives the canto a much too lapidary texture. This is only partially true. The enjambments, used to break a rigid structure, are much more numerous than those that Paratore (1986, 40—42) points out. The scholar notes enjambments in verses 5-6, 43-44, 55-56, 95-98,112-23,115-16,131-32, and 133-34. I have some doubts regarding the last enjambment ("La terra lagrimosa diede vento / che balenò"); to give che a consecutive 94

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value seems to me to strain the text unnecessarily. In my opinion, che is a simple relative pronoun which stands for the "wind." To Paratore's examples of enjambment, I would add the following verses: 5-6 ("la divina podestate / la somma sapienza"); 19-20 ("la sua mano a la mia puose / con lieto volto"); 28—29 ("il qual s'aggira / sempre"); 34-35 ("Questo misero modo / tegnon l'anime triste"); 64-65 ("Questi sciaurati / erano ignudi"); 65-66 ("stimolati molto / da mosconi"); 72-73 ("or mi concedi / ch'i' sappia"); 91-92 ("Per altra via, per altri porti / verrai"); 104-5 ( " Ί tempo e Ί seme / di lor semenza"); 10910 ("con occhi di bragia / loro accennando"); 113-14 ("fin che Ί ramo / vede a la terra"); 130-31 ("la buia campagna / tremò"). This means that a quarter of the verses in the canto are joined two by two by enjambment. The lapidary tone is very fragmented and is certainly not the dominating feature of the canto. However, Dante undoubtedly had the most loving care for form. If we begin with the inscription, we can observe that while the first tercet is governed by anaphora, verse 4 reproduces the leonine meter with assonance in the caesura ("giustizia mOssE / il mio alto fattOrE"). The next four verses are connected two-by-two by enjambment. Verse 9 presents the structure of beginning/end in rhyme (LasciATE . . . 'ntrATE). On the other hand, the tercet alone could not, in Dante's mind, take the place of the stanza of the canzone, as Paratore (1986, 41) suggests, since it represents a rhythmic-phonic continuum and not a melodic period. I believe that it is more useful, instead, to emphasize that, in order to underscore moments of particular drama, a couple of tercets are monotonie. This is the case with verses 28—33 (in which we have rhymes in assonance with one another [-irai-into]) and with verses 32-37 (-odo/ -oro). Finally, some verses have acquired the quality of proverbs in daily spoken Italian. They are verses with a particular phonic composition, and perhaps precisely because of this, they remain imprinted on the memory of the speaker. As an example I take "fama di loro il mondo esser non lassa" (v. 49), with the beginning and the end in assonance (JAmA/lAssA), and the body of the monotonie verse ("di lOrO II mOndO"). I might also mention "che morte tAnTA / n'avesse disfAtTA" (v. 57), another leonine meter in which the assonance at the caesura is almost a rhyme. Even the most simple form of alliteration plays its part, as in verses 82-83: "Ed EccO VErsO noi VEnir per naVE / un VEcchio." These are all rhetorical devices described in the artes versificatoriae

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(Simonelli 1978, 60-87) to which Dante does not often turn. The attention to these devices shown here does not mean that we are witnessing the beginning of the development of a technique; rather, it is evidence of a process of refinement which we cannot easily place in time. In my opinion, the hypothesis that in this canto we are observing an initial artistic-formal experimentation is not the result of a thorough textual analysis but was suggested by the contents of the Commedia. It is almost as though Dante were following the order of thefiatowhen writing, and that once a canto had been written, he would not go back to it. Only if this were the way he composed the Commedia, could we, after six or seven centuries, and without the help of the drafts, variants, and narrative plans that certainly preceded the final version, follow the development and the refinement of Dante's narrative art. But having before us a text that the author published in his lifetime, and therefore in the form that he believed to be die most appropriate, it is very risky to state the chronological priority of a given canto. Sapegno (1967, 62) believes that this art in the process of formation is also evidenced by the episodic and fragmentary nature of the canto, which seems to lack a poetic core, and by "a vagueness of the polemical attitude, which does not yet fit into a historical condition and does not seem to result from a specific ethical-political ideology." Sapegno's observation is valid provided that one accept his rather vague and ambiguous interpretation of "colui / che fece per viltade il gran rifiuto." But if that colui is Celestine V, as the earliest commentators maintained and no small number of modern commentators believe, a view which I also firmly support, then the ethical-political ideology is unambiguous and precise. As a matter of fact, I am convinced that the poetic creation of the ante-Inferno and Dante's inclusion of the angels who 'Svere for themselves" ("per sè fuoro"), both of which could help to clarify the unjust actions of the pusillanimous souls, were means to focus the canto on the "great renunciation" and to condemn the one who did not hold dear the keys of pontifical power. Pietro da Morrone was not a person to be relegated to one of the lower circles of Hell. He was renowned as a holy man and he had been canonized.1 In Dante's eyes, his renunciation had been fatal. He had caused great evil. He had disappointed the expectations of the better part of Christianity, and he had allowed Boniface VIII to seize the sacred mande. Boniface was stained with the guilt of simony, he was the shepherd-wolf who had led his flock to perdition (Guido da Montefeltro is perhaps the emblematic figure of this flock). Dante's treatment of Boniface may reveal personal hatred. But this is Dante, and we must accept him as he is if we wish to understand him.

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The third canto leaves the reader with the "imprinted passion" of a painful dream, filled with sorrow and terror. This was, I believe, the effect Dante sought above all. His goal was to train, correct, and incite the reader to face life's daily tribulations without cowardice; to use free will, and use it well, in order to be eligible for the justice that rewards2 rather than that which punishes.

NOTES

CHAPTER Ι:

The Ante-Inferno

ι. One example is offered by the invective that forms the latter half of Purgatorio VI, where the author speaks in propria, persona. 2. Pietro Alighieri (ed. Della Vedova and Silvotti, 1978), pp. 75-76: "Dividitur hoc capitulum in tres partes. In prima facit suum exordium ad introitimi Inferni. . . . Ibi secunda, in qua tractat de poena captivorum.... Ibi tertia et ultima, ubi dicit de generali ingressu et passu ad Infernum per Acherontem; et hoc usque in finem." 3. According to the MS Ashb. 839, cited by Barbi (1941, ρ· 439) and the version copied by Stefano Talice da Riccaldone (1888, p. 39). 4. Matt. 25:30: "in tenebras exteriores: illic erit fletus et stridor dentium." 5. Dante alludes to this same parable at the beginning of the Monarchia to justify his political treatise: "so that I am not somebody charged with burying my talent" ("ne de infossi talenti culpa quandoque redarguar" [I, i, 8]). 6. Convivio III, vii, 6. See also Convivio IV, VII, 11-12. 7. Convivio II, vii, 3-4: "chi da la ragione si parte . . . non vive uomo, ma vive bestia." 8. Epistola XIII, 16: "Nam si in aliquo loco vel passu pertractatur ad modum speculativi negotii, hoc non est in gratia speculativi negotii, sed gratia operis." 9. Forti (1977, 207—29) has already examined the problem and emphasizes that Dante uses the term ignavia only once (Epistola I, 2). Forti's discussion of this topic is extremely useful, and his exhaustive bibliography (pp. 227—29) is indispensable. 10. See also Pasquini and Quaglio (1987, pp. baix, 59). The position of the two scholars is somewhat confusing. In the introduction it is clearly stated that "ignavi is not part of Dante's vocabulary" and that the sinners who are relegated to the ante-Inferno are i vili 0 pusillanimi (p. 8). Following this statement, however, Quaglio calls the sinners of Canto III ignavi (p. lxxix), and Pasquini speaks again of ignavi (pp. 13,59). 11. "Svogliatezza nel benfare, negligenza, dappochismo." 12. "Alcuna tristizia che aggrava l'animo in tal modo, che nulla gli piace fare." 13. "Un vizio d'animo per lo quale l'uomo niuno suo fatto fae con discrezione." 99

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14. "Tiepidezza d'animo, inerzia." It is interesting to note the interpretation of the entries accidia and ignavia in the Vocabolario degli Accademici della Crusca: "accidia . . . inertia or spiritual indifference"; "ignavia .. . laziness or spiritual indolence." If then, for the sake of precision, we look up indolenza, we find that in common usage it denotes "spiritual indifference." In the most recent linguistic research as well, the terms accidia and ignavia are considered almost synonymous, yet this was most certainly not what Dante intended. In this regard, it is worth recalling the definition of ignavo in VocA.C.: "Lazy and indolent in work for lack of active will and spiritual strength . . . a word with which the commentators of the Divina Commedia designate 'the paltry souls of those who went through life with neither disgrace nor praise' (l'anime triste di coloro / Che visser sanza infamia e sanza lodo), whom Dante places in the vestibule of Hell." It thus seems that the definition of ignavo (literally, "inactive") depends in large measure on the use made of it by the commentators of the Commedia. 15. Guido da Pisa (1974,59). In the later versions of his commentary, Pietro Alighieri speaks of those who are wicked "because of their ignavia and pusillanimity" ("propter eorum ignaviam et pusillanimitatem" [1978, 79]). 16. Guido da Pisa (1974,59): "multitudo illorum qui vulgariter captivi et miseri appellantur." 17. The term poltroni is found as early as Benvenuto (1887,116), Anonimo Fiorentino (1866, 64), and Bargigi (1838, 63). 18. Pietrobono's view is also echoed by Chiappelli, whose reading is dated February 1914, but whose publication must date from late 1916 or early 1917; indeed, the bibliography cited by him goes as far as 1916. 19. This problem is not directly addressed until the appearance in 1977 of Forti's study, to which I have already referred. See note 9 above. 20. The Ottimo (1827, 25): "[l'autore] discrive la qualità del primo sito più propinquo alla porta, dove sono in pena li pusillanimi." 21. F. Mazzoni, in Enciclopedia dantesca, s.v. "Ottimo commento." 22. The Ottimo (1827, 27) : "Virgilio . . . il conforta . . . e dice che qui è da essere magnanimo." 23. "Scio opera tua: quia ñeque frigidus es, ñeque calidus: utinam frigidus esses aut calidus: sed quia tepidus es, et nec frigidus nec calidus incipiam te evomere ex ore meo." 24.1 here refer to the most important "Lecturae Dantis," those of Chiappelli (1917,18) and Rossi (1923,65-66). Finally, Freccero's articles (1961 and 1962) and Singleton's commentary again made this gloss popular. We thus find it, although sometimes with a different intent, in the writings of all scholars who have investigated this topic over the past twenty-five years. 25. Convivio I, xi, 18-21 (trans. R. Lansing): "Sempre lo magnanimo si magnifica in suo cuore, e così lo pusillanimo, per contrario, sempre si tiene meno che non è . . . . E però che con quella misura che l'uomo misura se medesimo, misura le sue cose,. . . avviene che . . . lo pusillanimo sempre le sue cose crede valere poco e l'altrui assai." The citation can also be found in Ronconi (1981,1183— 1205).

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26. Ibid. : " E tutti questi rotali sono li abominevoli cattivi d'Italia che hanno a vile questo prezioso volgare, lo quale, s'è vile in alcuna [cosa], non è se non in quanto elli suona ne la bocca meretrice di questi adulteri."

CHAPTER 2: T h e Inscription

ι. Lam. 1:12: "Locutus est Dominus, In die irae fiiroris sui." 2. Lam. 1:18: "Iustus est Dominus, Quia os eius ad iracundiam provocavi." 3. Guido da Pisa (1974, 57) is the first commentator to cite Jeremiah as background to the general tone of the inscription. 4. Iacopo della Lana (1886,127): "Questo modo di parlare che recita più volte una parola è ditto dalli rettorici parlare affettivo, in lo quale mostra l'affezione del dicitore essere molta." 5. Landino, fol. ι8Γ: "Il poeta adorna questo principio con due colori retorici, usando repetitione et espositione." 6. Ibid.: "espositione è quando in più clausule, benché le parole sieno diverse, nondimeno la sentenza è quasi quella medesima." 7. Ibid.: "Inoltre fa augumento, perciò che pone questi tre versi in forma, che sempre quel che segue arroge qualcosa più." 8. "I am the door of life: I entreat all to enter. By me those who seek the delights of heaven will pass t h r o u g h . . . . By me, if any one enters, he will be saved." 9. "Ego sum ostium. Per me si quis introierit, salvabitur: et ingredietur, et egredietur, et pascua inveniet" (italics mine). 10. See Morpurgo (1926,149) for the inscription on two doors of St. Paul Outside the Walls in Rome: "Haec domus est Dei. . . Haec est domusDei... Haec domus est fidei" (italics mine). 11. I, ix, 4: "quare vicinius habitantes adhuc discrepant in loquendo, ut Mediolanenses et Veronenses." 12. See Morpurgo (1926,150). 13. Anonimo Fiorentino (1866, 60): "Nella prima parte l'Autore, a modo poetico, immagina . . . che ciascheduna cosa della quale si ragiona abbia il suo principio, le sue proporzioni, le sue parti corrispondenti... ; come chiunque ragionasse . . . di veruna casa senza venire alle sue particularità, debbasi immaginare che la casa abbia l'uscio, l'entrata et le finestre, et l'altre cose che sono necessarie.... Il tutto a simile imagina l'Autore, et così discrive essere una entrata, una porta allo entrare dello inferno, sopra la sommità della quale sono scritte quelle parole che appresso si chiariranno." 14. "Scribes ea [haec verba mea] super postes et ianuas domus tuae." 15. Landino, fol. i8v. 16. Though Padoan (1967,48) cites lines 126—29 ofAeneid VI, he does not quote the Gospel passage on which, instead, his later commentary focuses. 17. See Ronconi (1981), who makes use of Rossi (1923, 63) and Funaioli (1955, 334)· Cf. Hollander (1983, 81).

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18. "Intrate per angustam portam: quia lata porta et spatiosa via est quae ducit ad perditionem." 19. Job 38:17: "Apertae sunt tibi portae mortis et ostia tenebrosa vidisti"; Ps. 106:18: "appropinaquaverunt ad portas mortis"; Matt. 16:18: "portae inferi." 20. Guido da Pisa (1974,57). The reference to Metamorphoses X, 13, is lacking in Pietro Alighieri, who also cites Statius's Thebaid I, 96, in the third edition of his commentary (1978,76). 21. Benvenuto (1887,105): "Per me si va nella àttà dolente, idest infernalem, plenam poena et dolore sed contra; nam secundum Augustinum in libro de civitate Dei et Philosophum primo Politicorum nihil aliud est àvitas quam multitude avium ad bene vivendum ordinata; ista autem est multitudo civium ad semper male vivendum ordinata." 22. F. da Buti (1858,83): "non che propriamente si chiami città; ma abusivamente; imperò che quivi non è concordia di cittadini, ma quivi è continua discordia." 23. Landino, fol. i8v. 24. Gelli (1887, 237) : "in quello stanno le genti perdute e dannate eternalmente in dolore sotto una medesima sentenzia, in quel modo che stanno molti cittadini in una città sotto una medesima legge." 25. Benvenuto (1887, 106): "nam, teste Augustino . . . plus relucet ordo iustitiae in Inferno quam in Paradiso; nam nullus est in Inferno qui non bene meruerit." I was not able to identify this citation in Augustine's works, at least in those works which can be definitely attributed to him. I therefore think that this might be a citation from the Pseudo-Augustine. Moreover, the tone is not typical of Augustine. 26. Landino, fol. i8v: "come dice Aurelio Agostino, l'ordine della giustizia riluce più nell'Inferno che in Cielo; perchè niuno è nell'Inferno che non lo meriti, et niuno è in Paradiso, che lo meriti interamente." 27. "Quod scribit Augustinus de penis dampnatorum cum dicit a perpetua iustitia pertinet ut nunquam careant tormento qui numquam voluerunt carere peccato" (18). 28. Graziolo (1915, 18): "nisi post ruinam Luciferi,. . . cum autem ante omnia primo et principaliter ista quattuor creata fuerint, scilicet angelus, tempus, Coelum empireum et materia prima." 29. Guido da Pisa (1974,56—57) : "dinanzi a me etc. . . . idest ante me nihil fuit, nisi Deus qui est eternus . . . et ego etiam post meam creationem duro in eternum. Ubi nota quod eternum accipitur pro sempiterno, quia eternum est illud quod caret principio et fine; et secundum hoc nihil fuit, nisi Deus." 30. Iacopo della Lana (1886,127) : "Lo Inferno fu la prima cosa che creò Dio da poi le universali." 31. Anonimo Fiorentino (1866, 62): "il cielo e la natura angelica, che sono cose etterne cioè perpetue. Et di licenzia poetica pone qui etterno per perpetuo." 32. Boccaccio (1918, 238) : "prima creato da Dio che fosse creato l'uomo."

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33. Benvenuto (1887,107): "Alii tarnen dicunt quod eternum capitur hie pro perpetuo sive coaevo, et dicunt quod angelus videtur fuisse prius quam Inferno, licet peccaverit in instanti suae creationis; nam prius debet esse culpa quam poena.... Et secundum istam secundam opinionem debet sic exponi: cose non fuor create dinanzi arnese non eterne, scilicet angeli." 34. F. da Buti (1858,84) : "Quando Idio fece il mondo, il primo dì che fece il cielo e la terra, fece ancora l'inferno." 35. Landino, fol. I8V: "furono la prima materia, i Cieli et gli angeli." 36. Rev. 12:9: "serpens antiquus, qui vocatur diabolus et Satanas." 37. Guido da Pisa (1974, 57), but as Cioffari observes, he cites lines 467-69 of Book IV of the Georgia instead of citing Book VI of the Aeneid. 38. Landino, fol. I8V. 39. See especially Chiappelli (1917,15). 40. These scriptural passages are also cited by Mazzoni (1967,336).

CHAPTER 3: Spiritual Readiness to Enter Hell ι. Landino, fol. i8v. 2. Ibid. 3. Gelli (1887, 245): "The meaning and the sentence. . . were hard and difficult to comprehend [molto duro e difficile ad intendere]." 4. The New American Bible reads, "this sort of talk is hard to endure," an interpretation rather different from "hard to understand." The Oxford Annotated Bible reads, "this is a hard saying," noting that "hard saying means offensive or difficult, but not obscure," which is fairly close to the Greek σκληρό? λόγος. In any event, Dante could only have had in mind the Latin of Saint Jerome. 5. Anonimo Fiorentino (1866, 63): "Queste parole mi sono malagevoli ad intendere. Dice alcuno spositore che l'Autore le 'ntendea bene, ma per farle chiarire a Virgilio piglia luogo di ignoranza; ma piuttosto, secondo il giudicio mio, si può sporne che quello senso gli paresse duro, non alla sposizione, ma allo effetto che in esso si contenea." 6. According to the date of publication, Mazzoni's work must precede that of Padoan (1968). In reality, Mazzoni uses and cites Padoan (1968). 7. Aeneid VI, 260—61 : "Tuque invade viam, vaginaque eripe ferrum: / Nunc animis opus, Aeneas, nunc pectore firmo." 8. Anonimo Fiorentino (1866, 63): "Virgilio . . . usò quelle parole che egli nel sesto libro dell'Eneida fa usare alla Sibilla verso Enea." 9. Iacopo della Lana (1886, 129): "è da sapere che quella anima che è in privazione di intelletto è tanto a dire come in privazione di Dio, in quello in che Dio si è obbietto dello intelletto." 10. Pietro Alighieri (1978, 80—81): "videbit illos qui perdiderunt bonum intellectus, quod est ipse Deus tamquam ultima beatitudo et veritas. Nam et Philosophus in III de anima ait bonum intellectus est ipsa beatitudo. Et Thomas de

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Aquino contra gentiles ait: oportet ultimum finem universi esse bonum inteUectus, hoc autem est Veritas." 11. The reference to the Convivio had already been singled out by Scartazzini; see Scartazzini and Vandelli (1903), p. 24. 12. Padoan (1967, $3) refers to Convivio, while Mazzoni (1967, 343) cites Monarchia and Paradiso IV, 116.

CHAPTER

4: The Sounds of Suffering

ι. F. da Buti (1858, 86) wrote: "They are the secret things of which no one alive can know except through revelation or through faith" ("le cose segrete le quali niuno vivo può sapere se non per rivelazione o per fede"). This gloss is very similar to that of Benvenuto (1887, 109) : "segrete cose, that is, invisible things, which are not revealed anywhere but in the secret of speculation" ("segrete cose, idest invisibiles, quae non ostenduntur nisi in camera speculationis"). 2. Both Iacopo della Lana (1886,129-30) and Pietro Alighieri, in the first version (1978, 82), cite Isidore of Seville's Etymologiarum libri XIII, 19: "The whirlwind is the variability of the winds; and one says whirlwind each time the wind rises from the earth and draws the earth into the vortex" ("Turbo est volubilitas ventorum; et turbo dictus a terra quotiens ventus consurgit et terram in circuitum mittit"). Boccaccio (1918,65) and the Anonimo Fiorentino (1866,65) offer their glosses in the tradition of Aristotle. Boccaccio writes, "Whirlwind is a wind . . . and the Philosopher calls it 'typhoon' in his Meteora" ("Turbo è uno vento . . . e il Filosofo il chiama nella sua Meteora Tifone").

CHAPTER

5: Scorned by Mercy and Justice

ι. See above, pp. 4—7. 2. My reasoning here relies on Petrocchi's stemma; see Petrocchi (1966—67, 581-82). 3. Iacopo della Lana (1886,180): "Segue lo poe[t]a mostrando come ammirava. Ed è da sapere che in tutti i luoghi là dove Dante mostra admirazione, si è dubbio o titolo di questione." 4. Benvenuto (1887, 112): "idest qui habebam fantasiam turbatam tanta confusione." 5. Up to this point the gloss seems to be a contamination of Benvenuto's and Gelli's commentaries. 6. Venturi (1757, xxxv) : "Ingombrata, non sapendo donde procedesse quel rumore... . Alcuni leggono orrore ed il Boccaccio spiega paura e un tal'effetto, che ben suppongasi cagionato nella mente del Poeta da quell'orribile scompiglio, più adattamente precede alla curiosità natagli in cuore d'interrogare." This note is not to be found in the edition of 1732, which is dedicated to Pope Clement XII.

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7. This has already been masterfully treated by Mazzoni (1967,355—67). 8. Cf. the remarks made by the Fathers of the English Dominican Province in reference to their translation of Question 125 ("De timore") in Part II of the Second Part of the Summa théologien: "St. Thomas calls this vice in differently^íw [timor] or timidity [timiditas]. The translation requires one to adhere to these terms on account of the connection with the passion of fear. Otherwise, cowardice would be a better rendering" (Thomas Aquinas, 2:1720). (In subsequent references to the Summa theologica, the citations in English are partially based on this translation.) 9. Rev. 21:8: "Timidis autem et incredulis . . . pars illorum erit in stagno ardenti igne et sulphure: quod est mors secunda." It is important to note that this verse includes a classification of sins, from timiditas to mendacium, to which we shall return. 10. Summa theologica II—II, q.125, a.3: "Timor peccatimi est secundum quod est inordinatus: prout scilicet refugit quod non est secundum rationem refugiendum." 11. Summa theologtca I—II, q.44, a.4: "Omnis timens refugit id quod timet: et ideo, cum pigritia sit timor de ipsa operatione, inquantum est laboriosa, impedit operationem, quia retrahit voluntatem ab ipsa." 12. Summa theologica II—II, q.5+, a.2. 13. Ibid.: "quod negligentia consistit in defectu interioris actus, ad quem pertinet etiam electio. Pigritia autem et torpor magis pertinent ad executionem.... Et ideo convenienter torpor ex acedia nascitur: quia acedia est tristitia aggravane idest impediens animum ab operando." 14. Summa theologica II-II, q.35, a.3: "Nam proprius effectus caritatis est gaudium de Deo . . .: acedia autem est tristitia de bono spirituali inquantum est bonum divinum." ij. Rev. 21:8: "Timidis autem et incredulis et execratis, et homicidis et fornicatoribus, et veneficis, et idolatris, et omnibus mendacibus, pars illorum erit in stagno ardenti igne et sulphure." 16. Iacopo della Lana (1886,130): "le anime di coloro che furono al mondo senza fama e persone di trista vita." 17. Benvenuto (1887,112) : "Sine virtute est valore: aliqui tamen dicunt senza infamia; sed prior litera melior est quia non vixerunt sine infamia, ut patebit paulo post." 18. Ottimo (1827, 29): "[Dante] dice che sono mischiate queste anime con certi diavoli che non furon fedeli a Dio, né seguirono Lucifero." 19. See Freccerò (1962, 37). 20. Selmi Glosses, p. 11: "Sappi, lettore, che poi che Dio ebbe fatto il cielo, si fecie nove ordini di angieli, fra li quali n'ebbe uno che per sua bellezza e per sua superbia, credendosi e volendo essere pari a Dio, fecie setta con molti angieli e di ciascuno ordine contaminò, e volse ponere una sedia in sua parte incontra a quella di Dio. Ebbevi angieli buoni che tennero con Dio, e questi si levaro e cacciaro Lucifero con tutti e suoi seguaci in inferno; e da quello punto inanzi fu

Ιθ6 I NOTES TO PAGES 33 — 37 chiamato Lucifero, et è dimonio. La maggior parte de gli angieli v'ebbe, che non tennero con Lucifero, e non tennero con Dio: questi furo cacciati con Lucifero di Paradiso; e però none andaro nello 'nferno, però che con esso none avieno peccato, e non rimasero in cielo, però che none avieno operata virtù, ma sospesi nell'aria, e hanno invidia degli uni e degli altri." 21. Benvenuto (1887,112): "ista pugna, quae dicitur fuisse in coelo, non fuit corporalis cum lancea et clipeo, sicut vulnus dicit, imo mentalis." 22. Pietro Alighieri (1978, 80) : "anime dictorum cativorum unite sunt cum illis angelis qui non fuerunt boni nec mali tenendo cum Deo vel cum Lucifero. Quos Ugo de Santo Victore dicit puniri etiam extra Infernum in loco et aere caliginoso." Mazzoni (1967, 374—75) notes that he could not locate the citation from Ugo di San Vittore, "where one would think it should be." 23. For a discussion of this topic, see the excellent article by Vallone (1979). 24. Boccaccio (1918, 244) : "pare qui che all'autor piaccia questi malvagi angeli essere di due spezie divisi." 25. For a more complete bibliography see Mazzoni (1967, 371-76). 26. Enciclopedia dantesca, 1:271. 27. Patrologia Latina, 6:331. 28. Hugh of St. Victor, Summula sententiamm, Tractatus secundus: "non est eis concessimi habitare in coelo, quae est clara patria, nec in terra . . . sed in aere caliginoso qui est carcer eis usque in diem judicii." "De hoc autem dubitatio est utrum modo omnes in isto aere sint usque in diem judicii; an aliqui eorum in inferno inferiori sint" {PatrologiaLatina, 176:83-85). 29. Rev. 3:15-16: "Scio opera tua: quia ñeque frigidus es, ñeque calidus; utinam frigidus esses, aut calidus; sed quia tepidus es, et nec frigidus nec calidus, incipiam te evomere ex ore meo." One should note that these verses do not refer to the rebellious angels. 30. Graziolo (1915,14) : "dicit quod celi expellunt dictos angelos quia nolunt eos recipere in gloria sua et etiam profundus inferni ipsos non cruciat; huius est ratio quia alii angeli tenebrosi expresse voluntarieque rebelles maiestatis divine aliqualiter gauderent si vidèrent eos simul tormentari cum eis in profundo inferni cum ipsi malori pena sint digni quia gravius delinqueverunt." 31. Monti (1816,145—54). Cf. Mazzoni (1967, 377-78). 32. See Mazzoni (1967,378-79). 33. Lombardi (1791,39) : "Qui il Cav. Monti, seguito dal Biagioli, con molto apparato d'erudizione, sostiene che alcuna,gloria significhi niunajjloria. . . . Noi però non vogliamo essere giudici di tanta questione, la quale ci parrebbe sciolta in due parole dal Magalotti colla stessa opinione del Lombardi: cioè pel cielo son troppo brutti, per l'inferno son troppo belli.'''' 34. F. da Buti (1858, 90): "sono privati della speranza della seconda morte, per la quale s'intende l'annichilazione." 35. Bargigi (1838,61) : "[questi peccatori] né per speranza di tempo a venire, né per memoria di tempo passato, né per condizione di tempo presente, hanno alcuno refrigerio."

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36. Rev. 9:6: "Et in diebus Ulis quaerent homines mortem et non invenient earn, et desiderabunt mori et fugiet mors ab eis." 37. Iacopo della Lana (1886,131): "Ma a ciò che la cattivitade di quelli non inducesse imperfezione all'ordine mondano, è convenevole che alquanto se ne ragioni, a ciò che si possa conoscere che tal condizione è."

CHAPTER 6:

The Great Coward

ι. Benvenuto (1887,116): "Omnes isti ribaldi trahuntur ad unum signum." 2. Boccaccio (1918,246): "vidi una insegna chegirando, cioè in giro andando, correva, cioè correndo era portata." 3. F. da Buri (1858,91) : "mai non si posino coloro che sempre si sono posati e sono vivuti per mangiare e bere e dormire come le bestie, e corrono dietro all'insegna della carnalità." 4 . 1 believe the only critic to do so was Pietrobono (1901). However, this interpretation seems to have been rejected by him later; see Pietrobono (1915, 252).

5. Mazzoni (1967, 388). He summarizes the different interpretations on pp. 387-88.

6. Graziolo (1915, 16): "Umbra istius fuit frater Petrus de Murrono, qui tante pusillanimitatis fuit quod ex cautela et sagacitate domini pape Bonifatii renunptiavit pontificatili." 7. Iacopo della Lana (1886,131) : "Costui fu fra Pietro Morone, lo quale fue eletto papa, ed ebbe nome papa Celestino." 8. Iacopo Alighieri (1915, 12): "Per più conoscenza, qui d'alcuno della presente qualità si ragiona, il quale, essendo papa di Roma e nominato Celestino, per viltà di cuore, temendo d'alcun, il grande uficio apostolico rifiutò di Roma." 9. The years around 1330 were difficult and tragic. It is sufficient to recall Cecco d'Ascoli's condemnation and death at the stake on 16 September 1327. This condemnation must have caused fear and dismay among the intellectuals of the time. Cecco was in fact a learned and very respected individual, a professor at the University of Bologna. For more details, see Simonelli (1979, i43ff). 10. Guido da Pisa (1974,59): "[Celestinus] post mortem per papam dementem fuit canonizatus et sanctorum numero aggregatus, ac sanctus Petrus Confessor appellatus. Sed quia Dantes istam Comediam tempore Bonifatii composuit, ante scilicet quam ipse sanctus Petrus canonizatus fuisset, ideo ipsum hie posuit, habens respectum solummodo ad suam ignaviam et miseriam cordis, qua fuit taliter obumbratus, quod in romana sede sedere nescivit." 11. As Boccaccio concludes, "la qual cosa né la nego né l'affermo" (1918, 248).

12. Ottimo (1827,30) : "Non palesando il nome, parla l'Autore d'alcuno di questi cattivi. . . Vuole alcuno dire che l'Autore intenda qui che costui sia Frate Pietro del Murrone."

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13. See J. Duvernoy, ed., Le Registre d'Inquisition de Jacques Fournier, évêque de Pamiers (1318-1325), manuscrit latin 4030 de la Bibliothèque Vaticane (Toulouse: 1965). 14. Pietro Alighieri (1978, 82—83): "Inter quos [auctor] nominat Fratrem Petrum de Murrono, ut credo, qui dictus est papa Celestinus V." 15. Ibid.: "[Auctor] fingendo se ibi videre inter tales animas umbram Petri de Murono . . . ut quidam dicunt et exponunt auctorem de ipso, scilicet Celestino, sentire." 16. Ibid.: "Sed cum in Decretds dicatur: Sedes Petri out sanctum, invenit, out sanctum facit... dicamus ergo in dubio quod iste Celestinus, ut sanctus, hoc fecit et quod auctor loquitur hic non de eo sed de Diocletiano, qui, dum imperator existeret, imperio renuntiavit, ut scribit Eutropius." 17. Ibid., 80: "inter quos auctor fingit se videsse umbram illius qui quadam pusillanimitate, ut vilis, renuit papatum, si scilicet fuit Celestinus quintus, ut quidam dicunt, sive imperium, si fiait Develicianus [sic]." 18. Landino, fol. 20v: "Io stimo che il poeta per più rispetti ponesse l'essempio senza nome. Primo per non notare d'infamia sì Santo huomo, perciochè benché lo stimasse di santa vita, nondimeno fu sua opinione che nel governo invilisse . . . o forse perché è parlando degli huomini senza fama, parea conveniente ch'a nessun si desse nome." 19. "Non essendo verisimile che Dante ponga nell'Inferno Papa Celestino uomo santo, per aver rifiutato il Papato, è da credere che in quello che fece per viltate il gran rifiuto habbia piuttosto inteso Michel di Lando che rifiutò d'essere Gonfaloniere perpetuo della Repubblica fiorentina, il che non fu piccolo rifiuto, a lui si conviene benissimo il dire viltà perché era un lanajolo." 20. "Non potersi difendere Dante col fatto di Michel di Lando perché seguì molti anni dopo la sua morte, cioè nel 1374 [«e]." 21. Pietrobono (1915,257-72). For a complete bibliography on this topic, see Mazzoni (1967, 390—415). 22. The list of the twentieth-century scholars who accepted the interpretation of Pascoli (1902) can be found in Mazzoni (1967, 4 0 2 - 3 ) . The recent study by Iannucci (1974) is also worthy of note. 23. Padoan (1962, 64, n.2) had already stressed the importance of the passage in question. In my opinion, the argumentation of Paratore (1986,35) is hardly convincing: "The definition as 'cruel' (crudele) and the comparison with Philip the Fair would lead one to think undoubtedly of a condemnation of Pilate to Hell, and not of his inclusion in the vestibule. But despite the fact that more than one authoritative scholar was not dissuaded from thinking about Pilate because of the place, I am becoming more and more convinced that even in the vestibule there are damned souls undergoing punishment; and a more attentive analysis of the [relevant] passage of the Purgatorio has led me to reject my first impression." Paratore, whose essay betrays a wealth of critical insights, especially regarding the text's relationship to the Aeneid, is, in this particular part of the argument, rather weak. The fact that "authoritative scholars" believed that the

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identification of colui as Pilate was possible is not a sufficient argument to convince other scholars, even if they are far less "authoritative." 24. Epistola XIII, 9: "Forma sive modus tractandi est poeticus, Activus, descriptivus, digressivus, transumptivus et cum hoc diffinitivus, et exemplorum positivus." 25. Epistola XIII, 16: "non ad speculandum sed ad opus inventum est totum et pars." 26. Convivio II, viii, 2: "sempre quello che massimamente dire intende lo dicitore si dee riservare di dietro; però che quello che ultimamente si dice, più rimane ne l'animo de lo uditore." 27. See Petrocchi (1953 and 1957), Nardi (1957), and Padoan (1962). It was

Nardi (1962) who sparked this heated exchange of opinions. 28. Paolino Pieri (1755, $7) : "fu fatto papa uno che si chiamò Celestino." "In quest'anno Celestino papa andò a Napoli, e dadovero egli era uomo molto santo e religioso e di buona vita e lo re Carlo li fece grande onore e ricevettelo graziosamente. Questi fece una nuova decretale, che mai infino a lui non era essuta, che fece che ogne Papa d'allora innanzi potesse rinunziare al Papato per utilità dell'anima sua; e quando elli ebbe questo decreto fatto e fermo e approvato per li suoi compagni, il dì della beata Lucia a' dì tredici di dicembre in Concistorio, in presenza de' Cardinali si dipuose il manto, e renunziò la segnoria e il Papato, e fecene fare carta e puose giù la corona e la mitra, la qual cosa parve a molti gran maraviglia." 29. Paolino Pieri, L'Editore a chi legge, p. xiv: "Degno è pur di lode il nostro Paolino, poiché quantunque Guelfo e per consequenza uomo apostolico e papale, in mezzo agli odi Ghibellineschi e tra malevolenza de' Bianchi e de' Neri, conserva qualche sincerità storica." 30. Manselli 1965,1982,1983, and 1985. See also the following entries by Manselli in the Enciclopedia dantesca: Clemente V, Giovanni XXII, Olivi, and Povertà. Manselli's studies are consistently accompanied by a thorough bibliography. 31. Enciclopedia dantesca s.v. Olivi. 32. Olivi (1918, 359): "potestas pape potest consideran vel secundum se, et sic est maior sede papali tanquam imperane et presidens ei, vel potest considerati per respectum ad personam, in qua est, et sic quo ad diuturnitatem perdurandi, non est maior sua sede, quia persona pape potest facilius corrumpi aut ad regimen ecclesiarum inudlis reddi quam sedes romana." 33. Convivio IV, ν, 8: "Né Ί mondo mai non fu né sarà sì perfettamente disposto come allora che a la voce d'un sol principe di Roma popolo e comandatore fu ordinato." See also Simonelli (1970, 334-35). 34. As Manselli (1983, 23) has observed: "Francis and his Franciscans are born as a popular phenomenon, in a declared and explicit absence of activity of the Church. I think that no heated and virulent anticlerical invective is charged more with reproach than the calm, yet unequivocal words of the saint's testament: 'Postquam Dominus dedit mihi de fratribus, nemo ostendebat mihi quid deberem facere.'"

IIO I NOTES TO PAGES 5 4 - 5 8 35. Olivi (1918, 346): "Nihil in ecclesia magis necessarium quam solida auctoritasfideiet eius per quern precipue habet interpretan et diffiniri ac deffendi et conservari, et contra nichil periculosius quam dare grandem occasionem, ut principalis potestas et auctoritas fidei contempnatur et scismatice evellatur et abiciatur ac tyrannice et ambitiöse usurpetur." 36. It is important to remember that among the faithful one must include Dante, who continued to consider Boniface VIII a usurper, according to the words of Saint Peter in Paradiso XXVII. 37. Olivi, Expositio Lamentationum Jeremiae: "Nam cum ecclesia traditur hereticis vel quibuscumque reprobis, tunc hereditas nostra traditur alienis et filii ecclesie carent sanctis patribus et ipse ecclesie bonis sponsis omnisque gratia simoniace venditur et emitur ita ut etiam sacramentorum signa idest eorum misteralia elementa absque precio nequeant optineri. Estque tunc summa et universalis egestas divine gratie et doctrine dominanturque ecclesiis servi et ribaldi. . . . Propter quod . . . in suppremis montibus seu in supprema spectacula religionum et ecclesiarum discurrunt vulpes ipocritarum et viri dolosissimi et astutissimi" (cited after Manselli 1955,151). 38. Convivio I, i, 13; I, ix, 5. 39. Guido da Pisa (1974, 60—61): "Ista vilia animalia, musce scilicet atque vespe, que ad istorum cruciatum perpetuimi deputantur, tenent similitudinem et figuram vilissimarum cogitationum ac etiam operationum, quas cogitant et operantur in hoc mundo isti tales miseri et vecordes." 40. Pietro Alighieri (1978, 82): "Musce vero et vespe ita pungents eos sunt eorum parve, viles et misere cure et operationes ut sunt dicta animalia." 41. Benvenuto (1887, 121): "Propriissime hoc fìngit Dantes, quia propter inordinatam vitam eorum isti miseri incurrunt scabiem, lepram et alia turpissima genera morborum quibus jacent miserabiliter in hospitalibus, et sepe in stratis et fossatis et nullus visitât eos, nisi genus muscarum et vesparum." 42. Ibid., 122: "Et nota, lector, quod quamvis ista materia sit fastidiosa, tarnen est utile ipsam declarasse ad exemplum et terrorem aliorum, ut caveant tam miserabilem sectam captivorum." 43. F. da Buti (1858, 93—94): "Questo si conviene a chi è stato pigro in questa vita, che poi nell'altra sia stimolato da mosconi e da vespe, vili animali, siccome vile è stata questa vita, ed occupata a disutili pensieri, nudo d'ogni difensione. . . . Ora è da notare che allegoricamente questa pena si trova ne' miseri cattivi, che in tal modo vivono in questo mondo: imperò che se bene si considera, questi così fatti sono nudi d'ogni operazione e occupazione virtuosa, e poi sono tutti punti dal capo a' piedi da mosconi e vespe, cioè da vilissimi e noiosissimi pensieri e concetti, i quali cavano il sangue del corpo, cioè consumano la vita . . . e da fastidiosi vermi è ricolto a' piedi loro: cioè le loro affezioni sono accompagnate con occupazioni vilissime e fastidiosissime nelle quali s'occupa e si consuma la lor misera vita . . . piena di dolore e tristizia." 44. Wisd. of Sol. 16:9: "Illos (qui efiugerunt Dei laudem et benedictionem) enim locustarum et muscarum occiderunt morsus, et non est inventa sanitas animae illorum."

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45. Job 24:20: "Obliviscatur eius misericordia, dulcedo illius vermes: non sit in recordatione, sed conteratur quasi lignum infructuosum." CHAPTER 7: Toward the Acheron ι. Iacopo della Lana (1886,132): "lo quale elli [Dante] appella Achirante, e questo per allegoria significa la dilettazione carnale, la quale è principio a tutti i vizii." 2. Benvenuto (1887,123): "Forte ut admoneat eum, quod eundum est tacite et cum praemeditatione ad istud primum principium Inferni." 3. Boccaccio (1918,259): "quello che l'autore per lofiumee per lo nocchiero e per lo caso che a lui addivenne, voglia sentire." 4. F. da Buti (1858,97) : "Sopra questa parte non è allegoria: però che questo pone l'autore per continuare lo suo processo." 5. See Padoan (1967, 61). CHAPTER 8: Charon

ι. Saint Augustine, De Civitate Dei II, 10: "maligni spiritus, quos isti deos putant." 2. Ibid., 29: "Non sunt dii, maligni sunt spiritus, quibus aeterna tua felicitas poena est." 3. F. Vagni, in Enciclopedia dantesca s.v. "Caronte." 4. De Civitate Dei IX, 18.1 did not extend my research on the problem of gods/demons to other patristic sources where it is treated. My aim here, instead, was to focus solely on the author and the works which Dante undoubtedly had read and studied. 5. Fornaciari (1887, 662) wrote: "In conclusion . . . we cannot see in this passage anything but an infernal trap . . . moved . . . by the work of Charon." 6. De Civitate Dei IX, 20. 7. For the purpose of our research, it would be useful to cite, for example, all of Rev. 1:14: "caput autem eius, et capilli erant candidi tamquam lana alba e tamquam nix, et oculi eius tamquam fiamma ignis." 8. Iacopo della Lana (1886,133): "la dilettazione della carne . . .; per simile allegoria . . . Caron . . . significa la voluntade carnale, come avere cupiditate over concupiscenzia d'ogni dilettazione carnale . ..; mostra . . . quasi a dire che Dante non era vizioso di delettazione carnale, e che quello non era suo porto." 9. Guido da Pisa (1974, 61): "Nota quod primus spiritus dyabolicus qui apparuit Danti est iste Caron.... Et tenet figuram et similitudinem carnis.. . . Interpretatur enim Caron: omnis caro." 10. Pietro Alighieri (1978, 86): "ideo fingit Charon, idest tempus." 11. Ibid.: "Caron autem . . . pro tempore accipitur hie allegorice; nam dicitur Caron quasi Croron [sic] quod interpretatur tempus." 12. Ibid., 83: "Charon enim . . . interpretatur tempus. Nam dicitur Caron

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quasi Cronum, quod tempus interpretatur, quod quidem tempus nos vehit per discursus mundi hui us, ut nauta quidam et malorum animas tandem ad Infernum de hac vita transportât." 13. F. da Buti (1858,100): "l'amore disordinato che guida l'anime per tutti i peccati." 14. Ibid., 102: "Veduta la convenienza dellafinzionequanto alla lettera, ora è da vedere l'allegorica esposizione.... Et a questo si può dire che questo fiume Acheronte . . . sia l'ostinazione. . . . E lo nocchiero Caron è il disordinato amore, come è detto di sopra." 15. Landino, fol. 2Γ: "Diremmo dunque che intendendosi per Acheronte il moto che fa l'anima di passar nel peccato, Charonte si è il libero arbitrio et la nave sia la volontà et il remo l'elettione." 16. Gelli (1887,262) : "Caronte, preso da chi per la concupiscenza, da chi per il tempo e per la consuetudine, e da chi per il libero arbitrio, guida l'anima con la barca delle voluttà nell'Inferno del peccato e del dolore." CHAPTER 9: The Souls at the River ι. Iacopo della Lana (1886,135): "mostra la mala disposizione del mondo, che è sì pronto ai vizii e peccati, che quel nocchiero appena può riparare a fare lo ditto traghetto." 2. The biblical reference in question is perhaps Isa. 5:24-25. 3. Benvenuto (1887, 128-29): "Et subdit verba desperata ipsorum dicens: bestemiavam Dio, hoc dicit Isaías, e i lor parenti, scilicet patrem et matrem, qui genuerunt eos, l'umana, specie, quia scilicet vellent fuisse bruta, in quibus anima moritur simul cum corpore, ut evitarent mortem eternam, qua! nunc promittebatur eis, il luoco e Ί tempo, quae faciunt ad generationem; nam videmus quod alia ammalia nascuntur in uno loco et tempore, alia in alio, e Ί seme di lor semencia, sicut primos parentes; ideo dicit, e di lor nascimenti." 4. Iacopo della Lana (1886,134): "nella dolorosa nave in la quale s'alcuno s'adagiava era battuto col remo." 5. Boccaccio (1918, 253): "qualunque di quelle anime s'adagia a sedere o in altra guisa." 6. Ibid., 262: "le quali si adagiano nella sua nave, intendendo per questo la sollecitudine di coloro i quali all'acquisto delle cose temporali son tutti dati." 7. Benvenuto (1887, 130): "[Autor] attribuit proprietatem videndi arbori . . . autor accipit istam comparationem a Virgilio et addit pulchre istam particulam ultimam." CHAPTER 10: Divine Justice 1. Sapegno (1985, 38) (note to verse 126). 2. Concerning the cognitive limitation of Virgil as a persona in the Commedia, see Hollander (1983).

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3. See Deut. 6:13, Matt. 4:10, and Eccles. 8:13. 4. Epístola VI, 2: "Nulla etenim conditio delinquentis formidolosior, quam impudenter et sine Dei timore quicquid libet agentis. Hac nimirum persepe animadversione percutitur impius, ut moriens obliviscatur sui, qui dum viveret oblitus est Dei." 5. Benvenuto (1887, 131): "il maestro cortese Virgilius liberalis in dando sententiam suam . . . tutti quelli che muoion nell'ira di Dio de quibus Deus intendit facere iustam ultionem, quia provocaverunt eum ad iram." 6. Ibid.: "sponte vadit ad mortem et supplicium cum posset evadere." 7. Boccaccio (1918, 264): "qualunque uomo cade in peccato morale [è] incontanente messo nella prigione del diavolo.. . con questa condizione che se . . . si vuole riconoscere [peccatore] e per penitenza riconciliarsi con Dio . . . possa così uscire della detta prigione eritornarein sua libertà." 8. F. da Buti (1858,10$) : "Ben può avvederti che elli [Caronte] si duole che tu sia buono: imperò che vorrebbe che tu fossi peccatore come li altri, e passassi in su la nave, e così onestamente l'autore ha posta la sua loda . . . in nessuna parte del testo pone che passasse lo fiume in su la nave di Caron." 9. Parodi (1916, 288), cited by Mazzoni (1967,445). CHAPTER 11: Prodigy and Sleep ι. See in this regard Simonelli (1967) and Vasoli (1988,108—12). 2. Regardless of whether the Detto d'amore and the Fiore should be attributed to Dante (cf. Contini 1984), there is no doubt that the Roman de la rose was obligatory reading for any intellectual at the end of the thirteenth century. 3. Iacopo della Lana (1886,135) : "Or è da sapere che Dante non era vizioso di tal peccato [sensualità]. E però com'elli passa tale fiume noi dice, ma mostra poeticamente come fu sorpreso da sonno, siccome appare nel testo." 4. Ottimo (1827, 34): "[Dante] pone fine a questo capitolo, nella conclusione del quale pone un tremuoto e un baleno di che l'Autore cadde tramortito e a denotare che passò il fiume senza molestia di sentimenti." 5. Pietro Alighieri (1978, 87): "Ultimo, auctor, quia hoc suum tale transiré vero non fuit nec ad oculum, sed tantum ad locutionem (nam que loquimur falsa esse possunt, non que videmus)fingitse, dormiendo, transportatum fore a dicto Carone per dictum flumen, sequendo stilum Virgilii." 6. Ibid., 84: "Et quia ad haec talia speculative contemplanda venitur, fingit se de una ad aliam dittifluminis,dormiendo, auctor fuisse ita translatum ibi per dictum Caronem." 7. Boccaccio (1918,255) : "quando alcuna anima purgata sale al cielo . . così in inferno, le anime dannate . . . intendendo venire anime ad accrescere la loro tristizia, tutte oltre al dolore usato si contristano e piangono." 8. Ibid., 169: "l'autore per lo sonno non essersi accorto come nella pregione del diavolo s'entrasse . . . e trovandosi dall'altra parte del fiume, assai leggermente conoscer si può la sua colpa e la sentenzia di Dio avervelo trasportato. E

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questo trasportamento sarebbe stoltizia a credere che corporale fosse stato: fu adunque spirituale." 9. Benvenuto (1887,132): "aliqui exponunt istam literam fortem leviter, et dicunt quod autor fingit se incidisse in sincopim ut transiret fetulentam paludem Acherontis sine turbatione sensus." 10. Ibid.: "aliqui viri famosi. . . dicunt quod autor sub ista Actione vult dicere quod ipse intravit infernum, id est viam viciorum, per superbiam et superbam gloriam." 11. Ibid.: "Sed quidquid dicant omnes, mihi videtur quod ista non sit intentio autoris. . . . Autor imo vult ostendere quo modo ductu rationis intravit speculationem viciorum, ut, illa cognita, exiret." 12. Ibid.: "fulgentem claritatem cognitionis, quae illuminavit intellectum meum, ita quod omnino me abtraxit ab istis exterioribus, nam clausit mihi oculos corporales et aperuit mentales." 13. Ibid., 133: "Et adverte, lector, quod autor in isto primo introitu Inferni facit subtiliter istam Actionem, quam sepe facit alibi; unde similiter quando vult intrare Purgatorium, fingit se obdormisse et sic dormientem raptum fuisse a quadam aquila, et ita alibi sepe." 14. F. da Buri (1858,107) : 'Vera similitudine della poesi. Ma il baleno è bene contro alla verisimilitudine, se non si escusasse questo fosse cosa sopra natura come altre che finge l'autore . . . e questo finge per dare ad intendere l'avvenimento dell'angelo, il quale lo portò di là dal fiume." 15. Landino, fol. 23': "Adunque è necessario che Dante, cioè la sensualità sia portata nell'Inferno addormentata, acciò che non insurga contro la ragione . . . una luce vermiglia è la divina grazia, la qual Dio . . .manda di subito a corroborare et a raddrizzare tal volontà . . . luce, perchè illumina . . . vermiglia . . . perchè oltre al dimostrarle la via, l'accende et infiamma de l'amore serafico di quella." 16. Castelvetro (1886, 58): "Non fa miga così nel tremuoto del Purgatorio . . . Laonde io non posso commendare questa disuguaglianza in questo poeta." 17. For an exhaustive treatment of the essential bibliography on these verses, see Mazzoni (1967, 4 5 2 - 5 4 ) . 18. A complete examination of the patristic and apocryphal texts may be useful. We may be able to see if the earthquake, wind, and lightning have an emblematic value which has been lost to us, but was relevant for Dante and was connected with visions or the presence of the divine.

c h a p t e r 12:

The Form and Meaning of Canto III

ι. I don't believe Dante would have ignored this. Even if the canonization took place only in 1312, rumors about Celestine's sanctity were widespread not only among the Spirituals but during the extended proceedings against Boniface VIII that were instigated by Philip IV the Fair immediately after Boniface's death. 2. Epistola XIII, 11: "prout merendo obnoxius est iustitie premiandi."

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Anonimo Fiorentino. Commento alla Divina Commedia d'Anonimo Fiorentino del secolo XIV ora per la prima volta stampato. Ed. Pietro F anfani. Bologna, 1866. Aquinas, Saint Thomas. Summa theologica. 3 vols. Trans. Fathers of the English Dominican Province. New York, 1947. Avalle, G. [Selmi Glosses] Le antiche chiose anonime all'inferno di Dante secondo il testo Marciano (Ital.ClJX, cod. 179). Città di Castello, 1900. Barbarani, E. Due chiose dantesche. Verona, 1897. Barbi, Michele. Problemi di critca dantesca: Seconda serie, 1930-1937. Florence, 1941 (repr. 1975). Bargigi, G. Lo Inferno della Commedia di Dante Alighieri col comento di Guinijbrto detti Bargigi tratta da due manoscritti inediti del secolo decimoquinto. Introduction by G. Zacheroni. Marsilia, 1838. Barlow, H . C . "Il gran rifiuto": What It Was and How Fatal to Dante Alighieri. London, 1862. Beccaria, Gian Luigi. L'autonomia del sanificato: Figure delritmoe della sintassi. Dante, Pascoli, D'Annunzio. Turin, 1975. Bembo, Pietro. Opere involgare. Ed. M. Marti. Prose della volgar lingua. Florence, 1961. Benvenuto dei Rambaldi. Comentum super Dantis Alighieri Comoediam. Voi. 1. Ed. G. W. Vernon and J. F. Lacaita. Florence, 1887. Bergmann, F. G. Solution de l'énigme cinq fois séculaire concernant l'ombre de colui "che fece per viltade il gran rifiuto." Noto, 1877. Berthier, G., ed. La Divina Commedia con commenti secondo la scolastica. Voi. 1. Fribourg, 1892. Betti, Salvatore. Postille alla Divina Commedia qui per la prima volta edite su il manoscritto dell'autore. Ed. G. Cugnoni. Città di Castello, 1893. Bianchi, Brunone, ed. La Commedia di Dante Alighierifiorentinonuovamente riveduta nel testo e dichiarata. Florence, 1844 (4th ed., 1854). Boccaccio, Giovanni. Il commento alla Divina Commedia egli altri scritti intorno a Dante. Ed. D. Guerri. Bari, 1918. Brugnoli, G. "Orror/Error (Inferno III, 31)." Studi Danteschi 54 (1982): 15-30. Bulgarini, G. Β. Alcuni luoghi di Dante spiegati. Siena, 1878. Buti, Francesco da. Commento sopra la Divina Commedia di Dante Alighieri. Voi. ι. Ed. C. Giannini. Pisa, 1858. Buder, A. J. The Hell of Dante Alighieri. ... Notes by A. J. Buder. London, 1892. 115

Il6 I B I B L I O G R A P H Y Casella, Mario. "Per il testo critico del Convivio e della Divina Commedia." Studi di Filologia Italiana 7 (1944) : 73-77. Casini, Tommasso. La Divina Commedia di Dante Alighieri con il commento di T. Casini. Ed. S. A. Barbi. Voi. 1: Inferno. Florence, 1926. Castelvetro, Lodovico. Sposizione di Lodovico Castelvetro aXXIX canti dell'Inferno dantesco. Ed. G. Franciosi. Modena, 1886. Charles, R. H. The Apocrypha and Pseudepigrapha of the Old Testament. Vol. 2: Pseudepigrapha. Oxford, 1913. Chiappelli, A. Il canto IH dell'Inferno. Florence, 1917. Ciardi, John. The Inferno: A Verse Rendering for the Modem Reader. New York, 195+· Contini, Gianfranco, ed. Il Fiore e il Detto d'amore attribuibili a Dante. Milan, 198+. D'Ancona, Alessandro. Iprecursori di Dante. Florence, 1874. Dizionario della Lingua Italiana. Ed. Tommaseo-Bellini. Turin, 1929 (reprint). Dolcini, Carlo. Il pensiero politico di Michele da Cesena (1328-1338). Faenza, 1977. Donadoni, E. Scritti e discorsi letterari. Florence, 1921. Duvernoy, Jean, ed. Li Registre d'Inquisition deJacques Fournier, évêque de Pamiers (1318-1325). Manuscript Lat. 4030, Vatican Library. Toulouse, 1965. Enciclopedia dantesca. Ed. Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana. Rome, 1970-78. Eroli, G. Commento al verso del terzo canto dell'Inferno "Che fece per viltade ilgran rifiuto." (Pubi, with an essay appearing in Osservatore Romano [30 March 1893].) First pubi, in Arcadia 4, no. 6 (1892). Forcella, V., and E. Seletti. Iscrizioni cristiane in Milano anteriori al nono secolo. Codogno, 1897. Fornaciari, Raffaello. "Il passaggio dell'Acheronte e il sonno di Dante." Nuova Antologia (3d series) 10 (1887): 649—63. Forti, Fiorenzo. Magnanimitade: Studi su un tema dantesco. Bologna, 1977. Foscolo, Ugo. La Commedia di Dante Alighieri illustrata da Ugo Foscolo. Voi. 2. London, 1842. Freccerò, John. "Dante and the Neutral Angels." Romanie Review 51 (1961) : 3-14. . "Dante's 'per sé' Angels." Studi Danteschi 39 (1962): 3—38. Funaioli, Gino. "Dante e il mondo antico." In Medioevo e Rinascimento: Studi in onore di B. Nardi, pp. 321-38. Florence, 1955. Gelli, Giovan Battista. Letture edite e inedite di G. B. Gelli sopra la Commedia di Dante. Voi. 1. Ed. C. Negroni. Florence, 1887. Grabher, Carlo. La Divina Commedia, col commento di Carlo Grabber. Vol. ι: Inferno. Florence, 1936. Graziolo de' Bambaglioli. Il commento dantesco di Graziola de'Bambaglwlo. Ed. A. Fiammazzo. Savona, 191$. Guido da Pisa. Guido da Pisa's Expositiones et Glosse super Comediam Dantis, or Commentary on Dante's Inferno. Ed. with notes and intro., V. Cioffari. Albany, N.Y, 1974. Hollander, Robert. II Virgilio dantesco: Tragedia nella "Commedia." Florence, 1983.

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. "Dante on Horseback?" Italica 6i (1984): 2 8 7 - 9 6 . Iacopo Alighieri. Chiose sulla cantica· dell'Infernotti Dante Alighieri scritte da Iacopo Alighieri. Ed. Di Jarro (G. Piccini). Florence, 1915. Iacopo della Lana. Comedia di Dante Alighieri col commento di Iacopo della Lana. Ed. L. Scarabelli. Bologna, 1886. latinucci, G. Pilato l'Ignavo: Esegesi Evangelico-dantesca. Bologna, 1974. Landino, Christoforo. Dante con l'espositùme di Christoforo Landino et Alessandro Vellutello. Venice, 1J78. Lansing, Richard H., trans. Dante's "Il Convivio" ("The Banquet"). New York, 1990.

Lombardi, B., ed. La Divina Commedia di Dante Alighieri. Rome, 1791 (3d ed., 1820).

Longfellow, H. W., trans. The Divine Comedy of Dante Alighieri. Boston, 1865 (repr. 1895)· Mackenzie, Kenneth, trans. The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri. London, 1979.

Manselli, Raoul. "Dante e l'Ecclesia Spiritualis." In Atti del Convegno di Studi, pp. 115—35. Ed. "Casa di Dante," under the auspices of the Comune di Roma, in collaboration with the Istituto di Studi Romani (Rome, 8 - 1 5 Aprii 1965). Florence, 1965. . "Dante e gli Spirituali francescani." Letture Classensi 11 (1982): 4 7 - 6 1 . . Il secolo ΧΠ: Religione popolare ed erasia. Rome, 1983. . Il soprannaturale e la religione popolare nelMedieovo. Rome, 1985. Mazzoni, Francesco. Saggio di un nuovo commento alla Divina Commedia. Inferno, Canti Ι—ΠΙ. Florence, 1967. Mazzoni, Guido. Lectura Dante Genovese: Il canto III dell'Inferno. Florence, 1904. Reprinted in Letture Dantesche: Inferno, pp. 45—58. Ed. G. Getto. Florence, 1955. Monini, Stefano. San Celestino difeso dalla accusa di viltà datagli dai glossatori di Dante. Pisa, 1892. Monti, Vincenzo. "L'interpretazione di un passo di Dante non inteso da tutti gli espositori." Biblioteca Italiana (1 February 1816). Moore, Edward. Studies in Dante: First Series. Scripture and Classical Authors in Dante. Oxford, 1896 (repr. 1969). Morpurgo, G. Dalle sue lettere e dai suoi libretti di guerra: Dai prima studi. Florence, 1926. Nardi, Bruno. "Dante e Celestino V." Lettere di Dante 9 (1957): 225-38. . "E rieccoci a 'colui che fece per viltà il gran rifiuto.' " Giornale storico della letteratura italiana 139 (1962): 384—91. Reprinted in Saggi e note di critica dantesca, pp. 321-31. Milan, 1966. Nicosia, Paolo. Allaricercadella coeranza: Saggi d'esegesi dantesca. Messina, 1967. . Dieci saggi sull'Inferno dantesco. Messina, 1969. Olivi, Pietro di Giovanni. "De renuntiatione Papae Celestini V." In Archivum FranciscanumHistoricum π (1918). Ed. P. L. Oliger. Ottimo. L'Ottimo Commento della Divina Commedia. Testo inedito d'un contemporaneo di Dante citato dagli Accademici della Crusca. [Ed. A. Torri.] Pisa, 1827.

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I

N

D

E

X

(ist redaction, 1337-40; 2d redaction, Acheron (Acheronte), xix, 5,4,59,60,61, 1350-55; 3d redaction, 1358), 3,13-17, 65-72,80, 83,86-88, 91-93,99, m, Π2, 20,22, 33-35,42,43,56, 60,66,67,73, 114 80,87,90,91, 99,100,102,103,106, Adam (Adamo), 70,79 108, no, m, 113 Adami, Antonio Filippo, 51,52 Anonimo Fiorentino (early 15th c.), 12,16, Aeneas (Enea), xx, 6,20,21,59,75,85,103 Alexander of Hales, 34 19,21, 28, 34,42, 89, IOO, ΙΟΙ, 102-4 Alighieri, Dante, xix, 97,100,103,105,107, Aristotle, 14,21,22,104 108, no, in, 113-14 Augustine (Saint), 13,14,63,65,102, Convivio: I, i, 13,110; I, viti, 3,15; I, ix, s, III no; I, xi, 18-21, no; Π, tv, 17, 37; II, v, Avalle, Giuseppe, 33 7-8,15; II, viti, 2,109; Π, χ, 8, 79; II, xiii, 6, 22; ΠΙ, viti, s, 2; ΙΠ, xit, 12,15; Bambaglioli. See Graziolo de' Bambaglioli IV, ν, 8,109; IV, χ, 10,5; IV, xvi, 4-8,5 Barbarani, E., 47 De volgari eloquentia: I, vii, 4,15; I, viti, 1, Barbi, Michele, 7 24; il, tv, 2, 85 Barbi, Silvio Adrasto, 29,91 Inferno: 1,2,18,84; 1,4,19; I, us-17, 21; Bargigi, Guiniforto (1406-63), 3,14,16,28, II, 3; Π, 4S, 6; IV, 86; V, i-is, 4; VI, 81, 32, 34, 37, 89,100,106 72; VII, 102, 7; VII, no-n, 30; VII, Barlow, Henry Clark, 46 121—23,31; xi, 22-23,32; xi, S3, 32; XIV, Beatrice, 2,37,58,85,94 16-18, 85; XIX, SS-S7,52; XXIV, 7 f f ; 24; Beccaria, Gian Luigi, 24 XXVI, 1—12, 85; XXVII, 103-S, 50; Bellini, Bernardo, 6 XXXII, 112, 85; XXXIII, 79-90, 85 Bembo, Pietro, 68 Purgatorio: 1,34-36, 69; II, 41, 69; VI, 84; Benedict XII (pope), 42,108 Benvenuto da Imola. See Rambaldi, Benxxvm, SI-S3, s; xx, 90,47 venuto Paradiso: II, S3, 37; IV, 4t¡-42, 37; IV, 116, 104; VIH, 46; XV, 27-29, 80; XV, soBergmann, Federico Guglielmo, 48 il, 80; XVI, 16, 74; XVII, S8-60,42; Berthier, Joachim Joseph, 12,15, 21,22,29, XVII, 132-42,48; XX, 133-38, 2; XXV, 36,75,76,91 1-9, 86; XXVII, 58, no; XXVII, s8-6o, Bertrando del Poggetto (cardinal), 33,41, 42; xxvm, 58; XXIX, 58; xxxni, 42 124, π; ΧΧΧΠΙ, I4S, H Biagioli, Niccolò Giosafatte, 106 Monarchia, 41,104; III, xvi, 7, 22 Bianchi, Brunone, 7,15 Epistolae: XI, 8,15; ΧΙΠ, 48-49; XHI, 9, biblical references: 2,109; XIII, a, 114; ΧΠΙ, 16, 99,109 Genesis 2:15, 31 Alighieri, Iacopo (late 13th C.-1348), 32,41, Exodus 8:20-32,58 43,107 Deuteronomy 6:13,113; 11:18-20,12-13 Alighieri, Pietro (d. 1364): Commentarium Job 38:17,102; 24:20,58, HI 121

122

INDEX

biblical references (coni.):

Psalms 34:5,25; 45(96) :5,63; 106:18,13,

102 Ecclesiastes 8:13,113 Wisdom of Solomon 16:9,55,10

Isaiah 5:24-25,112; 17:13,25

Lamentations 1:9,11; 1:11,11; 1:12,11,101;

1:18, il, 101; 1:20,11; 3:49,11; 3:51,11; 3:59,11; 3:60, II Matthew 4:10,113; 7:13,13; 16:18,13,102; 13:42,72; 25:14-30,4,9; 25:30,99; 25:41-42,17 Mark 9:43,17 John 3:8,91; 3:41,19; 6:61,19; 10:9,12 2 Thessalonians 1:9,17

Revelation 1:6,65; 1:14,65, in; 2:18,65; 3:14-16, 8-9; 3:15-16, 35,106; 9:6, 37, 107; 12:7-10,17; 12:9,103; 19:12, 65; 21:8, 31-32,105

Boccaccio, Giovanni (1313-75), 3,8,16,17,

19,28-30, 34, 36,40,42,60, 67, 68,73, 75, 81, 88, 89, 91,102,104,106,107, hi—

13 Boniface VIII (pope), 41,50,51—53,55,56,

96,107, no, 114

Bonvesino de la Riva, 20 Brandanus (Saint), 34 Brugnoli, Giorgio, 29,115 Bulgarini, Giovanni Battista, 47 Buti. See Francesco da Buti Butler, A. J., 8 Cacciaguida, 48,49, 74, 80 Caetani, Benedetto (cardinal). See Boniface VIII Casella, Mario, 76 Casini, Tommaso, 29,91 Castelvetro, Lodovico (1505-71), 28, 32,45,

61, 67, 75,78, 90,114

Cato, 69 Cecco d'Ascoli, 107 Celestine V (pope), 7,41-47,49-53, 55,56,

58-60, 86,96,107-9,114

Cerberus, 63 Cerchi, Torrigiano de', 46 Cerchi, Vieri de', 46,47 Cesari, Antonio, 75 Charles I of Anjou, 51,109 Charles, R. H., 16

Charon (Caronte), xix, 3,60-73,75,78,

80-83,86, 87,90, 91,93, m—13 Chiappelli, Alessandro, 13,100,103 Chimenz, Siro Α., 29,74 Christ, 4,40,47,48,53,54,66 Ciardi, John, 8 Cioffari, Vincent, 13,103 Clement V (pope), 42,107,109 Clement VI (pope), 42 Clement XII (pope), 104 Clement of Alexandria, 34 Colonna (family), 50,52 Contini, Gianfranco, 113 Creagh, Patrick, xvii Croce, Benedetto, 92 Cronos, 112 D'Ancona, Alessandro, 34 Della Vedova, Roberto, 99 Diocletian (Diocletianus, üevelkianus), 43-45, 47,108 Dis (Dite), 13,17 Dolcini, Carlo, 52 Donadoni, Eugenio, 91 Duns Scotus, 34 Duvernoy, Jean, 108 Erebus, 74 Eroli, Giovanni, 46,47

Esaù, 42,44-47

Eutropius, 43,108 Farinata, 37,72 Ferrante, Joan, xx Forcella, Vittorio, 12 Fornaciari, Raffaello, 65, 91, ni Forti, Fiorenzo, 99,100 Foscolo, Ugo, 76,90 Fournier, Jacques. See Benedict XII

Francesco da Buti (1324-1405), 14,16,23, 28, 32, 34, 37, 40,42, 57, 61, 67, 73, «I, 82, 88-91,102-4,106,107, no—14 Francis (Saint), 19,53 Freccerò, John, 8,32,34,100,105 Fulgentius, 66 Funaioli, Gino, 13,101 Gaiotto, Cristina, xx

INDEX Gelli, Giovan Battista (1498-1563), 11,13, 14,19,28,40,45,67,90,102-4,112 Giano della Bella, 46,51 Goldblatt, Harvey, xx Gorgon, 91 Grabher, Carlo, 24,29,40,75,92 Graziolo de' Bambaglioli (commentary, ca. 1322-24), 14,15, 35,41,60, 66,102,106, 107 Guido da Montefeltro, 50, 96 Guido da Pisa (Expositiones, ca. 1327), 3,7, 13,15-17,28,41,42,45,56,57, 66,73, 100,101-3,107, HO, III Guillaume de Lorris, 85 Guillaume de Nogaret, 48 Hercules, 64 Hollander, Robert, xvii, xx, 2,82,101,112 Homer, xix Hugh Capet, 47 Hugh of St. Victor (Ugo de Santo Victore), 33—35,106 Iacopo della Lana (commentary, ca. 132428), H, 15,19,21,22,32,38,41,60,66, 67, 73-75, 80, 87,101-5,107,111-13 Iannucci, Giovanni, 47,48,108 Innocent VI (pope), 42 Isidore of Seville, 25,104 Jean de Meung, 85 Jerome (Saint), 11,103 John (Giovanni) XXII (pope), 42,52,109 Julian the Apostate, 48 Lactantius, 34 Lana. See Iacopo della Lana Lancia, Andrea (ca. 1280-1360). See Ottimo Landino, Cristoforo (1424-98; commentary, 14S1), h, 13,14,16-19,28,44,67, 101—3, ιο8,112 Lansing, Richard, 2,49,100 Latini, Brunetto, 37,72 Lombardi, Baldassarre, 7,28,34,36,46,74, 76,90,106 Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth, 8 Lucifer (Luciferus, Lucifero), 15, 32—35, 102,105,106

I 123

Lucy (Lucia) (Saint), 51,91,109 Ludwig the Bavarian, 52 Mackenzie, Kenneth, 8 Macrobius, 66 Magalotti, Lorenzo, 36,90,106 Manselli, Raoul, 53,55,109, no Mars, 80 Mazzoni, Francesco, 10,15-17,19,20,22, 25, 29, 34, 41,49, 61, 65, 66, 69, 74, 82, 92, IOO, 103-8,113,114 Mazzoni, Guido, 12,20,40,69 Mellone, Α., 34 Michael (archangel), 17 Michele da Cesena, 52 Michele di Lando, 45,108 Minos, 4,6,32,63,65,82 Monini, Stefano, 46 Monti, Vincenzo, 36,106 Moore, Edward, 9,25 Morpurgo, Giacomo, 12,101 Moses, 16 Nardi, Bruno, 49,50,109 Nicosia, Paolo, 19,65 Night, 64 Olivi, Pietro di Giovanni, 34,52—55,109, no Ottimo, 8,14,16,19,28, 33,42,87, 88,100, 105,107,113 Ovid, 13,66 Padoan, Giorgio, 13,20-22,25,29,37,4850,74, 80,101,103,104, 108, 109, III Pagliaro, Antonino, 19 Panthus, 69 Paratore, Ettore, 59, 75,78,79,94, 95, 108 Parodi, Ernesto Giacomo, 66, 82,113 Pascoli, Giovanni, 40,47,92,108 Pasquini, Emilio, 99 Paul (Paulus) (Saint), xx, 6,85 Pellegrini, Anthony, xx Peter (Petrus) (Saint), 42,43,55,58, 85,108, 110 Peter the Confessor (Saint). See Celestine V Petrarch, 68

124

I INDEX

Petrocchi, Giorgio, xx, 10,27-29,49,50, 76,77,104,109 Pézard, André, 29 Philip the Fair, 47,48-53,108,114 Picchio, Riccardo, xx Pieri, Paolino, 51, 52,109 Pietro da Morrone. See Celestine V Pietrobono, Luigi, 7 , 4 6 , 4 7 , 4 9 , 9 2 , 1 0 0 , 107,108 Pirithous, 64 Pluto (Plutus), 63,65 Polites, 69 Pontius Pilate, 47,108,109 Ponzoni, Carlo, 12 Porena, Manfredi, 81,82,92 Pseudo-Augustine, 102 Pyrrhus, 69 Quaglio, Antonio, 99 Rambaldi, Benvenuto (early 14th C.-1388), 3, II, 14,16, 28, 29, 32, 33, 37, 40,42, 57, 60, 67, 73, 75, 76, 81, 88-90,102-7, no—14 Raoul de Houdenc, 85 Romulus Augustulus, 47 Ronconi, Alessandro, 13,19,68,76,82,93, 100,101 Rossetti, Gabriele, 7,14,36 Rossi, Vittorio, 13,100,101 Rostagno, L. Α., 47 Sacchetto, Aleardo, 69 Sapegno, Natalino, 13,23,29,48,63,73,79, 94,96,112 Satan,17,32,37,56,103 Scaglione, Aldo, xx Scartazzini, Giovanni Andrea, 29,91,92, 104

Scolari, Filippo, 90 Selmi, Francesco (Glosses), 33,42,66,105 Seneca, 66 Servius, 66 Sibyl (Sibilla), 20,21,64,82,103 Silvotti, Maria Teresa, 99 Simonelli, Maria Picchio, 24, 96,107,109, 113 Singleton, Charles S., 8,13,19,29, 37, 100 Statius, 13,102 Styx (Stige), 7,30 Taaffe, John, 8,24,25,28,36,68 Talice da Riccaldone, Stefano (1474, copied Benvenuto Rambaldi's lecture of 1375), 99 Theseus, 64 Thomas (Saint), 21,30,31,103-5 Tommaseo, Niccolò, 6, 7,29,57,58,63,71, 76,90 Trionfi, Antonio, 33 Vagni, Francesco, ih Valli, Luigi, 92 Vallone, Aldo, 106 Vandelli, Giuseppe, 29,104 Vasoli, Cesare, 113 Vellutello, Alessandro (commentary, 1544), 28,89 Venturi, Pompeo (1693-1752), 30,45,46, 75,104 Vernani, Giuseppe da Rimini, 33 Virgil (Virgilius, Virgilio), xix, xx, 3,6, 8, π, 13,17,18,20, 21,23,25,27, 30, 36-38, 59-61, 63-66,69-73, 76-82,84,85, 87, 90, 91,93,103,112,113 Zardo, Antonio, 91

This book has been set in Linotron Galliard. Galliard was designed for Mergenthaler in 1978 by Matthew Carter. Galliard retains many of the features of a sixteenth-century typeface cut by Robert Granjon but has some modifications that give it a more contemporary look. Printed on acid-free paper.