
I’ve been re-reading my notes from The Discarded Image by C S Lewis, plus listening to Prof Barolini’s lectures on the Cantos I read last week, and I think I’ve been too hard on Dante. I’ve blamed him for regaling his readers with one sadistic torture after another, but Prof Barolini says that Dante didn’t invent them, he used punishments that were actually in use by real people. (Such as the torture of the cloaks of molten lead that were used as a punishment for traitors by King Frederick II (1194-1250). Medieval people were inventive when it came to devising torture.)
Moreover, when we remember from CSL that the Medieval Model was meant to be a harmonious model of the universe based on theology, science and history as they knew it, Dante was quite right to be interrogating aspects that were not in harmony. Dante the Pilgrim’s questions to Virgil are often about pity, about punishment and about justice. Prof Barolini suggests that these are questions that troubled Dante the poet.
For him these were not just philosophical or intellectual questions. He himself was a victim of injustice and an unjust, cruel punishment. The threat of being burned at the stake if he set foot in Florence after he had been sentenced to perpetual exile even extended to his sons. (See Wikipedia)
So, moving on…
Canto XXVII
In one of Prof Barolini’s lectures that I listened to during this week, she said that some circles of hell get two cantos while other have two circles squeezed into one canto. Canto XXVII is the second one about the eighth bolgia. Ulysses makes his exit, and another flame emerges to ask about the current state of affairs in Romagna, his region of Italy. He turns out to be Guido da Montefeltro, originally a famed Ghibelline captain who became a friar but broke his vows. Yes, it was Dante’s nemesis Pope Boniface who was behind the campaign to besmirch the Colonna family, and the friar went to hell because instead of repenting, he trusted in the pope’s absolution.
#NotQuiteADigression: if there are any experts in the Roman Catholic rite of Confession out there, can a priest (or a pope) who is in a state of mortal sin himself, grant absolution? Plus, how can a penitent know about the state of the confessor’s soul? (Are all those people who made confession to paedophile priests still not absolved from their sins?) This is relevant to Guido da Montefeltro’s fate, because if he could not have known that Pope Boniface’s absolution was worthless, perhaps this is another case of Dante questioning The Rules by which Heaven and Hell were supposed to operate?
Anyway, Dante tells him that although Romagna is not currently in open warfare, Romagna is not not now and never was/without war in her tyrants’ hearts. The Notes in Musa’s edition explain the ins and outs of warfare in this area, probably of more interest to Dante the poet’s original readers than to us.
Whatever, in return, Dante the pilgrim asks the flame to identify itself, and the friar does so because he believes that no one in hell can ever return to earth. So he tells how he repented of his sins and became a monk:
When I saw that the time of life had come
for me, as it must come for every man,
to lower the sails and gather in the lines,
things I once found pleasure in then grieved me;
repentant and confessed, I took the vows
a monk takes. And, oh, to think it could have worked! (Canto XXVII, lines 79-84)
This man’s story gives Dante the opportunity to showcase Boniface’s perfidy and betrayal of his vows. Instead of fighting non-Christian rivals, he chose to wage war upon the Lateran i.e. political enemies in Rome
for his enemies were Christian souls
(none among the ones who conquered Acri,
none a trader in the Sultan’s kingdom).
His lofty papal seat, his sacred vows
were no concern to him, nor was the cord
I wore… (Canto XXVII, lines 88-93)
So the friar conspires with Boniface to con the rival Colonna Family into surrendering. Interestingly, Saint Francis turned up to escort the friar to heaven, but one of the Black Cherubim cried out/’Don’t touch him, don’t cheat me of what is mine!’ Remembering what C S Lewis wrote about the classes of angels and how the lowest two classes are like envoys who convey God’s wishes to mortals, it seems odd to me that Saint Francis had the wrong impression about Guido da Montefeltro’s destination. Musa makes it clear:
Guido’s principal error was self-deception: a man cannot be absolved from a sin before he commits it, and moreover, he cannot direct his will towards committing a sin and repent it at the same time. (p.323)
Musa also thinks that what these two sinners — Ulysses and Guido — have in common is that …
While all fraud involves in some way the abuse of the intellect, the intellect that Ulysses and Guido abused was exceptionally brilliant. If all men are endowed with reason, they had received a special gift from God, but they had used it — these brilliant sinners who shine in flames — for deception and the creation of snares. (p.324)
Musa is, I think just brilliant himself, but using his gifts to enlighten his readers.
Canto XXVIII
Here we are in the Ninth Bolgia and here we have a grotesque example of a Dantean contrapasso, that is, the punishment of souls in a way that resembles the sin they committed, (or, as I might characterise it, divine retribution with a mordant wit). Here Dante and Virgil are confronted by mutilation, disembowelment, tongues ripped out and flayed skin, and the sinners are The Sowers of Scandal and Schism, their bodies torn apart, just as they had torn apart beliefs and reputations. They include Mahomet, Ali, Pier da Medicina, Gaius Scribonius Curio, Mosca de’Lamberti and Bertran de Born.
Dante can’t describe these horrors:
Who could, even in the simplest kind of prose
describe in full the scene of blood and wounds
that I saw now—no matter how he tried!
Certainly my tongue would have to fail:
man’s memory and man’s vocabulary
are not enough to comprehend such pain. (Canto XXVIII, lines 1-6)
But still, he tells us that even as the wounds heal, a devil receives anew the blade of the devil’s sword.
Mahomet and Piers da Medicina pass a warning to living sinners destined for the same fate, but the most graphic of these warnings is the fate of Bertran de Born. He was a medieval troubadour, famous for love songs, but also political songs which were believed by Henry II to have fomented his own son’s rebellion. So he is portrayed as a Sower of Schism (and thus responsible for some of the countless deaths in battle that Dante alludes to in the beginning of this canto) and — as you can see in Gustave Doré’s illustration, he is here in the Eighth Bolgia, bearing his severed head up by its hair/swinging it in one hand just like a lantern.
And that you may report on me up there,
know that I am Bertran de Born, the one
who evilly encouraged the young king.
Father and son I set against each other
Achitophel with his wicked instigations
did not do more with Absalom and David.
Because I cut the bonds of those so joined,
I bear my head cut off from its life-source,
which is back there, alas, within its trunk.
In me you see the perfect contrapasso! (Canto XXVIII, lines 133-142)
Canto XXIX
Ok, what next? Virgil is cranky with Dante…
The crowds, the countless, different mutilations,
had stunned my eyes and left them so confused
they wanted to keep looking and to weep,
but Virgil said, ‘What are you staring at?
Why do your eyes insist on drowning there
below, among those wretched, broken shades?’
You did not act this way in other bolge.
If you hope to count them one by one, remember,
the valley winds some twenty-two miles around;
and already the moon is underneath our feet;
the time remaining to us now is short—
and there is more to see than you see here.’ (Canto XXIX, lines 1-12)
But unexpectedly, Dante snaps back…
‘If you had taken time to find out what
I was looking for,’ I started telling him,
‘perhaps you would have let me stay there longer.’ ((Canto XXIX, lines 13-15)
It turns out that he was looking for a spirit of his family, a first cousin called Geri del Bello, mourning the guilt that’s paid so dear down there, but this cuts no ice with stern Virgil who tells him not to waste another thought on him. Musa tells us that Geri de Bello was involved in a blood feud with the Sacchetti family, and murdered, probably by one of them. By the moral code of the time, his kinsmen should have avenged his death, but Virgil insists that they press on. Remembering C S Lewis explanations about the parts of the medieval universe (in Chapter 5 of The Discarded Image, which I haven’t blogged yet), if the moon is beneath their feet, then the sun is overhead so it is midday in Jerusalem.)
And what must they hasten on to see? All manner of horrible diseases:
Having come to stand above the final cloister
of Malabolge, we saw it spreading out,
revealing to our eyes its congregation.
Weird shrieks of lamentation pierced through me
like arrow-shafts whose tips are barbed with pity,
so that my hands were covering my ears.
Imagine all the sick in the hospitals
of Maremma, Valdichiana, and Sardinia
between the months of July and September
crammed together rotting in one ditch— (Canto XXIX, Lines 40-49)
BTW, just to confuse us, the Tenth Bolgia begins there at line 40, though I would not have noticed the significance of the final cloister if Musa hadn’t pointed it out.
Musa also tells us that the allusion to all the sick in the hospitals refers to swampy areas of Tuscany and Sardinia, where malaria was endemic. Some of the imagery is really repulsive, Dante comparing the way two of the shades scratch their sores to a stable-boy using a curry-comb on a horse, or a fishmonger scaling a bream. Perhaps this appealed to the Medieval sense of humour…
Canto XXX
This Canto, like some others, begins with a story about something else. This time it’s again from Greek myth, with the stories of Juno who made King Athamas go raving mad and kill his two sons in a fit of violence; and Hecuba who went quite mad, went barking like a dog after the deaths of her son Polydorus and her daughter Polyxena.
But never in Thebes or Troy were madmen seen
driven to acts of such ferocity
against their victims, animal or human,
as two shades I saw, white with rage and naked,
running, snapping crazily at things in sight. (Canto XXX, lines 22-26)
I suppose it’s picky to note that Dante has used the well-worn trope of mad women to lead into this circle of madness, but hey! there’s a rare appearance by a female sinner:
…. ‘That is the ancient shade
of Myrrha, the depraved one, who became,
against love’s laws, too much her father’s friend. (Canto XXX, lines 37-39)
She is as rabid as Gianni Schicchi who attacks Capocchio (from the previous Canto).
The libretto for Puccini’s opera Gianni Schicchi is based on the complicated fraud in this incident alluded to by Dante.
Dante did not have our 21st century sensibilities about mental illness or illness in general, because the implication is, if we remember Dante’s concept of contrapasso, that illness is deserved.
Once again Virgil loses patience with Dante’s absorption in the argy-bargy of the sinners, but recovers his equanimity when he sees Dante’s shame, pausing only to lecture him again:
“If ever again you should meet up with men
engaging in this kind of futile wrangling,
remember I am always at your side;
to have a taste for talk like this is vulgar!” (Canto XXX, lines 145-148)
Something we might all remember if we are tempted to be keyboard warriors on Twitter…
Musa’s summary at the end of this canto is interesting because it tackles the discomfort it evokes. I don’t read old texts like this one with a sense of presentism: the texts are a product of their era as current texts are of ours, and indignation about the different values they hold is IMO pointless. After all, we in our era cannot be held accountable for future changes in values that we can’t even predict and might not share even if we could. Still, The Divine Comedy has many discomfiting elements, and Canto XXX’s imagery of illness is among them.
Canto XXX is unique in that the suffering undergone by the sinners is caused not by something outside of them, some factor in this physical environment, but by something within them, by their own disease — mental or physical. The Alchemists are afflicted with leprosy, the Impersonators are mad, the Counterfeiters suffer from dropsy and the Liars are afflicted with a fever that makes them stink. In this, the last of the Malebolge, we see simple fraud at its most extreme; and because of the miscellaneous nature of the sins of the Falsifiers, we see perhaps the essence of the sin of Simple Fraud in general. In that case, Dante would be telling us that fraud in general is a disease: the corrupt sense of values of the Fraudulent is here symbolised, in the case of the Falsifiers, by the corrupt state of their minds and bodies. (p.351)
Update 25/11/25 Prof Barolini in her lecture about this Canto (Fall lecture 16) describes it as virtuoso writing of the repulsive sort.
Canto XXXI
Canto XXXI in my Penguin edition is accompanied by another of Scott-Giles’s diagrams. This one is Lower Hell, captioned The Sins of the Leopard, which you can see at this site. Here be giants, Nimrod blasting a horn so ominous and loud that it would have made a thunder-clap sound dim. He is amid other giants all chained for eternity in the pit. It is so murky that Dante at first mistakes them for the towers of a city, but it is only the upper half of their bodies that are visible, causing Dante to reflect on nature’s wisdom in confining herself only to the existence of whales and elephants…
for when the faculty of intellect
is joined with brute force and with evil will,
no man can win against such an alliance. (Canto XXXI, lines 52-54)
The sins punished here are Sins of Pride: giants who presumed to rebel against their gods, and the Fallen Angels who rebelled against God. These sins are not like the Sins of Incontinence i.e. a failure to control appetite or passion. These are sins of deliberate intent i.e. a will to do evil. The sinners’ rebellion involves violence and treachery.
Nimrod, the Biblical figure associated with The Tower of Babel, is unintelligible, and Virgil tells Dante not to waste time on him:
He is Nimrod, through whose infamous device
the world no longer speaks a common language.
But let’s leave him alone and not waste breath,
for he can no more understand our words
than anyone can understand his language. (Canto XXXI, lines 77-81)
Dante’s curiosity to see more is the catalyst for Virgil to engage the help of Antaeus. (He’s the one defeated by Hercules in the Twelve Labours.) He isn’t chained so, in hope of having his legend spread in the world, very carefully lifts up Virgil and Dante and places them on a lake of ice called Cocytus. Yes, ice. Now that seems counter-intuitive because we associate hell with fire and brimstone!
Canto XXXII
Dante, who has so often been rebuked for feeling pity, loses his temper here. Down in the vast plain of ice, the shades of Traitors are frozen. As shown in the Scott-Giles diagram (see here again) there are four circles: from outer circle to inner circle they are for Traitors to their Kindred; Traitors to their Country; Traitors to their Guests and Traitors to their Lords and Benefactors. This first icy ring is named Caina after the Biblical Cain, and it is for people who betrayed family bonds.
The second icy ring, Antenora, named after the Trojan warrior who betrayed his city, is for traitors to their country, city or political party. It is in this ring, that someone warns Dante to be careful not to kick the heads of this miserable brotherhood of souls, but Dante is too enraged to take any notice. He kicks one of them in the face and pulls his hair, demanding that he identify himself. One of the other souls names him, and then there is a torrent of names for Dante to add to his notes. Why so angry here? Probably because of Dante the Poet’s personal experience of political betrayal.
Canto XXXIII
The two poets progress to the next icy ring of Cocytus, called Tolomea, named after Ptolemy. No, not the astronomer. Musa tells us that this Biblical Ptolemy was the captain of Jericho who had Simon his father-in-law killed while dining. It is reserved for Traitors to their Guests, alluding to ancient traditions of hospitality. Here, Dante startles us again with a betrayal of his own word: to persuade one of the shades to identify himself, Dante promises to remove the ice from the eyes of the one who turns out to be Friar Alberigo di Ugolino — but he doesn’t do it. To be mean to him was a generous reward, he says. Hmm.
Dante also startles us with Ugolino’s somewhat ambiguous confession: is he confessing to cannibalism? It looks like it to me.
There is also a confusing exchange about whether all the souls there are actually dead. Musa, referring to Alberigo’s assertion that Tolomea is very special says that:
According to church doctrine, under certain circumstances a living person may, through acts of treachery, lose possession of his soul before he dies. <snip> Then, on earth, a devil inhabits the body until its natural death. (pp.377-8)
I guess that’s how they justified torturing and killing people thought to be possessed by the devil…
Canto XXXIV
Here we are, in the last Canto of the Inferno! This is Judecca, where the last icy ring holds the souls of those who betrayed their benefactors. No surprises in who we find here: those who were traitors to Church and Empire i.e. Judas Iscariot, Brutus and Cassius, being tortured by Lucifer himself who led the rebellion of the Fallen Angels against God. Look again at the Scott-Giles diagram: there he is in all his enormity, his massive wings responsible for the winds that should not blow in an ice-bound plain.
(Musa explains on p.377 of the Notes to Canto XXXIII why Dante was surprised to feel wind: Wind, according to the science of the time, is produced by varying degrees of heat. Lucifer’s massive wingbeats are enough to blow right across the vast expanse of ice.)
He is monstrous:
The king of the vast kingdom of all grief
stuck out with half his chest above the ice;
my height is closer to the height of giants
than theirs is to the length of his great arms;
consider now how large all of him was:
this body in proportion to his arms.
If once he was as fair as now he’s foul
and dared to raise his brows against his Maker,
it is fitting that all grief should spring from him. (Canto XXXIV, lines 28-36)
He’s not a handsome, sexy Satan like the one in Paradise Lost.
Virgil reminds Dante that soon it will be night, and now they must leave because they have seen it all. And they do so by sliding down Lucifer’s body, turning half-way when they reach earth’s core, to Dante’s great confusion:
‘Where is the ice? And how can he be lodged
upside-down? And how, in so little time,
could the sun go all the way from night to day?’
‘You think you’re still on the centre’s other side,’
he said, ‘where I first grabbed the hairy worm
of rottenness that pierces the earth’s core;
and you were there as long as I moved downward
but, when I turned myself, you passed the point
to which all weight from every part is drawn.
Now you are standing beneath the hemisphere
which is opposite the side covered by land,
where at the central point was sacrificed
the Man whose birth and life were free of sin. (Canto XXXIV, lines 103-115)
Inferno ends with Dante rejoicing in being able to see the celestial sky:
We climbed, he first and I behind, until,
through a small round opening ahead of us
I saw the lovely things the heavens hold,
and we came out to see once more the stars. (Canto XXXIV lines 136-139)
Next week, we ascend to Purgatorio!
Progress so far:
- The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (1308-1321), 2013 edition translated by Clive James, with help from Jason M Baxter #1 Getting Started
- The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (1308-1321), 2013 edition translated by Clive James, #2 Introduction, Cantos 1-2
- The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (1308-1321), 1971 translation by Mark Musa, 2003 Penguin Edition, #3 Cantos 3-8
- The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (1308-1321), 1971 translation by Mark Musa, 2003 Penguin Edition, #4 Cantos 9-17
- The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (1308-1321), 1971 translation by Mark Musa, 2003 Penguin Edition, #5. Cantos 18-26
- The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (1308-1321), 1971 translation by Mark Musa, 2003 Penguin Edition, #6 Inferno, Cantos 27-34
- The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (1308-1321), 1981 translation by Mark Musa, 1985 Penguin Edition, #7 Purgatory, Introduction
- The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (1308-1321), 1981 translation by Mark Musa, 1985 Penguin Edition, #8 Purgatory, Cantos 1-8
- The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (1308-1321), 1981 translation by Mark Musa, 1985 Penguin Edition, #9 Purgatory, Cantos 9-16
- The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (1308-1321), 1981 translation by Mark Musa, 1985 Penguin Edition, #10 Purgatory, Cantos 17-23
- The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (1308-1321), 1981 translation by Mark Musa, 1985 Penguin Edition, #11 Purgatory, Cantos 24-29
- The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (1308-1321), 1981 translation by Mark Musa, 1985 Penguin Edition, #12 Purgatory, Cantos 30-33
- The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (1308-1321), 1984 translation by Mark Musa, 1985 Penguin Edition, #13 Paradiso, Cantos 1-8
See also
References:
- The Divine Comedy Volume 1: Inferno, translated with an Introduction, Notes and Commentary by Mark Musa, 2003 new edition of the 1984 Penguin Classics edition, first published 1971 by Indiana University Press, ISBN 9780142437223
- The Divine Comedy translated by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, with illustrations by Gustave Doré and an Introduction by Melinda Corey; Barnes and Noble edition 2008, ISBN: 9781435103849
- The Divine Comedy translated and with an Introduction by Clive James, Picador Poetry edition, 2013, ISBN 9781447244219
- A Beginners Guide to Dante’s Divine Comedy by Jason M Baxter, Baker Academic, 2018, ISBN: 9781493413102, Kindle edition ASIN: B0752RVZ6R
- The Discarded Image: An Introduction to Medieval and Renaissance Literature by C S Lewis, Kindle edition ASIN B08TCJZP5N
- The Sleepwalkers, by Arthur Koestler, The Danube Edition, Hutchinson, 1968 first published 1959 ISN: 090502515
- The Essential Plato, translated by Benjamin Jowett, The Softback Preview, 1999, first published in this translation in 1871, ISBN: 9781582880129
- The Dante Course, a series of lectures presented by Prof. Teodolinda Barolini, Lorenzo da Ponte Professor of Italian at Columbia University, 2015-6 online
Image credits:
Doré’s illustration of Bertran in Hell, from Dante’s L’Inferno: Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1362902
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