Against the common opinion, as it exists even today, most recently exhibited by Roberto Mercuri (“Il canto II dell'Inferno,” L'Alighieri 11 [1998], 7-22], that the two prolusory cantos should be regarded as having separate functions (e.g., I = prologue to the poem as a whole, II = prologue to the first cantica), E.H. Wilkins (“The Prologue of the Divine Comedy,” Annual Report of the Dante Society 42 [1926], 1-7) argues, on the basis of discussion of the defining characteristics of prologues found in the Epistle to Cangrande (Epist. XIII.43-48), that cantos I and II form a unitary prologue to the entire poem as well as to its first canticle. This reader finds his comments just and convincing. Once again we observe that commentators, following earlier commentators rather than the text of the poem, create interpretive artifacts (here, the notion that the two cantos have separate functions) that then take on, by virtue of repetition, the appearance of being Dantean 'facts.' In actuality, all three cantiche begin with two-canto-long prologues containing an invocation, some narrated action, and presentation of details that prepare the reader for what is to follow further along in the poem. For instance, Inferno I and II look forward to Purgatory and Paradise (e.g., Inf. I.118-129; Inf. II.71-74), while Purgatorio I anticipates the ascent to heaven of the saved souls (Purg. I.6) as well as the general resurrection (Purg. I.75).

For the structural parallels that also tend to merge the two cantos into a single entity see Hollander, “The 'Canto of the Word' (Inferno 2),” Lectura Dantis Newberryana, ed. P. Cherchi and A. C. Mastrobuono, vol. II (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1990), p. 97:

Inferno I Inferno II
1-27 Dante's peril 1-42 Dante's uncertainty
 simile (22-27) simile (37-40)
28-60 three beasts 43-126 three blessed ladies
 simile (55-58) simile (127-130)
61-136 Virgil's assurances 127-142 Dante's will firmed

The precise Virgilian text that lies behind Dante's generically 'Virgilian' opening flourish is debated. Major candidates include Aen. III.147, Aen. IV.522-528, Aen. VIII.26-27 (favored by perhaps a majority), Aen. IX.224-225, Geo. I.427-428. See discussion in Mazzoni, Saggio di un nuovo commento alla “Divina Commedia”: “Inferno” –Canti I-III (Florence: Sansoni, 1967), pp. 165-166. These three lines, as has often been noted, have a sad eloquence that establishes a mode of writing to which the poet will return when he considers the Virgilian 'tears of things' in the lives of some of his characters.

The protagonist, about to descend into hell, is described, perhaps surprisingly, since he is in the company of Virgil, as being alone ('sol uno'). But see Convivio IV.xxvi.9, where Dante describes Aeneas, about to begin his descent ad inferos, similarly as being 'alone': '...quando esso Enea sostenette solo con Sibilla a entrare ne lo Inferno.' In Dante's view, it would seem that the condition of a mortal soul, about to enter the underworld, is one of loneliness, even when it is accompanied by a shade. See Hollander, “Le opere di Virgilio nella Commedia di Dante,” in Dante e la “bella scola” della poesia: Autorità e sfida poetica, ed. A. A. Iannucci (Ravenna: Longo, 1993), p. 256.

This formulation perhaps refers to the struggle of the protagonist with the difficulties of proceeding (his struggles with fearsome exterior forces ranged against him, from the three beasts in the first canto to Satan in the last) and with his own interior weakness, demonstrated by his occasional surrender to the emotion of pity (beginning with Francesca in the fifth canto and ending when he does not yield to Ugolino's entreaties for Dante's pity in the thirty-third). For a possible five-part program that marks the development of the protagonist's strength, as he moves through five cycles of pity and fear in hell, see Hollander, Allegory in Dante's “Commedia” (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969), pp. 301-7.

In the words of Singleton's gloss (comm. to Inf. II.6), 'Memory will now faithfully retrace the real event of the journey, exactly as it took place. This most extraordinary journey through the three realms of the afterlife is represented, never as dreamed or experienced in vision, but as a real happening.... Here, then, and in the following invocation, the poet's voice is heard for the first time as it speaks of his task as poet.'

The passage including the poem's first invocation is challenging and has caused serious interpretive difficulty. Why does Dante invoke the Muses in a Christian work? What does alto ingegno (lofty genius) refer to? Is the invocation of two powers ('Muses' and 'lofty genius') or of three (the mente, or 'memory,' of verse 9)? For a discussion of these points see Hollander, “The 'Canto of the Word' (Inferno 2),” Lectura Dantis Newberryana, ed. P. Cherchi and A. C. Mastrobuono, vol. II (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1990), pp. 98-100. The positions taken there have it that the 'muses' are the devices of poetic making that the individual poet may master (see Grandgent, comm. to Inf. II, Introduction: 'Dante probably believed that the Muses, even to the ancients, were only a figure of speech, a metaphor for poetic inspiration or art; so in VN XXV.9 he says that Horace, calling upon the Muse, “parla... alla sua scienza medesima”' [speaks... to his own capacities]), that the 'lofty genius' is not Dante's, but God's, and that only these two elements are invoked, while 'mente' is merely put forward as having been effective in recording the facts of the journey (and is surely not 'invoked,' as the very language of the passage makes plain). In this formulation, here and in some of his later invocations Dante is asking for divine assistance in conceptualizing the matter of his poem so that it may resemble his Creator, its source, while also asking for the help of the 'muses' in finding the most appropriate expressive techniques for that conceptualization. Thus he is asking for God's help in shaping the vision and that of the 'muses' in making it rhyme, deploy compelling tropes, etc. As for the raw content, that he has through his own experience; he requires no external aid for it. What he does need is conceptual and expressive power, alto ingegno and the arte represented by the 'muses.' It is worth noting that ingegno and arte are joined in four later passages in the poem, Purg. IX.125, Purg. XXVII.130, Par. X.43, Par. XIV.117. For a study of the meaning of the word ingegno in its 27 appearances (twice as the verb ingegnare) in the Commedia see Paul Arvisu Dumol, The Metaphysics of Reading Underlying Dante's “Commedia”: The Ingegno (New York: Peter Lang, 1998).

It is, given Dante's fondness for the number of Beatrice, nine, difficult to believe that the fact that there are nine invocations in the poem may be accidental (see Hollander, “The Invocations of the Commedia,” Yearbook of Italian Studies 3 [1976], 235-40). For perhaps the first reckoning that accounts for all nine invocations see Fabio Fabbri, “Le invocazioni nella Divina Commedia,” Giornale dantesco 18 (1910), 186-92. It is curious that few commentators have noted the fact that there are, in fact, nine invocations (and only nine) in the poem. (For a recent miscount see Roberto Mercuri, “Il canto II dell'Inferno,” L'Alighieri 11 [1998], pp. 7-22. They are present as follows: Inf. II.7, Inf. XXXII.10-12, Purg. I.7-12, Purg. XXIX.37-42, Par. I.13-21, Par. XVIII.83-88, Par. XXII.112-123, Par. XXX.97-99, Par. XXXIII.67-75.

That Dante has 'delayed' his invocation has caused notice. What perhaps has not drawn notice is that, in a sense, he is 'outdoing' Virgil in this as well. For Virgil, too, 'delays' his opening invocation in the Aeneid, where it only occurs eight lines into the first book (Aen. I.8-11), where Homer's two epics both open with invocations in their very first lines.

This verse begins a series of conversations that give the canto its shape. With the exception of the eleventh canto, 92% of which is devoted to dialogue (mainly Virgil's explanations of the circles of hell, joined by Dante's responses and questions), no other Infernal canto contains so much dialogue, with 118 of its 142 verses being spoken (83%). These conversations form a chiastic pattern (see Hollander, “The 'Canto of the Word' [Inferno 2],” Lectura Dantis Newberryana, ed. P. Cherchi and A. C. Mastrobuono, vol. II [Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1990], p. 100):

1. Dante (10-36)
 2. Virgil (43-57)
 3. Beatrice (58-74)
 4. Virgil (75-84)
 5. Beatrice (85-114)
 6. Virgil (115-126)
7. Dante (133-140)

The meaning of the phrase alto passo is debated. See Mazzoni, Saggio di un nuovo commento alla “Divina Commedia”: “Inferno” –Canti I-III (Florence: Sansoni, 1967), pp. 180-84, for documentation. Mazzoni gives good reasons for accepting a literal reading, one that makes the passo correspond to the journey, rather than, as some have proposed, a metaphorical one, in which the it signifies the poem. Mazzoni paraphrases these words with the phrase 'impresa eccezionale' (extraordinary undertaking), while also stressing the difficulty of that adventure. Our translation seeks a similar solution.

Aeneas, in Virgil's revised version of the founding family of Rome, fathered Ascanius on Creusa, and, only much later, Silvius on Lavinia. The formula tu dici will not reappear before Paradiso VII (55 and 124), but there Beatrice will underline the dubiety that surrounds the formulations of the protagonist, whose 'knowledge,' as she knows and as her phrasing makes clear, is fallible. See the note to Inferno II.28.

Padoan (comm. to Inf. II.15) points out that the insistence on the physicality of Aeneas's descent effectively undercuts that tradition of medieval allegorized Virgil which asserts that the 'descent' is to be taken as a 'philosophical,' rather than as a literal, journey. Aeneas' journey, like Dante's own, is to be dealt with as actually having occurred in space and time.

Difficult verses discussed by Mazzoni at length (Saggio di un nuovo commento alla “Divina Commedia”: “Inferno” –Canti I-III [Florence: Sansoni, 1967]), pp. 188-97. The most troubling phrase is 'e 'l chi e 'l quale' (v. 18 – see Mazzoni, pp. 192-96). The sense, however, may be fairly straightforward: it is not surprising that God should have chosen Aeneas to found Rome, with its profound impact on human history, both imperial and ecclesiastical, since he was (the 'who' of the verse) both the founder of a royal line (ancestor of Julius Caesar through Ascanius – see Buti, comm. to Inf. II.18) and 'divine' (the 'what,' since he was the son of a goddess, Venus).

A good example of what happens when words and concepts from antecedent literary traditions become 'theologized' by the context of this poem, in this case the cortesia of chivalric and amatory lyric. The sort of 'courtesy' offered by the true Lord far outstrips anything that might be had from a human lord or a human lady. For the tradition of the concept as it comes into Dante see Erminia Maria Dispenza Crimi, “Cortesia” e “Valore” dalla tradizione a Dante (Rovito: Marra, 1993).

The adjective alma has had various interpretations in the commentary tradition, e.g., 'exalted' (eccelsa: Boccaccio), 'lofty' (alta: Buti), 'nurturing' (alma: Landino), 'holy' (sancta: Benvenuto). Citing Paget Toynbee, Mazzoni ( Saggio di un nuovo commento alla “Divina Commedia”: “Inferno” –Canti I-III [Florence: Sansoni, 1967)]), p. 198, makes a strong argument for the last of these. Our translation reflects his view. And this formulation knits up these two tercets into a single meaning: Aeneas was chosen by God to be the founder of imperial and ecclesiastical Rome. Such a view disturbs those who believe that Dante, when he began the Comedy, was still a Guelph in his political attitudes. But a reading of the fourth book of Convivio (see Mazzoni, pp. 216-20), demonstrates the close correspondence between what Dante says here and what he said in Convivio IV.iv-v and reveals that he had already made a decisive shift toward recognizing the importance of what we would call 'secular Rome.' Dante, as the prophecy of the veltro may already have demonstrated, now believes in the divine origin and mission of the Empire. See note to Inferno I.100-105.

See Mazzoni (Saggio di un nuovo commento alla “Divina Commedia”: “Inferno” –Canti I-III [Florence: Sansoni, 1967]), pp. 198-220, for a thorough review of this tercet, made problematic not because its words or the sense of these words is difficult, but because what it says is assumed by many commentators not to be Dantean in spirit. See the note to Inferno II.20-21.

Barbi (Problemi di critica dantesca [Florence: Sansoni, 1934]), p. 237, argues for the view, advanced by S. Betti a century ago, that 'maggiore,' in early Italian, was a title of honor ('the great'), a positive form of the adjective, not its comparative form ('greater'). Mazzoni (Saggio di un nuovo commento alla “Divina Commedia”: “Inferno” –Canti I-III [Florence: Sansoni, 1967]), pp. 220-22, supports this thesis, but also represents those who do argue for the comparative sense of the adjective here, believing that it refers to the fact that Peter, the first pope, was 'greater' than all his successors.

See note Inferno II.28.

Aeneas understood things from what was revealed to him in the Elysian Fields, most notably by Anchises (see Mazzoni, Saggio di un nuovo commento alla “Divina Commedia”: “Inferno” –Canti I-III [Florence: Sansoni, 1967], p. 222).

This verse concludes the 'imperial theme' of this canto, initiated in v. 13. These five tercets continually break Aeneas' identity or task into two aspects ('e 'l chi e 'l quale' [v. 18], 'de l'alma Roma e di suo impero' [v. 20], 'la quale e 'l quale' [v. 22], 'di sua vittoria e del papale ammanto' [v. 27].) This speech is not in the mouth of Virgil, but of Dante, and for a reason. It purveys, with some heated enthusiasm, the view of Roman imperial excellence that Dante had probably only recently developed. He cannot allow its religious dimension utterance by Virgil, whose credentials as 'Christian' are not exactly imposing. And so the not-very-mature protagonist is here given the author's voice to say what that author wants most definitely to set down before us. And it is probably for this reason that the passage is as repetitive as it is. There can be no mistaking what it says.

This flat statement that Paul's journey actually occurred contrasts with the less forthright claim made for Aeneas's in verse 13: 'Tu dici che' (You tell that). This and the subsequent phrasing, in which that same journey is referred to as the 'andata onde li dai tu vanto' (journey for which you grant him glory) at v. 25, both imbue the speaker's acceptance of the veracity of Virgil's account of that journey with a certain sense of dubiety (see Hollander, “The 'Canto of the Word' [Inferno 2],” Lectura Dantis Newberryana, ed. P. Cherchi and A. C. Mastrobuono, vol. II [Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1990], p. 103), at least when compared with the biblical authority enjoyed by Paul's. And see the previous remark of Grandgent (comm. to Inf. II, Introduction): 'It is worth noting that in introducing the example of Aeneas, Dante begins with “tu dici che... ,” and a few lines further on he uses the phrase “questa andata onde gli dai tu vanto”; so in Par. 15.26, referring to the same episode, he adds “se fede merta nostra maggior Musa” (if our greatest “Muse” is worthy our belief), meaning Virgil. These expressions seem to imply a mental reservation with regard to the literal veracity of Aeneas's adventure.'

With regard to the question of whether or not Dante believed Paul had been to hell (as recounted in the Visio Pauli) see Padoan (comm. to Inf. II.28, with bibliography [to which now should be added Theodore Silverstein and Anthony Hilhorst, eds., Apocalypse of Paul: A New Critical Edition of Three Long Latin Versions [Geneva: Patrick Cramer, 1997]). Most commentators would seem to believe that Dante is here alluding only to Paul's heavenly journey, not to his apocryphal descent.

For Vas d'elezïone (Chosen Vessel) see Acts 9:15.

It has frequently been remarked that this example of 'negative typology' must be taken ironically. What the protagonist says is not what his author thinks: Dante is to be understood as both the 'new Aeneas' and the 'new Paul.' Jacoff and Stephany offer an ample deliberation on this subject (Rachel Jacoff and William Stephany, Lectura Dantis Americana: “Inferno” II [Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1989], pp. 57-72). For a study of Paul's presence in Dante's works see Giuseppe Di Scipio, The Presence of Pauline Thought in the Works of Dante (Lewiston, N.Y.: The Edwin Mellen Press, 1995).

Dante's apparent modesty is obviously meant to be taken rather as cowardice, as Virgil's response (Inf. II.45) makes pellucidly clear.

A type of simile Dante enjoys deploying, one in which tenor and vehicle are eventually seen to involve the same agent, or at least an anonymous other human and the protagonist: 'and as a man... so was I.' This first 'negative' simile of the canto is balanced by its concluding 'positive' one: Inf. II.127-130. For the strategically balanced compositional units of the first two cantos see the note to Inf. II.1-6.

For the importance of the word impresa in the overall economy of the poem see Hollander, Allegory in Dante's “Commedia” (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969), p. 230. It occurs twice in this canto (next at Inf. II.47), where it refers to Dante's journey, then in Inf. XXXII.7, where it refers to the poem that Dante is writing, and finally in Par. XXXIII.95, where it surely refers to the voyage, and perhaps to the poem as well.

This is the first occurrence of the word 'word' (parola) in the poem and in this canto. It will reappear four more times in the canto at Inf. II.67, Inf. II.111, Inf. II.135, and Inf. II.137. If, as several commentators have urged (see Hollander, “The 'Canto of the Word' [Inferno 2],” Lectura Dantis Newberryana, ed. P. Cherchi and A. C. Mastrobuono, vol. II [Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1990], p. 96), the first canto of the poem is the 'canto della paura' (canto of fear – the word paura appears five times [see the note to Inf. I.15], as does parola in this one, and neither appears so many times in any other canto), then Inferno II perhaps should be construed as the 'canto della parola' (canto of the word). See Hollander, passim. And see Rachel Jacoff and William Stephany, Lectura Dantis Americana: “Inferno” II (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1989), pp. 1-19, echoing this phrase in the title of the opening section of their essay.

The paired words magnanimo and viltà are at either end of the post-Aristotelian moral scale. Nobility of soul is counterpoised against viltà, the word that medieval etymologists thought was definitional (by antithesis) of nobility (non-viltà). Cf. Convivio IV.x.10: '...per la viltade siano contrarie alla nobilitade. E qui s'intende viltade per degenerazione, la quale alla nobilitade s'oppone.' (Cf. also Conv. IV.xiv.9-10, IV.xv.5, IV.xix.10). And see Carroll (comm. to vv. 43-48): 'Probably what [Dante] had specially in view was the virtue which Aristotle calls Magnanimity or great-mindedness – the mean between vanity and pusillanimity, between an over- and an under-estimate of one's self. “A high-minded” (or great-souled) person seems to be one who regards himself as worthy of high things, and who is worthy of them [Aristotle's Ethics, IV.7. Cfr. Conv. I.xi.18-20].' For a study of the concept magnanimity in Dante see John Scott (Dante magnanimo; studi sulla “Commedia” [Florence: Olschki, 1977]). As several have noted, perhaps beginning with Rossetti (comm. Inf. X.52-54), the only two characters in the poem to be specifically associated with this kind of greatness of soul are Virgil, here, and Farinata (Inf. X.73 – and see the note to Inf. X.73-75, for some limitations on the positive valence of the term).

For a possible source for this verse, not hitherto cited, see Aeneid X.592-593, where Aeneas scornfully addresses Lucagus, whom he has just mortally wounded, and tells his fallen enemy that he cannot blame his plight on the shying of his horses: 'Lucage, nulla tuos currus fuga segnis equorum / prodidit aut vanae vertere ex hostibus umbrae' (Lucagus, the cowardly flight of your horses has not betrayed your chariot, nor has the empty shadow of an enemy turned them away). See Hollander, “Le opere di Virgilio nella Commedia di Dante,” in Dante e la “bella scola” della poesia: Autorità; e sfida poetica, ed. A. A. Iannucci (Ravenna: Longo, 1993), p. 256.

The verbal adjective sospesi (suspended), that is, in a position between the presence of God and actual punishment, is a technical term for those who dwell in Limbo. See Mazzoni's note (Saggio di un nuovo commento alla “Divina Commedia”: “Inferno” –Canti I-III [Florence: Sansoni, 1967]), pp. 239-47.

Beatrice's anonymous first appearance and Virgil's instinctive obeisance might easily lead a reader to assume an 'allegorical' valence for this lady. For a recent study of the roots of the problematic allegorical interpretation of Beatrice see Bruno Porcelli, “Beatrice nei commenti danteschi del Landino e del Vellutello” [1994], in his Nuovi studi su Dante e Boccaccio con analisi della “Nencia” (Pisa: Istituti editoriali e poligrafici internazionali, 1997), pp. 57-78. We will in time be told who she is (Inf. II.70). 'Beatrice's descent gives Virgil motive and cause; without her intervention he would have known nothing (the damned, we learn at Inf. X.100-108, do not know the present state of things on earth), done nothing. Virgil's actions are thus so circumscribed that we can hardly miss Dante's point. It is Beatrice in Heaven, not Virgil in Limbo, who is first aware of Dante's plight (Inf. II.49-51). And the burden of Virgil's words here is to give testimony to the power and glory of Beatrice, to whose charge he immediately consigns himself. It is she, not he, who initiates the action of the Commedia, something we did not know a canto ago (for an appreciation of Virgil's limited understanding of Beatrice, see Singleton, “Virgil Recognizes Beatrice,” Annual Report of the Dante Society 74 [1956], pp. 32-33)' (cited from Hollander, “The 'Canto of the Word' [Inferno 2],” Lectura Dantis Newberryana, ed. P. Cherchi and A. C. Mastrobuono, vol. II [Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1990], pp. 105-6).

Virgil describes Beatrice's words as being soave e piana (gentle and clear). She will, in turn, describe his speech as parola ornata (polished words – Inf. II.67). The two adjectives, piana and ornata, may remind us of a major distinction, found in medieval categorizations of rhetorical styles, between the plain, or low, style, and the ornate, or high. Benvenuto (comm. to Inf. II.56) was the first to point this out, glossing 'soave e piana' as follows: 'divine speech is sweet and humble, not elevated and proud, as is that of Virgil and the poets.' Thus Virgil's description of Beatrice's words corresponds antithetically to hers of his; her speech represents the sublimely humble style valorized by the Comedy, while his recalls the high style that marked pagan eloquence (the observation is drawn from Hollander, “The 'Canto of the Word' [Inferno 2],” Lectura Dantis Newberryana, ed. P. Cherchi and A. C. Mastrobuono, vol. II [Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1990], p. 107, where there are references to previous discussions in Auerbach, “Sermo humilis,” in Literary Language and Its Public in Late Latin Antiquity and in the Middle Ages, tr. R. Manheim (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1965 [1958]), pp. 65-66; and to Giuseppe Mazzotta, Dante, Poet of the Desert (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979), pp. 157-58).

For Boccaccio's notion that Beatrice's favella (speech) was in fact the Florentine vernacular see Padoan's commentary to Inf. II.57.

Beatrice's first words, which Daniello (comm. to Inf. II.58) compared to Juno's attempt to win over Aeolus at Aeneid I.66-67, offer a striking example of captatio. They will be effective enough in gaining Virgil's good will.

Tommaseo (comm. vv. 58-60) was perhaps the first to suggest the presence of Aeneid I.609 (semper honos nomenque tuum laudesque manebunt) behind Dante's verse. His proposal is now accepted by a majority of the commentators.

This is perhaps the most debated line of the canto. Is the word mondo (world) or moto (movement)? In recent years the two 'sides' are represented by Pagliaro (Ulisse: ricerche semantiche sulla “Divina Commedia” [Messina-Florence: D'Anna, 1967]), p. 737, arguing for moto, and Petrocchi (La Commedia secondo l'antica vulgata, Introduzione), pp. 166-67, (La Commedia secondo l'antica vulgata, Inferno), p. 28, arguing for mondo. See the full review of the problem in Mazzoni (Saggio di un nuovo commento alla “Divina Commedia”: “Inferno” –Canti I-III [Florence: Sansoni, 1967]), pp. 253-55, arguing convincingly for mondo. But now see Lanza (La Commedìa: nuovo testo critico secondo i più antichi manoscritti fiorentini [Anzio: De Rubeis, 1995]), p. 18, in support of Pagliaro's thesis, without, perhaps, taking Mazzoni's arguments sufficiently into account. In his discussion of the verse, Mazzoni's main point is that the Virgilian passage that lies behind Dante's phrasing here is far more likely to be Aeneid I.607-609 (already cited only a line earlier at Inf. II.59 [see discussion in the note to Inf. II.58-60]) than Aeneid IV.173-175, previously translated by Dante in Convivio I.iii.10. The first of these passages would require us to understand mondo as the most likely paraphrase; the second, moto.

For a consideration of the fullest implications of this verse, see Mazzoni (Saggio di un nuovo commento alla “Divina Commedia”: “Inferno” –Canti I-III [Florence: Sansoni, 1967]), pp. 256-68. According to him, the literal sense is that Dante is not a friend to Fortune, not that she has forsaken him. Mazzoni's position is developed from Casella's interpretation (“'L'amico mio e non della ventura,'” Studi Danteschi 27 [1943], 117-34), which is itself based on a text in Abelard's commentary to St. Paul's Epistle to the Romans. The upshot of these readings is that Beatrice makes Dante her friend in true spiritual friendship, denying that he is 'friendly' to Fortune. For a brief review of the valence of Fortuna in Dante's thought, see the note to Inferno VII.62-96.

Words familiar from the first canto come back into play here: diserta piaggia (Inf. I.29), cammin (Inf. I.1), paura (Inf. I.53), smarrito (Inf. I.3). This is not the last time we will look back to the protagonist's desperate condition evident at the beginning of the poem.

parola ornata: See Hollander, “The 'Canto of the Word' (Inferno 2),” Lectura Dantis Newberryana, ed. P. Cherchi and A. C. Mastrobuono, vol. II (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1990), pp. 107, 118, for discussion of (1) Auerbach's measuring of Virgil's 'ornate speech' (“Sermo humilis,” in Literary Language and Its Public in Late Latin Antiquity and in the Middle Ages, tr. R. Manheim [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1965], pp. 65-66) against Beatrice's 'plain' style (Inf. II.56) – to the detriment of the former – citing a telling passage in the commentary of Benvenuto da Imola (comm. to Inf. II.56) in service of that perception and (2) the undercutting of Virgil's 'ornate speech' (parola ornata) when it is seen as linked to Jason's parole ornate (Inf. XVIII.91), the deceptive rhetoric by which he seduces women, previously discussed by Mazzotta (Dante, Poet of the Desert [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1979]), pp. 157-58, as well as by Hollander (Il Virgilio dantesco: tragedia nella “Commedia” [Florence: Olschki, 1983], p. 153, and “Dante's Pagan Past,” Stanford Italian Review 5 [1985], pp. 30-31); see also Teodolinda Barolini (The Undivine “Comedy”: Detheologizing Dante [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992]), p. 77.

Against all the manuscripts Lanza (La Commeda: Testo critico secondo i più antichi manoscritti fiorentini, Nuova edizione [Anzio: De Rubeis, 1996], p. 18) proposes orrata ('honored') in place of ornata ('ornate'). Aside from making a rather awkward phrase (in which Virgil is asked to make his 'honored speech' an instrument of persuasion), such a change, entirely unsupported in the entire manuscript tradition, would deprive us of the opposition between the words of Beatrice (Inf. II.56) and those of Virgil, here characterized as pertaining to the lofty style, while hers are associated with the unadorned vernacular, the 'plain' style. See the note to Inf. II.56-57.

The portentous effect of Beatrice's self-introduction is not without its biblical overtones: 'Io son' might indeed be an Italian translation of one of God's names. See Exodus 3:14-15, where He explains to Moses 'Ego sum qui sum' (I am who am) and goes on to say 'hoc nomen mihi est in aeternum' (this is my name forever). That Dante intends us to hear this presence in the phrase gains in likelihood when we come to the two most dramatic self-namings in Purgatorio, that of the Siren (XIX.19), 'Io son..., io son dolce serena' and Beatrice's answering and countervailing formula (XXX.73), 'Ben son, ben son Beatrice.'

Like the angelic messenger in Canto IX (and these are the only two recent or present visitors to Hell we hear of during Dante's voyage), Beatrice makes it plain that she does not exactly enjoy being here. That is clear from verse 71. But what are we to make of the last verse of the tercet? What kind of love moved Beatrice to be willing to descend from Heaven? It is a temptation to some commentators to see it as a reaffirmation of the familiar nineteenth-century kitsch “Love Story”; Charles Singleton (in his note to verse 72) rebukes such romantics as follows: 'As is evident from Beatrice's whole account of the prologue action in Heaven, the love she speaks of is a love de sursum descendens ('descending from on high'), the blessed Virgin Mary's love and, in the last analysis, God's love. Beatrice in the Commedia is no Pre-Raphaelite “Blessed Damozel”.'

Beatrice's promise to speak well of Virgil to God has drawn some skeptical response, e.g., Castelvetro: 'Questo che monta a Virgilio che è dannato?' (What good is this to Virgil, who is damned? – comm. to Inf. II.74). We are probably meant to be more impressed than that.

The meaning of this difficult tercet would seem to be: 'O lady of virtuous disposition that alone, shared by others, may bring them, too, to salvation out of this sub-lunar world of sin....' This is to rely on Mazzoni's affirmation (Saggio di un nuovo commento alla “Divina Commedia”: “Inferno” –Canti I-III [Florence: Sansoni, 1967], pp. 276-77) of Barbi's reading of the verse (Problemi di critica dantesca [Florence: Sansoni, 1934], p. 22). Barbi's (and Mazzoni's) main objection to making donna the antecedent of cui is that to do so 'depersonalizes' Beatrice, making her an 'allegory' of theology, as indeed most of the commentators who so construe the line do in fact interpret her. Anna Maria Chiavacci Leonardi (“Questioni di punteggiatura in due celebri attacchi danteschi [Inf., II 76-78 e X 67-69],” Lettere Italiane 36 [1984], pp. 4-19, mounts a sustained counter-attack upon the Barbi/Mazzoni position, citing Boethius (Consolatio I.iii.3), who addresses the Lady Philosophy as 'omnium magistra virtutum' (mistress of every virtue), a passage first adduced by Pietro di Dante (comm. to Inf. I.76). For her, as for Singleton (“Virgil Recognizes Beatrice,” Annual Report of the Dante Society 74 [1956]) before her, the reference of cui is to donna, for Virgil that woman who knows all things, Philosophy. Jacoff and Stephany (Lectura Dantis Americana: “Inferno” II [Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1989]), pp. 42-48, support Singleton and Chiavacci Leonardi. What complicates any attempt at interpreting this verse is the fact that it is Virgil who is describing his meeting with Beatrice, a woman whom he does not know. However, he perhaps knows enough to understand her extraordinary powers. She has named herself at v. 70, announces (rather obliquely) that she inhabits heaven, and, that, when she returns there, she will praise him to God (vv. 71-74). Virgil, having seen Christ harrow hell (Inf. IV.52-63), knows that this woman, unlike any others whom he knew when he was on earth, is part of that Christian dispensation which alone permits the ascent to heaven. Thus he knows all that he needs to in order to understand that the virtues of this woman are such that all those who share them may be saved – it is in these alone that the human race 'exceeds' its circumstances. To make Beatrice unique among humankind would imply that no one but she 'exceeds' the dross of the physical universe. And that would go too far, even for Dante. Our translation follows Petrocchi, who also accepts the Barbi/Mazzoni reading of the line's meaning. We also agree with that reading, while admitting that a strong case for the other view has been made by those who do not do so.

Does the adjective sola modify donna or virtù? Petrocchi (La Commedia secondo l'antica vulgata, Inferno), p. 30, takes away the comma after the second noun, found in the 1921 edition, in order to make it clearer that the adjective modifies virtù. For reasons to believe that this often contested view is the better one, see Mazzoni (Saggio di un nuovo commento alla “Divina Commedia”: “Inferno” –Canti I-III [Florence: Sansoni, 1967]), pp. 276-80. But see the note to Inf. II.76-78.

The present reading was defended against other variants by Barbi (Problemi di critica dantesca [Florence: Sansoni, 1934]), pp. 203, 261. Barbi notes that this reading (1) is a lectio difficilior, (2) reflects the phrasing found in Virgil (Aen. I.76-77) already cited by Dante in the Vita nuova (XXV.9), and (3) simply makes the most sense: 'there is no need for you to do more than make your wishes known to me, as you have done.'

in questo centro. Singleton (comm. to Inf. II.83) speaks of the 'strong pejorative connotation' of Dante's phrase, stemming from 'the well-established view that the earth's position at the center of the universe is the most ignoble – because it is farthest from God and His angels.' Singleton goes on to cite from a sermon of Fra Giordano da Rivalto, characterizing the true center of the earth as 'that point within the earth which is in its midst, as the core is in the midst of an apple. We believe that hell is located there, at the true center.'

Beatrice's insistence that she is not 'touchable' by the grim powers of the pains of hell underlines the marginality of sin for the saved. Hell is simply not of concern to them. It is important to know, as one begins reading the poem, what one can only know once one has finished it: no soul in purgation or in grace in heaven has a thought for the damned (only the damned themselves do). Their concern for those who do not share their redeeming penitence or bliss is reserved for those still alive on earth, who have at least the hope of salvation. Hell, for the saved, is a sordid reality of which it is better not to speak. A similar disregard for the damned (and even for our mortal hero, wrestling with his sins) is evidenced by the wryly laconic and unsympathetic angel who descends to help Virgil lead his charge into the City of Dis (Inf. IX.91-103). Those who admire various of Dante's sinners, despite their eternal damnation, would do well to keep both these scenes in mind. See the strong statements to this effect found in Grandgent's article “Quid Ploras,” Dante Studies 118 (2000 [1926]), pp. 85-94; Grandgent reminds his reader of the harsh question put by the angel to St. Paul, who has allowed himself to weep for the damned, in the apocryphal Visio Pauli. The angel wants to know why Paul is weeping (“Quid ploras?”) for the damned when his attention should be turned to Christ.

While every modern commentator recognizes (quite rightly) Mary in this lady, none of the early interpreters do, a fact that may seem astonishing (Castelvetro may have been the first to do so – see his comm. to Inf. II.94). Castelvetro's recognition only gets incorporated into the commentary tradition by Tommaseo (see his comm. to Inf. II.94). See discussion in Jacoff and Stephany, Lectura Dantis Americana: “Inferno” II (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1989), pp. 26-29. Those who argue for an allegorical reading of the three ladies in heaven (see note to Inf. II.102) might do well to contemplate the fact that the first allegorical readings were developed by those who thought the nameless state of the first of them pointed in that direction. Once we believe she is Mary, the door to an allegorical understanding, if not pressed shut, has surely begun to close.

Lucy, the martyred Syracusan virgin (4th century), obviously played a special role in Dante's devotional life. (She will reappear in Purg. IX.52-63, where she indeed carries Dante from the valley in which he sleeps in the Ante-Purgatory to the gate of Purgatory itself; and then she will be seen seated in blessedness at Par. XXXII.137-138.) See the interesting discussion of Dante's sense of her in Jacoff and Stephany (Lectura Dantis Americana: “Inferno” II [Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1989]), pp. 29-38.

Rachel, the third of the ladies in heaven who share Beatrice's concerns for Dante's salvation, is traditionally interpreted (as she is by Dante himself – see Purg. XXVII.94-108) as the contemplative life, as her sister Leah represents the active one. Since the fourteenth century there have been frequent (and widely varying) attempts to 'allegorize' the Virgin, Lucy, and Beatrice, most often as various varieties of grace (see Padoan's comm. to Inf. II.97 for a brief summary). There is no textual basis for such efforts, as appealing as many readers apparently find them.

What exactly does it mean, Lucy's insistence to Beatrice that, for her sake, Dante 'left the vulgar herd' (la volgare schiera)? Guido da Pisa (comm. to Inf. II.105) interprets the phrase to mean Dante turned in his studies from the liberal arts to theology. Without debating such a judgment, one might add a poetic dimension to it, as has Francesco Mazzoni (Saggio di un nuovo commento alla “Divina Commedia”: “Inferno” –Canti I-III [Florence: Sansoni, 1967]), pp. 289-93. According to him, the most important meaning of the verse is to reflect Dante's turning from a 'conventional' amorous poetic subject matter to what he will later call the 'dolce stil novo' (Purg. XXIV.57), a poetry that presents, in a new 'style,' the higher meaning of Beatrice. (Some would go still farther and suggest that this meaning is essentially Christological – see Hollander, “Dante's 'dolce stil novo' and the Comedy,” in Dante: mito e poesia. Atti del secondo Seminario dantesco internazionale, ed. M. Picone and T. Crivelli [Florence: Cesati, 1999], pp. 263-81.) Mazzoni's view is seconded by the importance of the word volgare to Dante. While it is surely at times limited to the negative sense of the Latin vulgus, pertaining to the common people, the 'mob,' it is also the word that he uses to describe his own vernacular speech, as in the title of his treatise De vulgari Eloquentia ('On Eloquence in the Vernacular').

The view that Dante's sense of his own poetic vocation is central to the meaning of this verse is supported by the text at Inferno IV.101, where the group of classical poets, who so graciously include Dante in their number, is also described as a schiera (company). Such a formulation of poetic filiation and denial of same results in the following view: In the second canto Dante tells of having left behind rhymers in the vernacular who sing centrally or only of sexual love; in the fourth he relates that he was included in a group of the greatest poets of all time, who dealt with more 'serious' matters. These are the only two times in the work that the word schiera is used (or is possibly used, in the first case) for groups of poets.

Roberto Mercuri links this verse to Dante's earlier and similar disgust with the 'vulgar herd' expressed in Convivio I.i.8 and Convivio I.i.10, where Dante, turning to the study of philosophy, describes those lesser men – whom he now intends to aid by bringing them word of the philosophic truths that have been revealed to him – as up to now partaking, not of his grand feast (a convivio, or banquet), but of grass and acorns in their bestiale pastura (bestial feeding), and goes on to describe himself precisely as having escaped from such pastura del vulgo (feeding of the common folk). See Mercuri, “Il canto II dell'Inferno,” L'Alighieri 11 (1998), p. 19. However, the whole enterprise of the Convivio is pretty clearly aimed at less than theological speculation and is addressed to a specifically non-Beatricean woman (the 'Lady Philosophy'). And thus one might, with better reason, see this verse as correcting that earlier account of Dante's 'breaking away' from the wrong sort of intellectual and amorous life to a better version. In this mode, one might notice that the project of Convivio is described as an attempt to slake our 'natural thirst' (la naturale sete – Conv. I.i.9) for philosophic knowing. The next time we hear this phrase (Purg. XXI.1-3) it is restored to its source in John's gospel (John 4:5-15): the truth that is found alone in Christ. In such ways Dante corrects some of his earlier opinions and judgments when he chooses to encounter them again in the Comedy.

As tormented a passage as may be found in this canto, and one of the most difficult in the entire work, whether for its literal sense (what 'death'? what 'river'? what 'sea'?) or its possibly only metaphorical meaning. See the note to Inf. II.108 and, once again, Mazzoni's summary of the centuries-long debate over the two verses (Saggio di un nuovo commento alla “Divina Commedia”: “Inferno” –Canti I-III [Florence: Sansoni, 1967]), pp. 294-303, as well as Freccero's essay, “The River of Death: Inferno II, 108” (1966), in The Poetics of Conversion, ed. Rachel Jacoff (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1986), pp. 55-69. For discussion of a 'typological' reading of the passage see Hollander, “The 'Canto of the Word' (Inferno 2),” Lectura Dantis Newberryana, ed. P. Cherchi and A. C. Mastrobuono, vol. II (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1990), pp. 110-11: 'While it may seem that the very locution of the phrase tends to support those who find only a metaphorical sense operative here..., we should perhaps entertain the possibility suggested by a more historical reading – namely, that this river is Dante's “Jordan.” If the actions of the first two cantos may be understood as being linked to successive stages in the progress of salvation history, have we come... to Jordan? Filippo Villani, in his commentary to this verse, was the first to propose as much: 'su la rivera, scilicet Iordanis fluminis qui ponitur pro sacramento baptismatis' (ed. Bellomo, p. 109). And we might want to consider some of the later reasons for this interpretation offered by A. Belloni (cited by Mazzoni, Saggio di un nuovo commento alla “Divina Commedia”: “Inferno” –Canti I-III [Florence: Sansoni, 1967]), p. 297), for whom the Jordan is not the tributary of a mare but of the Dead Sea, a lacus. For a discussion of Isidore of Seville's distinction between the two terms in Etymologiae 13.19, see Hollander, Allegory in Dante's “Commedia,” pp. 262-63, also adverting to Freccero's arguments (in “The River of Death”) for Jordan, which develop an earlier interpretation of the verse by Singleton (“'Sulla fiumana ove 'l mar non ha vanto,' [Inferno, II, 108],” Romanic Review 39 [1948], pp. 269-77). Were this admittedly venturesome reading to find favor, Virgil would then come as John the Baptist, a view of his role in the Commedia that I support. (Partial recognitions perhaps begin with Carroll [comm. to Inf. I.61-66]. See also Pézard, Dante sous la pluie de feu [Paris: Vrin, 1950], p. 343. Porcelli [“'Chi per lungo silenzio parea fioco' e il valore della parola nella Commedia,” Ausonia 19 (1964), pp. 34-36] moved the argument forward considerably. My own attempts to establish this vital connection may be found in Allegory in Dante's “Commedia,” pp. 261-63; in “The Tragedy of Divination in Inferno XX,” in Studies in Dante [Ravenna: Longo, 1980], pp. 86-87, 193; and in “Le opere di Virgilio nella Commedia di Dante,” in Dante e la “bella scola” della poesia: Autorità e sfida poetica, ed. A. A. Iannucci [Ravenna: Longo, 1993], pp. 69-77.)' For the literal sense in which Jordan is not a 'sea,' and thus the 'lake' that receives the waters of Jordan see Filippo Villani again (ed. Bellomo, p. 109): 'Et, ad licteram, Iordanis fluvius mare non ingreditur, sed desinit in lacum nitidum et etiam amenum' (And, in the literal sense, the river Jordan does not flow into a sea, but ends in a lake that is bright and clear, even pleasant). Jacoff and Stephany also argue for the presence of Jordan in the 'typological' design of the canto's action (Lectura Dantis Americana: “Inferno” II [Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1989], pp. 48-56).

This is to emphasize a possible reading at the expense of many others (for which see bibliography in the various studies mentioned, above). None of them has received anything like common assent, either.

This much-contested line is discussed by Petrocchi (La Commedia secondo l'antica vulgata, Inferno), pp. 33-34, arguing strongly for ove rather than onde. However, it should be noted that Mazzoni (Saggio di un nuovo commento alla “Divina Commedia”: “Inferno” –Canti I-III [Florence: Sansoni, 1967]), pp. 294-96, makes a good case for onde. But any solution of the literal sense, which is totally opaque, depends on one's eventual resolution of what the line finally means. And there hardly exists a common view of a solution (see the note to Inf. II.107-108).

Beatrice concludes her speech by expressing the efficacy of Lucy's words on Dante's behalf, which won her over to interceding with Virgil in order to give her beloved a second chance. (Purgatorio XXX and XXXI will reveal that she had grounds for being less charitable to her backsliding lover.) Her speech concludes with the same sort of captatio benevolentiae that marked its inception (Inf. II.58 and the note to Inf. II.58), now couched in terms that praise Virgil's parlare onesto. The phrase means more than 'honest speech,' as is made clear by its etymological propinquity to the verb onora (honors) in the next line. 'Noble' (found also in Sinclair's translation) seemed to the translators a reasonable way to attempt to bridge the gap between 'honest' and 'decorous,' retaining a sense of moral and stylistic gravity for the words of the greatest poet of pagan antiquity – which Virgil was for Dante.

Federico Sanguineti's edition (Dantis Alagherii Comedia [Florence: Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2001]), p. 14, here emends the text to read 'tratte' (rather than 'fatte') His arguments for this adjustment in the text, enunciated at the Second International Dante Seminar at Ascona in 1997, seem convincing. The words would then be rather 'drawn forth' than 'made,' a precision that has little impact on the general meaning of the passage.

Beatrice's tears may remind a reader of Venus's when the goddess weeps for her burdened son in Aeneid I.228, as was perhaps first suggested by Hollander, Allegory in Dante's “Commedia,” pp. 91-92. See also Jacoff, “The Tears of Beatrice,” Dante Studies 100 (1982), p. 3, showing that the verse probably reflects Rachel's tears for her lost children (Jeremiah 31:15) – who are eventually restored to her (as will Dante be to Beatrice).

Virgil offers a summation, as might a present-day lawyer concluding his charge to a jury or a classical or medieval orator attempting to convince his learned auditors as he concludes his argument. Virgil has saved Dante from the she-wolf; why has his pupil not been more ready to follow him? And now there is the further evidence of the three heavenly ladies who have also interceded on Dante's behalf, thus giving confirmation of the justness of what Virgil had sketched as a plan for Dante's journey (Inf. I.112-123). The wavering so amply displayed by the protagonist in this canto once reminded J. Arthur Hanson, a fine Virgilian who taught at Princeton for many years until his untimely death, precisely of Virgil's similarly wavering hero. But the time for wavering is now, finally, at an end. The following simile will give Dante's new determination expression.

This second simile of the canto (the first occurred at vv. 37-40) reveals how carefully Dante has been using classical similes to structure his two proemial cantos, both in themselves, and as a unit. See the note to Inf. II.1-6.

For a close analysis of this passage see Luisa Ferretti Cuomo, Anatomia di un'immagine (“Inferno” 2.127-132): saggio di lessicologia e di semantica strutturale (New York: Peter Lang, 1994), who treats the simile as a mise en abîme of the entire work.

For the resonance of III Kings 17:22-24, especially the phrase 'the word of the Lord in your mouth is truth,' see Luisa Ferretti Cuomo, “La polisemia delle similitudini nella Divina Commedia. Eliseo: un caso esemplare,” Strumenti critici 10 n.s. (1995), p. 114. And for the vere parole of Beatrice, see also the 'veras... voces' that Aeneas would like to exchange with mother Venus, Aeneid I.409, as noted by Jacoff and Stephany, Lectura Dantis Americana: “Inferno” II (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1989), pp. 21-22.

For the words duca, segnore, and maestro, as well as others, terms used by Dante for his guide, see Hermann Gmelin, Kommentar: die Hölle (Stuttgart: Klett, 1966), pp. 59-60, offering the following accountancy of these: duca is used 19 times in Inferno and 17 times in Purgatorio; maestro, 34 times in Inferno, 17 in Purgatorio; signore, 8 times; poeta, 8 times in Inferno, 7 times in Purgatorio; savio, 6 times; padre, 10 times.

Knitting together the two proemial cantos, the word cammino occupies their first and final verses, and appears three other times in these cantos (Inf. I.35; II.5, 63). It will appear again in this cantica, with this meaning, only at Inferno XV.48, XXI.84, and XXXIV.95 e 133. The word appears 39 times in all in the poem. In the majority of cases (but surely not all), it refers to the voyage of the protagonist. Among other personages whose 'cammino' is mentioned, we find only Virgil, frequently referred to as Dante's traveling companion but three times indicated as being on a journey himself (Inf. IX.21, IX.30; Purg. XIII.17); Ulysses (Inf. XXVI.122; Purg. XIX.22); Provenzan Salvani (Purg. XI.109); and Saint Thomas (Par. X.95).