“Vexilla regis prodeunt inferni
verso di noi; però dinanzi mira,”
disse 'l maestro mio, “se tu 'l discerni.”
Come quando una grossa nebbia spira,
o quando l'emisperio nostro annotta,
par di lungi un molin che 'l vento gira,
veder mi parve un tal dificio allotta;
poi per lo vento mi ristrinsi retro
al duca mio, ché non li era altra grotta.
Già era, e con paura il metto in metro,
là dove l'ombre tutte eran coperte,
e trasparien come festuca in vetro.
Altre sono a giacere; altre stanno erte,
quella col capo e quella con le piante;
altra, com' arco, il volto a' piè rinverte.
Quando noi fummo fatti tanto avante,
ch'al mio maestro piacque di mostrarmi
la creatura ch'ebbe il bel sembiante,
d'innanzi mi si tolse e fé restarmi,
“Ecco Dite,” dicendo, “ed ecco il loco
ove convien che di fortezza t'armi.”
Com' io divenni allor gelato e fioco,
nol dimandar, lettor, ch'i' non lo scrivo,
però ch'ogne parlar sarebbe poco.
Io non mori' e non rimasi vivo;
pensa oggimai per te, s'hai fior d'ingegno,
qual io divenni, d'uno e d'altro privo.
Lo 'mperador del doloroso regno
da mezzo 'l petto uscia fuor de la ghiaccia;
e più con un gigante io mi convegno,
che i giganti non fan con le sue braccia:
vedi oggimai quant' esser dee quel tutto
ch'a così fatta parte si confaccia.
S'el fu sì bel com' elli è ora brutto,
e contra 'l suo fattore alzò le ciglia,
ben dee da lui procedere ogne lutto.
Oh quanto parve a me gran maraviglia
quand' io vidi tre facce a la sua testa!
L'una dinanzi, e quella era vermiglia;
l'altr' eran due, che s'aggiugnieno a questa
sovresso 'l mezzo di ciascuna spalla,
e sé giugnieno al loco de la cresta:
e la destra parea tra bianca e gialla;
la sinistra a vedere era tal, quali
vegnon di là onde 'l Nilo s'avvalla.
Sotto ciascuna uscivan due grand' ali,
quanto si convenia a tanto uccello:
vele di mar non vid' io mai cotali.
Non avean penne, ma di vispistrello
era lor modo; e quelle svolazzava,
sì che tre venti si movean da ello:
quindi Cocito tutto s'aggelava.
Con sei occhi piangëa, e per tre menti
gocciava 'l pianto e sanguinosa bava.
Da ogne bocca dirompea co' denti
un peccatore, a guisa di maciulla,
sì che tre ne facea così dolenti.
A quel dinanzi il mordere era nulla
verso 'l graffiar, che tal volta la schiena
rimanea de la pelle tutta brulla.
“Quell' anima là sù c'ha maggior pena,”
disse 'l maestro, “è Giuda Scarïotto,
che 'l capo ha dentro e fuor le gambe mena.
De li altri due c'hanno il capo di sotto,
quel che pende dal nero ceffo è Bruto:
vedi come si storce, e non fa motto!;
e l'altro è Cassio, che par sì membruto.
Ma la notte risurge, e oramai
è da partir, ché tutto avem veduto.”
Com' a lui piacque, il collo li avvinghiai;
ed el prese di tempo e loco poste,
e quando l'ali fuoro aperte assai,
appigliò sé a le vellute coste;
di vello in vello giù discese poscia
tra 'l folto pelo e le gelate croste.
Quando noi fummo là dove la coscia
si volge, a punto in sul grosso de l'anche,
lo duca, con fatica e con angoscia,
volse la testa ov' elli avea le zanche,
e aggrappossi al pel com' om che sale,
sì che 'n inferno i' credea tornar anche.
“Attienti ben, ché per cotali scale,”
disse 'l maestro, ansando com' uom lasso,
“conviensi dipartir da tanto male.”
Poi uscì fuor per lo fóro d'un sasso
e puose me in su l'orlo a sedere;
appresso porse a me l'accorto passo.
Io levai li occhi e credetti vedere
Lucifero com' io l'avea lasciato,
e vidili le gambe in sù tenere;
e s'io divenni allora travagliato,
la gente grossa il pensi, che non vede
qual è quel punto ch'io avea passato.
“Lèvati sù,” disse 'l maestro, “in piede:
la via è lunga e 'l cammino è malvagio,
e già il sole a mezza terza riede.”
Non era camminata di palagio
là 'v' eravam, ma natural burella
ch'avea mal suolo e di lume disagio.
“Prima ch'io de l'abisso mi divella,
maestro mio,” diss' io quando fui dritto,
“a trarmi d'erro un poco mi favella:
ov' è la ghiaccia? e questi com' è fitto
sì sottosopra? e come, in sì poc' ora,
da sera a mane ha fatto il sol tragitto?”
Ed elli a me: “Tu imagini ancora
d'esser di là dal centro, ov' io mi presi
al pel del vermo reo che 'l mondo fóra.
Di là fosti cotanto quant' io scesi;
quand' io mi volsi, tu passasti 'l punto
al qual si traggon d'ogne parte i pesi.
E se' or sotto l'emisperio giunto
ch'è contraposto a quel che la gran secca
coverchia, e sotto 'l cui colmo consunto
fu l'uom che nacque e visse sanza pecca;
tu hai i piedi in su picciola spera
che l'altra faccia fa de la Giudecca.
Qui è da man, quando di là è sera;
e questi, che ne fé scala col pelo,
fitto è ancora si come prim' era.
Da questa parte cadde giù dal cielo;
e la terra, che pria di qua si sporse,
per paura di lui fé del mar velo,
e venne a l'emisperio nostro; e forse
per fuggir lui lasciò qui loco vòto
quella ch'appar di qua, e sù ricorse.”
Luogo è là giù da Belzebù remoto
tanto quanto la tomba si distende,
che non per vista, ma per suono è noto
d'un ruscelletto che quivi discende
per la buca d'un sasso, ch'elli ha roso,
col corso ch'elli avvolge, e poco pende.
Lo duca e io per quel cammino ascoso
intrammo a ritornar nel chiaro mondo;
e sanza cura aver d'alcun riposo,
salimmo sù, el primo e io secondo,
tanto ch'i' vidi de le cose belle
che porta 'l ciel, per un pertugio tondo.
E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle.
"'Vexilla Regis prodeunt Inferni'
Towards us; therefore look in front of thee,"
My Master said, "if thou discernest him."
As, when there breathes a heavy fog, or when
Our hemisphere is darkening into night,
Appears far off a mill the wind is turning,
Methought that such a building then I saw;
And, for the wind, I drew myself behind
My Guide, because there was no other shelter.
Now was I, and with fear in verse I put it,
There where the shades were wholly covered up,
And glimmered through like unto straws in glass.
Some prone are lying, others stand erect,
This with the head, and that one with the soles;
Another, bow-like, face to feet inverts.
When in advance so far we had proceeded,
That it my Master pleased to show to me
The creature who once had the beauteous semblance,
He from before me moved and made me stop,
Saying: "Behold Dis, and behold the place
Where thou with fortitude must arm thyself."
How frozen I became and powerless then,
Ask it not, Reader, for I write it not,
Because all language would be insufficient.
I did not die, and I alive remained not;
Think for thyself now, hast thou aught of wit,
What I became, being of both deprived.
The Emperor of the kingdom dolorous
From his mid-breast forth issued from the ice;
And better with a giant I compare
Than do the giants with those arms of his;
Consider now how great must be that whole,
Which unto such a part conforms itself.
Were he as fair once, as he now is foul,
And lifted up his brow against his Maker,
Well may proceed from him all tribulation.
O, what a marvel it appeared to me,
When I beheld three faces on his head!
The one in front, and that vermilion was;
Two were the others, that were joined with this
Above the middle part of either shoulder,
And they were joined together at the crest;
And the right-hand one seemed 'twixt white and yellow;
The left was such to look upon as those
Who come from where the Nile falls valley-ward.
Underneath each came forth two mighty wings,
Such as befitting were so great a bird;
Sails of the sea I never saw so large.
No feathers had they, but as of a bat
Their fashion was; and he was waving them,
So that three winds proceeded forth therefrom.
Thereby Cocytus wholly was congealed.
With six eyes did he weep, and down three chins
Trickled the tear-drops and the bloody drivel.
At every mouth he with his teeth was crunching
A sinner, in the manner of a brake,
So that he three of them tormented thus.
To him in front the biting was as naught
Unto the clawing, for sometimes the spine
Utterly stripped of all the skin remained.
"That soul up there which has the greatest pain,"
The Master said, "is Judas Iscariot;
With head inside, he plies his legs without.
Of the two others, who head downward are,
The one who hangs from the black jowl is Brutus;
See how he writhes himself, and speaks no word.
And the other, who so stalwart seems, is Cassius.
But night is reascending, and 'tis time
That we depart, for we have seen the whole."
As seemed him good, I clasped him round the neck,
And he the vantage seized of time and place,
And when the wings were opened wide apart,
He laid fast hold upon the shaggy sides;
From fell to fell descended downward then
Between the thick hair and the frozen crust.
When we were come to where the thigh revolves
Exactly on the thickness of the haunch,
The Guide, with labour and with hard-drawn breath,
Turned round his head where he had had his legs,
And grappled to the hair, as one who mounts,
So that to Hell I thought we were returning.
"Keep fast thy hold, for by such stairs as these,"
The Master said, panting as one fatigued,
"Must we perforce depart from so much evil."
Then through the opening of a rock he issued,
And down upon the margin seated me;
Then tow'rds me he outstretched his wary step.
I lifted up mine eyes and thought to see
Lucifer in the same way I had left him;
And I beheld him upward hold his legs.
And if I then became disquieted,
Let stolid people think who do not see
What the point is beyond which I had passed.
"Rise up," the Master said, "upon thy feet;
The way is long, and difficult the road,
And now the sun to middle-tierce returns."
It was not any palace corridor
There where we were, but dungeon natural,
With floor uneven and unease of light.
"Ere from the abyss I tear myself away,
My Master," said I when I had arisen,
"To draw me from an error speak a little;
Where is the ice? and how is this one fixed
Thus upside down? and how in such short time
From eve to morn has the sun made his transit?"
And he to me: "Thou still imaginest
Thou art beyond the centre, where I grasped
The hair of the fell worm, who mines the world.
That side thou wast, so long as I descended;
When round I turned me, thou didst pass the point
To which things heavy draw from every side,
And now beneath the hemisphere art come
Opposite that which overhangs the vast
Dry-land, and 'neath whose cope was put to death
The Man who without sin was born and lived.
Thou hast thy feet upon the little sphere
Which makes the other face of the Judecca.
Here it is morn when it is evening there;
And he who with his hair a stairway made us
Still fixed remaineth as he was before.
Upon this side he fell down out of heaven;
And all the land, that whilom here emerged,
For fear of him made of the sea a veil,
And came to our hemisphere; and peradventure
To flee from him, what on this side appears
Left the place vacant here, and back recoiled."
A place there is below, from Beelzebub
As far receding as the tomb extends,
Which not by sight is known, but by the sound
Of a small rivulet, that there descendeth
Through chasm within the stone, which it has gnawed
With course that winds about and slightly falls.
The Guide and I into that hidden road
Now entered, to return to the bright world;
And without care of having any rest
We mounted up, he first and I the second,
Till I beheld through a round aperture
Some of the beauteous things that Heaven doth bear;
Thence we came forth to rebehold the stars.
The first verse of the last canto of Inferno (like the first verse of the last canto of Purgatorio [Purg. XXXIII.1]) is in Latin. Its first three words are identical to the first verse of a hymn of the True Cross composed by Venantius Fortunatus (sixth century) but the last, obviously, has been added by Dante. Satan, still in the distance, is naturally not 'advancing' against Dante and Virgil, but the wind he emits might have made it seem that way as they approach him. Satan, as we shall see, is immobile.
This is the only complete Latin verse in the cantica, but see seven earlier Latin words or phrases (Inf. I.65, Inf. I.70, Inf. XV.62, Inf. XVI.88, Inf. XVIII.6, Inf. XXI.42, Inf. XXVII.72).
'The Satanic mills' of William Blake may not reflect this passage, even as much as Blake read Dante, yet Dante's simile immediately presents Satan as a vast contraption doing its necessary work in the architect's plan for this infernal city. We reflect that this was once the fairest of angels, now reduced, despite his awesome size, to mindless iteration of his breath. Joan Ferrante speaks of 'Lucifer, who emits no sound but sends forth a silent and freezing wind of hate, a parody perhaps of the love-inspiring tongues of flame brought to the Apostles by the Holy Spirit' (“The Relation of Speech to Sin in the Inferno,” Dante Studies 87 [1969], p. 38). As Bosco/Reggio suggest, it is not without reason that Dante compares Lucifer to a machine (comm. to XXXIV.28-57).
Commentators occasionally remark that Dante has here forgotten the fact that insubstantial Virgil, a shade, would give Dante no shelter at all. The 'rules' of the poem overrule the 'rules' of even his own physics if and when he chooses. E.g., Virgil picks Dante up and carries him at Inferno XIX.124-125 and XXIII.37. See the note to Inferno VI.34-36.
An observation of a Princeton student, Julia Salzman '02, is worth recording: here Dante does not move behind Virgil out of fear, but only to protect himself from the wind. His progress is evident – but Satan will nonetheless cause him considerable fear in a moment.
Since Tommaseo in 1837 (comm. to vv. 10-12) commentators have cited, for this verse, Aeneas's words as he tells the story of Laocoön (Aen. II.204): 'horresco referens' (I shudder merely to tell it). In the Aeneid two serpents are moving toward the priest to kill him; here, the Serpent is being approached by Virgil and Dante. The differing context is eventually reassuring, but the protagonist is, for the last time in this cantica, filled with fear.
For the fourth time in Cocytus the fact that we have crossed a boundary is made clear only by the fact that sinners are now punished in a different posture. This last realm is named, of course, for Judas, who betrayed his rightful Lord, Jesus Christ.
The sinners here are frozen inside the ice, as though tossed into it helter-skelter before it froze and now stuck in their various postures eternally, like straw caught in molten glass in the artisan's shop and now fastened in that glass, a lasting imperfection in it. Their postures are horizontal (whether face-down or supine we cannot tell – perhaps both), vertical (both head-up and head-down), or bent in two. We eventually realize that in this zone we will not learn the identity of any of these sinners, a situation that may remind us of the anonymity that was insisted on for the Neutrals in Inferno III.49-51. All of our attention is saved for Lucifer and the three special betrayers who are punished in his mouth.
Virgil uses the classical name for the king of hell, as he has once before (Inf. XI.65), and as he did in his own poem (e.g., Aen. VI.269). This is the last time that we will hear that name, as we are shortly to leave his 'kingdom.' The phrase 'Ecco Dite' here surely echoes the phrase used of Jesus, before he is sentenced to death, 'Ecce homo.' See the note to Inferno XVII.1-3.
The last verse of this seventh and last address to the reader in Inferno is treated by most commentators as a triviality, i.e., Dante assures the reader that he was indeed half-dead (as he has already said). See, for example, Bosco/Reggo (comm. to vv. 25-27: 'The expression simply translates... that simple and banal phrase... in Italian, mezzo morto [half dead].' Does Dante need to ask us to exercise our wits, if we have these, in order to understand that? The portentousness of his declaration that he cannot write what he became because words would fail him cannot be squared with such an interpretation, words for which would fail no one. Few, however, have come forward with more vital readings. Gregorio Di Siena, in his commentary to these verses, quotes Torricelli, who says that at this moment Dante is passing from the state of death to the state of living in God's forgiveness. Similarly, Ernesto Trucchi, who bridles at the terribly uninteresting readings put forward by previous commentators, claims that this is the moment in which, in the protagonist, the fear of hell becomes the fear of God. More recently, in their commentary Durling and Martinez (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996, p. 544), propose the following: 'This moment is the culmination of the penitential imitation of Christ in the descent into hell, symbolically the pilgrim's death to sin, that is, the death of the “old man,” leading to the reversal of direction from descent to ascent.' They give credit to Freccero's essay 'The Sign of Satan' (in Dante: The Poetics of Conversion, ed. Rachel Jacoff [Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1986], pp. 167-79). Whether we accept their interpretation or not, it does seem that they, and very few others, have responded with the kind of attention that the passage obviously calls for. And now, for a lengthy and illuminating discussion, analyzing the moment as a parodic moment of mystical perception, see Giusppe Ledda (La guerra della lingua [Ravenna: Longo, 2002]), pp. 159-73.
That is, 'I am, proportionally, closer in size to a giant than a giant is to Lucifer.' For the size of the giants, ca. 70 feet, see the note to Inferno XXX.58-66. Let us, merely for purposes of calculation, agree that Dante was six feet tall. The equation is simple: 6/70 = 70/x; x = 817. Thus Lucifer is at the very minimum 817 feet tall. Since both the giants and Satan are only halfway out of the ice, that leaves him as towering, from the waist up, over the ice by at least 409 feet.
Satan, once of the highest order of angels, the Seraphim, has come a long way down. It is worth noting that the only other sinner in hell referred to as raising his brow is prideful Farinata (Inf. X.45).
The 'wonder' that is Satan even now reminds us of his divine origin. As many have noted, he stands before us as a parodic version of Christ crucified, even to his physical resemblance to the scene on Golgotha, in which Christ was upon a cross between two thieves. For a representation of the three-headed Satan known to Dante from the mosaic on the ceiling of the Baptistry in Florence see Bosco/Reggio (comm. to vv. 34-36).
The three colors of Satan's faces have caused much debate. Almost all the early commentators equate them with the opposites of the three attributes of the trinitarian God, Love, Power, and Knowledge. They associate red with anger, thus hatred (or impotence), yellowish white with impotence (or hatred), and black with ignorance. As many note, these are not particularly convincing schemes, if their overall applicability seems acceptable. John Freccero (in Dante: The Poetics of Conversion, ed. Rachel Jacoff [Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1986]), pp. 170-77, attempts to develop an extended analogy between Dante's three-colored Satanic faces and the mulberry tree, whose fruit moves through time from waxen white, through red, to black, and thus mirrors the movement from first sin to death. As things stand, the question remains an open one.
The six wings of Satan are his six wings as one of the angelic order of Seraphim (Isaiah 6:2); they are now not glorious in color but the wings of a giant bat. Their resemblance to sails on a great ship are parodic, since Satan proceeds nowhere, but connect with images associated with Ulysses (Inf. XXVI) and the ship bringing the saved souls to the shore of purgatory (Purg. I).
Guido da Pisa (comm. to XXXIV.13-15) associates Satan's tears and mastication with a biblical text (Matthew 8:12), Jesus's words to the Centurion concerning those who fail to believe: 'and there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.'
The three most gravely punished sinners of the poem are Judas Iscariot, who betrayed Jesus (founder of the Church), as well as Brutus and Cassius, who betrayed Julius Caesar (the first ruler of the Empire). Judas is tortured more heavily, his back flayed ([see Inf. XXXIV.58-60] as was Christ's, on the way to Golgotha, bearing the cross). Nonetheless, Brutus and Cassius, those stalwarts of the Roman Republic, which Dante honored so notably (see Robert Hollander and Albert Rossi, “Dante's Republican Treasury,” Dante Studies 104 [1986], pp. 59-82), are not treated a great deal better. When we consider that another 'conspirator' against Julius, Cato the Younger, is found saved in the next canto (Purg. I), we must surely be puzzled. For Dante, despite his predominant hostility to him as a man (see William Stull and Robert Hollander, “The Lucanian Source of Dante's Ulysses,” Studi Danteschi 63 [1991(1997)], pp. 33-43), Julius was nonetheless the first emperor of Rome, and thus served a divinely-ordained purpose. For this reason, Brutus and Cassius are seen as betrayers of their rightful lord.
It is now nightfall of the Saturday of Easter weekend; the journey to this point has lasted precisely twenty-four hours. We have also reached the border of the midpoint of this canto, verse 69 of 139. The next verse begins the action that will encompass another twenty-four-hour period, seventy verses that will extend through exactly as many hours as have been consumed by the journey up to now.
When Satan opens his wings, Virgil, with Dante holding on to him, seizes the moment to grasp the animal-like flank of Satan.
At the very center of the universe even Virgil, a shade, feels the pull of gravity as he tries to move back up toward the light. See Freccero's overall view of the situation: 'In this spiritual universe, Satan falls with his immense weight to the center and the pilgrim rises to the Empyrean according to the universal law of gravity and grace, an extraordinary amalgam of Aristotelian physics and Augustinian spirituality' (“Dante's Cosmos” [Bernardo Lecture Series, No. 6; Binghamton, N.Y.: CEMERS, 1998], p. 3).
The locution describing Virgil's changed direction, 'ov' elli avea le zanche' (where he had his shanks), has caused debate, some believing that the 'he' refers to Virgil himself, i.e., turned his head to where his legs had been; others, that he turned his head to where Satan's leg were. Our translation follows Anna Hatcher and Mark Musa, who opt for Satan's legs (“Lucifer's Legs,” Publications of the Modern Language Association of America 79 [1964], pp. 191-99, and “Lucifer's Legs, Again,” Modern Language Notes 81 [1966], pp. 88-91), pointing out, among other things, that Dante's insertion of the pronoun 'elli' before the verb 'avea' makes it almost necessary to draw this conclusion, since he never else inserts a pronoun into a sequence of verbs without introducing a new subject of the verb; that is, if the line read '[Virgilio] volse la testa ov' avea le zanche,' Virgil would clearly be the implied subject of the second verb. According to Hatcher and Musa, the 'elli' all but removes that possibility. For the word zanche (shanks) see the note to Inferno XIX.45.
Since Dante doesn't understand (see vv. 90-93) that he has reached the center of the universe and is being moved back upward toward the surface of the earth at the antipodes, he assumes that Virgil is going back up toward the ice of Cocytus.
It is now 7:30 am (midway between 6:00 and 9:00, the first 'tierce,' or three-hour period, into four of which the solar day was divided (6-9; 9-noon; noon-3; 3-6). Since moments ago (v. 68) we had learned that it was 6:00 pm in Jerusalem, how can this be? For the first time in the poem Virgil tells time by the sun, and not the moon; and he tells it by the position of the sun in purgatory, twelve hours ahead of Jerusalem (where it is currently 7:30 pm). We are leaving hell behind.
Even though the travelers have to traverse an enormous distance in seventy lines, thirty-nine of them (vv. 88-126) are devoted to their new situation, Dante's three questions, and Virgil's responses. The setting is a space on the convex side of the ice of Cocytus, i.e., on its far side. The only remaining evidence of the infernal core is offered by the legs of Lucifer, sticking up through the crust of the area that contains the rest of him. We are on the other side of the ice, and there is nothing more by way of constructed space to catch our eye.
Dante wants to know why he no longer sees the ice, why Lucifer is 'upside down,' and how it can already be morning. Some of Virgil's explanations have already been adverted to. He also explains that they are now under the southern hemisphere of the world above, not the northern, where Christ was put to death and whence they had begun their descent.
Virgil's final words in Inferno create, as it were, the foundation myth of sin: how it established itself in the world that God had made good. Carla Forti (“Nascità dell'Inferno o nascità del Purgatorio: nota sulla caduta del Lucifero dantesco,” Rivista di letteratura italiana 4 [1986], p. 246), refers to the passage as a 'genuine cosmological myth' and describes the fall of Lucifer as 'the first event that occurs in time' (p. 259).
It is worth considering a similar passage in Ovid (Metam. I.151-162: Astraea, or justice, has just left the earth. The battle of Phlegra ensues (about which we have heard in Inf. XXXI.44-45, Inf. XXXI.91-96, Inf. XXXI.119-121); once the giants are destroyed, mother Earth, Gea, forms man in their image, if smaller, out of their gore. But this new stock, too, is contemptuous of the gods. Soon enough Lycaon (the 'wolf-man') will commit the first murder, one that will eventually lead to the murder of Julius Caesar (verse 201).
Here, in the final moments of the final canto, we learn of the first things to occur in terrestrial time: Satan fell from heaven and crashed into our earth (see Par. XXIX.55-57). To flee from him, all the land in the southern hemisphere hid beneath the sea and moved to the north of the equator, while the matter that he displaced in his fall rose up behind him to form the mount of purgatory.
Over the years there have been efforts to find contradictions to this view of the earth's 'geology' in Dante's later Questio de aqua et terra (1320). Bruno Nardi, La caduta di Lucifero e l'autenticità della “Quaestio de aqua et terra” (Torino, S.E.I. [Lectura Dantis Romana]: 1959) [now in B. Nardi, “Lecturae” e altri studi danteschi, ed. R. Abardo (Firenze: Le Lettere, 1990), pp. 227-65] made a case for the contradiction. Freccero's review (“Satan's Fall and the Quaestio de aqua et terra,” Italica 38 [1961], pp. 99-115) offered strong rebuttals to Nardi's main arguments. The magisterial edition produced by Mazzoni (Dante Alighieri, Opere minori, vol. II [Milan-Naples: Ricciardi, 1979], pp. 691-880) convincingly presents the work as Dantean. Pasquazi (“Sulla cosmogonia di Dante [Inferno XXXIV e Questio de aqua et terra],” in his D'Egitto in Ierusalemme [Rome: Bulzoni, 1985], pp. 121-56) makes a strong case for the absence of any significant contradiction. For a study of the wider question see Giorgio Stabile, “Cosmologia e teologia nella Commedia: la caduta di Lucifero e il rovesciamento del mondo,” Letture classensi 12 (1983), pp. 139-73. More recently, Zygmunt Baranski (“The Mystery of Dante's Questio de aqua et terra,” in In amicizia: Essays in Honour of Giulio Lepschy, ed. Z.G. Baranski and L. Pertile [The Italianist 17 (1997–special supplement)], pp. 146-64) also argues for authenticity.
Along a passage in the rock through the space contained between the floor formed by the convex side of Cocytus and the underside of the earth above, the travelers follow the sound of a stream. It, many suggest, is the river Lethe, running down into hell filled with the sins now forgotten by all who have purged themselves of them (Purg. XXVIII.127-130).
There is no pausing for rest that now seems a waste of time, given the nearness of the light. Looking through a crevice (the word in Italian is pertugio, the same word used to describe the opening through which Ugolino could see the moon from his cell [Inf. XXXIII.22]) in the earth's surface, whence, we assume, comes the little stream that they are following, Dante is able to see a few stars in the firmament above him.
In a single verse the cantica concludes. And in this line both Virgil and Dante actually step out of hell, and now can see the full expanse of the dawn sky, filled with stars. Both Purgatorio and Paradiso will also end with the word 'stars' (stelle), the goals of a human sight that is being drawn to God. There is no doubt as to the fact that even Inferno, ending in happiness of this kind, is a comedic part of a comedic whole.
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“Vexilla regis prodeunt inferni
verso di noi; però dinanzi mira,”
disse 'l maestro mio, “se tu 'l discerni.”
Come quando una grossa nebbia spira,
o quando l'emisperio nostro annotta,
par di lungi un molin che 'l vento gira,
veder mi parve un tal dificio allotta;
poi per lo vento mi ristrinsi retro
al duca mio, ché non li era altra grotta.
Già era, e con paura il metto in metro,
là dove l'ombre tutte eran coperte,
e trasparien come festuca in vetro.
Altre sono a giacere; altre stanno erte,
quella col capo e quella con le piante;
altra, com' arco, il volto a' piè rinverte.
Quando noi fummo fatti tanto avante,
ch'al mio maestro piacque di mostrarmi
la creatura ch'ebbe il bel sembiante,
d'innanzi mi si tolse e fé restarmi,
“Ecco Dite,” dicendo, “ed ecco il loco
ove convien che di fortezza t'armi.”
Com' io divenni allor gelato e fioco,
nol dimandar, lettor, ch'i' non lo scrivo,
però ch'ogne parlar sarebbe poco.
Io non mori' e non rimasi vivo;
pensa oggimai per te, s'hai fior d'ingegno,
qual io divenni, d'uno e d'altro privo.
Lo 'mperador del doloroso regno
da mezzo 'l petto uscia fuor de la ghiaccia;
e più con un gigante io mi convegno,
che i giganti non fan con le sue braccia:
vedi oggimai quant' esser dee quel tutto
ch'a così fatta parte si confaccia.
S'el fu sì bel com' elli è ora brutto,
e contra 'l suo fattore alzò le ciglia,
ben dee da lui procedere ogne lutto.
Oh quanto parve a me gran maraviglia
quand' io vidi tre facce a la sua testa!
L'una dinanzi, e quella era vermiglia;
l'altr' eran due, che s'aggiugnieno a questa
sovresso 'l mezzo di ciascuna spalla,
e sé giugnieno al loco de la cresta:
e la destra parea tra bianca e gialla;
la sinistra a vedere era tal, quali
vegnon di là onde 'l Nilo s'avvalla.
Sotto ciascuna uscivan due grand' ali,
quanto si convenia a tanto uccello:
vele di mar non vid' io mai cotali.
Non avean penne, ma di vispistrello
era lor modo; e quelle svolazzava,
sì che tre venti si movean da ello:
quindi Cocito tutto s'aggelava.
Con sei occhi piangëa, e per tre menti
gocciava 'l pianto e sanguinosa bava.
Da ogne bocca dirompea co' denti
un peccatore, a guisa di maciulla,
sì che tre ne facea così dolenti.
A quel dinanzi il mordere era nulla
verso 'l graffiar, che tal volta la schiena
rimanea de la pelle tutta brulla.
“Quell' anima là sù c'ha maggior pena,”
disse 'l maestro, “è Giuda Scarïotto,
che 'l capo ha dentro e fuor le gambe mena.
De li altri due c'hanno il capo di sotto,
quel che pende dal nero ceffo è Bruto:
vedi come si storce, e non fa motto!;
e l'altro è Cassio, che par sì membruto.
Ma la notte risurge, e oramai
è da partir, ché tutto avem veduto.”
Com' a lui piacque, il collo li avvinghiai;
ed el prese di tempo e loco poste,
e quando l'ali fuoro aperte assai,
appigliò sé a le vellute coste;
di vello in vello giù discese poscia
tra 'l folto pelo e le gelate croste.
Quando noi fummo là dove la coscia
si volge, a punto in sul grosso de l'anche,
lo duca, con fatica e con angoscia,
volse la testa ov' elli avea le zanche,
e aggrappossi al pel com' om che sale,
sì che 'n inferno i' credea tornar anche.
“Attienti ben, ché per cotali scale,”
disse 'l maestro, ansando com' uom lasso,
“conviensi dipartir da tanto male.”
Poi uscì fuor per lo fóro d'un sasso
e puose me in su l'orlo a sedere;
appresso porse a me l'accorto passo.
Io levai li occhi e credetti vedere
Lucifero com' io l'avea lasciato,
e vidili le gambe in sù tenere;
e s'io divenni allora travagliato,
la gente grossa il pensi, che non vede
qual è quel punto ch'io avea passato.
“Lèvati sù,” disse 'l maestro, “in piede:
la via è lunga e 'l cammino è malvagio,
e già il sole a mezza terza riede.”
Non era camminata di palagio
là 'v' eravam, ma natural burella
ch'avea mal suolo e di lume disagio.
“Prima ch'io de l'abisso mi divella,
maestro mio,” diss' io quando fui dritto,
“a trarmi d'erro un poco mi favella:
ov' è la ghiaccia? e questi com' è fitto
sì sottosopra? e come, in sì poc' ora,
da sera a mane ha fatto il sol tragitto?”
Ed elli a me: “Tu imagini ancora
d'esser di là dal centro, ov' io mi presi
al pel del vermo reo che 'l mondo fóra.
Di là fosti cotanto quant' io scesi;
quand' io mi volsi, tu passasti 'l punto
al qual si traggon d'ogne parte i pesi.
E se' or sotto l'emisperio giunto
ch'è contraposto a quel che la gran secca
coverchia, e sotto 'l cui colmo consunto
fu l'uom che nacque e visse sanza pecca;
tu hai i piedi in su picciola spera
che l'altra faccia fa de la Giudecca.
Qui è da man, quando di là è sera;
e questi, che ne fé scala col pelo,
fitto è ancora si come prim' era.
Da questa parte cadde giù dal cielo;
e la terra, che pria di qua si sporse,
per paura di lui fé del mar velo,
e venne a l'emisperio nostro; e forse
per fuggir lui lasciò qui loco vòto
quella ch'appar di qua, e sù ricorse.”
Luogo è là giù da Belzebù remoto
tanto quanto la tomba si distende,
che non per vista, ma per suono è noto
d'un ruscelletto che quivi discende
per la buca d'un sasso, ch'elli ha roso,
col corso ch'elli avvolge, e poco pende.
Lo duca e io per quel cammino ascoso
intrammo a ritornar nel chiaro mondo;
e sanza cura aver d'alcun riposo,
salimmo sù, el primo e io secondo,
tanto ch'i' vidi de le cose belle
che porta 'l ciel, per un pertugio tondo.
E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle.
"'Vexilla Regis prodeunt Inferni'
Towards us; therefore look in front of thee,"
My Master said, "if thou discernest him."
As, when there breathes a heavy fog, or when
Our hemisphere is darkening into night,
Appears far off a mill the wind is turning,
Methought that such a building then I saw;
And, for the wind, I drew myself behind
My Guide, because there was no other shelter.
Now was I, and with fear in verse I put it,
There where the shades were wholly covered up,
And glimmered through like unto straws in glass.
Some prone are lying, others stand erect,
This with the head, and that one with the soles;
Another, bow-like, face to feet inverts.
When in advance so far we had proceeded,
That it my Master pleased to show to me
The creature who once had the beauteous semblance,
He from before me moved and made me stop,
Saying: "Behold Dis, and behold the place
Where thou with fortitude must arm thyself."
How frozen I became and powerless then,
Ask it not, Reader, for I write it not,
Because all language would be insufficient.
I did not die, and I alive remained not;
Think for thyself now, hast thou aught of wit,
What I became, being of both deprived.
The Emperor of the kingdom dolorous
From his mid-breast forth issued from the ice;
And better with a giant I compare
Than do the giants with those arms of his;
Consider now how great must be that whole,
Which unto such a part conforms itself.
Were he as fair once, as he now is foul,
And lifted up his brow against his Maker,
Well may proceed from him all tribulation.
O, what a marvel it appeared to me,
When I beheld three faces on his head!
The one in front, and that vermilion was;
Two were the others, that were joined with this
Above the middle part of either shoulder,
And they were joined together at the crest;
And the right-hand one seemed 'twixt white and yellow;
The left was such to look upon as those
Who come from where the Nile falls valley-ward.
Underneath each came forth two mighty wings,
Such as befitting were so great a bird;
Sails of the sea I never saw so large.
No feathers had they, but as of a bat
Their fashion was; and he was waving them,
So that three winds proceeded forth therefrom.
Thereby Cocytus wholly was congealed.
With six eyes did he weep, and down three chins
Trickled the tear-drops and the bloody drivel.
At every mouth he with his teeth was crunching
A sinner, in the manner of a brake,
So that he three of them tormented thus.
To him in front the biting was as naught
Unto the clawing, for sometimes the spine
Utterly stripped of all the skin remained.
"That soul up there which has the greatest pain,"
The Master said, "is Judas Iscariot;
With head inside, he plies his legs without.
Of the two others, who head downward are,
The one who hangs from the black jowl is Brutus;
See how he writhes himself, and speaks no word.
And the other, who so stalwart seems, is Cassius.
But night is reascending, and 'tis time
That we depart, for we have seen the whole."
As seemed him good, I clasped him round the neck,
And he the vantage seized of time and place,
And when the wings were opened wide apart,
He laid fast hold upon the shaggy sides;
From fell to fell descended downward then
Between the thick hair and the frozen crust.
When we were come to where the thigh revolves
Exactly on the thickness of the haunch,
The Guide, with labour and with hard-drawn breath,
Turned round his head where he had had his legs,
And grappled to the hair, as one who mounts,
So that to Hell I thought we were returning.
"Keep fast thy hold, for by such stairs as these,"
The Master said, panting as one fatigued,
"Must we perforce depart from so much evil."
Then through the opening of a rock he issued,
And down upon the margin seated me;
Then tow'rds me he outstretched his wary step.
I lifted up mine eyes and thought to see
Lucifer in the same way I had left him;
And I beheld him upward hold his legs.
And if I then became disquieted,
Let stolid people think who do not see
What the point is beyond which I had passed.
"Rise up," the Master said, "upon thy feet;
The way is long, and difficult the road,
And now the sun to middle-tierce returns."
It was not any palace corridor
There where we were, but dungeon natural,
With floor uneven and unease of light.
"Ere from the abyss I tear myself away,
My Master," said I when I had arisen,
"To draw me from an error speak a little;
Where is the ice? and how is this one fixed
Thus upside down? and how in such short time
From eve to morn has the sun made his transit?"
And he to me: "Thou still imaginest
Thou art beyond the centre, where I grasped
The hair of the fell worm, who mines the world.
That side thou wast, so long as I descended;
When round I turned me, thou didst pass the point
To which things heavy draw from every side,
And now beneath the hemisphere art come
Opposite that which overhangs the vast
Dry-land, and 'neath whose cope was put to death
The Man who without sin was born and lived.
Thou hast thy feet upon the little sphere
Which makes the other face of the Judecca.
Here it is morn when it is evening there;
And he who with his hair a stairway made us
Still fixed remaineth as he was before.
Upon this side he fell down out of heaven;
And all the land, that whilom here emerged,
For fear of him made of the sea a veil,
And came to our hemisphere; and peradventure
To flee from him, what on this side appears
Left the place vacant here, and back recoiled."
A place there is below, from Beelzebub
As far receding as the tomb extends,
Which not by sight is known, but by the sound
Of a small rivulet, that there descendeth
Through chasm within the stone, which it has gnawed
With course that winds about and slightly falls.
The Guide and I into that hidden road
Now entered, to return to the bright world;
And without care of having any rest
We mounted up, he first and I the second,
Till I beheld through a round aperture
Some of the beauteous things that Heaven doth bear;
Thence we came forth to rebehold the stars.
The first verse of the last canto of Inferno (like the first verse of the last canto of Purgatorio [Purg. XXXIII.1]) is in Latin. Its first three words are identical to the first verse of a hymn of the True Cross composed by Venantius Fortunatus (sixth century) but the last, obviously, has been added by Dante. Satan, still in the distance, is naturally not 'advancing' against Dante and Virgil, but the wind he emits might have made it seem that way as they approach him. Satan, as we shall see, is immobile.
This is the only complete Latin verse in the cantica, but see seven earlier Latin words or phrases (Inf. I.65, Inf. I.70, Inf. XV.62, Inf. XVI.88, Inf. XVIII.6, Inf. XXI.42, Inf. XXVII.72).
'The Satanic mills' of William Blake may not reflect this passage, even as much as Blake read Dante, yet Dante's simile immediately presents Satan as a vast contraption doing its necessary work in the architect's plan for this infernal city. We reflect that this was once the fairest of angels, now reduced, despite his awesome size, to mindless iteration of his breath. Joan Ferrante speaks of 'Lucifer, who emits no sound but sends forth a silent and freezing wind of hate, a parody perhaps of the love-inspiring tongues of flame brought to the Apostles by the Holy Spirit' (“The Relation of Speech to Sin in the Inferno,” Dante Studies 87 [1969], p. 38). As Bosco/Reggio suggest, it is not without reason that Dante compares Lucifer to a machine (comm. to XXXIV.28-57).
Commentators occasionally remark that Dante has here forgotten the fact that insubstantial Virgil, a shade, would give Dante no shelter at all. The 'rules' of the poem overrule the 'rules' of even his own physics if and when he chooses. E.g., Virgil picks Dante up and carries him at Inferno XIX.124-125 and XXIII.37. See the note to Inferno VI.34-36.
An observation of a Princeton student, Julia Salzman '02, is worth recording: here Dante does not move behind Virgil out of fear, but only to protect himself from the wind. His progress is evident – but Satan will nonetheless cause him considerable fear in a moment.
Since Tommaseo in 1837 (comm. to vv. 10-12) commentators have cited, for this verse, Aeneas's words as he tells the story of Laocoön (Aen. II.204): 'horresco referens' (I shudder merely to tell it). In the Aeneid two serpents are moving toward the priest to kill him; here, the Serpent is being approached by Virgil and Dante. The differing context is eventually reassuring, but the protagonist is, for the last time in this cantica, filled with fear.
For the fourth time in Cocytus the fact that we have crossed a boundary is made clear only by the fact that sinners are now punished in a different posture. This last realm is named, of course, for Judas, who betrayed his rightful Lord, Jesus Christ.
The sinners here are frozen inside the ice, as though tossed into it helter-skelter before it froze and now stuck in their various postures eternally, like straw caught in molten glass in the artisan's shop and now fastened in that glass, a lasting imperfection in it. Their postures are horizontal (whether face-down or supine we cannot tell – perhaps both), vertical (both head-up and head-down), or bent in two. We eventually realize that in this zone we will not learn the identity of any of these sinners, a situation that may remind us of the anonymity that was insisted on for the Neutrals in Inferno III.49-51. All of our attention is saved for Lucifer and the three special betrayers who are punished in his mouth.
Virgil uses the classical name for the king of hell, as he has once before (Inf. XI.65), and as he did in his own poem (e.g., Aen. VI.269). This is the last time that we will hear that name, as we are shortly to leave his 'kingdom.' The phrase 'Ecco Dite' here surely echoes the phrase used of Jesus, before he is sentenced to death, 'Ecce homo.' See the note to Inferno XVII.1-3.
The last verse of this seventh and last address to the reader in Inferno is treated by most commentators as a triviality, i.e., Dante assures the reader that he was indeed half-dead (as he has already said). See, for example, Bosco/Reggo (comm. to vv. 25-27: 'The expression simply translates... that simple and banal phrase... in Italian, mezzo morto [half dead].' Does Dante need to ask us to exercise our wits, if we have these, in order to understand that? The portentousness of his declaration that he cannot write what he became because words would fail him cannot be squared with such an interpretation, words for which would fail no one. Few, however, have come forward with more vital readings. Gregorio Di Siena, in his commentary to these verses, quotes Torricelli, who says that at this moment Dante is passing from the state of death to the state of living in God's forgiveness. Similarly, Ernesto Trucchi, who bridles at the terribly uninteresting readings put forward by previous commentators, claims that this is the moment in which, in the protagonist, the fear of hell becomes the fear of God. More recently, in their commentary Durling and Martinez (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996, p. 544), propose the following: 'This moment is the culmination of the penitential imitation of Christ in the descent into hell, symbolically the pilgrim's death to sin, that is, the death of the “old man,” leading to the reversal of direction from descent to ascent.' They give credit to Freccero's essay 'The Sign of Satan' (in Dante: The Poetics of Conversion, ed. Rachel Jacoff [Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1986], pp. 167-79). Whether we accept their interpretation or not, it does seem that they, and very few others, have responded with the kind of attention that the passage obviously calls for. And now, for a lengthy and illuminating discussion, analyzing the moment as a parodic moment of mystical perception, see Giusppe Ledda (La guerra della lingua [Ravenna: Longo, 2002]), pp. 159-73.
That is, 'I am, proportionally, closer in size to a giant than a giant is to Lucifer.' For the size of the giants, ca. 70 feet, see the note to Inferno XXX.58-66. Let us, merely for purposes of calculation, agree that Dante was six feet tall. The equation is simple: 6/70 = 70/x; x = 817. Thus Lucifer is at the very minimum 817 feet tall. Since both the giants and Satan are only halfway out of the ice, that leaves him as towering, from the waist up, over the ice by at least 409 feet.
Satan, once of the highest order of angels, the Seraphim, has come a long way down. It is worth noting that the only other sinner in hell referred to as raising his brow is prideful Farinata (Inf. X.45).
The 'wonder' that is Satan even now reminds us of his divine origin. As many have noted, he stands before us as a parodic version of Christ crucified, even to his physical resemblance to the scene on Golgotha, in which Christ was upon a cross between two thieves. For a representation of the three-headed Satan known to Dante from the mosaic on the ceiling of the Baptistry in Florence see Bosco/Reggio (comm. to vv. 34-36).
The three colors of Satan's faces have caused much debate. Almost all the early commentators equate them with the opposites of the three attributes of the trinitarian God, Love, Power, and Knowledge. They associate red with anger, thus hatred (or impotence), yellowish white with impotence (or hatred), and black with ignorance. As many note, these are not particularly convincing schemes, if their overall applicability seems acceptable. John Freccero (in Dante: The Poetics of Conversion, ed. Rachel Jacoff [Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1986]), pp. 170-77, attempts to develop an extended analogy between Dante's three-colored Satanic faces and the mulberry tree, whose fruit moves through time from waxen white, through red, to black, and thus mirrors the movement from first sin to death. As things stand, the question remains an open one.
The six wings of Satan are his six wings as one of the angelic order of Seraphim (Isaiah 6:2); they are now not glorious in color but the wings of a giant bat. Their resemblance to sails on a great ship are parodic, since Satan proceeds nowhere, but connect with images associated with Ulysses (Inf. XXVI) and the ship bringing the saved souls to the shore of purgatory (Purg. I).
Guido da Pisa (comm. to XXXIV.13-15) associates Satan's tears and mastication with a biblical text (Matthew 8:12), Jesus's words to the Centurion concerning those who fail to believe: 'and there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.'
The three most gravely punished sinners of the poem are Judas Iscariot, who betrayed Jesus (founder of the Church), as well as Brutus and Cassius, who betrayed Julius Caesar (the first ruler of the Empire). Judas is tortured more heavily, his back flayed ([see Inf. XXXIV.58-60] as was Christ's, on the way to Golgotha, bearing the cross). Nonetheless, Brutus and Cassius, those stalwarts of the Roman Republic, which Dante honored so notably (see Robert Hollander and Albert Rossi, “Dante's Republican Treasury,” Dante Studies 104 [1986], pp. 59-82), are not treated a great deal better. When we consider that another 'conspirator' against Julius, Cato the Younger, is found saved in the next canto (Purg. I), we must surely be puzzled. For Dante, despite his predominant hostility to him as a man (see William Stull and Robert Hollander, “The Lucanian Source of Dante's Ulysses,” Studi Danteschi 63 [1991(1997)], pp. 33-43), Julius was nonetheless the first emperor of Rome, and thus served a divinely-ordained purpose. For this reason, Brutus and Cassius are seen as betrayers of their rightful lord.
It is now nightfall of the Saturday of Easter weekend; the journey to this point has lasted precisely twenty-four hours. We have also reached the border of the midpoint of this canto, verse 69 of 139. The next verse begins the action that will encompass another twenty-four-hour period, seventy verses that will extend through exactly as many hours as have been consumed by the journey up to now.
When Satan opens his wings, Virgil, with Dante holding on to him, seizes the moment to grasp the animal-like flank of Satan.
At the very center of the universe even Virgil, a shade, feels the pull of gravity as he tries to move back up toward the light. See Freccero's overall view of the situation: 'In this spiritual universe, Satan falls with his immense weight to the center and the pilgrim rises to the Empyrean according to the universal law of gravity and grace, an extraordinary amalgam of Aristotelian physics and Augustinian spirituality' (“Dante's Cosmos” [Bernardo Lecture Series, No. 6; Binghamton, N.Y.: CEMERS, 1998], p. 3).
The locution describing Virgil's changed direction, 'ov' elli avea le zanche' (where he had his shanks), has caused debate, some believing that the 'he' refers to Virgil himself, i.e., turned his head to where his legs had been; others, that he turned his head to where Satan's leg were. Our translation follows Anna Hatcher and Mark Musa, who opt for Satan's legs (“Lucifer's Legs,” Publications of the Modern Language Association of America 79 [1964], pp. 191-99, and “Lucifer's Legs, Again,” Modern Language Notes 81 [1966], pp. 88-91), pointing out, among other things, that Dante's insertion of the pronoun 'elli' before the verb 'avea' makes it almost necessary to draw this conclusion, since he never else inserts a pronoun into a sequence of verbs without introducing a new subject of the verb; that is, if the line read '[Virgilio] volse la testa ov' avea le zanche,' Virgil would clearly be the implied subject of the second verb. According to Hatcher and Musa, the 'elli' all but removes that possibility. For the word zanche (shanks) see the note to Inferno XIX.45.
Since Dante doesn't understand (see vv. 90-93) that he has reached the center of the universe and is being moved back upward toward the surface of the earth at the antipodes, he assumes that Virgil is going back up toward the ice of Cocytus.
It is now 7:30 am (midway between 6:00 and 9:00, the first 'tierce,' or three-hour period, into four of which the solar day was divided (6-9; 9-noon; noon-3; 3-6). Since moments ago (v. 68) we had learned that it was 6:00 pm in Jerusalem, how can this be? For the first time in the poem Virgil tells time by the sun, and not the moon; and he tells it by the position of the sun in purgatory, twelve hours ahead of Jerusalem (where it is currently 7:30 pm). We are leaving hell behind.
Even though the travelers have to traverse an enormous distance in seventy lines, thirty-nine of them (vv. 88-126) are devoted to their new situation, Dante's three questions, and Virgil's responses. The setting is a space on the convex side of the ice of Cocytus, i.e., on its far side. The only remaining evidence of the infernal core is offered by the legs of Lucifer, sticking up through the crust of the area that contains the rest of him. We are on the other side of the ice, and there is nothing more by way of constructed space to catch our eye.
Dante wants to know why he no longer sees the ice, why Lucifer is 'upside down,' and how it can already be morning. Some of Virgil's explanations have already been adverted to. He also explains that they are now under the southern hemisphere of the world above, not the northern, where Christ was put to death and whence they had begun their descent.
Virgil's final words in Inferno create, as it were, the foundation myth of sin: how it established itself in the world that God had made good. Carla Forti (“Nascità dell'Inferno o nascità del Purgatorio: nota sulla caduta del Lucifero dantesco,” Rivista di letteratura italiana 4 [1986], p. 246), refers to the passage as a 'genuine cosmological myth' and describes the fall of Lucifer as 'the first event that occurs in time' (p. 259).
It is worth considering a similar passage in Ovid (Metam. I.151-162: Astraea, or justice, has just left the earth. The battle of Phlegra ensues (about which we have heard in Inf. XXXI.44-45, Inf. XXXI.91-96, Inf. XXXI.119-121); once the giants are destroyed, mother Earth, Gea, forms man in their image, if smaller, out of their gore. But this new stock, too, is contemptuous of the gods. Soon enough Lycaon (the 'wolf-man') will commit the first murder, one that will eventually lead to the murder of Julius Caesar (verse 201).
Here, in the final moments of the final canto, we learn of the first things to occur in terrestrial time: Satan fell from heaven and crashed into our earth (see Par. XXIX.55-57). To flee from him, all the land in the southern hemisphere hid beneath the sea and moved to the north of the equator, while the matter that he displaced in his fall rose up behind him to form the mount of purgatory.
Over the years there have been efforts to find contradictions to this view of the earth's 'geology' in Dante's later Questio de aqua et terra (1320). Bruno Nardi, La caduta di Lucifero e l'autenticità della “Quaestio de aqua et terra” (Torino, S.E.I. [Lectura Dantis Romana]: 1959) [now in B. Nardi, “Lecturae” e altri studi danteschi, ed. R. Abardo (Firenze: Le Lettere, 1990), pp. 227-65] made a case for the contradiction. Freccero's review (“Satan's Fall and the Quaestio de aqua et terra,” Italica 38 [1961], pp. 99-115) offered strong rebuttals to Nardi's main arguments. The magisterial edition produced by Mazzoni (Dante Alighieri, Opere minori, vol. II [Milan-Naples: Ricciardi, 1979], pp. 691-880) convincingly presents the work as Dantean. Pasquazi (“Sulla cosmogonia di Dante [Inferno XXXIV e Questio de aqua et terra],” in his D'Egitto in Ierusalemme [Rome: Bulzoni, 1985], pp. 121-56) makes a strong case for the absence of any significant contradiction. For a study of the wider question see Giorgio Stabile, “Cosmologia e teologia nella Commedia: la caduta di Lucifero e il rovesciamento del mondo,” Letture classensi 12 (1983), pp. 139-73. More recently, Zygmunt Baranski (“The Mystery of Dante's Questio de aqua et terra,” in In amicizia: Essays in Honour of Giulio Lepschy, ed. Z.G. Baranski and L. Pertile [The Italianist 17 (1997–special supplement)], pp. 146-64) also argues for authenticity.
Along a passage in the rock through the space contained between the floor formed by the convex side of Cocytus and the underside of the earth above, the travelers follow the sound of a stream. It, many suggest, is the river Lethe, running down into hell filled with the sins now forgotten by all who have purged themselves of them (Purg. XXVIII.127-130).
There is no pausing for rest that now seems a waste of time, given the nearness of the light. Looking through a crevice (the word in Italian is pertugio, the same word used to describe the opening through which Ugolino could see the moon from his cell [Inf. XXXIII.22]) in the earth's surface, whence, we assume, comes the little stream that they are following, Dante is able to see a few stars in the firmament above him.
In a single verse the cantica concludes. And in this line both Virgil and Dante actually step out of hell, and now can see the full expanse of the dawn sky, filled with stars. Both Purgatorio and Paradiso will also end with the word 'stars' (stelle), the goals of a human sight that is being drawn to God. There is no doubt as to the fact that even Inferno, ending in happiness of this kind, is a comedic part of a comedic whole.
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“Vexilla regis prodeunt inferni
verso di noi; però dinanzi mira,”
disse 'l maestro mio, “se tu 'l discerni.”
Come quando una grossa nebbia spira,
o quando l'emisperio nostro annotta,
par di lungi un molin che 'l vento gira,
veder mi parve un tal dificio allotta;
poi per lo vento mi ristrinsi retro
al duca mio, ché non li era altra grotta.
Già era, e con paura il metto in metro,
là dove l'ombre tutte eran coperte,
e trasparien come festuca in vetro.
Altre sono a giacere; altre stanno erte,
quella col capo e quella con le piante;
altra, com' arco, il volto a' piè rinverte.
Quando noi fummo fatti tanto avante,
ch'al mio maestro piacque di mostrarmi
la creatura ch'ebbe il bel sembiante,
d'innanzi mi si tolse e fé restarmi,
“Ecco Dite,” dicendo, “ed ecco il loco
ove convien che di fortezza t'armi.”
Com' io divenni allor gelato e fioco,
nol dimandar, lettor, ch'i' non lo scrivo,
però ch'ogne parlar sarebbe poco.
Io non mori' e non rimasi vivo;
pensa oggimai per te, s'hai fior d'ingegno,
qual io divenni, d'uno e d'altro privo.
Lo 'mperador del doloroso regno
da mezzo 'l petto uscia fuor de la ghiaccia;
e più con un gigante io mi convegno,
che i giganti non fan con le sue braccia:
vedi oggimai quant' esser dee quel tutto
ch'a così fatta parte si confaccia.
S'el fu sì bel com' elli è ora brutto,
e contra 'l suo fattore alzò le ciglia,
ben dee da lui procedere ogne lutto.
Oh quanto parve a me gran maraviglia
quand' io vidi tre facce a la sua testa!
L'una dinanzi, e quella era vermiglia;
l'altr' eran due, che s'aggiugnieno a questa
sovresso 'l mezzo di ciascuna spalla,
e sé giugnieno al loco de la cresta:
e la destra parea tra bianca e gialla;
la sinistra a vedere era tal, quali
vegnon di là onde 'l Nilo s'avvalla.
Sotto ciascuna uscivan due grand' ali,
quanto si convenia a tanto uccello:
vele di mar non vid' io mai cotali.
Non avean penne, ma di vispistrello
era lor modo; e quelle svolazzava,
sì che tre venti si movean da ello:
quindi Cocito tutto s'aggelava.
Con sei occhi piangëa, e per tre menti
gocciava 'l pianto e sanguinosa bava.
Da ogne bocca dirompea co' denti
un peccatore, a guisa di maciulla,
sì che tre ne facea così dolenti.
A quel dinanzi il mordere era nulla
verso 'l graffiar, che tal volta la schiena
rimanea de la pelle tutta brulla.
“Quell' anima là sù c'ha maggior pena,”
disse 'l maestro, “è Giuda Scarïotto,
che 'l capo ha dentro e fuor le gambe mena.
De li altri due c'hanno il capo di sotto,
quel che pende dal nero ceffo è Bruto:
vedi come si storce, e non fa motto!;
e l'altro è Cassio, che par sì membruto.
Ma la notte risurge, e oramai
è da partir, ché tutto avem veduto.”
Com' a lui piacque, il collo li avvinghiai;
ed el prese di tempo e loco poste,
e quando l'ali fuoro aperte assai,
appigliò sé a le vellute coste;
di vello in vello giù discese poscia
tra 'l folto pelo e le gelate croste.
Quando noi fummo là dove la coscia
si volge, a punto in sul grosso de l'anche,
lo duca, con fatica e con angoscia,
volse la testa ov' elli avea le zanche,
e aggrappossi al pel com' om che sale,
sì che 'n inferno i' credea tornar anche.
“Attienti ben, ché per cotali scale,”
disse 'l maestro, ansando com' uom lasso,
“conviensi dipartir da tanto male.”
Poi uscì fuor per lo fóro d'un sasso
e puose me in su l'orlo a sedere;
appresso porse a me l'accorto passo.
Io levai li occhi e credetti vedere
Lucifero com' io l'avea lasciato,
e vidili le gambe in sù tenere;
e s'io divenni allora travagliato,
la gente grossa il pensi, che non vede
qual è quel punto ch'io avea passato.
“Lèvati sù,” disse 'l maestro, “in piede:
la via è lunga e 'l cammino è malvagio,
e già il sole a mezza terza riede.”
Non era camminata di palagio
là 'v' eravam, ma natural burella
ch'avea mal suolo e di lume disagio.
“Prima ch'io de l'abisso mi divella,
maestro mio,” diss' io quando fui dritto,
“a trarmi d'erro un poco mi favella:
ov' è la ghiaccia? e questi com' è fitto
sì sottosopra? e come, in sì poc' ora,
da sera a mane ha fatto il sol tragitto?”
Ed elli a me: “Tu imagini ancora
d'esser di là dal centro, ov' io mi presi
al pel del vermo reo che 'l mondo fóra.
Di là fosti cotanto quant' io scesi;
quand' io mi volsi, tu passasti 'l punto
al qual si traggon d'ogne parte i pesi.
E se' or sotto l'emisperio giunto
ch'è contraposto a quel che la gran secca
coverchia, e sotto 'l cui colmo consunto
fu l'uom che nacque e visse sanza pecca;
tu hai i piedi in su picciola spera
che l'altra faccia fa de la Giudecca.
Qui è da man, quando di là è sera;
e questi, che ne fé scala col pelo,
fitto è ancora si come prim' era.
Da questa parte cadde giù dal cielo;
e la terra, che pria di qua si sporse,
per paura di lui fé del mar velo,
e venne a l'emisperio nostro; e forse
per fuggir lui lasciò qui loco vòto
quella ch'appar di qua, e sù ricorse.”
Luogo è là giù da Belzebù remoto
tanto quanto la tomba si distende,
che non per vista, ma per suono è noto
d'un ruscelletto che quivi discende
per la buca d'un sasso, ch'elli ha roso,
col corso ch'elli avvolge, e poco pende.
Lo duca e io per quel cammino ascoso
intrammo a ritornar nel chiaro mondo;
e sanza cura aver d'alcun riposo,
salimmo sù, el primo e io secondo,
tanto ch'i' vidi de le cose belle
che porta 'l ciel, per un pertugio tondo.
E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle.
"'Vexilla Regis prodeunt Inferni'
Towards us; therefore look in front of thee,"
My Master said, "if thou discernest him."
As, when there breathes a heavy fog, or when
Our hemisphere is darkening into night,
Appears far off a mill the wind is turning,
Methought that such a building then I saw;
And, for the wind, I drew myself behind
My Guide, because there was no other shelter.
Now was I, and with fear in verse I put it,
There where the shades were wholly covered up,
And glimmered through like unto straws in glass.
Some prone are lying, others stand erect,
This with the head, and that one with the soles;
Another, bow-like, face to feet inverts.
When in advance so far we had proceeded,
That it my Master pleased to show to me
The creature who once had the beauteous semblance,
He from before me moved and made me stop,
Saying: "Behold Dis, and behold the place
Where thou with fortitude must arm thyself."
How frozen I became and powerless then,
Ask it not, Reader, for I write it not,
Because all language would be insufficient.
I did not die, and I alive remained not;
Think for thyself now, hast thou aught of wit,
What I became, being of both deprived.
The Emperor of the kingdom dolorous
From his mid-breast forth issued from the ice;
And better with a giant I compare
Than do the giants with those arms of his;
Consider now how great must be that whole,
Which unto such a part conforms itself.
Were he as fair once, as he now is foul,
And lifted up his brow against his Maker,
Well may proceed from him all tribulation.
O, what a marvel it appeared to me,
When I beheld three faces on his head!
The one in front, and that vermilion was;
Two were the others, that were joined with this
Above the middle part of either shoulder,
And they were joined together at the crest;
And the right-hand one seemed 'twixt white and yellow;
The left was such to look upon as those
Who come from where the Nile falls valley-ward.
Underneath each came forth two mighty wings,
Such as befitting were so great a bird;
Sails of the sea I never saw so large.
No feathers had they, but as of a bat
Their fashion was; and he was waving them,
So that three winds proceeded forth therefrom.
Thereby Cocytus wholly was congealed.
With six eyes did he weep, and down three chins
Trickled the tear-drops and the bloody drivel.
At every mouth he with his teeth was crunching
A sinner, in the manner of a brake,
So that he three of them tormented thus.
To him in front the biting was as naught
Unto the clawing, for sometimes the spine
Utterly stripped of all the skin remained.
"That soul up there which has the greatest pain,"
The Master said, "is Judas Iscariot;
With head inside, he plies his legs without.
Of the two others, who head downward are,
The one who hangs from the black jowl is Brutus;
See how he writhes himself, and speaks no word.
And the other, who so stalwart seems, is Cassius.
But night is reascending, and 'tis time
That we depart, for we have seen the whole."
As seemed him good, I clasped him round the neck,
And he the vantage seized of time and place,
And when the wings were opened wide apart,
He laid fast hold upon the shaggy sides;
From fell to fell descended downward then
Between the thick hair and the frozen crust.
When we were come to where the thigh revolves
Exactly on the thickness of the haunch,
The Guide, with labour and with hard-drawn breath,
Turned round his head where he had had his legs,
And grappled to the hair, as one who mounts,
So that to Hell I thought we were returning.
"Keep fast thy hold, for by such stairs as these,"
The Master said, panting as one fatigued,
"Must we perforce depart from so much evil."
Then through the opening of a rock he issued,
And down upon the margin seated me;
Then tow'rds me he outstretched his wary step.
I lifted up mine eyes and thought to see
Lucifer in the same way I had left him;
And I beheld him upward hold his legs.
And if I then became disquieted,
Let stolid people think who do not see
What the point is beyond which I had passed.
"Rise up," the Master said, "upon thy feet;
The way is long, and difficult the road,
And now the sun to middle-tierce returns."
It was not any palace corridor
There where we were, but dungeon natural,
With floor uneven and unease of light.
"Ere from the abyss I tear myself away,
My Master," said I when I had arisen,
"To draw me from an error speak a little;
Where is the ice? and how is this one fixed
Thus upside down? and how in such short time
From eve to morn has the sun made his transit?"
And he to me: "Thou still imaginest
Thou art beyond the centre, where I grasped
The hair of the fell worm, who mines the world.
That side thou wast, so long as I descended;
When round I turned me, thou didst pass the point
To which things heavy draw from every side,
And now beneath the hemisphere art come
Opposite that which overhangs the vast
Dry-land, and 'neath whose cope was put to death
The Man who without sin was born and lived.
Thou hast thy feet upon the little sphere
Which makes the other face of the Judecca.
Here it is morn when it is evening there;
And he who with his hair a stairway made us
Still fixed remaineth as he was before.
Upon this side he fell down out of heaven;
And all the land, that whilom here emerged,
For fear of him made of the sea a veil,
And came to our hemisphere; and peradventure
To flee from him, what on this side appears
Left the place vacant here, and back recoiled."
A place there is below, from Beelzebub
As far receding as the tomb extends,
Which not by sight is known, but by the sound
Of a small rivulet, that there descendeth
Through chasm within the stone, which it has gnawed
With course that winds about and slightly falls.
The Guide and I into that hidden road
Now entered, to return to the bright world;
And without care of having any rest
We mounted up, he first and I the second,
Till I beheld through a round aperture
Some of the beauteous things that Heaven doth bear;
Thence we came forth to rebehold the stars.
The first verse of the last canto of Inferno (like the first verse of the last canto of Purgatorio [Purg. XXXIII.1]) is in Latin. Its first three words are identical to the first verse of a hymn of the True Cross composed by Venantius Fortunatus (sixth century) but the last, obviously, has been added by Dante. Satan, still in the distance, is naturally not 'advancing' against Dante and Virgil, but the wind he emits might have made it seem that way as they approach him. Satan, as we shall see, is immobile.
This is the only complete Latin verse in the cantica, but see seven earlier Latin words or phrases (Inf. I.65, Inf. I.70, Inf. XV.62, Inf. XVI.88, Inf. XVIII.6, Inf. XXI.42, Inf. XXVII.72).
'The Satanic mills' of William Blake may not reflect this passage, even as much as Blake read Dante, yet Dante's simile immediately presents Satan as a vast contraption doing its necessary work in the architect's plan for this infernal city. We reflect that this was once the fairest of angels, now reduced, despite his awesome size, to mindless iteration of his breath. Joan Ferrante speaks of 'Lucifer, who emits no sound but sends forth a silent and freezing wind of hate, a parody perhaps of the love-inspiring tongues of flame brought to the Apostles by the Holy Spirit' (“The Relation of Speech to Sin in the Inferno,” Dante Studies 87 [1969], p. 38). As Bosco/Reggio suggest, it is not without reason that Dante compares Lucifer to a machine (comm. to XXXIV.28-57).
Commentators occasionally remark that Dante has here forgotten the fact that insubstantial Virgil, a shade, would give Dante no shelter at all. The 'rules' of the poem overrule the 'rules' of even his own physics if and when he chooses. E.g., Virgil picks Dante up and carries him at Inferno XIX.124-125 and XXIII.37. See the note to Inferno VI.34-36.
An observation of a Princeton student, Julia Salzman '02, is worth recording: here Dante does not move behind Virgil out of fear, but only to protect himself from the wind. His progress is evident – but Satan will nonetheless cause him considerable fear in a moment.
Since Tommaseo in 1837 (comm. to vv. 10-12) commentators have cited, for this verse, Aeneas's words as he tells the story of Laocoön (Aen. II.204): 'horresco referens' (I shudder merely to tell it). In the Aeneid two serpents are moving toward the priest to kill him; here, the Serpent is being approached by Virgil and Dante. The differing context is eventually reassuring, but the protagonist is, for the last time in this cantica, filled with fear.
For the fourth time in Cocytus the fact that we have crossed a boundary is made clear only by the fact that sinners are now punished in a different posture. This last realm is named, of course, for Judas, who betrayed his rightful Lord, Jesus Christ.
The sinners here are frozen inside the ice, as though tossed into it helter-skelter before it froze and now stuck in their various postures eternally, like straw caught in molten glass in the artisan's shop and now fastened in that glass, a lasting imperfection in it. Their postures are horizontal (whether face-down or supine we cannot tell – perhaps both), vertical (both head-up and head-down), or bent in two. We eventually realize that in this zone we will not learn the identity of any of these sinners, a situation that may remind us of the anonymity that was insisted on for the Neutrals in Inferno III.49-51. All of our attention is saved for Lucifer and the three special betrayers who are punished in his mouth.
Virgil uses the classical name for the king of hell, as he has once before (Inf. XI.65), and as he did in his own poem (e.g., Aen. VI.269). This is the last time that we will hear that name, as we are shortly to leave his 'kingdom.' The phrase 'Ecco Dite' here surely echoes the phrase used of Jesus, before he is sentenced to death, 'Ecce homo.' See the note to Inferno XVII.1-3.
The last verse of this seventh and last address to the reader in Inferno is treated by most commentators as a triviality, i.e., Dante assures the reader that he was indeed half-dead (as he has already said). See, for example, Bosco/Reggo (comm. to vv. 25-27: 'The expression simply translates... that simple and banal phrase... in Italian, mezzo morto [half dead].' Does Dante need to ask us to exercise our wits, if we have these, in order to understand that? The portentousness of his declaration that he cannot write what he became because words would fail him cannot be squared with such an interpretation, words for which would fail no one. Few, however, have come forward with more vital readings. Gregorio Di Siena, in his commentary to these verses, quotes Torricelli, who says that at this moment Dante is passing from the state of death to the state of living in God's forgiveness. Similarly, Ernesto Trucchi, who bridles at the terribly uninteresting readings put forward by previous commentators, claims that this is the moment in which, in the protagonist, the fear of hell becomes the fear of God. More recently, in their commentary Durling and Martinez (New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996, p. 544), propose the following: 'This moment is the culmination of the penitential imitation of Christ in the descent into hell, symbolically the pilgrim's death to sin, that is, the death of the “old man,” leading to the reversal of direction from descent to ascent.' They give credit to Freccero's essay 'The Sign of Satan' (in Dante: The Poetics of Conversion, ed. Rachel Jacoff [Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1986], pp. 167-79). Whether we accept their interpretation or not, it does seem that they, and very few others, have responded with the kind of attention that the passage obviously calls for. And now, for a lengthy and illuminating discussion, analyzing the moment as a parodic moment of mystical perception, see Giusppe Ledda (La guerra della lingua [Ravenna: Longo, 2002]), pp. 159-73.
That is, 'I am, proportionally, closer in size to a giant than a giant is to Lucifer.' For the size of the giants, ca. 70 feet, see the note to Inferno XXX.58-66. Let us, merely for purposes of calculation, agree that Dante was six feet tall. The equation is simple: 6/70 = 70/x; x = 817. Thus Lucifer is at the very minimum 817 feet tall. Since both the giants and Satan are only halfway out of the ice, that leaves him as towering, from the waist up, over the ice by at least 409 feet.
Satan, once of the highest order of angels, the Seraphim, has come a long way down. It is worth noting that the only other sinner in hell referred to as raising his brow is prideful Farinata (Inf. X.45).
The 'wonder' that is Satan even now reminds us of his divine origin. As many have noted, he stands before us as a parodic version of Christ crucified, even to his physical resemblance to the scene on Golgotha, in which Christ was upon a cross between two thieves. For a representation of the three-headed Satan known to Dante from the mosaic on the ceiling of the Baptistry in Florence see Bosco/Reggio (comm. to vv. 34-36).
The three colors of Satan's faces have caused much debate. Almost all the early commentators equate them with the opposites of the three attributes of the trinitarian God, Love, Power, and Knowledge. They associate red with anger, thus hatred (or impotence), yellowish white with impotence (or hatred), and black with ignorance. As many note, these are not particularly convincing schemes, if their overall applicability seems acceptable. John Freccero (in Dante: The Poetics of Conversion, ed. Rachel Jacoff [Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1986]), pp. 170-77, attempts to develop an extended analogy between Dante's three-colored Satanic faces and the mulberry tree, whose fruit moves through time from waxen white, through red, to black, and thus mirrors the movement from first sin to death. As things stand, the question remains an open one.
The six wings of Satan are his six wings as one of the angelic order of Seraphim (Isaiah 6:2); they are now not glorious in color but the wings of a giant bat. Their resemblance to sails on a great ship are parodic, since Satan proceeds nowhere, but connect with images associated with Ulysses (Inf. XXVI) and the ship bringing the saved souls to the shore of purgatory (Purg. I).
Guido da Pisa (comm. to XXXIV.13-15) associates Satan's tears and mastication with a biblical text (Matthew 8:12), Jesus's words to the Centurion concerning those who fail to believe: 'and there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth.'
The three most gravely punished sinners of the poem are Judas Iscariot, who betrayed Jesus (founder of the Church), as well as Brutus and Cassius, who betrayed Julius Caesar (the first ruler of the Empire). Judas is tortured more heavily, his back flayed ([see Inf. XXXIV.58-60] as was Christ's, on the way to Golgotha, bearing the cross). Nonetheless, Brutus and Cassius, those stalwarts of the Roman Republic, which Dante honored so notably (see Robert Hollander and Albert Rossi, “Dante's Republican Treasury,” Dante Studies 104 [1986], pp. 59-82), are not treated a great deal better. When we consider that another 'conspirator' against Julius, Cato the Younger, is found saved in the next canto (Purg. I), we must surely be puzzled. For Dante, despite his predominant hostility to him as a man (see William Stull and Robert Hollander, “The Lucanian Source of Dante's Ulysses,” Studi Danteschi 63 [1991(1997)], pp. 33-43), Julius was nonetheless the first emperor of Rome, and thus served a divinely-ordained purpose. For this reason, Brutus and Cassius are seen as betrayers of their rightful lord.
It is now nightfall of the Saturday of Easter weekend; the journey to this point has lasted precisely twenty-four hours. We have also reached the border of the midpoint of this canto, verse 69 of 139. The next verse begins the action that will encompass another twenty-four-hour period, seventy verses that will extend through exactly as many hours as have been consumed by the journey up to now.
When Satan opens his wings, Virgil, with Dante holding on to him, seizes the moment to grasp the animal-like flank of Satan.
At the very center of the universe even Virgil, a shade, feels the pull of gravity as he tries to move back up toward the light. See Freccero's overall view of the situation: 'In this spiritual universe, Satan falls with his immense weight to the center and the pilgrim rises to the Empyrean according to the universal law of gravity and grace, an extraordinary amalgam of Aristotelian physics and Augustinian spirituality' (“Dante's Cosmos” [Bernardo Lecture Series, No. 6; Binghamton, N.Y.: CEMERS, 1998], p. 3).
The locution describing Virgil's changed direction, 'ov' elli avea le zanche' (where he had his shanks), has caused debate, some believing that the 'he' refers to Virgil himself, i.e., turned his head to where his legs had been; others, that he turned his head to where Satan's leg were. Our translation follows Anna Hatcher and Mark Musa, who opt for Satan's legs (“Lucifer's Legs,” Publications of the Modern Language Association of America 79 [1964], pp. 191-99, and “Lucifer's Legs, Again,” Modern Language Notes 81 [1966], pp. 88-91), pointing out, among other things, that Dante's insertion of the pronoun 'elli' before the verb 'avea' makes it almost necessary to draw this conclusion, since he never else inserts a pronoun into a sequence of verbs without introducing a new subject of the verb; that is, if the line read '[Virgilio] volse la testa ov' avea le zanche,' Virgil would clearly be the implied subject of the second verb. According to Hatcher and Musa, the 'elli' all but removes that possibility. For the word zanche (shanks) see the note to Inferno XIX.45.
Since Dante doesn't understand (see vv. 90-93) that he has reached the center of the universe and is being moved back upward toward the surface of the earth at the antipodes, he assumes that Virgil is going back up toward the ice of Cocytus.
It is now 7:30 am (midway between 6:00 and 9:00, the first 'tierce,' or three-hour period, into four of which the solar day was divided (6-9; 9-noon; noon-3; 3-6). Since moments ago (v. 68) we had learned that it was 6:00 pm in Jerusalem, how can this be? For the first time in the poem Virgil tells time by the sun, and not the moon; and he tells it by the position of the sun in purgatory, twelve hours ahead of Jerusalem (where it is currently 7:30 pm). We are leaving hell behind.
Even though the travelers have to traverse an enormous distance in seventy lines, thirty-nine of them (vv. 88-126) are devoted to their new situation, Dante's three questions, and Virgil's responses. The setting is a space on the convex side of the ice of Cocytus, i.e., on its far side. The only remaining evidence of the infernal core is offered by the legs of Lucifer, sticking up through the crust of the area that contains the rest of him. We are on the other side of the ice, and there is nothing more by way of constructed space to catch our eye.
Dante wants to know why he no longer sees the ice, why Lucifer is 'upside down,' and how it can already be morning. Some of Virgil's explanations have already been adverted to. He also explains that they are now under the southern hemisphere of the world above, not the northern, where Christ was put to death and whence they had begun their descent.
Virgil's final words in Inferno create, as it were, the foundation myth of sin: how it established itself in the world that God had made good. Carla Forti (“Nascità dell'Inferno o nascità del Purgatorio: nota sulla caduta del Lucifero dantesco,” Rivista di letteratura italiana 4 [1986], p. 246), refers to the passage as a 'genuine cosmological myth' and describes the fall of Lucifer as 'the first event that occurs in time' (p. 259).
It is worth considering a similar passage in Ovid (Metam. I.151-162: Astraea, or justice, has just left the earth. The battle of Phlegra ensues (about which we have heard in Inf. XXXI.44-45, Inf. XXXI.91-96, Inf. XXXI.119-121); once the giants are destroyed, mother Earth, Gea, forms man in their image, if smaller, out of their gore. But this new stock, too, is contemptuous of the gods. Soon enough Lycaon (the 'wolf-man') will commit the first murder, one that will eventually lead to the murder of Julius Caesar (verse 201).
Here, in the final moments of the final canto, we learn of the first things to occur in terrestrial time: Satan fell from heaven and crashed into our earth (see Par. XXIX.55-57). To flee from him, all the land in the southern hemisphere hid beneath the sea and moved to the north of the equator, while the matter that he displaced in his fall rose up behind him to form the mount of purgatory.
Over the years there have been efforts to find contradictions to this view of the earth's 'geology' in Dante's later Questio de aqua et terra (1320). Bruno Nardi, La caduta di Lucifero e l'autenticità della “Quaestio de aqua et terra” (Torino, S.E.I. [Lectura Dantis Romana]: 1959) [now in B. Nardi, “Lecturae” e altri studi danteschi, ed. R. Abardo (Firenze: Le Lettere, 1990), pp. 227-65] made a case for the contradiction. Freccero's review (“Satan's Fall and the Quaestio de aqua et terra,” Italica 38 [1961], pp. 99-115) offered strong rebuttals to Nardi's main arguments. The magisterial edition produced by Mazzoni (Dante Alighieri, Opere minori, vol. II [Milan-Naples: Ricciardi, 1979], pp. 691-880) convincingly presents the work as Dantean. Pasquazi (“Sulla cosmogonia di Dante [Inferno XXXIV e Questio de aqua et terra],” in his D'Egitto in Ierusalemme [Rome: Bulzoni, 1985], pp. 121-56) makes a strong case for the absence of any significant contradiction. For a study of the wider question see Giorgio Stabile, “Cosmologia e teologia nella Commedia: la caduta di Lucifero e il rovesciamento del mondo,” Letture classensi 12 (1983), pp. 139-73. More recently, Zygmunt Baranski (“The Mystery of Dante's Questio de aqua et terra,” in In amicizia: Essays in Honour of Giulio Lepschy, ed. Z.G. Baranski and L. Pertile [The Italianist 17 (1997–special supplement)], pp. 146-64) also argues for authenticity.
Along a passage in the rock through the space contained between the floor formed by the convex side of Cocytus and the underside of the earth above, the travelers follow the sound of a stream. It, many suggest, is the river Lethe, running down into hell filled with the sins now forgotten by all who have purged themselves of them (Purg. XXVIII.127-130).
There is no pausing for rest that now seems a waste of time, given the nearness of the light. Looking through a crevice (the word in Italian is pertugio, the same word used to describe the opening through which Ugolino could see the moon from his cell [Inf. XXXIII.22]) in the earth's surface, whence, we assume, comes the little stream that they are following, Dante is able to see a few stars in the firmament above him.
In a single verse the cantica concludes. And in this line both Virgil and Dante actually step out of hell, and now can see the full expanse of the dawn sky, filled with stars. Both Purgatorio and Paradiso will also end with the word 'stars' (stelle), the goals of a human sight that is being drawn to God. There is no doubt as to the fact that even Inferno, ending in happiness of this kind, is a comedic part of a comedic whole.
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