“Pape Satàn, pape Satàn aleppe!”
cominciò Pluto con la voce chioccia;
e quel savio gentil, che tutto seppe,
disse per confortarmi: “Non ti noccia
la tua paura; ché, poder ch'elli abbia,
non ci torrà lo scender questa roccia.”
Poi si rivolse a quella 'nfiata labbia,
e disse: “Taci, maladetto lupo!
consuma dentro te con la tua rabbia.
Non è sanza cagion l'andare al cupo:
vuolsi ne l'alto, là dove Michele
fé la vendetta del superbo strupo.”
Quali dal vento le gonfiate vele
caggiono avvolte, poi che l'alber fiacca,
tal cadde a terra la fiera crudele.
Così scendemmo ne la quarta lacca,
pigliando più de la dolente ripa
che 'l mal de l'universo tutto insacca.
Ahi giustizia di Dio! tante chi stipa
nove travaglie e pene quant' io viddi?
e perché nostra colpa sì ne scipa?
Come fa l'onda là sovra Cariddi,
che si frange con quella in cui s'intoppa,
così convien che qui la gente riddi.
Qui vid' i' gente più ch'altrove troppa,
e d'una parte e d'altra, con grand' urli,
voltando pesi per forza di poppa.
Percotëansi 'ncontro; e poscia pur lì
si rivolgea ciascun, voltando a retro,
gridando: “Perché tieni?” e “Perché burli?”
Così tornavan per lo cerchio tetro
da ogne mano a l'opposito punto,
gridandosi anche loro ontoso metro;
poi si volgea ciascun, quand' era giunto,
per lo suo mezzo cerchio a l'altra giostra.
E io, ch'avea lo cor quasi compunto,
dissi: “Maestro mio, or mi dimostra
che gente è questa, e se tutti fuor cherci
questi chercuti a la sinistra nostra.”
Ed elli a me: “Tutti quanti fuor guerci
sì de la mente in la vita primaia,
che con misura nullo spendio ferci.
Assai la voce lor chiaro l'abbaia,
quando vegnono a' due punti del cerchio
dove colpa contraria li dispaia.
Questi fuor cherci, che non han coperchio
piloso al capo, e papi e cardinali,
in cui usa avarizia il suo soperchio.”
E io: “Maestro, tra questi cotali
dovre' io ben riconoscere alcuni
che furo immondi di cotesti mali.”
Ed elli a me: “Vano pensiero aduni:
la sconoscente vita che i fé sozzi,
ad ogne conoscenza or li fa bruni.
In etterno verranno a li due cozzi:
questi resurgeranno del sepulcro
col pugno chiuso, e questi coi crin mozzi.
Mal dare e mal tener lo mondo pulcro
ha tolto loro, e posti a questa zuffa:
qual ella sia, parole non ci appulcro.
Or puoi, figliuol, veder la corta buffa
d'i ben che son commessi a la fortuna,
per che l'umana gente si rabuffa;
ché tutto l'oro ch'è sotto la luna
e che già fu, di quest' anime stanche
non poterebbe farne posare una.”
“Maestro mio,” diss' io, “or mi dì anche:
questa fortuna di che tu mi tocche,
che è, che i ben del mondo ha sì tra branche?”
E quelli a me: “Oh creature sciocche,
quanta ignoranza è quella che v'offende!
Or vo' che tu mia sentenza ne 'mbocche.
Colui lo cui saver tutto trascende,
fece li cieli e diè lor chi conduce
sì, ch'ogne parte ad ogne parte splende,
distribuendo igualmente la luce.
Similemente a li splendor mondani
ordinò general ministra e duce
che permutasse a tempo li ben vani
di gente in gente e d'uno in altro sangue,
oltre la difension d'i senni umani;
per ch'una gente impera e l'altra langue,
seguendo lo giudicio di costei,
che è occulto come in erba l'angue.
Vostro saver non ha contasto a lei:
questa provede, giudica, e persegue
suo regno come il loro li altri dèi.
Le sue permutazion non hanno triegue:
necessità la fa esser veloce;
sì spesso vien chi vicenda consegue.
Quest' è colei ch'è tanto posta in croce
pur da color che le dovrien dar lode,
dandole biasmo a torto e mala voce;
ma ella s'è beata e ciò non ode:
con l'altre prime creature lieta
volve sua spera e beata si gode.
Or discendiamo omai a maggior pieta;
già ogne stella cade che saliva
quand' io mi mossi, e 'l troppo star si vieta.”
Noi ricidemmo il cerchio a l'altra riva
sovr' una fonte che bolle e riversa
per un fossato che da lei deriva.
L'acqua era buia assai più che persa;
e noi, in compagnia de l'onde bige,
intrammo giù per una via diversa.
In la palude va c'ha nome Stige
questo tristo ruscel, quand' è disceso
al piè de le maligne piagge grige.
E io, che di mirare stava inteso,
vidi genti fangose in quel pantano,
ignude tutte, con sembiante offeso.
Queste si percotean non pur con mano,
ma con la testa e col petto e coi piedi,
troncandosi co' denti a brano a brano.
Lo buon maestro disse: “Figlio, or vedi
l'anime di color cui vinse l'ira;
e anche vo' che tu per certo credi
che sotto l'acqua è gente che sospira,
e fanno pullular quest' acqua al summo,
come l'occhio ti dice, u' che s'aggira.
Fitti nel limo dicon: 'Tristi fummo
ne l'aere dolce che dal sol s'allegra,
portando dentro accidïoso fummo:
or ci attristiam ne la belletta negra.'
Quest' inno si gorgoglian ne la strozza,
ché dir nol posson con parola integra.”
Così girammo de la lorda pozza
grand' arco, tra la ripa secca e 'l mézzo,
con li occhi vòlti a chi del fango ingozza.
Venimmo al piè d'una torre al da sezzo.
"Pape Satan, Pape Satan, Aleppe!"
Thus Plutus with his clucking voice began;
And that benignant Sage, who all things knew,
Said, to encourage me: "Let not thy fear
Harm thee; for any power that he may have
Shall not prevent thy going down this crag."
Then he turned round unto that bloated lip,
And said: "Be silent, thou accursed wolf;
Consume within thyself with thine own rage.
Not causeless is this journey to the abyss;
Thus is it willed on high, where Michael wrought
Vengeance upon the proud adultery."
Even as the sails inflated by the wind
Involved together fall when snaps the mast,
So fell the cruel monster to the earth.
Thus we descended into the fourth chasm,
Gaining still farther on the dolesome shore
Which all the woe of the universe insacks.
Justice of God, ah! who heaps up so many
New toils and sufferings as I beheld?
And why doth our transgression waste us so?
As doth the billow there upon Charybdis,
That breaks itself on that which it encounters,
So here the folk must dance their roundelay.
Here saw I people, more than elsewhere, many,
On one side and the other, with great howls,
Rolling weights forward by main force of chest.
They clashed together, and then at that point
Each one turned backward, rolling retrograde,
Crying, "Why keepest?" and, "Why squanderest thou?"
Thus they returned along the lurid circle
On either hand unto the opposite point,
Shouting their shameful metre evermore.
Then each, when he arrived there, wheeled about
Through his half-circle to another joust;
And I, who had my heart pierced as it were,
Exclaimed: "My Master, now declare to me
What people these are, and if all were clerks,
These shaven crowns upon the left of us."
And he to me: "All of them were asquint
In intellect in the first life, so much
That there with measure they no spending made.
Clearly enough their voices bark it forth,
Whene'er they reach the two points of the circle,
Where sunders them the opposite defect.
Clerks those were who no hairy covering
Have on the head, and Popes and Cardinals,
In whom doth Avarice practise its excess."
And I: "My Master, among such as these
I ought forsooth to recognise some few,
Who were infected with these maladies."
And he to me: "Vain thought thou entertainest;
The undiscerning life which made them sordid
Now makes them unto all discernment dim.
Forever shall they come to these two buttings;
These from the sepulchre shall rise again
With the fist closed, and these with tresses shorn.
Ill giving and ill keeping the fair world
Have ta'en from them, and placed them in this scuffle;
Whate'er it be, no words adorn I for it.
Now canst thou, Son, behold the transient farce
Of goods that are committed unto Fortune,
For which the human race each other buffet;
For all the gold that is beneath the moon,
Or ever has been, of these weary souls
Could never make a single one repose."
"Master," I said to him, "now tell me also
What is this Fortune which thou speakest of,
That has the world's goods so within its clutches?"
And he to me: "O creatures imbecile,
What ignorance is this which doth beset you?
Now will I have thee learn my judgment of her.
He whose omniscience everything transcends
The heavens created, and gave who should guide them,
That every part to every part may shine,
Distributing the light in equal measure;
He in like manner to the mundane splendours
Ordained a general ministress and guide,
That she might change at times the empty treasures
From race to race, from one blood to another,
Beyond resistance of all human wisdom.
Therefore one people triumphs, and another
Languishes, in pursuance of her judgment,
Which hidden is, as in the grass a serpent.
Your knowledge has no counterstand against her;
She makes provision, judges, and pursues
Her governance, as theirs the other gods.
Her permutations have not any truce;
Necessity makes her precipitate,
So often cometh who his turn obtains.
And this is she who is so crucified
Even by those who ought to give her praise,
Giving her blame amiss, and bad repute.
But she is blissful, and she hears it not;
Among the other primal creatures gladsome
She turns her sphere, and blissful she rejoices.
Let us descend now unto greater woe;
Already sinks each star that was ascending
When I set out, and loitering is forbidden."
We crossed the circle to the other bank,
Near to a fount that boils, and pours itself
Along a gully that runs out of it.
The water was more sombre far than perse;
And we, in company with the dusky waves,
Made entrance downward by a path uncouth.
A marsh it makes, which has the name of Styx,
This tristful brooklet, when it has descended
Down to the foot of the malign gray shores.
And I, who stood intent upon beholding,
Saw people mud-besprent in that lagoon,
All of them naked and with angry look.
They smote each other not alone with hands,
But with the head and with the breast and feet,
Tearing each other piecemeal with their teeth.
Said the good Master: "Son, thou now beholdest
The souls of those whom anger overcame;
And likewise I would have thee know for certain
Beneath the water people are who sigh
And make this water bubble at the surface,
As the eye tells thee wheresoe'er it turns.
Fixed in the mire they say, 'We sullen were
In the sweet air, which by the sun is gladdened,
Bearing within ourselves the sluggish reek;
Now we are sullen in this sable mire.'
This hymn do they keep gurgling in their throats,
For with unbroken words they cannot say it."
Thus we went circling round the filthy fen
A great arc 'twixt the dry bank and the swamp,
With eyes turned unto those who gorge the mire;
Unto the foot of a tower we came at last.
Plutus, the god of wealth in classical myth, wishes to prevent the passage of this living soul through Satan's kingdom. That, at least, is what we must surmise from Virgil's reaction, vv. 4-6, which assuages Dante's fear. There is a program of demonic resistance that makes Dante fearful throughout Inferno: Charon (Inf. III.91-93), Minos (Inf. V.19-20), Cerberus (Inf. VI.22-24), Phlegyas (Inf. VIII.18), the Furies (Inf. IX.52-54), the Minotaur (Inf. XII.14-15), Geryon (Inf. XVII.25-27), Malacoda and the Malebranche (Inf. XXI.23-XXIII.57), Nimrod (Inf. XXXI.67), Satan (Inf. XXXIV.22-27). In almost all of these scenes it is Virgil's task to quell the resistance of the infernal guardians and to reassure his charge.
Pape Satàn, Pape Satàn, aleppe. The third verse suggests that Virgil understands these words spoken by Plutus. If that is correct, he is perhaps the only one to have done so. Over the centuries a continuing debate addresses, rather confusedly, the precise nature of these five words: whether they are part of a recognizable language or not; whether they are totally meaningless or have some meaning; whether they are an invocation of the power of Satan against invading Dante or an oath giving expression to the monster's surprise at the presence of a living soul in hell. For a review of the question see Hollander (Dante and Paul's “five words with understanding,” Occasional Papers, No. 1, Center for Medieval and Early Renaissance Texts and Studies [Binghamton, NY: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1992]), who sees this and Nimrod's similarly nonsensical five words (Inf. XXXI.67) as parodic inversions of the five words of clear speech called for by St. Paul, concerned about the over-reliance of the faithful on speaking in tongues (I Corinthians 14:19). Plutus's oath may be garbled speech, but it does contain 'pseudo-words' that have meaning: Pape represents either a Latin interjection (papae) of admiration, as many ancient commentators think, or/and a debased form of the Italian and Latin for 'pope' (papa – see Inf. VII.47: papi); Satàn would fairly clearly seem to be a form of the Italian 'Satana' or of the Latin 'Sathanas' and thus 'Satan'; aleppe, as some of the first commentators noticed, is the Italian form of the Hebrew word for the first letter of the alphabet, 'aleph,' as in the Latin expression 'alpha ed omega' (the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet, signifying 'the beginning and the end'), as God defines Himself in the Bible (Apoc. 1:8, repeated at Apoc. 21:6 and Apoc. 22:13). If one had to render these nonsense words in English one might say something like 'O Pope Satan, my god.' Fortunately, one does not have to. For the connection of these words in mixed language to those in the first verses of the seventh canto of Paradiso (there, naturally, totally positive in tone and meaning) – the parallelism is certainly striking – see Gian Roberto Sarolli, Prolegomena alla “Divina Commedia” (Florence: Olschki, 1971), pp. 289-90.
Lorenzo Renzi (“Un aspetto del plurilinguismo medievale: dalla lingua dei re magi a 'Papé satan aleppe,'” in Omaggio a Gianfranco Folena, ed. Pier Vincenzo Mengaldo [Padua: Editoriale Programma, 1993]), pp. 61-73, presents evidence for a possible connection between instances of glossalalia in French medieval plays, some of which come from the mouths of pagan deities, and Dante's polyglot phrase here and in Inferno XXXI.67.
This is perhaps Virgil's single most commanding moment in turning aside a challenge by agents of Satan to his and Dante's progress. He first reassures the fearful protagonist (vv. 4-6) and only then turns his attention to Plutus, whom he excoriates (vv. 8-9) before presenting his own heavenly 'credentials' (vv. 10-12) – his stewardship and his pupil's safe voyage down into the depth of hell are both guaranteed at no height less than that of the Empyrean. It was there that the very first rebellion, that of Satan and his minions against God Himself, was put down by the heavenly army led by the archangel Michael. (See the note to Inf. IX.85 for the likelihood that we are meant to understand that this later intervener in support of their progress is to be understood as Michael in one way or another.) Virgil's intransigent insistence indeed causes the utter collapse of the previously adamant Plutus (vv. 13-15).
Nonetheless, if we are rereading the poem, remembering the events that await in the next two cantos, we probably should be jarred by Virgil's self-confidence now. The entire developing scene in the next two cantos, beginning with the opposing 'army' of fallen angels (to whom Virgil refers here as defeated but who will seem capable of resistance to such enemies as these two invaders at VIII.82-83) and culminating in Michael's victory and the breaching of the walls of Dis show that the guide is out of his depth and that his optimistic view of his own powers is undercut by later events. The undercutting effect of the revisiting of the 'war in heaven' seems clear enough. As for the confirmation that we are to think of Michael in both these scenes, it has apparently escaped all commentators except Mattalia (comm. IX.85).
That Virgil refers to Plutus as a wolf ties him to the vice of avarice, since in this poem wolves are often symbols of that vice (e.g., Purg. XX.10; Par. IX.132; Par. XXVII.55).
In justifying Dante's status as visitor to the infernal regions, Virgil refers to the war in heaven (see Apoc. 12:7-9), where the archangel Michael is specifically mentioned as a warrior in the battle that sent Satan down into hell with his minions, the fallen angels. Dante's treatment makes it seem that Plutus felt his kinship with these creatures, whom the travelers will encounter at Inferno VIII.82-84.
The word 'strupo' (a hapax) has caused some puzzlement because it seems to reflect a carnal sense (as in 'rape') that is not appropriate to the evidently non-sexual context of the 'war in heaven,' alluded to here. But see Boccaccio's attempt (comm. vv. 7-12) to couple the two: 'E chiamalo strupo, quasi violatore col suo superbo pensiero della divina potenzia, alla quale mai più non era stato chi violenza avesse voluto fare; per che pare lui con la sua superbia quello nella deità aver tentato che nelle vergini tentano gli strupatori.' And Fosca (comm. vv. 9-12) adds: 'La voce strupo (“stupro” per metatesi) designa una “superba violenza.” Commenta Benvenuto (comm. vv. 7-15): “Et hic nota quod autor appellat stuprum elationem sive violentiam quam Lucifer facere voluit, quia stuprum est defloratio aliene virginis incorrupte, ita iste, quantum in ipso fuit, voluit violare alienam lucem et gloriam incorruptibilem, quia voluit fieri similis Altissimo”.' Benvenuto goes on to address a philological question: 'Nota etiam quod debuisset dicere stupro sine r in principio et cum r in fine, sed contrarium fecit, quia sic vulgariter profertur, et propter consonantiam Rhitmi.'
Virgil's words, telling exactly how things are with respect to demonic rebellion, are enough to crumple the irascible spirit of Plutus.
Now the poet does share with us the method (ambulatory) of his leaving one circle and making his way to the next one. See the note to Inf. VI.1.
The author's apostrophe of God's justice reminds us of the centrality of this concern to the entire Comedy. See the note to Inferno III.4.
Of the form 'viddi' Bosco/Reggio (comm. vv. 19-21) say: 'It is the archaic form for vidi, a choice forced perhaps by the needs of rhyming, because it is not found elsewhere in Dante's work.'
Dante's locus classicus for the description of the tumultuous meeting of the Ionian and Mediterranean seas between Sicily and the Italian mainland is found in Aeneid III.420-433.
Dante's Italian makes it clear that this dance is the ridda, a popular dance in which the linked participants reverse the direction of their circling movement with the playing and singing each new strophe.
For the relatively greater number of condemned souls devoted to avarice see Aeneid VI.608-611, the Sibyl's description of Tartarus, which includes a description of the punishment of (unnamed) Sisyphus, eternally rolling his stone (Aen. VI.616). Dante appropriates these two details to build the details of his fourth Circle. Virgil's brief description of those who loved riches to excess is without reference to those of the precisely opposite inclination. In Dante's formulation, prodigality is the opposite form of the same vice. This is one of the few examples in the code of ethics found in this poem in which an Aristotelian measure seems to be at work, in which a 'golden mean' locates the correct or permissible amount of affection or desire. (See Inf. VII.42 for confirmation that there is a proper measure in such things).
For the 'Satanic style' of this encounter see Franco Suitner, La poesia satirica e giocosa nell'età dei comuni (Padova: Editrice Antenore, 1983), p. 67.
It has not often been noted, but, seen from above, the avaricious and prodigal perform a perfect circle in their movement. Their activities in hell (as was true in the world above) mount up to exactly zero. This nullity is reflected in their nameless and unidentifiable condition here; and their circling is to be compared to that performed by Fortune's wheel (see the note to Inf. VII.90).
Dante's sympathetic responses to various of the damned usually indicates a sense of identity with them. On this occasion, it would rather seem to reveal his horror at the nature of this punishment.
Dante allows himself a fairly traditional anti-clerical thrust. Christ had led his followers in embracing poverty and, much later, the mendicant orders took vows of poverty, some in remembrance of St. Francis's imitation of Christ in this respect. Thus, while avarice in any person respected for a higher calling would be disgraceful, it is particularly so in a member of the clergy and becomes an easy (and popular) target. It is notable that the clergy are noticed only here – and in number – among the avaricious; none of them is pointed out among the prodigal.
That is, those who squandered shout at the others 'why do you hoard?' and vice versa.
The insistence on the large number of clerics among the avaricious (and no other social orders are identified as being avaricious, not even bankers or money-lenders) continues, now including a plurality of popes. The anonymous plurality of popes mentioned in v. 47 leaves the reader free to supply any number of such pontiffs. The essential impression left by the poem as a whole is that more popes are damned than saved. This is probably true, but Dante does insist that a number of popes are in fact saved. The first and foremost is of course Saint Peter, considered by Dante and medieval writers in general as being the first pope. He is seen in paradise by Dante in the Heaven of the Fixed Stars, where he has a major role as speaker, but he is referred to from the beginning of the poem to its end (Inf. II.24; Par. XXXII.133). And Peter himself is the one who tells of the salvations of six other early popes: his two immediate successors Linus and Cletus, both martyred in the first century (Par. XXVII.41), as well as four other popes martyred, according to a tradition that Dante followed, in the second and third centuries: Sixtus I, Pius I, Calixtus I, and Urban I (Par. XXVII.44). Also mentioned as being saved are Agapetus I (Par. VI.16) and Gregory I (Par. XXVIII.133-135). We see Pope Adrian V purging his avarice on the road to heaven (Purg. XIX.99) and Pope Martin IV repenting his zest for eating eels also on his way to paradise (Purg. XXIV.22). And there is Pope John XXI, seen as present in the Heaven of the Sun and hence among the blessed (Par. XII.134). There are thus twelve popes who are indicated as being among God's chosen.
Several other popes are referred to, but without having their eventual destinations under God's justice made plain. Such is the case with respect to Sylvester I (Inf. XXVII.94), Clement IV (Purg. III.125), Innocent III (Par. XI.92), and Honorius III (Par. XI.98).
The case of the popes who are damned is more complex. Here is an attempt to list the fallen pontiffs referred to in the poem. If the one 'who made the great refusal' (Inf. III.60) is, as many believe, Pope Celestine V, he would be the first damned pope whom we see. He is followed by the unnamed pontiffs of canto VII and then by Anastasius II (Inf. XI.8). Many believe that Innocent IV is the most certain presence in the unnamed line of precursors alluded to by Nicholas III (Inf. XIX.73) – a second instance of a plurality of damned popes, while the saved ones are never referred to in this way. Those that are confirmed as damned are Nicholas himself (Inf. XIX.70), Boniface VIII (Inf. XIX.53), Clement V (Inf. XIX.83), and, a last for good measure, John XXII (Par. XXVII.58). Thus at least five popes are definitively damned. In two cases, as we have seen, Dante opens the door to other possibilities. As a result, the absolute possible low is nine (five plus the plural 'papi' at Inf. VII.47 and 'altri' at Inf. XIX.73 – there must be at least two in each case to account for the plural). Celestine would bring the total to ten. In short, Dante probably did mean to encourage his readers to believe exactly what most of them seem to believe – that more popes were damned than were saved.
That is, the avaricious will have their fists clamped in remembrance of their grasping behaviors, while the prodigal will have their hair shorn to remind them of their lack of care for their possessions (and themselves). Sinclair, in his note to this verse, cites an old Italian proverb: a prodigal spends 'even to the hair of his head.'
Virgil's discourse on the nature and effect of Fortune on mortal lives is notable for its sunniness and equability. The usual and necessary citation among commentators is of Boethius, whose Consolation of Philosophy is the standard medieval text on the subject and was well known to Dante. The Lady Philosophy explains to complaining Boethius that humans who suffer like to blame their misfortune on bad luck, expressed by the fortune that turns its back on them. What philosophy makes plain is that the fault lies in ourselves, in that we pitch our hopes on things we should recognize as fallible, fleeting, and of ultimately little importance. What Dante adds to this stern message is a sense of calmness about and even positive acceptance of these facts of human existence. Fortune may be understood as, in the happy formulation of Charles Grandgent (in his proem to this canto), 'the Angel of Earth.' Nothing that she does should be unexpected; everything that she does is 'right.' Exactly such an understanding may be found in Dante's own words in his Monarchia (II.ix.8), where he says that the force that distributes the goods of the world, victory or defeat in battle, which the pagans attributed to their gods, 'we call... by the more appropriate and accurate name “divine providence.”' Particularly helpful discussions of Dante's understanding of fortune may be found in Vincenzo Cioffari's book (The Conception of Fortune and Fate in the Works of Dante [Cambridge, Mass.: Dante Society of Cambridge, Mass., 1940]), Gianluigi Toja'a article (“La Fortuna,” Studi Danteschi 42 [1965], pp. 247-60) and Padoan's various remarks on this passage in his commentary (Inf. VII.70, Inf. VII.71, Inf. VII.78, Inf. VII.80, Inf. VII.85, Inf. VII.86, Inf. VII.94, Inf. VII.95, Inf. VII.96).
The distance that Dante has traveled from the position he took in his Convivio (IV.xi.6-8), where the unequal distribution of goods among humans is seen as a defect of Fortune's agency, is manifest. In that passage Fortune is seen as acting randomly; here she is provident (verse 86) – and we should remember that she was traditionally portrayed as blind-folded, unseeing as she acts. In this passage, as one of the angelic hierarchy, she turns her famous 'wheel' in knowledge and in bliss. God's in His heaven, Fortune turns her wheel, all's right with the world, which is only and absolutely as it should be.
Virgil's desire to 'feed' his confused 'offspring' so that he may give over his foolish view of Fortune will mark a turning point in the protagonist's understanding.
Dante's 'serpent hidden in the grass' has been seen, at least from the sixteenth century on, as being a translation of Virgil's third Eclogue, verse 93: 'latet anguis in herba.'
The altri dèi, literally 'other gods,' translated as 'other heavenly powers,' are the other nine orders of angels.
The rapid tranformations of human states are summarized in the Casini/Barbi commentary (to Inf. VII.96) as follows: a given human being may typically move, along eight points on Fortune's wheel, from humility, to patience, to peace, to riches, to pride, to impatience, to war, to poverty. This is a typical 'ride' of anyone tied to Fortune's wheel, ending back at the starting point. See the note to Inf. VII.31-35.
Virgil's indication of the time reveals that it is now after midnight, some six hours after the travelers set out at 6 pm on Friday evening.
The river Styx has a classical history probably, for Dante, most notably in Aeneid VI.323.
Clearly the protagonist, gazing upon the inhabitants of the fifth Circle, is looking at the wrathful. The problem for interpreters is that wrath, or anger, is a sin of violence, not one of incontinence; yet the poem has not yet left the realm of incontinence behind. Without reviewing the fairly vast literature upon this problem, one can offer some uncomplicated solutions, based on the thirteenth chapter of St. Thomas's commentary on Aristotle's Ethics (IV.5). Aristotle, in Thomas's paraphrase, distinguishes three kinds of anger: choleric (which comes upon one quickly and quickly departs), bitter (which lasts long in the heart of the afflicted person, and is not released easily), difficult (which is more hostile, longer-lasting, and directed against those it should not be, and which is not released until the one experiencing this kind of wrath inflicts injury upon an enemy). It seems clear that Dante here shows the punishment of the first sort of wrath in the choleric, who are not guilty of sins of violence, but of intemperance. (For the second set of sinners punished here, see the next note.) In this reading, the third form of anger, which has as its intention physical harm to another, is punished only in the realm of the violent against others, in canto XII – where it should be, and not as a sin of intemperance, which these first two are.
Those who are punished under the surface of the Styx are, in this formulation (see the note to Inf. VII.109-114), what St. Thomas characterizes as Aristotle's second set of the wrathful, the amari, or 'bitter.' These people kept their anger in, suffering gravely within themselves (as opposed to the choleric, quick to vent their anger in insults and blows). Dante's inventive representation of this kind of wrath shows its exemplars as experiencing the 'muddy' or 'smoky' sensation of stifled anger.
The ending of this canto offers the reader a sense that it is rounding off the actions observed in it, and yet its final verse, constituting a single sentence, looks forward to the import of that mysterious tower, the first 'architecture' we have come upon in hell. Like terza rima itself, once characterized by Erich Auerbach, in his Dante, Poet of the Secular World, tr. R. Manheim (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961 [1929], p. 133), as 'loosing and binding,' Dante's narrative technique both conveys a sense of orderly narrative conclusion and, at the same time, of the forward movement of its plot. See the note to Inf. VIII.1.
Commentary text is copyrighted and reproduced by permission.
Please enter a search term.
“Pape Satàn, pape Satàn aleppe!”
cominciò Pluto con la voce chioccia;
e quel savio gentil, che tutto seppe,
disse per confortarmi: “Non ti noccia
la tua paura; ché, poder ch'elli abbia,
non ci torrà lo scender questa roccia.”
Poi si rivolse a quella 'nfiata labbia,
e disse: “Taci, maladetto lupo!
consuma dentro te con la tua rabbia.
Non è sanza cagion l'andare al cupo:
vuolsi ne l'alto, là dove Michele
fé la vendetta del superbo strupo.”
Quali dal vento le gonfiate vele
caggiono avvolte, poi che l'alber fiacca,
tal cadde a terra la fiera crudele.
Così scendemmo ne la quarta lacca,
pigliando più de la dolente ripa
che 'l mal de l'universo tutto insacca.
Ahi giustizia di Dio! tante chi stipa
nove travaglie e pene quant' io viddi?
e perché nostra colpa sì ne scipa?
Come fa l'onda là sovra Cariddi,
che si frange con quella in cui s'intoppa,
così convien che qui la gente riddi.
Qui vid' i' gente più ch'altrove troppa,
e d'una parte e d'altra, con grand' urli,
voltando pesi per forza di poppa.
Percotëansi 'ncontro; e poscia pur lì
si rivolgea ciascun, voltando a retro,
gridando: “Perché tieni?” e “Perché burli?”
Così tornavan per lo cerchio tetro
da ogne mano a l'opposito punto,
gridandosi anche loro ontoso metro;
poi si volgea ciascun, quand' era giunto,
per lo suo mezzo cerchio a l'altra giostra.
E io, ch'avea lo cor quasi compunto,
dissi: “Maestro mio, or mi dimostra
che gente è questa, e se tutti fuor cherci
questi chercuti a la sinistra nostra.”
Ed elli a me: “Tutti quanti fuor guerci
sì de la mente in la vita primaia,
che con misura nullo spendio ferci.
Assai la voce lor chiaro l'abbaia,
quando vegnono a' due punti del cerchio
dove colpa contraria li dispaia.
Questi fuor cherci, che non han coperchio
piloso al capo, e papi e cardinali,
in cui usa avarizia il suo soperchio.”
E io: “Maestro, tra questi cotali
dovre' io ben riconoscere alcuni
che furo immondi di cotesti mali.”
Ed elli a me: “Vano pensiero aduni:
la sconoscente vita che i fé sozzi,
ad ogne conoscenza or li fa bruni.
In etterno verranno a li due cozzi:
questi resurgeranno del sepulcro
col pugno chiuso, e questi coi crin mozzi.
Mal dare e mal tener lo mondo pulcro
ha tolto loro, e posti a questa zuffa:
qual ella sia, parole non ci appulcro.
Or puoi, figliuol, veder la corta buffa
d'i ben che son commessi a la fortuna,
per che l'umana gente si rabuffa;
ché tutto l'oro ch'è sotto la luna
e che già fu, di quest' anime stanche
non poterebbe farne posare una.”
“Maestro mio,” diss' io, “or mi dì anche:
questa fortuna di che tu mi tocche,
che è, che i ben del mondo ha sì tra branche?”
E quelli a me: “Oh creature sciocche,
quanta ignoranza è quella che v'offende!
Or vo' che tu mia sentenza ne 'mbocche.
Colui lo cui saver tutto trascende,
fece li cieli e diè lor chi conduce
sì, ch'ogne parte ad ogne parte splende,
distribuendo igualmente la luce.
Similemente a li splendor mondani
ordinò general ministra e duce
che permutasse a tempo li ben vani
di gente in gente e d'uno in altro sangue,
oltre la difension d'i senni umani;
per ch'una gente impera e l'altra langue,
seguendo lo giudicio di costei,
che è occulto come in erba l'angue.
Vostro saver non ha contasto a lei:
questa provede, giudica, e persegue
suo regno come il loro li altri dèi.
Le sue permutazion non hanno triegue:
necessità la fa esser veloce;
sì spesso vien chi vicenda consegue.
Quest' è colei ch'è tanto posta in croce
pur da color che le dovrien dar lode,
dandole biasmo a torto e mala voce;
ma ella s'è beata e ciò non ode:
con l'altre prime creature lieta
volve sua spera e beata si gode.
Or discendiamo omai a maggior pieta;
già ogne stella cade che saliva
quand' io mi mossi, e 'l troppo star si vieta.”
Noi ricidemmo il cerchio a l'altra riva
sovr' una fonte che bolle e riversa
per un fossato che da lei deriva.
L'acqua era buia assai più che persa;
e noi, in compagnia de l'onde bige,
intrammo giù per una via diversa.
In la palude va c'ha nome Stige
questo tristo ruscel, quand' è disceso
al piè de le maligne piagge grige.
E io, che di mirare stava inteso,
vidi genti fangose in quel pantano,
ignude tutte, con sembiante offeso.
Queste si percotean non pur con mano,
ma con la testa e col petto e coi piedi,
troncandosi co' denti a brano a brano.
Lo buon maestro disse: “Figlio, or vedi
l'anime di color cui vinse l'ira;
e anche vo' che tu per certo credi
che sotto l'acqua è gente che sospira,
e fanno pullular quest' acqua al summo,
come l'occhio ti dice, u' che s'aggira.
Fitti nel limo dicon: 'Tristi fummo
ne l'aere dolce che dal sol s'allegra,
portando dentro accidïoso fummo:
or ci attristiam ne la belletta negra.'
Quest' inno si gorgoglian ne la strozza,
ché dir nol posson con parola integra.”
Così girammo de la lorda pozza
grand' arco, tra la ripa secca e 'l mézzo,
con li occhi vòlti a chi del fango ingozza.
Venimmo al piè d'una torre al da sezzo.
"Pape Satan, Pape Satan, Aleppe!"
Thus Plutus with his clucking voice began;
And that benignant Sage, who all things knew,
Said, to encourage me: "Let not thy fear
Harm thee; for any power that he may have
Shall not prevent thy going down this crag."
Then he turned round unto that bloated lip,
And said: "Be silent, thou accursed wolf;
Consume within thyself with thine own rage.
Not causeless is this journey to the abyss;
Thus is it willed on high, where Michael wrought
Vengeance upon the proud adultery."
Even as the sails inflated by the wind
Involved together fall when snaps the mast,
So fell the cruel monster to the earth.
Thus we descended into the fourth chasm,
Gaining still farther on the dolesome shore
Which all the woe of the universe insacks.
Justice of God, ah! who heaps up so many
New toils and sufferings as I beheld?
And why doth our transgression waste us so?
As doth the billow there upon Charybdis,
That breaks itself on that which it encounters,
So here the folk must dance their roundelay.
Here saw I people, more than elsewhere, many,
On one side and the other, with great howls,
Rolling weights forward by main force of chest.
They clashed together, and then at that point
Each one turned backward, rolling retrograde,
Crying, "Why keepest?" and, "Why squanderest thou?"
Thus they returned along the lurid circle
On either hand unto the opposite point,
Shouting their shameful metre evermore.
Then each, when he arrived there, wheeled about
Through his half-circle to another joust;
And I, who had my heart pierced as it were,
Exclaimed: "My Master, now declare to me
What people these are, and if all were clerks,
These shaven crowns upon the left of us."
And he to me: "All of them were asquint
In intellect in the first life, so much
That there with measure they no spending made.
Clearly enough their voices bark it forth,
Whene'er they reach the two points of the circle,
Where sunders them the opposite defect.
Clerks those were who no hairy covering
Have on the head, and Popes and Cardinals,
In whom doth Avarice practise its excess."
And I: "My Master, among such as these
I ought forsooth to recognise some few,
Who were infected with these maladies."
And he to me: "Vain thought thou entertainest;
The undiscerning life which made them sordid
Now makes them unto all discernment dim.
Forever shall they come to these two buttings;
These from the sepulchre shall rise again
With the fist closed, and these with tresses shorn.
Ill giving and ill keeping the fair world
Have ta'en from them, and placed them in this scuffle;
Whate'er it be, no words adorn I for it.
Now canst thou, Son, behold the transient farce
Of goods that are committed unto Fortune,
For which the human race each other buffet;
For all the gold that is beneath the moon,
Or ever has been, of these weary souls
Could never make a single one repose."
"Master," I said to him, "now tell me also
What is this Fortune which thou speakest of,
That has the world's goods so within its clutches?"
And he to me: "O creatures imbecile,
What ignorance is this which doth beset you?
Now will I have thee learn my judgment of her.
He whose omniscience everything transcends
The heavens created, and gave who should guide them,
That every part to every part may shine,
Distributing the light in equal measure;
He in like manner to the mundane splendours
Ordained a general ministress and guide,
That she might change at times the empty treasures
From race to race, from one blood to another,
Beyond resistance of all human wisdom.
Therefore one people triumphs, and another
Languishes, in pursuance of her judgment,
Which hidden is, as in the grass a serpent.
Your knowledge has no counterstand against her;
She makes provision, judges, and pursues
Her governance, as theirs the other gods.
Her permutations have not any truce;
Necessity makes her precipitate,
So often cometh who his turn obtains.
And this is she who is so crucified
Even by those who ought to give her praise,
Giving her blame amiss, and bad repute.
But she is blissful, and she hears it not;
Among the other primal creatures gladsome
She turns her sphere, and blissful she rejoices.
Let us descend now unto greater woe;
Already sinks each star that was ascending
When I set out, and loitering is forbidden."
We crossed the circle to the other bank,
Near to a fount that boils, and pours itself
Along a gully that runs out of it.
The water was more sombre far than perse;
And we, in company with the dusky waves,
Made entrance downward by a path uncouth.
A marsh it makes, which has the name of Styx,
This tristful brooklet, when it has descended
Down to the foot of the malign gray shores.
And I, who stood intent upon beholding,
Saw people mud-besprent in that lagoon,
All of them naked and with angry look.
They smote each other not alone with hands,
But with the head and with the breast and feet,
Tearing each other piecemeal with their teeth.
Said the good Master: "Son, thou now beholdest
The souls of those whom anger overcame;
And likewise I would have thee know for certain
Beneath the water people are who sigh
And make this water bubble at the surface,
As the eye tells thee wheresoe'er it turns.
Fixed in the mire they say, 'We sullen were
In the sweet air, which by the sun is gladdened,
Bearing within ourselves the sluggish reek;
Now we are sullen in this sable mire.'
This hymn do they keep gurgling in their throats,
For with unbroken words they cannot say it."
Thus we went circling round the filthy fen
A great arc 'twixt the dry bank and the swamp,
With eyes turned unto those who gorge the mire;
Unto the foot of a tower we came at last.
Plutus, the god of wealth in classical myth, wishes to prevent the passage of this living soul through Satan's kingdom. That, at least, is what we must surmise from Virgil's reaction, vv. 4-6, which assuages Dante's fear. There is a program of demonic resistance that makes Dante fearful throughout Inferno: Charon (Inf. III.91-93), Minos (Inf. V.19-20), Cerberus (Inf. VI.22-24), Phlegyas (Inf. VIII.18), the Furies (Inf. IX.52-54), the Minotaur (Inf. XII.14-15), Geryon (Inf. XVII.25-27), Malacoda and the Malebranche (Inf. XXI.23-XXIII.57), Nimrod (Inf. XXXI.67), Satan (Inf. XXXIV.22-27). In almost all of these scenes it is Virgil's task to quell the resistance of the infernal guardians and to reassure his charge.
Pape Satàn, Pape Satàn, aleppe. The third verse suggests that Virgil understands these words spoken by Plutus. If that is correct, he is perhaps the only one to have done so. Over the centuries a continuing debate addresses, rather confusedly, the precise nature of these five words: whether they are part of a recognizable language or not; whether they are totally meaningless or have some meaning; whether they are an invocation of the power of Satan against invading Dante or an oath giving expression to the monster's surprise at the presence of a living soul in hell. For a review of the question see Hollander (Dante and Paul's “five words with understanding,” Occasional Papers, No. 1, Center for Medieval and Early Renaissance Texts and Studies [Binghamton, NY: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1992]), who sees this and Nimrod's similarly nonsensical five words (Inf. XXXI.67) as parodic inversions of the five words of clear speech called for by St. Paul, concerned about the over-reliance of the faithful on speaking in tongues (I Corinthians 14:19). Plutus's oath may be garbled speech, but it does contain 'pseudo-words' that have meaning: Pape represents either a Latin interjection (papae) of admiration, as many ancient commentators think, or/and a debased form of the Italian and Latin for 'pope' (papa – see Inf. VII.47: papi); Satàn would fairly clearly seem to be a form of the Italian 'Satana' or of the Latin 'Sathanas' and thus 'Satan'; aleppe, as some of the first commentators noticed, is the Italian form of the Hebrew word for the first letter of the alphabet, 'aleph,' as in the Latin expression 'alpha ed omega' (the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet, signifying 'the beginning and the end'), as God defines Himself in the Bible (Apoc. 1:8, repeated at Apoc. 21:6 and Apoc. 22:13). If one had to render these nonsense words in English one might say something like 'O Pope Satan, my god.' Fortunately, one does not have to. For the connection of these words in mixed language to those in the first verses of the seventh canto of Paradiso (there, naturally, totally positive in tone and meaning) – the parallelism is certainly striking – see Gian Roberto Sarolli, Prolegomena alla “Divina Commedia” (Florence: Olschki, 1971), pp. 289-90.
Lorenzo Renzi (“Un aspetto del plurilinguismo medievale: dalla lingua dei re magi a 'Papé satan aleppe,'” in Omaggio a Gianfranco Folena, ed. Pier Vincenzo Mengaldo [Padua: Editoriale Programma, 1993]), pp. 61-73, presents evidence for a possible connection between instances of glossalalia in French medieval plays, some of which come from the mouths of pagan deities, and Dante's polyglot phrase here and in Inferno XXXI.67.
This is perhaps Virgil's single most commanding moment in turning aside a challenge by agents of Satan to his and Dante's progress. He first reassures the fearful protagonist (vv. 4-6) and only then turns his attention to Plutus, whom he excoriates (vv. 8-9) before presenting his own heavenly 'credentials' (vv. 10-12) – his stewardship and his pupil's safe voyage down into the depth of hell are both guaranteed at no height less than that of the Empyrean. It was there that the very first rebellion, that of Satan and his minions against God Himself, was put down by the heavenly army led by the archangel Michael. (See the note to Inf. IX.85 for the likelihood that we are meant to understand that this later intervener in support of their progress is to be understood as Michael in one way or another.) Virgil's intransigent insistence indeed causes the utter collapse of the previously adamant Plutus (vv. 13-15).
Nonetheless, if we are rereading the poem, remembering the events that await in the next two cantos, we probably should be jarred by Virgil's self-confidence now. The entire developing scene in the next two cantos, beginning with the opposing 'army' of fallen angels (to whom Virgil refers here as defeated but who will seem capable of resistance to such enemies as these two invaders at VIII.82-83) and culminating in Michael's victory and the breaching of the walls of Dis show that the guide is out of his depth and that his optimistic view of his own powers is undercut by later events. The undercutting effect of the revisiting of the 'war in heaven' seems clear enough. As for the confirmation that we are to think of Michael in both these scenes, it has apparently escaped all commentators except Mattalia (comm. IX.85).
That Virgil refers to Plutus as a wolf ties him to the vice of avarice, since in this poem wolves are often symbols of that vice (e.g., Purg. XX.10; Par. IX.132; Par. XXVII.55).
In justifying Dante's status as visitor to the infernal regions, Virgil refers to the war in heaven (see Apoc. 12:7-9), where the archangel Michael is specifically mentioned as a warrior in the battle that sent Satan down into hell with his minions, the fallen angels. Dante's treatment makes it seem that Plutus felt his kinship with these creatures, whom the travelers will encounter at Inferno VIII.82-84.
The word 'strupo' (a hapax) has caused some puzzlement because it seems to reflect a carnal sense (as in 'rape') that is not appropriate to the evidently non-sexual context of the 'war in heaven,' alluded to here. But see Boccaccio's attempt (comm. vv. 7-12) to couple the two: 'E chiamalo strupo, quasi violatore col suo superbo pensiero della divina potenzia, alla quale mai più non era stato chi violenza avesse voluto fare; per che pare lui con la sua superbia quello nella deità aver tentato che nelle vergini tentano gli strupatori.' And Fosca (comm. vv. 9-12) adds: 'La voce strupo (“stupro” per metatesi) designa una “superba violenza.” Commenta Benvenuto (comm. vv. 7-15): “Et hic nota quod autor appellat stuprum elationem sive violentiam quam Lucifer facere voluit, quia stuprum est defloratio aliene virginis incorrupte, ita iste, quantum in ipso fuit, voluit violare alienam lucem et gloriam incorruptibilem, quia voluit fieri similis Altissimo”.' Benvenuto goes on to address a philological question: 'Nota etiam quod debuisset dicere stupro sine r in principio et cum r in fine, sed contrarium fecit, quia sic vulgariter profertur, et propter consonantiam Rhitmi.'
Virgil's words, telling exactly how things are with respect to demonic rebellion, are enough to crumple the irascible spirit of Plutus.
Now the poet does share with us the method (ambulatory) of his leaving one circle and making his way to the next one. See the note to Inf. VI.1.
The author's apostrophe of God's justice reminds us of the centrality of this concern to the entire Comedy. See the note to Inferno III.4.
Of the form 'viddi' Bosco/Reggio (comm. vv. 19-21) say: 'It is the archaic form for vidi, a choice forced perhaps by the needs of rhyming, because it is not found elsewhere in Dante's work.'
Dante's locus classicus for the description of the tumultuous meeting of the Ionian and Mediterranean seas between Sicily and the Italian mainland is found in Aeneid III.420-433.
Dante's Italian makes it clear that this dance is the ridda, a popular dance in which the linked participants reverse the direction of their circling movement with the playing and singing each new strophe.
For the relatively greater number of condemned souls devoted to avarice see Aeneid VI.608-611, the Sibyl's description of Tartarus, which includes a description of the punishment of (unnamed) Sisyphus, eternally rolling his stone (Aen. VI.616). Dante appropriates these two details to build the details of his fourth Circle. Virgil's brief description of those who loved riches to excess is without reference to those of the precisely opposite inclination. In Dante's formulation, prodigality is the opposite form of the same vice. This is one of the few examples in the code of ethics found in this poem in which an Aristotelian measure seems to be at work, in which a 'golden mean' locates the correct or permissible amount of affection or desire. (See Inf. VII.42 for confirmation that there is a proper measure in such things).
For the 'Satanic style' of this encounter see Franco Suitner, La poesia satirica e giocosa nell'età dei comuni (Padova: Editrice Antenore, 1983), p. 67.
It has not often been noted, but, seen from above, the avaricious and prodigal perform a perfect circle in their movement. Their activities in hell (as was true in the world above) mount up to exactly zero. This nullity is reflected in their nameless and unidentifiable condition here; and their circling is to be compared to that performed by Fortune's wheel (see the note to Inf. VII.90).
Dante's sympathetic responses to various of the damned usually indicates a sense of identity with them. On this occasion, it would rather seem to reveal his horror at the nature of this punishment.
Dante allows himself a fairly traditional anti-clerical thrust. Christ had led his followers in embracing poverty and, much later, the mendicant orders took vows of poverty, some in remembrance of St. Francis's imitation of Christ in this respect. Thus, while avarice in any person respected for a higher calling would be disgraceful, it is particularly so in a member of the clergy and becomes an easy (and popular) target. It is notable that the clergy are noticed only here – and in number – among the avaricious; none of them is pointed out among the prodigal.
That is, those who squandered shout at the others 'why do you hoard?' and vice versa.
The insistence on the large number of clerics among the avaricious (and no other social orders are identified as being avaricious, not even bankers or money-lenders) continues, now including a plurality of popes. The anonymous plurality of popes mentioned in v. 47 leaves the reader free to supply any number of such pontiffs. The essential impression left by the poem as a whole is that more popes are damned than saved. This is probably true, but Dante does insist that a number of popes are in fact saved. The first and foremost is of course Saint Peter, considered by Dante and medieval writers in general as being the first pope. He is seen in paradise by Dante in the Heaven of the Fixed Stars, where he has a major role as speaker, but he is referred to from the beginning of the poem to its end (Inf. II.24; Par. XXXII.133). And Peter himself is the one who tells of the salvations of six other early popes: his two immediate successors Linus and Cletus, both martyred in the first century (Par. XXVII.41), as well as four other popes martyred, according to a tradition that Dante followed, in the second and third centuries: Sixtus I, Pius I, Calixtus I, and Urban I (Par. XXVII.44). Also mentioned as being saved are Agapetus I (Par. VI.16) and Gregory I (Par. XXVIII.133-135). We see Pope Adrian V purging his avarice on the road to heaven (Purg. XIX.99) and Pope Martin IV repenting his zest for eating eels also on his way to paradise (Purg. XXIV.22). And there is Pope John XXI, seen as present in the Heaven of the Sun and hence among the blessed (Par. XII.134). There are thus twelve popes who are indicated as being among God's chosen.
Several other popes are referred to, but without having their eventual destinations under God's justice made plain. Such is the case with respect to Sylvester I (Inf. XXVII.94), Clement IV (Purg. III.125), Innocent III (Par. XI.92), and Honorius III (Par. XI.98).
The case of the popes who are damned is more complex. Here is an attempt to list the fallen pontiffs referred to in the poem. If the one 'who made the great refusal' (Inf. III.60) is, as many believe, Pope Celestine V, he would be the first damned pope whom we see. He is followed by the unnamed pontiffs of canto VII and then by Anastasius II (Inf. XI.8). Many believe that Innocent IV is the most certain presence in the unnamed line of precursors alluded to by Nicholas III (Inf. XIX.73) – a second instance of a plurality of damned popes, while the saved ones are never referred to in this way. Those that are confirmed as damned are Nicholas himself (Inf. XIX.70), Boniface VIII (Inf. XIX.53), Clement V (Inf. XIX.83), and, a last for good measure, John XXII (Par. XXVII.58). Thus at least five popes are definitively damned. In two cases, as we have seen, Dante opens the door to other possibilities. As a result, the absolute possible low is nine (five plus the plural 'papi' at Inf. VII.47 and 'altri' at Inf. XIX.73 – there must be at least two in each case to account for the plural). Celestine would bring the total to ten. In short, Dante probably did mean to encourage his readers to believe exactly what most of them seem to believe – that more popes were damned than were saved.
That is, the avaricious will have their fists clamped in remembrance of their grasping behaviors, while the prodigal will have their hair shorn to remind them of their lack of care for their possessions (and themselves). Sinclair, in his note to this verse, cites an old Italian proverb: a prodigal spends 'even to the hair of his head.'
Virgil's discourse on the nature and effect of Fortune on mortal lives is notable for its sunniness and equability. The usual and necessary citation among commentators is of Boethius, whose Consolation of Philosophy is the standard medieval text on the subject and was well known to Dante. The Lady Philosophy explains to complaining Boethius that humans who suffer like to blame their misfortune on bad luck, expressed by the fortune that turns its back on them. What philosophy makes plain is that the fault lies in ourselves, in that we pitch our hopes on things we should recognize as fallible, fleeting, and of ultimately little importance. What Dante adds to this stern message is a sense of calmness about and even positive acceptance of these facts of human existence. Fortune may be understood as, in the happy formulation of Charles Grandgent (in his proem to this canto), 'the Angel of Earth.' Nothing that she does should be unexpected; everything that she does is 'right.' Exactly such an understanding may be found in Dante's own words in his Monarchia (II.ix.8), where he says that the force that distributes the goods of the world, victory or defeat in battle, which the pagans attributed to their gods, 'we call... by the more appropriate and accurate name “divine providence.”' Particularly helpful discussions of Dante's understanding of fortune may be found in Vincenzo Cioffari's book (The Conception of Fortune and Fate in the Works of Dante [Cambridge, Mass.: Dante Society of Cambridge, Mass., 1940]), Gianluigi Toja'a article (“La Fortuna,” Studi Danteschi 42 [1965], pp. 247-60) and Padoan's various remarks on this passage in his commentary (Inf. VII.70, Inf. VII.71, Inf. VII.78, Inf. VII.80, Inf. VII.85, Inf. VII.86, Inf. VII.94, Inf. VII.95, Inf. VII.96).
The distance that Dante has traveled from the position he took in his Convivio (IV.xi.6-8), where the unequal distribution of goods among humans is seen as a defect of Fortune's agency, is manifest. In that passage Fortune is seen as acting randomly; here she is provident (verse 86) – and we should remember that she was traditionally portrayed as blind-folded, unseeing as she acts. In this passage, as one of the angelic hierarchy, she turns her famous 'wheel' in knowledge and in bliss. God's in His heaven, Fortune turns her wheel, all's right with the world, which is only and absolutely as it should be.
Virgil's desire to 'feed' his confused 'offspring' so that he may give over his foolish view of Fortune will mark a turning point in the protagonist's understanding.
Dante's 'serpent hidden in the grass' has been seen, at least from the sixteenth century on, as being a translation of Virgil's third Eclogue, verse 93: 'latet anguis in herba.'
The altri dèi, literally 'other gods,' translated as 'other heavenly powers,' are the other nine orders of angels.
The rapid tranformations of human states are summarized in the Casini/Barbi commentary (to Inf. VII.96) as follows: a given human being may typically move, along eight points on Fortune's wheel, from humility, to patience, to peace, to riches, to pride, to impatience, to war, to poverty. This is a typical 'ride' of anyone tied to Fortune's wheel, ending back at the starting point. See the note to Inf. VII.31-35.
Virgil's indication of the time reveals that it is now after midnight, some six hours after the travelers set out at 6 pm on Friday evening.
The river Styx has a classical history probably, for Dante, most notably in Aeneid VI.323.
Clearly the protagonist, gazing upon the inhabitants of the fifth Circle, is looking at the wrathful. The problem for interpreters is that wrath, or anger, is a sin of violence, not one of incontinence; yet the poem has not yet left the realm of incontinence behind. Without reviewing the fairly vast literature upon this problem, one can offer some uncomplicated solutions, based on the thirteenth chapter of St. Thomas's commentary on Aristotle's Ethics (IV.5). Aristotle, in Thomas's paraphrase, distinguishes three kinds of anger: choleric (which comes upon one quickly and quickly departs), bitter (which lasts long in the heart of the afflicted person, and is not released easily), difficult (which is more hostile, longer-lasting, and directed against those it should not be, and which is not released until the one experiencing this kind of wrath inflicts injury upon an enemy). It seems clear that Dante here shows the punishment of the first sort of wrath in the choleric, who are not guilty of sins of violence, but of intemperance. (For the second set of sinners punished here, see the next note.) In this reading, the third form of anger, which has as its intention physical harm to another, is punished only in the realm of the violent against others, in canto XII – where it should be, and not as a sin of intemperance, which these first two are.
Those who are punished under the surface of the Styx are, in this formulation (see the note to Inf. VII.109-114), what St. Thomas characterizes as Aristotle's second set of the wrathful, the amari, or 'bitter.' These people kept their anger in, suffering gravely within themselves (as opposed to the choleric, quick to vent their anger in insults and blows). Dante's inventive representation of this kind of wrath shows its exemplars as experiencing the 'muddy' or 'smoky' sensation of stifled anger.
The ending of this canto offers the reader a sense that it is rounding off the actions observed in it, and yet its final verse, constituting a single sentence, looks forward to the import of that mysterious tower, the first 'architecture' we have come upon in hell. Like terza rima itself, once characterized by Erich Auerbach, in his Dante, Poet of the Secular World, tr. R. Manheim (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961 [1929], p. 133), as 'loosing and binding,' Dante's narrative technique both conveys a sense of orderly narrative conclusion and, at the same time, of the forward movement of its plot. See the note to Inf. VIII.1.
Commentary text is copyrighted and reproduced by permission.
Please enter a search term.
“Pape Satàn, pape Satàn aleppe!”
cominciò Pluto con la voce chioccia;
e quel savio gentil, che tutto seppe,
disse per confortarmi: “Non ti noccia
la tua paura; ché, poder ch'elli abbia,
non ci torrà lo scender questa roccia.”
Poi si rivolse a quella 'nfiata labbia,
e disse: “Taci, maladetto lupo!
consuma dentro te con la tua rabbia.
Non è sanza cagion l'andare al cupo:
vuolsi ne l'alto, là dove Michele
fé la vendetta del superbo strupo.”
Quali dal vento le gonfiate vele
caggiono avvolte, poi che l'alber fiacca,
tal cadde a terra la fiera crudele.
Così scendemmo ne la quarta lacca,
pigliando più de la dolente ripa
che 'l mal de l'universo tutto insacca.
Ahi giustizia di Dio! tante chi stipa
nove travaglie e pene quant' io viddi?
e perché nostra colpa sì ne scipa?
Come fa l'onda là sovra Cariddi,
che si frange con quella in cui s'intoppa,
così convien che qui la gente riddi.
Qui vid' i' gente più ch'altrove troppa,
e d'una parte e d'altra, con grand' urli,
voltando pesi per forza di poppa.
Percotëansi 'ncontro; e poscia pur lì
si rivolgea ciascun, voltando a retro,
gridando: “Perché tieni?” e “Perché burli?”
Così tornavan per lo cerchio tetro
da ogne mano a l'opposito punto,
gridandosi anche loro ontoso metro;
poi si volgea ciascun, quand' era giunto,
per lo suo mezzo cerchio a l'altra giostra.
E io, ch'avea lo cor quasi compunto,
dissi: “Maestro mio, or mi dimostra
che gente è questa, e se tutti fuor cherci
questi chercuti a la sinistra nostra.”
Ed elli a me: “Tutti quanti fuor guerci
sì de la mente in la vita primaia,
che con misura nullo spendio ferci.
Assai la voce lor chiaro l'abbaia,
quando vegnono a' due punti del cerchio
dove colpa contraria li dispaia.
Questi fuor cherci, che non han coperchio
piloso al capo, e papi e cardinali,
in cui usa avarizia il suo soperchio.”
E io: “Maestro, tra questi cotali
dovre' io ben riconoscere alcuni
che furo immondi di cotesti mali.”
Ed elli a me: “Vano pensiero aduni:
la sconoscente vita che i fé sozzi,
ad ogne conoscenza or li fa bruni.
In etterno verranno a li due cozzi:
questi resurgeranno del sepulcro
col pugno chiuso, e questi coi crin mozzi.
Mal dare e mal tener lo mondo pulcro
ha tolto loro, e posti a questa zuffa:
qual ella sia, parole non ci appulcro.
Or puoi, figliuol, veder la corta buffa
d'i ben che son commessi a la fortuna,
per che l'umana gente si rabuffa;
ché tutto l'oro ch'è sotto la luna
e che già fu, di quest' anime stanche
non poterebbe farne posare una.”
“Maestro mio,” diss' io, “or mi dì anche:
questa fortuna di che tu mi tocche,
che è, che i ben del mondo ha sì tra branche?”
E quelli a me: “Oh creature sciocche,
quanta ignoranza è quella che v'offende!
Or vo' che tu mia sentenza ne 'mbocche.
Colui lo cui saver tutto trascende,
fece li cieli e diè lor chi conduce
sì, ch'ogne parte ad ogne parte splende,
distribuendo igualmente la luce.
Similemente a li splendor mondani
ordinò general ministra e duce
che permutasse a tempo li ben vani
di gente in gente e d'uno in altro sangue,
oltre la difension d'i senni umani;
per ch'una gente impera e l'altra langue,
seguendo lo giudicio di costei,
che è occulto come in erba l'angue.
Vostro saver non ha contasto a lei:
questa provede, giudica, e persegue
suo regno come il loro li altri dèi.
Le sue permutazion non hanno triegue:
necessità la fa esser veloce;
sì spesso vien chi vicenda consegue.
Quest' è colei ch'è tanto posta in croce
pur da color che le dovrien dar lode,
dandole biasmo a torto e mala voce;
ma ella s'è beata e ciò non ode:
con l'altre prime creature lieta
volve sua spera e beata si gode.
Or discendiamo omai a maggior pieta;
già ogne stella cade che saliva
quand' io mi mossi, e 'l troppo star si vieta.”
Noi ricidemmo il cerchio a l'altra riva
sovr' una fonte che bolle e riversa
per un fossato che da lei deriva.
L'acqua era buia assai più che persa;
e noi, in compagnia de l'onde bige,
intrammo giù per una via diversa.
In la palude va c'ha nome Stige
questo tristo ruscel, quand' è disceso
al piè de le maligne piagge grige.
E io, che di mirare stava inteso,
vidi genti fangose in quel pantano,
ignude tutte, con sembiante offeso.
Queste si percotean non pur con mano,
ma con la testa e col petto e coi piedi,
troncandosi co' denti a brano a brano.
Lo buon maestro disse: “Figlio, or vedi
l'anime di color cui vinse l'ira;
e anche vo' che tu per certo credi
che sotto l'acqua è gente che sospira,
e fanno pullular quest' acqua al summo,
come l'occhio ti dice, u' che s'aggira.
Fitti nel limo dicon: 'Tristi fummo
ne l'aere dolce che dal sol s'allegra,
portando dentro accidïoso fummo:
or ci attristiam ne la belletta negra.'
Quest' inno si gorgoglian ne la strozza,
ché dir nol posson con parola integra.”
Così girammo de la lorda pozza
grand' arco, tra la ripa secca e 'l mézzo,
con li occhi vòlti a chi del fango ingozza.
Venimmo al piè d'una torre al da sezzo.
"Pape Satan, Pape Satan, Aleppe!"
Thus Plutus with his clucking voice began;
And that benignant Sage, who all things knew,
Said, to encourage me: "Let not thy fear
Harm thee; for any power that he may have
Shall not prevent thy going down this crag."
Then he turned round unto that bloated lip,
And said: "Be silent, thou accursed wolf;
Consume within thyself with thine own rage.
Not causeless is this journey to the abyss;
Thus is it willed on high, where Michael wrought
Vengeance upon the proud adultery."
Even as the sails inflated by the wind
Involved together fall when snaps the mast,
So fell the cruel monster to the earth.
Thus we descended into the fourth chasm,
Gaining still farther on the dolesome shore
Which all the woe of the universe insacks.
Justice of God, ah! who heaps up so many
New toils and sufferings as I beheld?
And why doth our transgression waste us so?
As doth the billow there upon Charybdis,
That breaks itself on that which it encounters,
So here the folk must dance their roundelay.
Here saw I people, more than elsewhere, many,
On one side and the other, with great howls,
Rolling weights forward by main force of chest.
They clashed together, and then at that point
Each one turned backward, rolling retrograde,
Crying, "Why keepest?" and, "Why squanderest thou?"
Thus they returned along the lurid circle
On either hand unto the opposite point,
Shouting their shameful metre evermore.
Then each, when he arrived there, wheeled about
Through his half-circle to another joust;
And I, who had my heart pierced as it were,
Exclaimed: "My Master, now declare to me
What people these are, and if all were clerks,
These shaven crowns upon the left of us."
And he to me: "All of them were asquint
In intellect in the first life, so much
That there with measure they no spending made.
Clearly enough their voices bark it forth,
Whene'er they reach the two points of the circle,
Where sunders them the opposite defect.
Clerks those were who no hairy covering
Have on the head, and Popes and Cardinals,
In whom doth Avarice practise its excess."
And I: "My Master, among such as these
I ought forsooth to recognise some few,
Who were infected with these maladies."
And he to me: "Vain thought thou entertainest;
The undiscerning life which made them sordid
Now makes them unto all discernment dim.
Forever shall they come to these two buttings;
These from the sepulchre shall rise again
With the fist closed, and these with tresses shorn.
Ill giving and ill keeping the fair world
Have ta'en from them, and placed them in this scuffle;
Whate'er it be, no words adorn I for it.
Now canst thou, Son, behold the transient farce
Of goods that are committed unto Fortune,
For which the human race each other buffet;
For all the gold that is beneath the moon,
Or ever has been, of these weary souls
Could never make a single one repose."
"Master," I said to him, "now tell me also
What is this Fortune which thou speakest of,
That has the world's goods so within its clutches?"
And he to me: "O creatures imbecile,
What ignorance is this which doth beset you?
Now will I have thee learn my judgment of her.
He whose omniscience everything transcends
The heavens created, and gave who should guide them,
That every part to every part may shine,
Distributing the light in equal measure;
He in like manner to the mundane splendours
Ordained a general ministress and guide,
That she might change at times the empty treasures
From race to race, from one blood to another,
Beyond resistance of all human wisdom.
Therefore one people triumphs, and another
Languishes, in pursuance of her judgment,
Which hidden is, as in the grass a serpent.
Your knowledge has no counterstand against her;
She makes provision, judges, and pursues
Her governance, as theirs the other gods.
Her permutations have not any truce;
Necessity makes her precipitate,
So often cometh who his turn obtains.
And this is she who is so crucified
Even by those who ought to give her praise,
Giving her blame amiss, and bad repute.
But she is blissful, and she hears it not;
Among the other primal creatures gladsome
She turns her sphere, and blissful she rejoices.
Let us descend now unto greater woe;
Already sinks each star that was ascending
When I set out, and loitering is forbidden."
We crossed the circle to the other bank,
Near to a fount that boils, and pours itself
Along a gully that runs out of it.
The water was more sombre far than perse;
And we, in company with the dusky waves,
Made entrance downward by a path uncouth.
A marsh it makes, which has the name of Styx,
This tristful brooklet, when it has descended
Down to the foot of the malign gray shores.
And I, who stood intent upon beholding,
Saw people mud-besprent in that lagoon,
All of them naked and with angry look.
They smote each other not alone with hands,
But with the head and with the breast and feet,
Tearing each other piecemeal with their teeth.
Said the good Master: "Son, thou now beholdest
The souls of those whom anger overcame;
And likewise I would have thee know for certain
Beneath the water people are who sigh
And make this water bubble at the surface,
As the eye tells thee wheresoe'er it turns.
Fixed in the mire they say, 'We sullen were
In the sweet air, which by the sun is gladdened,
Bearing within ourselves the sluggish reek;
Now we are sullen in this sable mire.'
This hymn do they keep gurgling in their throats,
For with unbroken words they cannot say it."
Thus we went circling round the filthy fen
A great arc 'twixt the dry bank and the swamp,
With eyes turned unto those who gorge the mire;
Unto the foot of a tower we came at last.
Plutus, the god of wealth in classical myth, wishes to prevent the passage of this living soul through Satan's kingdom. That, at least, is what we must surmise from Virgil's reaction, vv. 4-6, which assuages Dante's fear. There is a program of demonic resistance that makes Dante fearful throughout Inferno: Charon (Inf. III.91-93), Minos (Inf. V.19-20), Cerberus (Inf. VI.22-24), Phlegyas (Inf. VIII.18), the Furies (Inf. IX.52-54), the Minotaur (Inf. XII.14-15), Geryon (Inf. XVII.25-27), Malacoda and the Malebranche (Inf. XXI.23-XXIII.57), Nimrod (Inf. XXXI.67), Satan (Inf. XXXIV.22-27). In almost all of these scenes it is Virgil's task to quell the resistance of the infernal guardians and to reassure his charge.
Pape Satàn, Pape Satàn, aleppe. The third verse suggests that Virgil understands these words spoken by Plutus. If that is correct, he is perhaps the only one to have done so. Over the centuries a continuing debate addresses, rather confusedly, the precise nature of these five words: whether they are part of a recognizable language or not; whether they are totally meaningless or have some meaning; whether they are an invocation of the power of Satan against invading Dante or an oath giving expression to the monster's surprise at the presence of a living soul in hell. For a review of the question see Hollander (Dante and Paul's “five words with understanding,” Occasional Papers, No. 1, Center for Medieval and Early Renaissance Texts and Studies [Binghamton, NY: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 1992]), who sees this and Nimrod's similarly nonsensical five words (Inf. XXXI.67) as parodic inversions of the five words of clear speech called for by St. Paul, concerned about the over-reliance of the faithful on speaking in tongues (I Corinthians 14:19). Plutus's oath may be garbled speech, but it does contain 'pseudo-words' that have meaning: Pape represents either a Latin interjection (papae) of admiration, as many ancient commentators think, or/and a debased form of the Italian and Latin for 'pope' (papa – see Inf. VII.47: papi); Satàn would fairly clearly seem to be a form of the Italian 'Satana' or of the Latin 'Sathanas' and thus 'Satan'; aleppe, as some of the first commentators noticed, is the Italian form of the Hebrew word for the first letter of the alphabet, 'aleph,' as in the Latin expression 'alpha ed omega' (the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet, signifying 'the beginning and the end'), as God defines Himself in the Bible (Apoc. 1:8, repeated at Apoc. 21:6 and Apoc. 22:13). If one had to render these nonsense words in English one might say something like 'O Pope Satan, my god.' Fortunately, one does not have to. For the connection of these words in mixed language to those in the first verses of the seventh canto of Paradiso (there, naturally, totally positive in tone and meaning) – the parallelism is certainly striking – see Gian Roberto Sarolli, Prolegomena alla “Divina Commedia” (Florence: Olschki, 1971), pp. 289-90.
Lorenzo Renzi (“Un aspetto del plurilinguismo medievale: dalla lingua dei re magi a 'Papé satan aleppe,'” in Omaggio a Gianfranco Folena, ed. Pier Vincenzo Mengaldo [Padua: Editoriale Programma, 1993]), pp. 61-73, presents evidence for a possible connection between instances of glossalalia in French medieval plays, some of which come from the mouths of pagan deities, and Dante's polyglot phrase here and in Inferno XXXI.67.
This is perhaps Virgil's single most commanding moment in turning aside a challenge by agents of Satan to his and Dante's progress. He first reassures the fearful protagonist (vv. 4-6) and only then turns his attention to Plutus, whom he excoriates (vv. 8-9) before presenting his own heavenly 'credentials' (vv. 10-12) – his stewardship and his pupil's safe voyage down into the depth of hell are both guaranteed at no height less than that of the Empyrean. It was there that the very first rebellion, that of Satan and his minions against God Himself, was put down by the heavenly army led by the archangel Michael. (See the note to Inf. IX.85 for the likelihood that we are meant to understand that this later intervener in support of their progress is to be understood as Michael in one way or another.) Virgil's intransigent insistence indeed causes the utter collapse of the previously adamant Plutus (vv. 13-15).
Nonetheless, if we are rereading the poem, remembering the events that await in the next two cantos, we probably should be jarred by Virgil's self-confidence now. The entire developing scene in the next two cantos, beginning with the opposing 'army' of fallen angels (to whom Virgil refers here as defeated but who will seem capable of resistance to such enemies as these two invaders at VIII.82-83) and culminating in Michael's victory and the breaching of the walls of Dis show that the guide is out of his depth and that his optimistic view of his own powers is undercut by later events. The undercutting effect of the revisiting of the 'war in heaven' seems clear enough. As for the confirmation that we are to think of Michael in both these scenes, it has apparently escaped all commentators except Mattalia (comm. IX.85).
That Virgil refers to Plutus as a wolf ties him to the vice of avarice, since in this poem wolves are often symbols of that vice (e.g., Purg. XX.10; Par. IX.132; Par. XXVII.55).
In justifying Dante's status as visitor to the infernal regions, Virgil refers to the war in heaven (see Apoc. 12:7-9), where the archangel Michael is specifically mentioned as a warrior in the battle that sent Satan down into hell with his minions, the fallen angels. Dante's treatment makes it seem that Plutus felt his kinship with these creatures, whom the travelers will encounter at Inferno VIII.82-84.
The word 'strupo' (a hapax) has caused some puzzlement because it seems to reflect a carnal sense (as in 'rape') that is not appropriate to the evidently non-sexual context of the 'war in heaven,' alluded to here. But see Boccaccio's attempt (comm. vv. 7-12) to couple the two: 'E chiamalo strupo, quasi violatore col suo superbo pensiero della divina potenzia, alla quale mai più non era stato chi violenza avesse voluto fare; per che pare lui con la sua superbia quello nella deità aver tentato che nelle vergini tentano gli strupatori.' And Fosca (comm. vv. 9-12) adds: 'La voce strupo (“stupro” per metatesi) designa una “superba violenza.” Commenta Benvenuto (comm. vv. 7-15): “Et hic nota quod autor appellat stuprum elationem sive violentiam quam Lucifer facere voluit, quia stuprum est defloratio aliene virginis incorrupte, ita iste, quantum in ipso fuit, voluit violare alienam lucem et gloriam incorruptibilem, quia voluit fieri similis Altissimo”.' Benvenuto goes on to address a philological question: 'Nota etiam quod debuisset dicere stupro sine r in principio et cum r in fine, sed contrarium fecit, quia sic vulgariter profertur, et propter consonantiam Rhitmi.'
Virgil's words, telling exactly how things are with respect to demonic rebellion, are enough to crumple the irascible spirit of Plutus.
Now the poet does share with us the method (ambulatory) of his leaving one circle and making his way to the next one. See the note to Inf. VI.1.
The author's apostrophe of God's justice reminds us of the centrality of this concern to the entire Comedy. See the note to Inferno III.4.
Of the form 'viddi' Bosco/Reggio (comm. vv. 19-21) say: 'It is the archaic form for vidi, a choice forced perhaps by the needs of rhyming, because it is not found elsewhere in Dante's work.'
Dante's locus classicus for the description of the tumultuous meeting of the Ionian and Mediterranean seas between Sicily and the Italian mainland is found in Aeneid III.420-433.
Dante's Italian makes it clear that this dance is the ridda, a popular dance in which the linked participants reverse the direction of their circling movement with the playing and singing each new strophe.
For the relatively greater number of condemned souls devoted to avarice see Aeneid VI.608-611, the Sibyl's description of Tartarus, which includes a description of the punishment of (unnamed) Sisyphus, eternally rolling his stone (Aen. VI.616). Dante appropriates these two details to build the details of his fourth Circle. Virgil's brief description of those who loved riches to excess is without reference to those of the precisely opposite inclination. In Dante's formulation, prodigality is the opposite form of the same vice. This is one of the few examples in the code of ethics found in this poem in which an Aristotelian measure seems to be at work, in which a 'golden mean' locates the correct or permissible amount of affection or desire. (See Inf. VII.42 for confirmation that there is a proper measure in such things).
For the 'Satanic style' of this encounter see Franco Suitner, La poesia satirica e giocosa nell'età dei comuni (Padova: Editrice Antenore, 1983), p. 67.
It has not often been noted, but, seen from above, the avaricious and prodigal perform a perfect circle in their movement. Their activities in hell (as was true in the world above) mount up to exactly zero. This nullity is reflected in their nameless and unidentifiable condition here; and their circling is to be compared to that performed by Fortune's wheel (see the note to Inf. VII.90).
Dante's sympathetic responses to various of the damned usually indicates a sense of identity with them. On this occasion, it would rather seem to reveal his horror at the nature of this punishment.
Dante allows himself a fairly traditional anti-clerical thrust. Christ had led his followers in embracing poverty and, much later, the mendicant orders took vows of poverty, some in remembrance of St. Francis's imitation of Christ in this respect. Thus, while avarice in any person respected for a higher calling would be disgraceful, it is particularly so in a member of the clergy and becomes an easy (and popular) target. It is notable that the clergy are noticed only here – and in number – among the avaricious; none of them is pointed out among the prodigal.
That is, those who squandered shout at the others 'why do you hoard?' and vice versa.
The insistence on the large number of clerics among the avaricious (and no other social orders are identified as being avaricious, not even bankers or money-lenders) continues, now including a plurality of popes. The anonymous plurality of popes mentioned in v. 47 leaves the reader free to supply any number of such pontiffs. The essential impression left by the poem as a whole is that more popes are damned than saved. This is probably true, but Dante does insist that a number of popes are in fact saved. The first and foremost is of course Saint Peter, considered by Dante and medieval writers in general as being the first pope. He is seen in paradise by Dante in the Heaven of the Fixed Stars, where he has a major role as speaker, but he is referred to from the beginning of the poem to its end (Inf. II.24; Par. XXXII.133). And Peter himself is the one who tells of the salvations of six other early popes: his two immediate successors Linus and Cletus, both martyred in the first century (Par. XXVII.41), as well as four other popes martyred, according to a tradition that Dante followed, in the second and third centuries: Sixtus I, Pius I, Calixtus I, and Urban I (Par. XXVII.44). Also mentioned as being saved are Agapetus I (Par. VI.16) and Gregory I (Par. XXVIII.133-135). We see Pope Adrian V purging his avarice on the road to heaven (Purg. XIX.99) and Pope Martin IV repenting his zest for eating eels also on his way to paradise (Purg. XXIV.22). And there is Pope John XXI, seen as present in the Heaven of the Sun and hence among the blessed (Par. XII.134). There are thus twelve popes who are indicated as being among God's chosen.
Several other popes are referred to, but without having their eventual destinations under God's justice made plain. Such is the case with respect to Sylvester I (Inf. XXVII.94), Clement IV (Purg. III.125), Innocent III (Par. XI.92), and Honorius III (Par. XI.98).
The case of the popes who are damned is more complex. Here is an attempt to list the fallen pontiffs referred to in the poem. If the one 'who made the great refusal' (Inf. III.60) is, as many believe, Pope Celestine V, he would be the first damned pope whom we see. He is followed by the unnamed pontiffs of canto VII and then by Anastasius II (Inf. XI.8). Many believe that Innocent IV is the most certain presence in the unnamed line of precursors alluded to by Nicholas III (Inf. XIX.73) – a second instance of a plurality of damned popes, while the saved ones are never referred to in this way. Those that are confirmed as damned are Nicholas himself (Inf. XIX.70), Boniface VIII (Inf. XIX.53), Clement V (Inf. XIX.83), and, a last for good measure, John XXII (Par. XXVII.58). Thus at least five popes are definitively damned. In two cases, as we have seen, Dante opens the door to other possibilities. As a result, the absolute possible low is nine (five plus the plural 'papi' at Inf. VII.47 and 'altri' at Inf. XIX.73 – there must be at least two in each case to account for the plural). Celestine would bring the total to ten. In short, Dante probably did mean to encourage his readers to believe exactly what most of them seem to believe – that more popes were damned than were saved.
That is, the avaricious will have their fists clamped in remembrance of their grasping behaviors, while the prodigal will have their hair shorn to remind them of their lack of care for their possessions (and themselves). Sinclair, in his note to this verse, cites an old Italian proverb: a prodigal spends 'even to the hair of his head.'
Virgil's discourse on the nature and effect of Fortune on mortal lives is notable for its sunniness and equability. The usual and necessary citation among commentators is of Boethius, whose Consolation of Philosophy is the standard medieval text on the subject and was well known to Dante. The Lady Philosophy explains to complaining Boethius that humans who suffer like to blame their misfortune on bad luck, expressed by the fortune that turns its back on them. What philosophy makes plain is that the fault lies in ourselves, in that we pitch our hopes on things we should recognize as fallible, fleeting, and of ultimately little importance. What Dante adds to this stern message is a sense of calmness about and even positive acceptance of these facts of human existence. Fortune may be understood as, in the happy formulation of Charles Grandgent (in his proem to this canto), 'the Angel of Earth.' Nothing that she does should be unexpected; everything that she does is 'right.' Exactly such an understanding may be found in Dante's own words in his Monarchia (II.ix.8), where he says that the force that distributes the goods of the world, victory or defeat in battle, which the pagans attributed to their gods, 'we call... by the more appropriate and accurate name “divine providence.”' Particularly helpful discussions of Dante's understanding of fortune may be found in Vincenzo Cioffari's book (The Conception of Fortune and Fate in the Works of Dante [Cambridge, Mass.: Dante Society of Cambridge, Mass., 1940]), Gianluigi Toja'a article (“La Fortuna,” Studi Danteschi 42 [1965], pp. 247-60) and Padoan's various remarks on this passage in his commentary (Inf. VII.70, Inf. VII.71, Inf. VII.78, Inf. VII.80, Inf. VII.85, Inf. VII.86, Inf. VII.94, Inf. VII.95, Inf. VII.96).
The distance that Dante has traveled from the position he took in his Convivio (IV.xi.6-8), where the unequal distribution of goods among humans is seen as a defect of Fortune's agency, is manifest. In that passage Fortune is seen as acting randomly; here she is provident (verse 86) – and we should remember that she was traditionally portrayed as blind-folded, unseeing as she acts. In this passage, as one of the angelic hierarchy, she turns her famous 'wheel' in knowledge and in bliss. God's in His heaven, Fortune turns her wheel, all's right with the world, which is only and absolutely as it should be.
Virgil's desire to 'feed' his confused 'offspring' so that he may give over his foolish view of Fortune will mark a turning point in the protagonist's understanding.
Dante's 'serpent hidden in the grass' has been seen, at least from the sixteenth century on, as being a translation of Virgil's third Eclogue, verse 93: 'latet anguis in herba.'
The altri dèi, literally 'other gods,' translated as 'other heavenly powers,' are the other nine orders of angels.
The rapid tranformations of human states are summarized in the Casini/Barbi commentary (to Inf. VII.96) as follows: a given human being may typically move, along eight points on Fortune's wheel, from humility, to patience, to peace, to riches, to pride, to impatience, to war, to poverty. This is a typical 'ride' of anyone tied to Fortune's wheel, ending back at the starting point. See the note to Inf. VII.31-35.
Virgil's indication of the time reveals that it is now after midnight, some six hours after the travelers set out at 6 pm on Friday evening.
The river Styx has a classical history probably, for Dante, most notably in Aeneid VI.323.
Clearly the protagonist, gazing upon the inhabitants of the fifth Circle, is looking at the wrathful. The problem for interpreters is that wrath, or anger, is a sin of violence, not one of incontinence; yet the poem has not yet left the realm of incontinence behind. Without reviewing the fairly vast literature upon this problem, one can offer some uncomplicated solutions, based on the thirteenth chapter of St. Thomas's commentary on Aristotle's Ethics (IV.5). Aristotle, in Thomas's paraphrase, distinguishes three kinds of anger: choleric (which comes upon one quickly and quickly departs), bitter (which lasts long in the heart of the afflicted person, and is not released easily), difficult (which is more hostile, longer-lasting, and directed against those it should not be, and which is not released until the one experiencing this kind of wrath inflicts injury upon an enemy). It seems clear that Dante here shows the punishment of the first sort of wrath in the choleric, who are not guilty of sins of violence, but of intemperance. (For the second set of sinners punished here, see the next note.) In this reading, the third form of anger, which has as its intention physical harm to another, is punished only in the realm of the violent against others, in canto XII – where it should be, and not as a sin of intemperance, which these first two are.
Those who are punished under the surface of the Styx are, in this formulation (see the note to Inf. VII.109-114), what St. Thomas characterizes as Aristotle's second set of the wrathful, the amari, or 'bitter.' These people kept their anger in, suffering gravely within themselves (as opposed to the choleric, quick to vent their anger in insults and blows). Dante's inventive representation of this kind of wrath shows its exemplars as experiencing the 'muddy' or 'smoky' sensation of stifled anger.
The ending of this canto offers the reader a sense that it is rounding off the actions observed in it, and yet its final verse, constituting a single sentence, looks forward to the import of that mysterious tower, the first 'architecture' we have come upon in hell. Like terza rima itself, once characterized by Erich Auerbach, in his Dante, Poet of the Secular World, tr. R. Manheim (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961 [1929], p. 133), as 'loosing and binding,' Dante's narrative technique both conveys a sense of orderly narrative conclusion and, at the same time, of the forward movement of its plot. See the note to Inf. VIII.1.
Commentary text is copyrighted and reproduced by permission.
Please enter a search term.
Copyright | © 2024 Trustees of Dartmouth College. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
