Dante and Oderisi are continuing their movement forward in humility, purging their pride in their differing ways until such time as Virgil will insist on Dante's pursuing other instruction. Strictly speaking, in ancient Greece a 'pedagogue' was a slave whose task it was to guide children to school and supervise their conduct generally (but not to teach them); in ancient Rome the slave was frequently a Greek and had similar responsibilities, but also introduced the children to the beginning study of Greek. Dante's word, pedagogo, here in one of its first appearances in the Italian vernacular, according to the Grande Dizionario, has a brief but important role (occurring twice) in a single biblical passage, Paul's Epistle to the Galatians 3:24-25 (Longfellow [comm. to verse 3] seems to have been the first to note the possible connection). In that passage Paul imagines us as having once been, under the Old Testament, guided by the paedagogus (the Law) but as now being taught by Christ, and thus as no longer requiring such guidance. This Dantean hapax (a word occurring only once in a given universe of words) may reflect that biblical near-hapax. (Perhaps it should be noted that, two cantos farther on [Purg. XIV.85], Dante fairly evidently cites another passage in Galatians [Gal. 6.8] – see Moore [Studies in Dante, First Series: Scripture and Classical Authors in Dante (Oxford: Clarendon, 1969 [1896]), p. 332]. If he does, its use here involves a certain apparently gratuitous downgrading of Virgil's admonitions, so frequently before us in this canto. Their frequency is observed by Giulio Marzot [“Purgatorio Canto XII,” in Lectura Dantis Scaligera (Florence: Le Monnier, 1967), pp. 405-33], in whose opinion this canto is 'il canto delle ammonizioni' [p. 422].)

For the yoke that binds these two 'oxen' see the commentary of Fallani (comm. to this passage) and Scott's lectura (“Canto XII,” in Lectura Dantis Turicensis: Purgatorio, ed. Georges Güntert and Michelangelo Picone [Florence: Cesati, 2001]), p. 174: 'For my yoke is easy and my burden light' (Matthew 11:29-30) – the words of Christ preaching to potential followers.

Virgil's metaphor is probably developed, as Bosco/Reggio (1978) insist, on Aeneid III.520: 'velorum pandimus alas' (we spread the wings of our sails), a passage cited by many commentators at Inferno XXVI.125, 'de' remi facemmo ali' (we turned our oars to wings).

Petrocchi, in his reading of the line, overturns the previously favored opinion that Dante's text read vele (sails), but has the disadvantage of forcing the poet into a very mixed metaphor, 'wings and oars.' We would have followed the older reading, 'sails and oars.'

The protagonist walks erect, as Ovid describes humans doing so as to be distinguished from brutes (Metam. I.84-86). Benvenuto (comm. to vv. 4-9) cites Ovid's words and mentions the additional authority of Cicero, Sallust, and Juvenal on this matter.

The word scemi, which we have translated as 'shrunken,' has caused some discomfort. What exactly does it mean? Marcello Aurigemma (“Il Canto XII del Purgatorio,” in Nuove letture dantesche, vol. IV [Florence: Le Monnier, 1970]), pp. 109-10, claims that Oderisi's dour prophecy of Dante's future ills (XI.140-141) leaves the protagonist feeling monco (incomplete) until such time as that disaster will finally confront him. He is following the nearly unanimous view found in the earliest commentators. However, since the time of Landino (1481) the more usual interpretation relates Dante's interior moral posture rather to his responses to Pride, whether in pity for the souls he now sees or in recognition of his own (former) pridefulness – the most usual version of that position today, expressed in the form that currently rules by Torraca in 1905 (comm. to these verses), noting the 'heavy swelling' (Purg. XI.119) of pride that Dante is getting under control. As a result, his thoughts are scemi in that they are lacking in pride. In other words, even if he has finally straightened up and begun walking as a confident human being, his thoughts remain bowed under the burden of the recognition of his pridefulness.

Dante's new incredible lightness of being matches Virgil's usual state as soul unencumbered by body; getting his pride under control, the protagonist experiences the greatest and quickest spiritual growth we will observe in him during his ascent of the mountain.

Now that Dante has experienced and embraced the positive exemplars of Humility, Virgil wants to confirm his new state by making him experience the negative exemplars of Pride in order to seal his 'conversion' to humility. For exemplarity in the middle ages and in Dante see Delcorno (Exemplum e letteratura tra medioevo e rinascimento [Bologna: Il Mulino, 1989]), esp. Ch. VI, “Dante e Peraldo,” pp. 195-227. And for his discussion of the exemplars in this canto as deriving in part from William Peraldus's Summa vitiorum, see pp. 210-14; Delcorno shows that Dante's list of six biblical exemplars of Pride is related to Peraldus's first seven in his list of twelve biblical exemplars. Dante shares five of his six with Peraldus, substituting (for Adam) Nimrod (a choice, one might add, that underlines the poet's understandable concern with language – see the note to Inf. XXXI.67). Then, in typical Dantean fashion, he adds six pagan exemplars to his shortened and revised version of Peraldus's list. For perhaps the first modern recognition of the importance of Peraldus's listing and description of the vices for Dante, see Wenzel (“Dante's Rationale for the Seven Deadly Sins [Purgatorio XVII],” Modern Language Review 60 [1965], pp. 529-33), pointing out that Pietro di Dante's commentary to Purgatorio XVII relies strictly and extensively upon Peraldus's phrasing (wherever he found his version of Peraldus's text) for his description of the seven mortal sins (comms. to vv. 97-99; 100-102; 112-114; 115-117; 118-123).

For consideration of the history of the classification of the capital vices see Morton W. Bloomfield (The Seven Deadly Sins [East Lansing: Michigan State College Press, 1952]); for Dante's classifications see Edward Moore (Studies in Dante, Second Series: Miscellaneous Essays [Oxford: Clarendon, 1968 (1899)], pp. 152-208).

The figured pavement upon which the travelers walk is compared in simile to the gravestones set into church floors bearing the indications of the dead person's profession, family, or other identifying trait, as well as his or her likeness.

As was the case with God's art found in the intaglios upon the mountainside, here too divine art knows no human equal (cf. Purg. X.32-33).

Reading down the left-hand margin of the verses, we find a series of repeated letters beginning a series of tercets. They spell out a word. Lia Baldelli, “acrostico” (ED.1970.1, p. 44), points out that perception of Dante's deployment of this technique escaped the attention of the early commentators; it was only in 1898 that Antonio Medin noticed the presence of the acrostic in these lines, the word VOM [or UOM, uomo, or 'man'], while the presence of a similar acrostic, found at Paradiso XIX.115-141, yielding LVE [or LUE, 'plague'], was only noted by Francesco Flamini in 1903. Most now accept the fact, despite a perhaps understandable modern distaste for such contrivance, that these two acrostics were deliberately constructed by the author (see, for more on Dante's acrostic proclivities, John Scott [“Canto XII,” in Lectura Dantis Turicensis: Purgatorio, ed. Georges Güntert and Michelangelo Picone (Florence: Cesati, 2001), p. 176 and n.]. Spurred by these findings, others have tried to establish a wider pattern of such things, e.g., Deroy (“Un acrostico nella preghiera di San Bernardo,” in Miscellanea dantesca [Utrecht: Het Spectrum, 1965], pp. 103-13): Paradiso XXXIII.19-33 (IOSEP [for Joseph, the earthly father of Jesus]); Berk (“Some Sibylline Verses in Purgatorio X and XII,” Dante Studies 90 [1972], pp. 59-76): Purgatorio X.67-75 (DIQ = DIO, to contrast with VOM = UOM in this passage); Kay (“Dante's Acrostic Allegations: Inf. XI-XII,” L'Alighieri 21 [1980], pp. 29-30): acrostics are everywhere, e.g., (Kay's first example) Inferno XVIII.1-7 (LNQ = LucaNo in Quarto = De bello civili IV.12-16); and Taylor (“From superbo Ilïòn to umile Italia”: The Acrostic of Paradiso 19,“ Stanford Italian Review 7 [1987], pp. 47-65): Paradiso XIX.128-129 (adding two letters [IM] to LUE = LUEIM, an anagram for UMILE, 'humble'). For a withering sceptical response to these ingenious efforts see Teodolinda Barolini (The Undivine ”Comedy“: Detheologizing Dante [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992]), pp. 308-10. Nonetheless, Kay's article offers a useful compendium (p. 26) of treatments of acrostics in various encyclopedias and dictionaries of classical and medieval learning.

For a discussion of negative critical reactions to the acrostic on aesthetic grounds, as well as of its function in its context here, see Marcello Aurigemma (”Il Canto XII del Purgatorio,“ in Nuove letture dantesche, vol. IV [Florence: Le Monnier, 1970]), pp. 113-19.

Naturally, the first exemplar of the sin of pride is Satan, its avatar (see the note to Inf. XXXI.28-33 for his association with those other emblems of Pride, the giants who stormed Olympus). He is intrinsically opposed to the first exemplar of humility, the Virgin Mary, as is evident. When Dante drew near to the end of his poem (Par. XXXIII.2), he underlined this with a verse in description of Mary, 'umile e alta più che creatura' (humble and exalted more than any creature), reflecting his description of (the unnamed) Lucifer here, who was more noble when he was created than any other creature. Trucchi (comm. to this passage) observes Dante's borrowing from the Bible, his 'folgoreggiando scender' (fall like lightning from the sky) echoing the similar phrase in Luke 10:18: 'Satanam, sicut fulgur de coelo cadentem' ([I beheld] Satan as lightning fall from heaven).

We finally catch a glimpse of Briareus, so important an absence in the amusing business that occupies Dante and Virgil in Inferno XXXI.97-105 (and see the corresponding note), when Virgil denies Dante the sight of this giant, whom he has described, in his Aeneid, as having fifty heads and one hundred arms. Dante makes him, from what we can see, an 'ordinary' giant, a pagan version of Lucifer for his presumption in challenging Jove. Briareus is mentioned in the three major martial epics that Dante knew and used, Aeneid X.565, Thebaid II.596, Pharsalia IV.596.

Uniquely among the twelve sets of exemplars, the non-exemplary figures are the ones named (Apollo by his epithet Thymbraeus, Minerva by her second name [Pallas], and Mars), those who witnessed the defeat of the unnamed, exemplary giants (including Briareus), undone by the thunderbolts of Jove, their father. These exemplars are, in a wonderfully appropriate 'punishment,' present only as disiecta membra, the scattered remains of the outsized human creatures they once were. Because of the relationship between these two non-biblical scenes, they are described one after the other. However, we cannot be certain whether all six biblical and all six classical scenes are paired in parallel rows or whether, in this and the following examples, the order within the pairs is switched from the first occurrence, as indeed seems to be the case. The reason for such an arrangement would seem to have been in order to head the list with Lucifer, but then to have the general pattern be based on a pagan followed by a biblical exemplar.

For Nimrod, see the note to Inferno XXXI.70-81. He is accompanied by those who helped build the Tower of Babel on the plains of Shinar. And see Genesis 10:8-10; 11:1-4. Described as looking as if he were bewildered by the adjective smarrito, used a dozen times in the Commedia, and most often to refer to the protagonist's condition of being lost, bewildered, or astray, Nimrod may eventually reflect the poet if he felt that he had tried to storm Olympus by writing this poem, a mere Babelic outpouring of language if it is not redeemed by God's grace. Barolini (The Undivine ”Comedy“: Detheologizing Dante [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992]), pp. 51, 115, 283, argues that Nimrod, Ulysses, and Phaeton are – uniquely – figures who appear or are mentioned in all three cantiche and are also associated with the theme of transgression; but see Stull and Hollander (”The Lucanian Source of Dante's Ulysses,“ Studi Danteschi 63 [1991 (1997)]), pp. 47-48, pointing out that Plato, Julius Caesar, and the inordinately non-transgressive Lavinia all fulfill Barolini's criteria for this category. Nonetheless, Guy P. Raffa (Divine Dialectic: Dante's Incarnational Poetry [Toronto: Toronto University Press, 2000]), p. 58, apparently unaware of the facts in question, accepts Barolini's argument. For a survey of hapax in the Commedia, see Hollander (”An Index of Hapax Legomena in Dante's Commedia,“ Dante Studies 106 [1988], pp. 81-110).

Niobe was the wife of Amphion, king of Thebes, and mother of seven sons and seven daughters. When she boasted that she was a better mother than Latona, who had but two offspring (even though these were Apollo and Diana), in the Ovidian world it is clear what will happen next: the two arrow-shooting siblings wipe out the children of Niobe who, turned to stone, nonetheless bewails their loss with eternal tears that flow perpetually as mountain streams (Metam. VI.148-312).

Niobe's biblical counterpart is King Saul. Relieved of his kingship by Samuel for failing to keep God's commands, Saul fought against the Philistines at Gilboa. Mortally wounded and fearful of being captured by the enemy, he fell upon his sword (I Samuel 31:1-4). David's subsequent curse on the surrounding mountains, the witnesses of this scene (II Samuel 1:21), asks that neither rain nor dew reach this place in Samaria.

This exemplar of a prideful suicide throws into sharp relief the far different suicide of Cato the Younger, with reference to which Purgatorio opens.

Arachne's presumption took the form of a challenge to Minerva in weaving. She (in this like Ovid himself? [Metam. VI.5-145]) produced a brilliant representation of the love affairs of the gods. Minerva, sensing herself unable to better this work of art, destroyed it, and Arachne determined to do away with herself. Minerva saved her life and turned the rope by which she was hanging herself into filament for this weaver turned spider. See Barolini (”Arachne, Argus, and St. John: Transgressive Art in Dante and Ovid,“ Mediaevalia 13 [1987]), pp. 213-16, for the view that Arachne serves as a prideful stand-in for Ulysses (and potentially for Dante himself).

Rehoboam, a son of Solomon, was chosen to become king of Israel. His pride was manifest in the way he scornfully refused to lessen the tribute demanded of his people, at which ten of the twelve tribes of Israel rebelled. When his representative, Aduram, was slain by the rebellious Israelites, Rehoboam ran away with unseemly haste, even though he was not being pursued (see I Kings 12:1-18).

In Statius's Thebaid (IV.187-213), Alcmaeon, son of Amphiaraus, the seer (who is, in a certain sense, a stand-in for Statius himself [see the note to Inf. XX.31-39]), is left with the task of avenging his father's death. This came about after his wife, the mother of Alcmaeon, Eriphyle, betrayed his whereabouts to Polynices for the price of a necklace, with the result that Amphiaraus (see Inf. XX.31-36), who had foreseen the dreadful end of the civil war in Thebes and had hidden himself in order to escape his own death in it, ended up fighting and dying in the war. He pledged his son to avenge him, which indeed he did do by slaying his own mother. That the necklace, made by no less an artisan than Vulcan, had belonged to the goddess Harmonia marked Eriphyle's pride in thinking herself worthy of wearing it. As was the case for Lucifer, the first exemplary figure in this listing, Eriphyle is not named.

'Sennacherib, King of Assyria, B.C. 705-681; after a reign of twenty-four years, in the course of which he twice ”went up against“ Hezekiah, king of Judah, and besieged Jerusalem, he was assassinated, while at worship, by his two sons (II Kings 19:37)' (Toynbee, ”Sennacherib“ [Concise Dante Dictionary]). The Vulgate (II Kings 19:28) associates his anti-Jewish behavior with superbia (pride).

In Paulus Orosius's Historiae adversus paganos (II.vii.6) Dante could have read of Cyrus the Elder, founder and king of the Persian Empire ca. 560 B.C. He died in battle against the Massagetae, in Scythia (529 B.C.), when he was ambushed by the queen of his enemies, Tomyris, who not only killed him, but had his decapitated head put into a vessel containing human blood and, according to Orosius, uttered words that closely resemble what Dante reports she said.

A victim of Hebrew decapitation at the hands of Judith was the Assyrian general Holofernes (see Judith 13:1-13). 'The leavings of that slaughter' are evidently the members of his decapitated body.

This last pair of classical/biblical parallels is painfully exact, with vainglorious military males opposed by skillful women who cut their heads off.

The final example serves as a sort of summary for the entire acrostic. For the medieval tradition that Troy was indeed prideful see Scott (”Canto XII,“ in Lectura Dantis Turicensis: Purgatorio, ed. Georges Güntert and Michelangelo Picone [Florence: Cesati, 2001]), pp. 182-83. Dante's phrasing probably reflects Aeneid III.2-3, 'superbum / Ilium,' with the phrase to be read in a moralizing ('proud Troy') rather than an architectural ('lofty-towered Troy') manner. See the note to Inferno I.75, discussing an earlier incidence of the same phenomenon.

Once again, concluding an ekphrastic presentation of some length (cf. Purg. X.94-99), the poet intervenes, now to praise the extraordinary mimetic quality of God's art, so precise in its representation that even an eyewitness of the original events saw them no more clearly than did Dante as he walked the Terrace of Pride.

In Purgatorio X.121-129, in the wake of ekphrastic poetry, Dante addresses the prideful sinners among his readers; he now does a similar turn here, using the rhetorical trope of antiphrasis, i.e., expressing the opposite of what one says by means of a sarcastic tone of voice.

The phrase 'Drizza la testa' was last heard, addressed to Dante by Virgil as it is here, in Inferno XX.31, when the guide wanted his pupil to take cognizance of Amphiaraus (see the note to vv. 49-51).

Tommaseo (comm. to vv. 76-78) was perhaps the first to cite the similar incitement, offered by the Sibyl to Aeneas, found at Aeneid VI.37 ('non hoc ista sibi tempus spectacula poscit' [this hour demands other sights than these]).

Singleton suggests (comm. to verse 80) that, since this is the only angel actually to move toward Dante, his gesture is meant to suggest humility. However, as Simone Marchesi has pointed out, responding to a draft of these notes, the Angel of Mercy even more certainly seems to approach Dante (Purg. XV.27-30).

The last signal of the time of day occurred at Purgatorio X.13-16, where we learned that it was sometime after 9am. Here, in metaphoric language that presents the hours of the morning as the handmaids of the day, serving her highness one at a time and in succession, we learn that it is noon. Thus the time spent on this terrace is surprisingly short, a maximum of less than three hours and as little as two.

For the notion that Virgil's admonitions offer a major thematic component of this canto, see Giulio Marzot, ”Purgatorio Canto XII,“ in Lectura Dantis Scaligera (Florence: Le Monnier, 1967), p. 422, referring to this as 'il canto delle ammonizioni' (the canto of admonition).

That the angel comes as the morning star, Venus, otherwise known as Lucifer (as Benvenuto suggested (comm. to vv. 88-90), sets him off in a polar relationship to Satan, the first exemplar of prideful behavior in the figured pavement.

Who speaks these words, the angel of Humility or the poet? The debate has been active for years. Marcello Aurigemma (”Il Canto XII del Purgatorio,“ in Nuove letture dantesche, vol. IV [Florence: Le Monnier, 1970]), pp. 123-25, after reviewing various arguments, opts for the notion that it is Dante who speaks. The closeness of the sentiment expressed here to that found at Purgatorio X.121-129 (with its 'angelic butterfly' at verse 125), which issues from the poet's mouth, would seem to support the idea that it is the poet who speaks here as well. Nonetheless, we have followed Petrocchi's punctuation, and it does not allow for the attribution of these lines to the poet. The main arguments for doing so are that for Dante to allude so clearly to his own special election is, even for him, a bit bold; further, the lack of indication of a second and new speaker and the abruptness that would result from such a shift both argue for Petrocchi's view; still further, only the angel could state as a fact that so few are chosen to rise this far. On the other hand, no other angel makes comments about humankind that are as harsh as these, since the seven angels of purgatory are celebrating the continuing ascent of this special visitor to the mountain. Perhaps the fullest, fairest, and most helpful gloss to the passage is found in Poletto's commentary (1894) to these verses, and he, after careful debate, comes down on the side of the attribution of these words to the angel.

The angel's wing-clap has had a result that will only become known at vv. 121-126: one of the P's on Dante's brow has been removed. This is perhaps another reason to believe that Dante has not spoken the last words, which might seem more self-congratulatory than humble.

The simile is redolent of the Florence left behind by the exiled poet. The site of the church of San Miniato al Monte, which is set above and across the Arno from the city, afforded then (as it does now) one of the surpassingly beautiful views of Florence. The Rubaconte bridge (now known as the Ponte alle Grazie) was named for its builder in 1237, the podestà Rubaconte da Mandello da Milano, according to Giovanni Villani's Cronica (VI.26).

The phrase 'the justly governed city' is obviously ironic. For Dante's only use of this word see the last (and incomplete) sentence in De vulgari eloquentia (II.xiv.2) where poets are seen as either writing in praise or in blame of their subjects, i.e. (among other categories), either gratulanter or yronice.

The poet remembers the 'good old days' when 'registers and measures could be trusted,' i.e., before the civil authorities became corrupt, when they kept proper records and gave proper amounts of salt (without withholding some for their own profit). Documentation of these illicit activities may be found in ample detail in Singleton's commentary to vv. 104-105.

The ritual occurring here, involving an adaptation of a Beatitude spoken by Jesus, will recur on the next six terraces as well. The Sermon on the Mount seems to include eight beatitudes (Matthew 5:3-10). For discussion of Dante's use of them, see Federigo Tollemache, ”beatitudini evangeliche“ (ED.1970.1). Tollemache points out that St. Thomas, whose discussion of the Beatitudes (ST I.ii.69.3 ad 5) seems to govern Dante's treatment of them, says there are seven, with 'Blessed are the meek' (Matthew 5:5 [5:4 in the Vulgate]) omitted, while those that 'hunger and thirst after righteousness' are remembered on separate terraces. Thomas considers 'those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake' to refer to all of the first seven categories. Here the reference is to the first: 'Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.' For a discussion of the program of the Beatitudes in Purgatorio see Anna Maria Chiavacci Leonardi (”Le beatitudini e la struttura poetica del Purgatorio,“ Giornale storico della letteratura italiana 161 [1984], pp. 1-29).

The plural here is taken by the commentators as a singular, a stylistic liberty allowed for speech (perhaps because the words uttered are more than one). On all the terraces the fitting angel speaks his blessing unaccompanied. (For the program of angelic utterance in this cantica see the note to Purg. XV.38-39).

This tercet is an evident return to the thematic opposition of musica diaboli and heavenly music (so present in purgatory once the gate is reached and entered in Canto IX). See the note to Inferno XXI.136-139.

It is a Christian commonplace, followed by Dante, that Pride is the root sin, notwithstanding the Pauline claim that 'radix malorum est cupiditas' (avarice is the root of all evil – I Timothy 6:10). Clearly Dante holds to the former notion, as we are here told that the removal of the P of Pride erases most of the indented marks made by each of the other six P's. For the question as to whether or not Dante uniquely has a P upon his forehead see the notes to Purgatorio IX.112 and XXI.22-24.

Anyone who has played the version of poker known as 'hatband' will immediately understand this concluding simile, the lighthearted tone of which culminates only logically in Virgil's smile. Having subdued his pride (and he knows how afflicted he is by this sin – see Purg. XIII.133-138), the protagonist feels lighter, better, as though his trip through purgation were half finished already. And thus this canto ends with a lighter and happier feeling than any that precedes it, offering a sort of foretaste of Edenic innocence.

What has escaped readers of the simile is, however, exactly what concrete situation the poet had in mind. Micaela Janan suggested in 1981, in a graduate seminar on Purgatorio at Princeton, that the scene is modeled upon one in Statius (Theb. VI.760-791). In the games (modeled on those in Aeneid V) before the battle for Thebes, Alcidamas nicks the forehead of Capaneus with a blow. Capaneus hears the onlookers's murmuring, but only realizes, when by accident he touches his wound, that he is bleeding. This seems a possible, if not a certain, source. On the other hand, Dante's commentators are maddeningly imprecise in their responses to the passage. However, Portirelli (comm. to vv. 127-135) does suggest that what is at stake is an object put on one's head by friends as a joke. Scartazzini (comm. to verse 128), following Buti (1385), thinks the object might be a feather. Porena comm. to vv. 128-129) repeats these two possible interpretations. It would seem reasonable to believe that Dante had something specific in mind (e.g., bird droppings), but we have not succeeded in identifying the image in his thought.