Purgatorio: Canto 13

1
2
3

Noi eravamo al sommo de la scala,
dove secondamente si risega
lo monte che salendo altrui dismala.
4
5
6

Ivi così una cornice lega
dintorno il poggio, come la primaia;
se non che l'arco suo più tosto piega.
7
8
9

Ombra non lì è né segno che si paia:
parsi la ripa e parsi la via schietta
col livido color de la petraia.
10
11
12

“Se qui per dimandar gente s'aspetta,”
ragionava il poeta, “io temo forse
che troppo avrà d'indugio nostra eletta.”
13
14
15

Poi fisamente al sole li occhi porse;
fece del destro lato a muover centro,
e la sinistra parte di sé torse.
16
17
18

“O dolce lume a cui fidanza i' entro
per lo novo cammin, tu ne conduci,”
dicea, “come condur si vuol quinc' entro.
19
20
21

Tu scaldi il mondo, tu sovr' esso luci;
s'altra ragione in contrario non ponta,
esser dien sempre li tuoi raggi duci.”
22
23
24

Quanto di qua per un migliaio si conta,
tanto di là eravam noi già iti,
con poco tempo, per la voglia pronta;
25
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27

e verso noi volar furon sentiti,
non però visti, spiriti parlando
a la mensa d'amor cortesi inviti.
28
29
30

La prima voce che passò volando
Vinum non habent” altamente disse,
e dietro a noi l'andò reïterando.
31
32
33

E prima che del tutto non si udisse
per allungarsi, un'altra “I' sono Oreste”
passò gridando, e anco non s'affisse.
34
35
36

“Oh!” diss' io, “padre, che voci son queste?”
E com' io domandai, ecco la terza
dicendo: “Amate da cui male aveste.”
37
38
39

E 'l buon maestro: “Questo cinghio sferza
la colpa de la invidia, e però sono
tratte d'amor le corde de la ferza.
40
41
42

Lo fren vuol esser del contrario suono;
credo che l'udirai, per mio avviso,
prima che giunghi al passo del perdono.
43
44
45

Ma ficca li occhi per l'aere ben fiso,
e vedrai gente innanzi a noi sedersi,
e ciascun è lungo la grotta assiso.”
46
47
48

Allora più che prima li occhi apersi;
guarda'mi innanzi, e vidi ombre con manti
al color de la pietra non diversi.
49
50
51

E poi che fummo un poco più avanti,
udia gridar: “Maria òra per noi”:
gridar “Michele” e “Pietro” e “Tutti santi.”
52
53
54

Non credo che per terra vada ancoi
omo sì duro, che non fosse punto
per compassion di quel ch'i' vidi poi;
55
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ché, quando fui sì presso di lor giunto,
che li atti loro a me venivan certi,
per li occhi fui di grave dolor munto.
58
59
60

Di vil ciliccio mi parean coperti,
e l'un sofferia l'altro con la spalla,
e tutti da la ripa eran sofferti.
61
62
63

Così li ciechi a cui la roba falla,
stanno a' perdoni a chieder lor bisogna,
e l'uno il capo sopra l'altro avvalla,
64
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perché 'n altrui pietà tosto si pogna,
non pur per lo sonar de le parole,
ma per la vista che non meno agogna.
67
68
69

E come a li orbi non approda il sole,
così a l'ombre quivi, ond' io parlo ora,
luce del ciel di sé largir non vole;
70
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ché a tutti un fil di ferro i cigli fóra
e cusce sì, come a sparvier selvaggio
si fa però che queto non dimora.
73
74
75

A me pareva, andando, fare oltraggio,
veggendo altrui, non essendo veduto:
per ch'io mi volsi al mio consiglio saggio.
76
77
78

Ben sapev' ei che volea dir lo muto;
e però non attese mia dimanda,
ma disse: “Parla, e sie breve e arguto.”
79
80
81

Virgilio mi venìa da quella banda
de la cornice onde cader si puote,
perché da nulla sponda s'inghirlanda;
82
83
84

da l'altra parte m'eran le divote
ombre, che per l'orribile costura
premevan sì, che bagnavan le gote.
85
86
87

Volsimi a loro e: “O gente sicura,”
incominciai, “di veder l'alto lume
che 'l disio vostro solo ha in sua cura,
88
89
90

se tosto grazia resolva le schiume
di vostra coscïenza sì che chiaro
per essa scenda de la mente il fiume,
91
92
93

ditemi, ché mi fia grazioso e caro,
s'anima è qui tra voi che sia latina;
e forse lei sarà buon s'i' l'apparo.”
94
95
96

“O frate mio, ciascuna è cittadina
d'una vera città; ma tu vuo' dire
che vivesse in Italia peregrina.”
97
98
99

Questo mi parve per risposta udire
più innanzi alquanto che là dov' io stava,
ond' io mi feci ancor più là sentire.
100
101
102

Tra l'altre vidi un'ombra ch'aspettava
in vista; e se volesse alcun dir “Come?”
lo mento a guisa d'orbo in sù levava.
103
104
105

“Spirto,” diss' io, “che per salir ti dome,
se tu se' quelli che mi rispondesti,
fammiti conto o per luogo o per nome.”
106
107
108

“Io fui sanese,” rispuose, “e con questi
altri rimendo qui la vita ria,
lagrimando a colui che sé ne presti.
109
110
111

Savia non fui, avvegna che Sapìa
fossi chiamata, e fui de li altrui danni
più lieta assai che di ventura mia.
112
113
114

E perché tu non creda ch'io t'inganni,
odi s'i' fui, com' io ti dico, folle,
già discendendo l'arco d'i miei anni.
115
116
117

Eran li cittadin miei presso a Colle
in campo giunti co' loro avversari,
e io pregava Iddio di quel ch'e' volle.
118
119
120

Rotti fuor quivi e vòlti ne li amari
passi di fuga; e veggendo la caccia,
letizia presi a tutte altre dispari,
121
122
123

tanto ch'io volsi in sù l'ardita faccia,
gridando a Dio: 'Omai più non ti temo!'
come fé 'l merlo per poca bonaccia.
124
125
126

Pace volli con Dio in su lo stremo
de la mia vita; e ancor non sarebbe
lo mio dover per penitenza scemo,
127
128
129

se ciò non fosse, ch'a memoria m'ebbe
Pier Pettinaio in sue sante orazioni,
a cui di me per caritate increbbe.
130
131
132

Ma tu chi se', che nostre condizioni
vai dimandando, e porti li occhi sciolti,
sì com' io credo, e spirando ragioni?”
133
134
135

“Li occhi,” diss' io, “mi fieno ancor qui tolti,
ma picciol tempo, ché poca è l'offesa
fatta per esser con invidia vòlti.
136
137
138

Troppa è più la paura ond' è sospesa
l'anima mia del tormento di sotto,
che già lo 'ncarco di là giù mi pesa.”
139
140
141

Ed ella a me: “Chi t'ha dunque condotto
qua sù tra noi, se giù ritornar credi?”
E io: “Costui ch'è meco e non fa motto.
142
143
144

E vivo sono; e però mi richiedi,
spirito eletto, se tu vuo' ch'i' mova
di là per te ancor li mortai piedi.”
145
146
147

“Oh, questa è a udir sì cosa nuova,”
rispuose, “che gran segno è che Dio t'ami;
però col priego tuo talor mi giova.
148
149
150

E cheggioti, per quel che tu più brami,
se mai calchi la terra di Toscana,
che a' miei propinqui tu ben mi rinfami.
151
152
153
154

Tu li vedrai tra quella gente vana
che spera in Talamone, e perderagli
più di speranza ch'a trovar la Diana;
ma più vi perderanno li ammiragli.”
1
2
3

We were upon the summit of the stairs,
  Where for the second time is cut away
  The mountain, which ascending shriveth all.

4
5
6

There in like manner doth a cornice bind
  The hill all round about, as does the first,
  Save that its arc more suddenly is curved.

7
8
9

Shade is there none, nor sculpture that appears;
  So seems the bank, and so the road seems smooth,
  With but the livid colour of the stone.

10
11
12

"If to inquire we wait for people here,"
  The Poet said, "I fear that peradventure
  Too much delay will our election have."

13
14
15

Then steadfast on the sun his eyes he fixed,
  Made his right side the centre of his motion,
  And turned the left part of himself about.

16
17
18

"O thou sweet light! with trust in whom I enter
  Upon this novel journey, do thou lead us,"
  Said he, "as one within here should be led.

19
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21

Thou warmest the world, thou shinest over it;
  If other reason prompt not otherwise,
  Thy rays should evermore our leaders be!"

22
23
24

As much as here is counted for a mile,
  So much already there had we advanced
  In little time, by dint of ready will;

25
26
27

And tow'rds us there were heard to fly, albeit
  They were not visible, spirits uttering
  Unto Love's table courteous invitations,

28
29
30

The first voice that passed onward in its flight,
  "Vinum non habent," said in accents loud,
  And went reiterating it behind us.

31
32
33

And ere it wholly grew inaudible
  Because of distance, passed another, crying,
  "I am Orestes!" and it also stayed not.

34
35
36

"O," said I, "Father, these, what voices are they?"
  And even as I asked, behold the third,
  Saying: "Love those from whom ye have had evil!"

37
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39

And the good Master said: "This circle scourges
  The sin of envy, and on that account
  Are drawn from love the lashes of the scourge.

40
41
42

The bridle of another sound shall be;
  I think that thou wilt hear it, as I judge,
  Before thou comest to the Pass of Pardon.

43
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45

But fix thine eyes athwart the air right steadfast,
  And people thou wilt see before us sitting,
  And each one close against the cliff is seated."

46
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48

Then wider than at first mine eyes I opened;
  I looked before me, and saw shades with mantles
  Not from the colour of the stone diverse.

49
50
51

And when we were a little farther onward,
  I heard a cry of, "Mary, pray for us!"
  A cry of, "Michael, Peter, and all Saints!"

52
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54

I do not think there walketh still on earth
  A man so hard, that he would not be pierced
  With pity at what afterward I saw.

55
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57

For when I had approached so near to them
  That manifest to me their acts became,
  Drained was I at the eyes by heavy grief.

58
59
60

Covered with sackcloth vile they seemed to me,
  And one sustained the other with his shoulder,
  And all of them were by the bank sustained.

61
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63

Thus do the blind, in want of livelihood,
  Stand at the doors of churches asking alms,
  And one upon another leans his head,

64
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66

So that in others pity soon may rise,
  Not only at the accent of their words,
  But at their aspect, which no less implores.

67
68
69

And as unto the blind the sun comes not,
  So to the shades, of whom just now I spake,
  Heaven's light will not be bounteous of itself;

70
71
72

For all their lids an iron wire transpierces,
  And sews them up, as to a sparhawk wild
  Is done, because it will not quiet stay.

73
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75

To me it seemed, in passing, to do outrage,
  Seeing the others without being seen;
  Wherefore I turned me to my counsel sage.

76
77
78

Well knew he what the mute one wished to say,
  And therefore waited not for my demand,
  But said: "Speak, and be brief, and to the point."

79
80
81

I had Virgilius upon that side
  Of the embankment from which one may fall,
  Since by no border 'tis engarlanded;

82
83
84

Upon the other side of me I had
  The shades devout, who through the horrible seam
  Pressed out the tears so that they bathed their cheeks.

85
86
87

To them I turned me, and, "O people, certain,"
  Began I, "of beholding the high light,
  Which your desire has solely in its care,

88
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90

So may grace speedily dissolve the scum
  Upon your consciences, that limpidly
  Through them descend the river of the mind,

91
92
93

Tell me, for dear 'twill be to me and gracious,
  If any soul among you here is Latian,
  And 'twill perchance be good for him I learn it."

94
95
96

"O brother mine, each one is citizen
  Of one true city; but thy meaning is,
  Who may have lived in Italy a pilgrim."

97
98
99

By way of answer this I seemed to hear
  A little farther on than where I stood,
  Whereat I made myself still nearer heard.

100
101
102

Among the rest I saw a shade that waited
  In aspect, and should any one ask how,
  Its chin it lifted upward like a blind man.

103
104
105

"Spirit," I said, "who stoopest to ascend,
  If thou art he who did reply to me,
  Make thyself known to me by place or name."

106
107
108

"Sienese was I," it replied, "and with
  The others here recleanse my guilty life,
  Weeping to Him to lend himself to us.

109
110
111

Sapient I was not, although I Sapia
  Was called, and I was at another's harm
  More happy far than at my own good fortune.

112
113
114

And that thou mayst not think that I deceive thee,
  Hear if I was as foolish as I tell thee.
  The arc already of my years descending,

115
116
117

My fellow-citizens near unto Colle
  Were joined in battle with their adversaries,
  And I was praying God for what he willed.

118
119
120

Routed were they, and turned into the bitter
  Passes of flight; and I, the chase beholding,
  A joy received unequalled by all others;

121
122
123

So that I lifted upward my bold face
  Crying to God, 'Henceforth I fear thee not,'
  As did the blackbird at the little sunshine.

124
125
126

Peace I desired with God at the extreme
  Of my existence, and as yet would not
  My debt have been by penitence discharged,

127
128
129

Had it not been that in remembrance held me
  Pier Pettignano in his holy prayers,
  Who out of charity was grieved for me.

130
131
132

But who art thou, that into our conditions
  Questioning goest, and hast thine eyes unbound
  As I believe, and breathing dost discourse?"

133
134
135

"Mine eyes," I said, "will yet be here ta'en from me,
  But for short space; for small is the offence
  Committed by their being turned with envy.

136
137
138

Far greater is the fear, wherein suspended
  My soul is, of the torment underneath,
  For even now the load down there weighs on me."

139
140
141

And she to me: "Who led thee, then, among us
  Up here, if to return below thou thinkest?"
  And I: "He who is with me, and speaks not;

142
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144

And living am I; therefore ask of me,
  Spirit elect, if thou wouldst have me move
  O'er yonder yet my mortal feet for thee."

145
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147

"O, this is such a novel thing to hear,"
  She answered, "that great sign it is God loves thee;
  Therefore with prayer of thine sometimes assist me.

148
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150

And I implore, by what thou most desirest,
  If e'er thou treadest the soil of Tuscany,
  Well with my kindred reinstate my fame.

151
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153
154

Them wilt thou see among that people vain
  Who hope in Talamone, and will lose there
  More hope than in discovering the Diana;
But there still more the admirals will lose."

Robert Hollander (English, 2000-2007)
1 - 3

The whole mountain, by virtue of the way in which it is seven times sliced away, resembles a huge circular stairway cut in stone. The travelers' arrival at the second of these terraces coincides with a canto beginning. This is the only time that such a coincidence occurs in this cantica. It is as though Dante wanted to acknowledge the reader's expectation that the arrival at each terrace might coincide with the beginning of a canto, thus forcing that reader to speculate upon the aesthetic reasons for the poet's not being overly 'neat.'

The verb dismalare is almost certainly a Dantean coinage; we have tried to reflect its unusual character in our translation with an English coinage: 'unsins.'

7 - 7

The verse 'Ombra non lì è né segno che si paia' (There are no shades nor any carvings) has drawn some more complicated discussions than our translation would call for. As does Carmelo Musumarra (“Purgatorio Canto XIII,” in Lectura Dantis Scaligera [Florence: Le Monnier, 1967]), p. 442, we believe that the word ombra here means a 'shade,' and is to be distinguished from segno, which here means 'designs,' i.e., such as the intaglios that were found on the preceding terrace. In other words, the travelers see neither penitents nor carvings as they first examine this new space. Some others are of the opinion that both words refer to the shapes and designs on the wall of the terrace of Pride and not even the first of them to the penitents themselves. However, once the latter become manifest to Dante and Virgil, they are referred to as ombre; in fact this word is used as often in this canto as in any other of the poem (Purg. XXI also shows the word five times). It appears here and then again (at Purg. XIII.47, 68, 83, and 100); it is clear that all four of these later uses refer to 'shades.' It is a curious fact that occurrences of the word ombra are far more numerous in Purgatorio than in both other cantiche together: 47 appearances as compared to 26 in Inferno and 16 in Paradiso.

8 - 9

The barren 'landscape' of the terrace of Envy contrasts with the highly wrought carvings that greet the travelers on that of Pride (Purg. X.28-33), as does the livid color of this place contrast with the gleaming whiteness found below. For all its vanity, Pride is a sin that has its vitality and brightness. Here all is the livid, or gray-blue (as in a bruise) color of stone. The sin of envy, as Dante has already acknowledged (Inf. I.111; and see the note to Inf. I.109-111), was the cause of death's entering the world because of the envy Satan felt for God. This sin, much less present in the modern imagination than it was in the minds of medieval thinkers, was seen as particularly pernicious and widespread. Most of us tend to think of envy as a form of jealousy, motivated by the desire to possess a good that someone else holds. In Dante's time it represented, instead, the negative wish that this person lose his or her goods, his or her apparent advantage. It is thus not a form of avarice, but the expression of resentment against the perceived happiness of others. For a compelling modern example, see Prince Myshkin's words to the agonized and resentful Ippolit in Dostoevsky's The Idiot: 'Forgive us our happiness.' In the next canto, Guido del Duca will give it a similar expression (see Purg. XIV.82-84). For a similar and more compact expression of such thoughts see the gloss of Benvenuto da Imola (comm. to vv. 7-9).

Fernando Salsano presents the salient features of this sin in Dante; see his entry “invidia,” ED III (1971); for a discussion of the sin in English see Cassell, “Envy,” in the Dante Encyclopedia (Lans.2000.1).

10 - 12

Virgil again (as he did in Purg. III.52-56), seeing no one present who may give directions, assumes that the situation is worse than it actually is.

13 - 21

Virgil's prayer to the sun (his only prayer in the poem) has drawn conflicting interpretations over the centuries. Is it, as most early commentators believed, a prayer to the Christian God (possibly for his grace), expressed in a metaphor (and surely the sun is a frequent metaphor for God in medieval culture and in this poem)? Is it directed to disembodied 'speculative reason' as some other early commentators, followed by many moderns, believed? Or is it a prayer to the sun itself, unallegorized, for the light that will reveal the path that must be chosen? This is the position of a number of moderns, Porena (1946, comm. to vv. 16-21) perhaps the most convincing of these, citing Purgatorio I.107-108, where Cato tells the travelers that the sun's light will show them their way. Bosco/Reggio (comm. to verse 16), in a similar anti-allegorical vein, point out that the next lines (vv. 19-21) speak only of the physical properties of the sun's light, as was true in the verses spoken by Cato in the first canto of this cantica. It seems prudent to allow a literal meaning that makes sense to stand alone, without further interpretive scaffolding. Indeed, if, as Virgil says, the sun's light should serve as guide unless a better source be found, he cannot be speaking of any final authority, whether God or rational certainty, neither of which may be superseded by secondary causes. It seems best to take the passage as yet another sign of Virgil's inadequacy in matters of faith and of his rather poor ability to grasp the significance of his immediate surroundings (see the note to Purg. III.52-57). It also seems strange that Virgil turns to the right because the sun is in that direction, when he should have learned in the third canto (Purg. III.100-102) that in purgatory one always moves to the right, since the travelers have been moving in that direction ever since.

25 - 27

Virgil's prayer to the sun is not answered; instead, supernatural voices are heard flying overhead, bearing the identities of the positive exemplary figures of the virtue opposed to envy, charity. This 'banquet' of affection recalls the controlling metaphor of Dante's unfinished treatise, Convivio.

28 - 30

Mary's voice is, we are not surprised to discover, given our experience of the positive exemplars in Purgatorio X.40-45, the first whose words are represented by a flying voice. Dante never makes clear how these sounds are made or by whom, but we may be sure that their sources are not present on this terrace, as we know that Mary is in paradise (while one of the negative exemplars, Cain, in Purg. XIV.133, is probably in hell, since one of its final zones is named for him [see Inf. V.107 and XXXII.58]).

The biblical scene invoked is that of the marriage feast at Cana of Galilee when Mary tells Jesus there is no wine left for the guests ('Vinum non habent') and Jesus shortly thereafter turns water to wine (John 2:1-7). Anthony Cassell (“The Letter of Envy: Purgatorio XIII-XIV,” Stanford Italian Review 4 [1984]), pp. 18-21, brings into his discussion of this canto St. Augustine's comments on John's gospel, with their equivalence of sapience and the wine Christ produced at Cana.

31 - 33

Orestes is known to Dante in two basic contexts, first as the avenger of his family honor as the killer of his adulterous mother, Clytemnestra; second, as the friend of Pylades. When, after these two friends have also killed the adulterous Aegisthus and Orestes is sought for capital punishment, Pylades cries out 'Ego sum Orestes' (I am Orestes), while Orestes, not to be outdone, shouts 'Immo enimvero ego sum, inquam, Orestes' (But I truly am, I say to you, – Cicero, De finibus V.xxii.63 [and see De amicitia VII.24]). According to the commentators, this second voice is either that of Orestes, of Pylades, or somehow relates to both of these. And the history of interpretation is curious. Benvenuto da Imola was the first to mention Pylades, but still holds to the earliest commentators' opinion that Orestes is the exemplary figure. John of Serravalle, however, confesses that Benvenuto, who taught him Dante, found this passage very difficult. The Anonimo Fiorentino is the first to say, flat out, that the voice refers to Pylades. Beginning with Andreoli (comm. to verse 32) nearly every commentator thinks that the reference is to Pylades or to both men. As we have seen, however, if Dante has the specific text of Cicero in mind, the precise words that he cites are those of Pylades. Further, being willing to die for one's friend is probably the highest form of charity Dante could imagine. And since it is ungainly to have to think of the words representing more than one speaker, it seems more than reasonable to believe that Pylades is indicated by these words. See the untroubled and unambiguous judgment of Salvatore Accardo (“Il canto XIII del Purgatorio,” in Purgatorio: letture degli anni 1976-'79, ed. Silvio Zennaro, Casa di Dante in Roma [Roma: Bonacci, 1981]), p. 266, who simply states that this voice speaks for Pylades without even considering the tradition that holds it to be that of Orestes, not to mention the ungainly view that somehow both youths are represented by its words.

34 - 36

The third exemplar is Jesus Christ, calling on his disciples to return love for hatred (see Matthew 5:44, where the words are a bit more expansive than they are here: 'Diligite inimicos vestros, benefacite his qui oderunt vos' [love your enemies, do good to those who hate you]). The first two voices are identical with their sources, the first, Latin word for Latin word; the second, a perfect Italian translation of the Latin original. The last, however, is a looser Italian version of the Vulgate's Latin.

37 - 42

This is the first precise verbal formulation of the mode of purgatorial instruction by examples: first one is spurred to imitate the good, then dissuaded from following the bad, the goad and the bit that we have already encountered and will continue to come to know on each terrace. Having understood how these functions were experienced on the first terrace, Virgil now correctly surmises that, if the travelers have now heard the goad, they will hear the bit before they confront the angel with his blessing and leave this terrace.

43 - 48

The coloration of the garments worn by the penitents in Envy is so close to that of the rocks themselves that it has taken Virgil a long while to make them out; he only now calls them to Dante's attention – and the protagonist has had no sense of their presence at all.

Envy, which is so clearly aware of difference, is cloaked in a uniform that makes distinction of difference nearly impossible. As Dante interacts with these penitents, it is clear that he has a hard time making out the features of any one of them.

49 - 51

The voices we hear now emanate from the penitents on the terrace, not from unknown sources overhead. As Bosco/Reggio suggest, they cry out in only the invocations of litanies because the rest of these would not be appropriate here, since these passages regard earthly ills and temptations, no longer of potential harm to these souls.

52 - 57

Perhaps no passage indicates more clearly the disparity of attitude required of an onlooker in hell and purgatory. There the growth in the protagonist was measured, in part, by his ability not to respond pityingly; here compassion is an essential part of his ceremonial purgation.

58 - 58

Haircloth, according to Francesco da Buti's gloss to this verse, both pricks the skin where it is knotted and leaves it chilled, because it has openings as does a net.

59 - 60

The envious in life were not involved in supporting others; the contrary was their care. Now their communal attitude shows their penance – as does their mendicant pose, apparent in the following simile.

61 - 66

Those who looked upon their fellows in unseeing ways (the sin invidia was etymologized in the Middle Ages as in + videre, i.e., more usually as 'not seeing,' but sometimes also understood as 'seeing against,' another being [see Dino Bigongiari (Essays on Dante and Medieval Culture, ed. Henry Paolucci [New York: The Bagehot Council, 2000 (1964)], pp. 90-91)]), they now hope for the opposite, to be looked upon with pity. Like Satan, the avatar of Envy, the envious soul is proud as well. And the proud cannot bear pity. These penitents show compassionate affection for one another as part of their purgation of Envy. The language of the simile reminds the reader of special occasions on which the Church offered indulgences to its flock on a given feast day or similar occasion; such 'pardons' provided targets of opportunity to mendicants outside churches or other holy places. Dante's language also allows us to see the theatricality implicit in the act of begging; we are now, however, asked to believe in the wholehearted sincerity of these posthumous penitents.

67 - 72

The aesthetic abnegation of this terrace is eased somewhat by these two back-to-back similes. Fastening our attention on the closed eyes of the envious, Dante compares them to the sewn-up eyes of sparrowhawks, captured in their maturity and temporarily blinded in this manner so that they remain docile in the presence of their handlers. The penitents' eyes are sewn, not with the thread used on hawks and falcons, but with iron wire.

73 - 78

Dante, feeling sheepish about his position of privileged and unnoticed onlooker, is 'read' by Virgil as he and Dante have been reading the feelings of the equally mute penitents. Virgil gives Dante permission to address them – and indeed withdraws from colloquy himself for the rest of this and nearly all the next canto (his next words will be heard only at Purg. XIV.143).

79 - 81

One might observe that this and other remarks concerning the topography of this terrace are not really specific to it, but could have been made earlier (i.e., on the terrace of Pride). It is clear that Dante was pressed for poetic space on that terrace, so artistically and personally challenging for him. Here there is more of it to fill.

85 - 93

The protagonist's labored and heavily rhetoricized captatio (including periphrastic references to the twin rivers of purgatory, Lethe and Eunoe) is perhaps meant to contrast with Sapia's far more immediate and direct response (vv. 94-96). He wants to find an Italian for his cast of characters and promises, in return, a prayer to speed the process of purgation. How ironically we are meant to take this speech is not clear, but Bosco/Reggio (comm to vv. 73-93) are derisive about Dante's 'overblown rhetoric' here.

94 - 96

The response by the shade who, we will soon discover, is Sapia, is a polite but incisive correction of the question she answers. (1) Dante had set the penitent souls apart from others, even from himself; Sapia joins them all in fellowship with a single word, frate. (2) Dante had spoken of earthly territories; Sapia makes all those beloved of God citizens of His city alone. (3) Dante had spoken of Italianness as a present condition; Sapia insists that geographical/political identities on earth were only fleeting and are now irrelevant.

102 - 102

This physical gesture is familiar to anyone who has spoken with people who are blind, since they, guided by their ears, position their faces squarely in line with the source of the voice of their interlocutor.

105 - 108

The protagonist's question receives its first answer, as nearly anonymous as it can be, with the exception of the identification of the speaker's homeland, and thus responding to only one part of the protagonist's request ('make yourself known by your city or your name'). Knowing only this much, our memories return to the last shade and, indeed, the last Sienese we encountered, Provenzan Salvani, his story recounted by Oderisi in Purgatorio XI.120-138. There we heard about his triumph in humility; here we will become aware, between the lines, of the horror of his death.

The word rimendo (verse 107), meaning 'mending,' 'stitching back together,' is Petrocchi's replacement for the former reading, rimondo, 'cleansing,' 'purifying.' There are those who continue to take issue with Petrocchi's emendation, e.g., William Stephany (“Purgatorio XIII,” Lectura Dantis [virginiana] 9 [1991]), pp. 76-77.

109 - 111

Punning on her name, she now identifies herself as Sapia if not savia (sapient) and speaks of her envious nature (see the note to vv. 8-9).

For the history of the gradually more certain identification of Sapia, see Giorgio Varanini, “Sapia” (ED.1976.5), p. 26. Most now accept the work of nineteenth-century students of the problem, which demonstrated that she, born ca. 1210, was a noblewoman of Siena, an aunt of Provenzan Salvani (Purg. XI.121-142), and wife of one Ghinibaldo Saracini. After the battle of Colle Val d'Elsa in 1269 and before her death (sometime between 1275 and 1289) she gave much of her wealth to a hospital (S. Maria dei Pellegrini) that she and her husband (who had died before the great battle) had founded in 1265 in Siena.

112 - 123

Sapia's narrative falls into two parts, this first containing the evidence of her former sinfulness, exemplified most savagely in her admission of her joy in witnessing the death of her own people, most probably Provenzan Salvani, her nephew.

As for Provenzan (a rough Sienese equivalent of the Florentine Farinata [Inf. X]), the man who led the Sienese Ghibellines in their triumph over the Guelphs of Florence at Montaperti in 1260 and the leading Ghibelline soldier of his city, he was captured in the battle of Colle Val d'Elsa, some ten miles northwest of Siena, and decapitated. According to Giovanni Villani (Cronica VII.31), his head, at the end of a pike, was then marched around the battlefield by his triumphant French and Florentine Guelph enemies. Since Sapia was also a Ghibelline it is difficult or impossible to know why she was so pleased by his death (most assume that Provenzan is among the 'townsmen' whose death brought her so much pleasure). Since her sin was envy, it seems clear that Dante wants us to understand that she resented his and/or other townsmen's position and fame, that her involvement was personal, not political.

While some are of the opinion that Dante's inclusion of these two great Ghibelline figures in purgatory shows an attempt at impartiality, it is probably better to avoid that issue, since by this time in the composition of the poem Dante's overall political sympathies were essentially Ghibelline, or at least imperial and thus in line with Ghibelline ideals, whatever he may have thought of particular Ghibelline individuals.

Her reference to her age (verse 114) merely places that as post-thirty-five (past the mezzo del cammin di sua vita) and she may have been nearly sixty when she witnessed the battle (from her dead husband's castle near Colle?). Loosely, the phrase means 'old enough to have known better.'

Benvenuto (comm. to vv. 112-114) paraphrases her prideful address to God as follows: 'whatever God may wish for me henceforth, and even if He do to me his worst, I shall evermore live joyful and die happy.' She was like, she now considers, the blackbird in winter who, at a premature spring-like day, thinks the need for help is done. It is not.

124 - 129

Before her death, Sapia's change of heart brought her back to the love of God and her neighbor. As for Pier Pettinaio, whose second name is not a family name but an epithet denoting his profession, i.e., he sold combs to ladies (pettine means 'comb'), it was his prayerful intervention after her death that reduced her time in ante-purgatory. Since she has been dead between twenty-five and eleven years, and since we would assume she would have spent at least a little time on the terrace of Pride, she has surely moved quickly up the mountain, sped by Pier's prayers. A 'native of Campi in the Chianti district NE. of Siena, he was a hermit of the Franciscan Order, and dwelt in Siena, where he was renowned for his piety and miracles. Ubertino da Casale (Par. XII.124) in the prologue to his Arbor Vitae Crucifixae Jesu mentions that he had received spiritual instruction from him. Pier died on Dec. 5, 1289, and was buried at Siena, where he was long venerated as a saint, in a handsome tomb erected at the public expense' (Toynbee, “Pettinagno, Pier” [Concise Dante Dictionary]).

130 - 132

Sapia now, having satisfied Dante's question in both its points, asks after his identity. Having heard him breathe, she divines that he is present in the flesh (but has no sense of Virgil's presence as his guide, thus motivating the exchange that follows at vv. 139-142).

133 - 138

Benvenuto (comm. to vv. 136-138) paraphrases Dante's response as follows: 'And here take note that our poet from his youth was prideful by reason of his nobility, his knowledge, and his good standing; yet surely he bore the burden for this in his life, the burden I mean of exile, poverty, and the envy of others. As for myself I dare say the same with a good conscience, that is, I have been more prideful than I have been envious; yet I too have carried my stone in this world.' Dante's admission of his culpability in Pride is a brilliant stroke, taking that stick out of his reader's hand and also, in some strange way, convincing us that this prideful poet has become, under the burden of this poem, humble – or something like that. It also serves to free him from the curse of every artist (as Oderisi knew): the emulous consideration of his or her competitors, from which he pronounces himself, if not totally free, only a little bit guilty. However, from what we know of Dante's reaction to some of his competitors, e.g., to take only two examples, Guittone d'Arezzo (see the note to Purg. XXVI.124-126) and Albertino Mussato (see the notes to Purg. IX.29-30 and Par. XXV.7-9), we can sense that, like most competitive people, he was intensely jealous of the success of his rivals. To his credit, he does not give himself a free pass with respect to invidia; nonetheless, he is probably guilty at least of gilding the lily.

141 - 141

Dante's locution is noteworthy in that it recapitulates exactly what Virgil had said describing Brutus in Inferno XXXIV.66: 'e non fa motto.' Perhaps one should not make too much of this, since other versions of the phrase occur variously through the poem (Inf. IX.101; Inf. XIX.48; Inf. XXXIII.48; Purg. II.25; Purg. V.7; Purg. VII.78).

143 - 144

The protagonist fulfills the terms of the condition he had offered at verse 93: if an Italian will come forward, he will pray for that soul.

145 - 150

Sapia's acceptance of Dante's offer of prayer, making him her second Pier Pettinaio, is accepted with a grace that is also morally telling: she may have envied Provenzan his prowess and his fame, but not Dante, who has won the greatest victory of anyone, coming to the afterworld in the flesh. She responds to his charity for her with charity.

151 - 154

These four lines produce perhaps the most debated passage in this canto. Before approaching that controversy, it may be helpful to understand some of the rather recondite references in play here. In 1303 Siena purchased the seaport called Talamone, on the Mediterranean coast about fifteen miles away, in order to have better access to shipping routes; the problem was that the dredging necessary to keep the waters between Siena and the sea negotiable was an overwhelming problem. Consequently, the project had to be abandoned soon after the funds had been appropriated to support it. Similarly, another civic works project involved a search for an underground river (named Diana because the statue of the goddess had stood in the market square of the city); it too was a failure. The final frecciata, or gibe, of Sapia is to suggest that the biggest losers in the scheme to acquire a harbor on the sea will be the admirals. This word has been greatly debated: does Sapia refer to actual admirals? to investors in the scheme? to those who sold participation in the enterprise? It seems clear that Dante is making Sapia joke for him (Siena jokes being for Florentines what Harvard jokes are for Yales). This writer's view is that the playfully nasty phrase is precisely similar to one still in use today: 'the Swiss navy.' The phrase requires that we recognize that the Swiss cannot have a navy because they do not have an ocean to put a navy on – exactly the same condition in which we find the Sienese. For a similar appreciation see Porena's lengthy discussion (1946) of these verses.

Sapia, as we have seen, is a moving figure, convincingly grappling with her former sin and seemingly in control of it. It seems clear that every verse she speaks in this canto is stamped by that change in her character, including her shrewd understanding of exactly what she was like within herself, precisely what she sounded like to others. It is a remarkable exercise in self-awareness. On the other hand, some argue that these final lines show that she is still very much in the grip of her old failing. Here, for example, is Singleton's analysis (comm. to verse 154): 'Thus, by this jibe at her fellow-townsmen, it is clear that Sapia can still be malicious and still has time to serve on this terrace, purging away such feelings.' This is a fairly typical reaction. It should be observed that, if these last remarks present a soul still sinful, her sin is not envy. She may be insensitive, perhaps, but not envious. First of all, she is speaking only of a few Sienese here, the would-be big shots in whose company Dante may find her decent relatives. Second, her remarks are not intended to affect these thieves and fools, but only (perhaps) to aid her relatives in fending off their wiles – if they are intended to have any practical worldly effect at all. Both Cassell (“The Letter of Envy: Purgatorio XIII-XIV,” Stanford Italian Review 4 [1984]), p. 9n., and Stephany (“Purgatorio XIII,” Lectura Dantis [virginiana] 9 [1991]), pp. 83-86, support the view of Musumarra (“Purgatorio Canto XIII,” in Lectura Dantis Scaligera [Florence: Le Monnier, 1967]), pp. 461-67, that Sapia's words are not to be read as evidence of her slipping back into the sin of Envy but rather as reflecting her desire to help her familiars and fellow citizens escape from the devastations that will befall them because of their misguided civic pride. In such readings, Sapia's last moment in the poem (and she has been given more of its space, forty-nine verses [106-154], than anyone encountered on the mountain except for Oderisi [Purg. XI.79-142 – much of whose speech is devoted to the discussion of others] after the extended meeting with Sordello [Purg. VI-VIII]) is not offered up as a kind of recantation. Rather, this sharp-tongued, witty, and self-understanding woman ends her words with charity for all who have chosen the true way, along with acerbic wit for those who are governed by foolishness and pride. If that sounds like a description of the poet who created her, so be it.

Purgatorio: Canto 13

1
2
3

Noi eravamo al sommo de la scala,
dove secondamente si risega
lo monte che salendo altrui dismala.
4
5
6

Ivi così una cornice lega
dintorno il poggio, come la primaia;
se non che l'arco suo più tosto piega.
7
8
9

Ombra non lì è né segno che si paia:
parsi la ripa e parsi la via schietta
col livido color de la petraia.
10
11
12

“Se qui per dimandar gente s'aspetta,”
ragionava il poeta, “io temo forse
che troppo avrà d'indugio nostra eletta.”
13
14
15

Poi fisamente al sole li occhi porse;
fece del destro lato a muover centro,
e la sinistra parte di sé torse.
16
17
18

“O dolce lume a cui fidanza i' entro
per lo novo cammin, tu ne conduci,”
dicea, “come condur si vuol quinc' entro.
19
20
21

Tu scaldi il mondo, tu sovr' esso luci;
s'altra ragione in contrario non ponta,
esser dien sempre li tuoi raggi duci.”
22
23
24

Quanto di qua per un migliaio si conta,
tanto di là eravam noi già iti,
con poco tempo, per la voglia pronta;
25
26
27

e verso noi volar furon sentiti,
non però visti, spiriti parlando
a la mensa d'amor cortesi inviti.
28
29
30

La prima voce che passò volando
Vinum non habent” altamente disse,
e dietro a noi l'andò reïterando.
31
32
33

E prima che del tutto non si udisse
per allungarsi, un'altra “I' sono Oreste”
passò gridando, e anco non s'affisse.
34
35
36

“Oh!” diss' io, “padre, che voci son queste?”
E com' io domandai, ecco la terza
dicendo: “Amate da cui male aveste.”
37
38
39

E 'l buon maestro: “Questo cinghio sferza
la colpa de la invidia, e però sono
tratte d'amor le corde de la ferza.
40
41
42

Lo fren vuol esser del contrario suono;
credo che l'udirai, per mio avviso,
prima che giunghi al passo del perdono.
43
44
45

Ma ficca li occhi per l'aere ben fiso,
e vedrai gente innanzi a noi sedersi,
e ciascun è lungo la grotta assiso.”
46
47
48

Allora più che prima li occhi apersi;
guarda'mi innanzi, e vidi ombre con manti
al color de la pietra non diversi.
49
50
51

E poi che fummo un poco più avanti,
udia gridar: “Maria òra per noi”:
gridar “Michele” e “Pietro” e “Tutti santi.”
52
53
54

Non credo che per terra vada ancoi
omo sì duro, che non fosse punto
per compassion di quel ch'i' vidi poi;
55
56
57

ché, quando fui sì presso di lor giunto,
che li atti loro a me venivan certi,
per li occhi fui di grave dolor munto.
58
59
60

Di vil ciliccio mi parean coperti,
e l'un sofferia l'altro con la spalla,
e tutti da la ripa eran sofferti.
61
62
63

Così li ciechi a cui la roba falla,
stanno a' perdoni a chieder lor bisogna,
e l'uno il capo sopra l'altro avvalla,
64
65
66

perché 'n altrui pietà tosto si pogna,
non pur per lo sonar de le parole,
ma per la vista che non meno agogna.
67
68
69

E come a li orbi non approda il sole,
così a l'ombre quivi, ond' io parlo ora,
luce del ciel di sé largir non vole;
70
71
72

ché a tutti un fil di ferro i cigli fóra
e cusce sì, come a sparvier selvaggio
si fa però che queto non dimora.
73
74
75

A me pareva, andando, fare oltraggio,
veggendo altrui, non essendo veduto:
per ch'io mi volsi al mio consiglio saggio.
76
77
78

Ben sapev' ei che volea dir lo muto;
e però non attese mia dimanda,
ma disse: “Parla, e sie breve e arguto.”
79
80
81

Virgilio mi venìa da quella banda
de la cornice onde cader si puote,
perché da nulla sponda s'inghirlanda;
82
83
84

da l'altra parte m'eran le divote
ombre, che per l'orribile costura
premevan sì, che bagnavan le gote.
85
86
87

Volsimi a loro e: “O gente sicura,”
incominciai, “di veder l'alto lume
che 'l disio vostro solo ha in sua cura,
88
89
90

se tosto grazia resolva le schiume
di vostra coscïenza sì che chiaro
per essa scenda de la mente il fiume,
91
92
93

ditemi, ché mi fia grazioso e caro,
s'anima è qui tra voi che sia latina;
e forse lei sarà buon s'i' l'apparo.”
94
95
96

“O frate mio, ciascuna è cittadina
d'una vera città; ma tu vuo' dire
che vivesse in Italia peregrina.”
97
98
99

Questo mi parve per risposta udire
più innanzi alquanto che là dov' io stava,
ond' io mi feci ancor più là sentire.
100
101
102

Tra l'altre vidi un'ombra ch'aspettava
in vista; e se volesse alcun dir “Come?”
lo mento a guisa d'orbo in sù levava.
103
104
105

“Spirto,” diss' io, “che per salir ti dome,
se tu se' quelli che mi rispondesti,
fammiti conto o per luogo o per nome.”
106
107
108

“Io fui sanese,” rispuose, “e con questi
altri rimendo qui la vita ria,
lagrimando a colui che sé ne presti.
109
110
111

Savia non fui, avvegna che Sapìa
fossi chiamata, e fui de li altrui danni
più lieta assai che di ventura mia.
112
113
114

E perché tu non creda ch'io t'inganni,
odi s'i' fui, com' io ti dico, folle,
già discendendo l'arco d'i miei anni.
115
116
117

Eran li cittadin miei presso a Colle
in campo giunti co' loro avversari,
e io pregava Iddio di quel ch'e' volle.
118
119
120

Rotti fuor quivi e vòlti ne li amari
passi di fuga; e veggendo la caccia,
letizia presi a tutte altre dispari,
121
122
123

tanto ch'io volsi in sù l'ardita faccia,
gridando a Dio: 'Omai più non ti temo!'
come fé 'l merlo per poca bonaccia.
124
125
126

Pace volli con Dio in su lo stremo
de la mia vita; e ancor non sarebbe
lo mio dover per penitenza scemo,
127
128
129

se ciò non fosse, ch'a memoria m'ebbe
Pier Pettinaio in sue sante orazioni,
a cui di me per caritate increbbe.
130
131
132

Ma tu chi se', che nostre condizioni
vai dimandando, e porti li occhi sciolti,
sì com' io credo, e spirando ragioni?”
133
134
135

“Li occhi,” diss' io, “mi fieno ancor qui tolti,
ma picciol tempo, ché poca è l'offesa
fatta per esser con invidia vòlti.
136
137
138

Troppa è più la paura ond' è sospesa
l'anima mia del tormento di sotto,
che già lo 'ncarco di là giù mi pesa.”
139
140
141

Ed ella a me: “Chi t'ha dunque condotto
qua sù tra noi, se giù ritornar credi?”
E io: “Costui ch'è meco e non fa motto.
142
143
144

E vivo sono; e però mi richiedi,
spirito eletto, se tu vuo' ch'i' mova
di là per te ancor li mortai piedi.”
145
146
147

“Oh, questa è a udir sì cosa nuova,”
rispuose, “che gran segno è che Dio t'ami;
però col priego tuo talor mi giova.
148
149
150

E cheggioti, per quel che tu più brami,
se mai calchi la terra di Toscana,
che a' miei propinqui tu ben mi rinfami.
151
152
153
154

Tu li vedrai tra quella gente vana
che spera in Talamone, e perderagli
più di speranza ch'a trovar la Diana;
ma più vi perderanno li ammiragli.”
1
2
3

We were upon the summit of the stairs,
  Where for the second time is cut away
  The mountain, which ascending shriveth all.

4
5
6

There in like manner doth a cornice bind
  The hill all round about, as does the first,
  Save that its arc more suddenly is curved.

7
8
9

Shade is there none, nor sculpture that appears;
  So seems the bank, and so the road seems smooth,
  With but the livid colour of the stone.

10
11
12

"If to inquire we wait for people here,"
  The Poet said, "I fear that peradventure
  Too much delay will our election have."

13
14
15

Then steadfast on the sun his eyes he fixed,
  Made his right side the centre of his motion,
  And turned the left part of himself about.

16
17
18

"O thou sweet light! with trust in whom I enter
  Upon this novel journey, do thou lead us,"
  Said he, "as one within here should be led.

19
20
21

Thou warmest the world, thou shinest over it;
  If other reason prompt not otherwise,
  Thy rays should evermore our leaders be!"

22
23
24

As much as here is counted for a mile,
  So much already there had we advanced
  In little time, by dint of ready will;

25
26
27

And tow'rds us there were heard to fly, albeit
  They were not visible, spirits uttering
  Unto Love's table courteous invitations,

28
29
30

The first voice that passed onward in its flight,
  "Vinum non habent," said in accents loud,
  And went reiterating it behind us.

31
32
33

And ere it wholly grew inaudible
  Because of distance, passed another, crying,
  "I am Orestes!" and it also stayed not.

34
35
36

"O," said I, "Father, these, what voices are they?"
  And even as I asked, behold the third,
  Saying: "Love those from whom ye have had evil!"

37
38
39

And the good Master said: "This circle scourges
  The sin of envy, and on that account
  Are drawn from love the lashes of the scourge.

40
41
42

The bridle of another sound shall be;
  I think that thou wilt hear it, as I judge,
  Before thou comest to the Pass of Pardon.

43
44
45

But fix thine eyes athwart the air right steadfast,
  And people thou wilt see before us sitting,
  And each one close against the cliff is seated."

46
47
48

Then wider than at first mine eyes I opened;
  I looked before me, and saw shades with mantles
  Not from the colour of the stone diverse.

49
50
51

And when we were a little farther onward,
  I heard a cry of, "Mary, pray for us!"
  A cry of, "Michael, Peter, and all Saints!"

52
53
54

I do not think there walketh still on earth
  A man so hard, that he would not be pierced
  With pity at what afterward I saw.

55
56
57

For when I had approached so near to them
  That manifest to me their acts became,
  Drained was I at the eyes by heavy grief.

58
59
60

Covered with sackcloth vile they seemed to me,
  And one sustained the other with his shoulder,
  And all of them were by the bank sustained.

61
62
63

Thus do the blind, in want of livelihood,
  Stand at the doors of churches asking alms,
  And one upon another leans his head,

64
65
66

So that in others pity soon may rise,
  Not only at the accent of their words,
  But at their aspect, which no less implores.

67
68
69

And as unto the blind the sun comes not,
  So to the shades, of whom just now I spake,
  Heaven's light will not be bounteous of itself;

70
71
72

For all their lids an iron wire transpierces,
  And sews them up, as to a sparhawk wild
  Is done, because it will not quiet stay.

73
74
75

To me it seemed, in passing, to do outrage,
  Seeing the others without being seen;
  Wherefore I turned me to my counsel sage.

76
77
78

Well knew he what the mute one wished to say,
  And therefore waited not for my demand,
  But said: "Speak, and be brief, and to the point."

79
80
81

I had Virgilius upon that side
  Of the embankment from which one may fall,
  Since by no border 'tis engarlanded;

82
83
84

Upon the other side of me I had
  The shades devout, who through the horrible seam
  Pressed out the tears so that they bathed their cheeks.

85
86
87

To them I turned me, and, "O people, certain,"
  Began I, "of beholding the high light,
  Which your desire has solely in its care,

88
89
90

So may grace speedily dissolve the scum
  Upon your consciences, that limpidly
  Through them descend the river of the mind,

91
92
93

Tell me, for dear 'twill be to me and gracious,
  If any soul among you here is Latian,
  And 'twill perchance be good for him I learn it."

94
95
96

"O brother mine, each one is citizen
  Of one true city; but thy meaning is,
  Who may have lived in Italy a pilgrim."

97
98
99

By way of answer this I seemed to hear
  A little farther on than where I stood,
  Whereat I made myself still nearer heard.

100
101
102

Among the rest I saw a shade that waited
  In aspect, and should any one ask how,
  Its chin it lifted upward like a blind man.

103
104
105

"Spirit," I said, "who stoopest to ascend,
  If thou art he who did reply to me,
  Make thyself known to me by place or name."

106
107
108

"Sienese was I," it replied, "and with
  The others here recleanse my guilty life,
  Weeping to Him to lend himself to us.

109
110
111

Sapient I was not, although I Sapia
  Was called, and I was at another's harm
  More happy far than at my own good fortune.

112
113
114

And that thou mayst not think that I deceive thee,
  Hear if I was as foolish as I tell thee.
  The arc already of my years descending,

115
116
117

My fellow-citizens near unto Colle
  Were joined in battle with their adversaries,
  And I was praying God for what he willed.

118
119
120

Routed were they, and turned into the bitter
  Passes of flight; and I, the chase beholding,
  A joy received unequalled by all others;

121
122
123

So that I lifted upward my bold face
  Crying to God, 'Henceforth I fear thee not,'
  As did the blackbird at the little sunshine.

124
125
126

Peace I desired with God at the extreme
  Of my existence, and as yet would not
  My debt have been by penitence discharged,

127
128
129

Had it not been that in remembrance held me
  Pier Pettignano in his holy prayers,
  Who out of charity was grieved for me.

130
131
132

But who art thou, that into our conditions
  Questioning goest, and hast thine eyes unbound
  As I believe, and breathing dost discourse?"

133
134
135

"Mine eyes," I said, "will yet be here ta'en from me,
  But for short space; for small is the offence
  Committed by their being turned with envy.

136
137
138

Far greater is the fear, wherein suspended
  My soul is, of the torment underneath,
  For even now the load down there weighs on me."

139
140
141

And she to me: "Who led thee, then, among us
  Up here, if to return below thou thinkest?"
  And I: "He who is with me, and speaks not;

142
143
144

And living am I; therefore ask of me,
  Spirit elect, if thou wouldst have me move
  O'er yonder yet my mortal feet for thee."

145
146
147

"O, this is such a novel thing to hear,"
  She answered, "that great sign it is God loves thee;
  Therefore with prayer of thine sometimes assist me.

148
149
150

And I implore, by what thou most desirest,
  If e'er thou treadest the soil of Tuscany,
  Well with my kindred reinstate my fame.

151
152
153
154

Them wilt thou see among that people vain
  Who hope in Talamone, and will lose there
  More hope than in discovering the Diana;
But there still more the admirals will lose."

Robert Hollander (English, 2000-2007)
1 - 3

The whole mountain, by virtue of the way in which it is seven times sliced away, resembles a huge circular stairway cut in stone. The travelers' arrival at the second of these terraces coincides with a canto beginning. This is the only time that such a coincidence occurs in this cantica. It is as though Dante wanted to acknowledge the reader's expectation that the arrival at each terrace might coincide with the beginning of a canto, thus forcing that reader to speculate upon the aesthetic reasons for the poet's not being overly 'neat.'

The verb dismalare is almost certainly a Dantean coinage; we have tried to reflect its unusual character in our translation with an English coinage: 'unsins.'

7 - 7

The verse 'Ombra non lì è né segno che si paia' (There are no shades nor any carvings) has drawn some more complicated discussions than our translation would call for. As does Carmelo Musumarra (“Purgatorio Canto XIII,” in Lectura Dantis Scaligera [Florence: Le Monnier, 1967]), p. 442, we believe that the word ombra here means a 'shade,' and is to be distinguished from segno, which here means 'designs,' i.e., such as the intaglios that were found on the preceding terrace. In other words, the travelers see neither penitents nor carvings as they first examine this new space. Some others are of the opinion that both words refer to the shapes and designs on the wall of the terrace of Pride and not even the first of them to the penitents themselves. However, once the latter become manifest to Dante and Virgil, they are referred to as ombre; in fact this word is used as often in this canto as in any other of the poem (Purg. XXI also shows the word five times). It appears here and then again (at Purg. XIII.47, 68, 83, and 100); it is clear that all four of these later uses refer to 'shades.' It is a curious fact that occurrences of the word ombra are far more numerous in Purgatorio than in both other cantiche together: 47 appearances as compared to 26 in Inferno and 16 in Paradiso.

8 - 9

The barren 'landscape' of the terrace of Envy contrasts with the highly wrought carvings that greet the travelers on that of Pride (Purg. X.28-33), as does the livid color of this place contrast with the gleaming whiteness found below. For all its vanity, Pride is a sin that has its vitality and brightness. Here all is the livid, or gray-blue (as in a bruise) color of stone. The sin of envy, as Dante has already acknowledged (Inf. I.111; and see the note to Inf. I.109-111), was the cause of death's entering the world because of the envy Satan felt for God. This sin, much less present in the modern imagination than it was in the minds of medieval thinkers, was seen as particularly pernicious and widespread. Most of us tend to think of envy as a form of jealousy, motivated by the desire to possess a good that someone else holds. In Dante's time it represented, instead, the negative wish that this person lose his or her goods, his or her apparent advantage. It is thus not a form of avarice, but the expression of resentment against the perceived happiness of others. For a compelling modern example, see Prince Myshkin's words to the agonized and resentful Ippolit in Dostoevsky's The Idiot: 'Forgive us our happiness.' In the next canto, Guido del Duca will give it a similar expression (see Purg. XIV.82-84). For a similar and more compact expression of such thoughts see the gloss of Benvenuto da Imola (comm. to vv. 7-9).

Fernando Salsano presents the salient features of this sin in Dante; see his entry “invidia,” ED III (1971); for a discussion of the sin in English see Cassell, “Envy,” in the Dante Encyclopedia (Lans.2000.1).

10 - 12

Virgil again (as he did in Purg. III.52-56), seeing no one present who may give directions, assumes that the situation is worse than it actually is.

13 - 21

Virgil's prayer to the sun (his only prayer in the poem) has drawn conflicting interpretations over the centuries. Is it, as most early commentators believed, a prayer to the Christian God (possibly for his grace), expressed in a metaphor (and surely the sun is a frequent metaphor for God in medieval culture and in this poem)? Is it directed to disembodied 'speculative reason' as some other early commentators, followed by many moderns, believed? Or is it a prayer to the sun itself, unallegorized, for the light that will reveal the path that must be chosen? This is the position of a number of moderns, Porena (1946, comm. to vv. 16-21) perhaps the most convincing of these, citing Purgatorio I.107-108, where Cato tells the travelers that the sun's light will show them their way. Bosco/Reggio (comm. to verse 16), in a similar anti-allegorical vein, point out that the next lines (vv. 19-21) speak only of the physical properties of the sun's light, as was true in the verses spoken by Cato in the first canto of this cantica. It seems prudent to allow a literal meaning that makes sense to stand alone, without further interpretive scaffolding. Indeed, if, as Virgil says, the sun's light should serve as guide unless a better source be found, he cannot be speaking of any final authority, whether God or rational certainty, neither of which may be superseded by secondary causes. It seems best to take the passage as yet another sign of Virgil's inadequacy in matters of faith and of his rather poor ability to grasp the significance of his immediate surroundings (see the note to Purg. III.52-57). It also seems strange that Virgil turns to the right because the sun is in that direction, when he should have learned in the third canto (Purg. III.100-102) that in purgatory one always moves to the right, since the travelers have been moving in that direction ever since.

25 - 27

Virgil's prayer to the sun is not answered; instead, supernatural voices are heard flying overhead, bearing the identities of the positive exemplary figures of the virtue opposed to envy, charity. This 'banquet' of affection recalls the controlling metaphor of Dante's unfinished treatise, Convivio.

28 - 30

Mary's voice is, we are not surprised to discover, given our experience of the positive exemplars in Purgatorio X.40-45, the first whose words are represented by a flying voice. Dante never makes clear how these sounds are made or by whom, but we may be sure that their sources are not present on this terrace, as we know that Mary is in paradise (while one of the negative exemplars, Cain, in Purg. XIV.133, is probably in hell, since one of its final zones is named for him [see Inf. V.107 and XXXII.58]).

The biblical scene invoked is that of the marriage feast at Cana of Galilee when Mary tells Jesus there is no wine left for the guests ('Vinum non habent') and Jesus shortly thereafter turns water to wine (John 2:1-7). Anthony Cassell (“The Letter of Envy: Purgatorio XIII-XIV,” Stanford Italian Review 4 [1984]), pp. 18-21, brings into his discussion of this canto St. Augustine's comments on John's gospel, with their equivalence of sapience and the wine Christ produced at Cana.

31 - 33

Orestes is known to Dante in two basic contexts, first as the avenger of his family honor as the killer of his adulterous mother, Clytemnestra; second, as the friend of Pylades. When, after these two friends have also killed the adulterous Aegisthus and Orestes is sought for capital punishment, Pylades cries out 'Ego sum Orestes' (I am Orestes), while Orestes, not to be outdone, shouts 'Immo enimvero ego sum, inquam, Orestes' (But I truly am, I say to you, – Cicero, De finibus V.xxii.63 [and see De amicitia VII.24]). According to the commentators, this second voice is either that of Orestes, of Pylades, or somehow relates to both of these. And the history of interpretation is curious. Benvenuto da Imola was the first to mention Pylades, but still holds to the earliest commentators' opinion that Orestes is the exemplary figure. John of Serravalle, however, confesses that Benvenuto, who taught him Dante, found this passage very difficult. The Anonimo Fiorentino is the first to say, flat out, that the voice refers to Pylades. Beginning with Andreoli (comm. to verse 32) nearly every commentator thinks that the reference is to Pylades or to both men. As we have seen, however, if Dante has the specific text of Cicero in mind, the precise words that he cites are those of Pylades. Further, being willing to die for one's friend is probably the highest form of charity Dante could imagine. And since it is ungainly to have to think of the words representing more than one speaker, it seems more than reasonable to believe that Pylades is indicated by these words. See the untroubled and unambiguous judgment of Salvatore Accardo (“Il canto XIII del Purgatorio,” in Purgatorio: letture degli anni 1976-'79, ed. Silvio Zennaro, Casa di Dante in Roma [Roma: Bonacci, 1981]), p. 266, who simply states that this voice speaks for Pylades without even considering the tradition that holds it to be that of Orestes, not to mention the ungainly view that somehow both youths are represented by its words.

34 - 36

The third exemplar is Jesus Christ, calling on his disciples to return love for hatred (see Matthew 5:44, where the words are a bit more expansive than they are here: 'Diligite inimicos vestros, benefacite his qui oderunt vos' [love your enemies, do good to those who hate you]). The first two voices are identical with their sources, the first, Latin word for Latin word; the second, a perfect Italian translation of the Latin original. The last, however, is a looser Italian version of the Vulgate's Latin.

37 - 42

This is the first precise verbal formulation of the mode of purgatorial instruction by examples: first one is spurred to imitate the good, then dissuaded from following the bad, the goad and the bit that we have already encountered and will continue to come to know on each terrace. Having understood how these functions were experienced on the first terrace, Virgil now correctly surmises that, if the travelers have now heard the goad, they will hear the bit before they confront the angel with his blessing and leave this terrace.

43 - 48

The coloration of the garments worn by the penitents in Envy is so close to that of the rocks themselves that it has taken Virgil a long while to make them out; he only now calls them to Dante's attention – and the protagonist has had no sense of their presence at all.

Envy, which is so clearly aware of difference, is cloaked in a uniform that makes distinction of difference nearly impossible. As Dante interacts with these penitents, it is clear that he has a hard time making out the features of any one of them.

49 - 51

The voices we hear now emanate from the penitents on the terrace, not from unknown sources overhead. As Bosco/Reggio suggest, they cry out in only the invocations of litanies because the rest of these would not be appropriate here, since these passages regard earthly ills and temptations, no longer of potential harm to these souls.

52 - 57

Perhaps no passage indicates more clearly the disparity of attitude required of an onlooker in hell and purgatory. There the growth in the protagonist was measured, in part, by his ability not to respond pityingly; here compassion is an essential part of his ceremonial purgation.

58 - 58

Haircloth, according to Francesco da Buti's gloss to this verse, both pricks the skin where it is knotted and leaves it chilled, because it has openings as does a net.

59 - 60

The envious in life were not involved in supporting others; the contrary was their care. Now their communal attitude shows their penance – as does their mendicant pose, apparent in the following simile.

61 - 66

Those who looked upon their fellows in unseeing ways (the sin invidia was etymologized in the Middle Ages as in + videre, i.e., more usually as 'not seeing,' but sometimes also understood as 'seeing against,' another being [see Dino Bigongiari (Essays on Dante and Medieval Culture, ed. Henry Paolucci [New York: The Bagehot Council, 2000 (1964)], pp. 90-91)]), they now hope for the opposite, to be looked upon with pity. Like Satan, the avatar of Envy, the envious soul is proud as well. And the proud cannot bear pity. These penitents show compassionate affection for one another as part of their purgation of Envy. The language of the simile reminds the reader of special occasions on which the Church offered indulgences to its flock on a given feast day or similar occasion; such 'pardons' provided targets of opportunity to mendicants outside churches or other holy places. Dante's language also allows us to see the theatricality implicit in the act of begging; we are now, however, asked to believe in the wholehearted sincerity of these posthumous penitents.

67 - 72

The aesthetic abnegation of this terrace is eased somewhat by these two back-to-back similes. Fastening our attention on the closed eyes of the envious, Dante compares them to the sewn-up eyes of sparrowhawks, captured in their maturity and temporarily blinded in this manner so that they remain docile in the presence of their handlers. The penitents' eyes are sewn, not with the thread used on hawks and falcons, but with iron wire.

73 - 78

Dante, feeling sheepish about his position of privileged and unnoticed onlooker, is 'read' by Virgil as he and Dante have been reading the feelings of the equally mute penitents. Virgil gives Dante permission to address them – and indeed withdraws from colloquy himself for the rest of this and nearly all the next canto (his next words will be heard only at Purg. XIV.143).

79 - 81

One might observe that this and other remarks concerning the topography of this terrace are not really specific to it, but could have been made earlier (i.e., on the terrace of Pride). It is clear that Dante was pressed for poetic space on that terrace, so artistically and personally challenging for him. Here there is more of it to fill.

85 - 93

The protagonist's labored and heavily rhetoricized captatio (including periphrastic references to the twin rivers of purgatory, Lethe and Eunoe) is perhaps meant to contrast with Sapia's far more immediate and direct response (vv. 94-96). He wants to find an Italian for his cast of characters and promises, in return, a prayer to speed the process of purgation. How ironically we are meant to take this speech is not clear, but Bosco/Reggio (comm to vv. 73-93) are derisive about Dante's 'overblown rhetoric' here.

94 - 96

The response by the shade who, we will soon discover, is Sapia, is a polite but incisive correction of the question she answers. (1) Dante had set the penitent souls apart from others, even from himself; Sapia joins them all in fellowship with a single word, frate. (2) Dante had spoken of earthly territories; Sapia makes all those beloved of God citizens of His city alone. (3) Dante had spoken of Italianness as a present condition; Sapia insists that geographical/political identities on earth were only fleeting and are now irrelevant.

102 - 102

This physical gesture is familiar to anyone who has spoken with people who are blind, since they, guided by their ears, position their faces squarely in line with the source of the voice of their interlocutor.

105 - 108

The protagonist's question receives its first answer, as nearly anonymous as it can be, with the exception of the identification of the speaker's homeland, and thus responding to only one part of the protagonist's request ('make yourself known by your city or your name'). Knowing only this much, our memories return to the last shade and, indeed, the last Sienese we encountered, Provenzan Salvani, his story recounted by Oderisi in Purgatorio XI.120-138. There we heard about his triumph in humility; here we will become aware, between the lines, of the horror of his death.

The word rimendo (verse 107), meaning 'mending,' 'stitching back together,' is Petrocchi's replacement for the former reading, rimondo, 'cleansing,' 'purifying.' There are those who continue to take issue with Petrocchi's emendation, e.g., William Stephany (“Purgatorio XIII,” Lectura Dantis [virginiana] 9 [1991]), pp. 76-77.

109 - 111

Punning on her name, she now identifies herself as Sapia if not savia (sapient) and speaks of her envious nature (see the note to vv. 8-9).

For the history of the gradually more certain identification of Sapia, see Giorgio Varanini, “Sapia” (ED.1976.5), p. 26. Most now accept the work of nineteenth-century students of the problem, which demonstrated that she, born ca. 1210, was a noblewoman of Siena, an aunt of Provenzan Salvani (Purg. XI.121-142), and wife of one Ghinibaldo Saracini. After the battle of Colle Val d'Elsa in 1269 and before her death (sometime between 1275 and 1289) she gave much of her wealth to a hospital (S. Maria dei Pellegrini) that she and her husband (who had died before the great battle) had founded in 1265 in Siena.

112 - 123

Sapia's narrative falls into two parts, this first containing the evidence of her former sinfulness, exemplified most savagely in her admission of her joy in witnessing the death of her own people, most probably Provenzan Salvani, her nephew.

As for Provenzan (a rough Sienese equivalent of the Florentine Farinata [Inf. X]), the man who led the Sienese Ghibellines in their triumph over the Guelphs of Florence at Montaperti in 1260 and the leading Ghibelline soldier of his city, he was captured in the battle of Colle Val d'Elsa, some ten miles northwest of Siena, and decapitated. According to Giovanni Villani (Cronica VII.31), his head, at the end of a pike, was then marched around the battlefield by his triumphant French and Florentine Guelph enemies. Since Sapia was also a Ghibelline it is difficult or impossible to know why she was so pleased by his death (most assume that Provenzan is among the 'townsmen' whose death brought her so much pleasure). Since her sin was envy, it seems clear that Dante wants us to understand that she resented his and/or other townsmen's position and fame, that her involvement was personal, not political.

While some are of the opinion that Dante's inclusion of these two great Ghibelline figures in purgatory shows an attempt at impartiality, it is probably better to avoid that issue, since by this time in the composition of the poem Dante's overall political sympathies were essentially Ghibelline, or at least imperial and thus in line with Ghibelline ideals, whatever he may have thought of particular Ghibelline individuals.

Her reference to her age (verse 114) merely places that as post-thirty-five (past the mezzo del cammin di sua vita) and she may have been nearly sixty when she witnessed the battle (from her dead husband's castle near Colle?). Loosely, the phrase means 'old enough to have known better.'

Benvenuto (comm. to vv. 112-114) paraphrases her prideful address to God as follows: 'whatever God may wish for me henceforth, and even if He do to me his worst, I shall evermore live joyful and die happy.' She was like, she now considers, the blackbird in winter who, at a premature spring-like day, thinks the need for help is done. It is not.

124 - 129

Before her death, Sapia's change of heart brought her back to the love of God and her neighbor. As for Pier Pettinaio, whose second name is not a family name but an epithet denoting his profession, i.e., he sold combs to ladies (pettine means 'comb'), it was his prayerful intervention after her death that reduced her time in ante-purgatory. Since she has been dead between twenty-five and eleven years, and since we would assume she would have spent at least a little time on the terrace of Pride, she has surely moved quickly up the mountain, sped by Pier's prayers. A 'native of Campi in the Chianti district NE. of Siena, he was a hermit of the Franciscan Order, and dwelt in Siena, where he was renowned for his piety and miracles. Ubertino da Casale (Par. XII.124) in the prologue to his Arbor Vitae Crucifixae Jesu mentions that he had received spiritual instruction from him. Pier died on Dec. 5, 1289, and was buried at Siena, where he was long venerated as a saint, in a handsome tomb erected at the public expense' (Toynbee, “Pettinagno, Pier” [Concise Dante Dictionary]).

130 - 132

Sapia now, having satisfied Dante's question in both its points, asks after his identity. Having heard him breathe, she divines that he is present in the flesh (but has no sense of Virgil's presence as his guide, thus motivating the exchange that follows at vv. 139-142).

133 - 138

Benvenuto (comm. to vv. 136-138) paraphrases Dante's response as follows: 'And here take note that our poet from his youth was prideful by reason of his nobility, his knowledge, and his good standing; yet surely he bore the burden for this in his life, the burden I mean of exile, poverty, and the envy of others. As for myself I dare say the same with a good conscience, that is, I have been more prideful than I have been envious; yet I too have carried my stone in this world.' Dante's admission of his culpability in Pride is a brilliant stroke, taking that stick out of his reader's hand and also, in some strange way, convincing us that this prideful poet has become, under the burden of this poem, humble – or something like that. It also serves to free him from the curse of every artist (as Oderisi knew): the emulous consideration of his or her competitors, from which he pronounces himself, if not totally free, only a little bit guilty. However, from what we know of Dante's reaction to some of his competitors, e.g., to take only two examples, Guittone d'Arezzo (see the note to Purg. XXVI.124-126) and Albertino Mussato (see the notes to Purg. IX.29-30 and Par. XXV.7-9), we can sense that, like most competitive people, he was intensely jealous of the success of his rivals. To his credit, he does not give himself a free pass with respect to invidia; nonetheless, he is probably guilty at least of gilding the lily.

141 - 141

Dante's locution is noteworthy in that it recapitulates exactly what Virgil had said describing Brutus in Inferno XXXIV.66: 'e non fa motto.' Perhaps one should not make too much of this, since other versions of the phrase occur variously through the poem (Inf. IX.101; Inf. XIX.48; Inf. XXXIII.48; Purg. II.25; Purg. V.7; Purg. VII.78).

143 - 144

The protagonist fulfills the terms of the condition he had offered at verse 93: if an Italian will come forward, he will pray for that soul.

145 - 150

Sapia's acceptance of Dante's offer of prayer, making him her second Pier Pettinaio, is accepted with a grace that is also morally telling: she may have envied Provenzan his prowess and his fame, but not Dante, who has won the greatest victory of anyone, coming to the afterworld in the flesh. She responds to his charity for her with charity.

151 - 154

These four lines produce perhaps the most debated passage in this canto. Before approaching that controversy, it may be helpful to understand some of the rather recondite references in play here. In 1303 Siena purchased the seaport called Talamone, on the Mediterranean coast about fifteen miles away, in order to have better access to shipping routes; the problem was that the dredging necessary to keep the waters between Siena and the sea negotiable was an overwhelming problem. Consequently, the project had to be abandoned soon after the funds had been appropriated to support it. Similarly, another civic works project involved a search for an underground river (named Diana because the statue of the goddess had stood in the market square of the city); it too was a failure. The final frecciata, or gibe, of Sapia is to suggest that the biggest losers in the scheme to acquire a harbor on the sea will be the admirals. This word has been greatly debated: does Sapia refer to actual admirals? to investors in the scheme? to those who sold participation in the enterprise? It seems clear that Dante is making Sapia joke for him (Siena jokes being for Florentines what Harvard jokes are for Yales). This writer's view is that the playfully nasty phrase is precisely similar to one still in use today: 'the Swiss navy.' The phrase requires that we recognize that the Swiss cannot have a navy because they do not have an ocean to put a navy on – exactly the same condition in which we find the Sienese. For a similar appreciation see Porena's lengthy discussion (1946) of these verses.

Sapia, as we have seen, is a moving figure, convincingly grappling with her former sin and seemingly in control of it. It seems clear that every verse she speaks in this canto is stamped by that change in her character, including her shrewd understanding of exactly what she was like within herself, precisely what she sounded like to others. It is a remarkable exercise in self-awareness. On the other hand, some argue that these final lines show that she is still very much in the grip of her old failing. Here, for example, is Singleton's analysis (comm. to verse 154): 'Thus, by this jibe at her fellow-townsmen, it is clear that Sapia can still be malicious and still has time to serve on this terrace, purging away such feelings.' This is a fairly typical reaction. It should be observed that, if these last remarks present a soul still sinful, her sin is not envy. She may be insensitive, perhaps, but not envious. First of all, she is speaking only of a few Sienese here, the would-be big shots in whose company Dante may find her decent relatives. Second, her remarks are not intended to affect these thieves and fools, but only (perhaps) to aid her relatives in fending off their wiles – if they are intended to have any practical worldly effect at all. Both Cassell (“The Letter of Envy: Purgatorio XIII-XIV,” Stanford Italian Review 4 [1984]), p. 9n., and Stephany (“Purgatorio XIII,” Lectura Dantis [virginiana] 9 [1991]), pp. 83-86, support the view of Musumarra (“Purgatorio Canto XIII,” in Lectura Dantis Scaligera [Florence: Le Monnier, 1967]), pp. 461-67, that Sapia's words are not to be read as evidence of her slipping back into the sin of Envy but rather as reflecting her desire to help her familiars and fellow citizens escape from the devastations that will befall them because of their misguided civic pride. In such readings, Sapia's last moment in the poem (and she has been given more of its space, forty-nine verses [106-154], than anyone encountered on the mountain except for Oderisi [Purg. XI.79-142 – much of whose speech is devoted to the discussion of others] after the extended meeting with Sordello [Purg. VI-VIII]) is not offered up as a kind of recantation. Rather, this sharp-tongued, witty, and self-understanding woman ends her words with charity for all who have chosen the true way, along with acerbic wit for those who are governed by foolishness and pride. If that sounds like a description of the poet who created her, so be it.

Purgatorio: Canto 13

1
2
3

Noi eravamo al sommo de la scala,
dove secondamente si risega
lo monte che salendo altrui dismala.
4
5
6

Ivi così una cornice lega
dintorno il poggio, come la primaia;
se non che l'arco suo più tosto piega.
7
8
9

Ombra non lì è né segno che si paia:
parsi la ripa e parsi la via schietta
col livido color de la petraia.
10
11
12

“Se qui per dimandar gente s'aspetta,”
ragionava il poeta, “io temo forse
che troppo avrà d'indugio nostra eletta.”
13
14
15

Poi fisamente al sole li occhi porse;
fece del destro lato a muover centro,
e la sinistra parte di sé torse.
16
17
18

“O dolce lume a cui fidanza i' entro
per lo novo cammin, tu ne conduci,”
dicea, “come condur si vuol quinc' entro.
19
20
21

Tu scaldi il mondo, tu sovr' esso luci;
s'altra ragione in contrario non ponta,
esser dien sempre li tuoi raggi duci.”
22
23
24

Quanto di qua per un migliaio si conta,
tanto di là eravam noi già iti,
con poco tempo, per la voglia pronta;
25
26
27

e verso noi volar furon sentiti,
non però visti, spiriti parlando
a la mensa d'amor cortesi inviti.
28
29
30

La prima voce che passò volando
Vinum non habent” altamente disse,
e dietro a noi l'andò reïterando.
31
32
33

E prima che del tutto non si udisse
per allungarsi, un'altra “I' sono Oreste”
passò gridando, e anco non s'affisse.
34
35
36

“Oh!” diss' io, “padre, che voci son queste?”
E com' io domandai, ecco la terza
dicendo: “Amate da cui male aveste.”
37
38
39

E 'l buon maestro: “Questo cinghio sferza
la colpa de la invidia, e però sono
tratte d'amor le corde de la ferza.
40
41
42

Lo fren vuol esser del contrario suono;
credo che l'udirai, per mio avviso,
prima che giunghi al passo del perdono.
43
44
45

Ma ficca li occhi per l'aere ben fiso,
e vedrai gente innanzi a noi sedersi,
e ciascun è lungo la grotta assiso.”
46
47
48

Allora più che prima li occhi apersi;
guarda'mi innanzi, e vidi ombre con manti
al color de la pietra non diversi.
49
50
51

E poi che fummo un poco più avanti,
udia gridar: “Maria òra per noi”:
gridar “Michele” e “Pietro” e “Tutti santi.”
52
53
54

Non credo che per terra vada ancoi
omo sì duro, che non fosse punto
per compassion di quel ch'i' vidi poi;
55
56
57

ché, quando fui sì presso di lor giunto,
che li atti loro a me venivan certi,
per li occhi fui di grave dolor munto.
58
59
60

Di vil ciliccio mi parean coperti,
e l'un sofferia l'altro con la spalla,
e tutti da la ripa eran sofferti.
61
62
63

Così li ciechi a cui la roba falla,
stanno a' perdoni a chieder lor bisogna,
e l'uno il capo sopra l'altro avvalla,
64
65
66

perché 'n altrui pietà tosto si pogna,
non pur per lo sonar de le parole,
ma per la vista che non meno agogna.
67
68
69

E come a li orbi non approda il sole,
così a l'ombre quivi, ond' io parlo ora,
luce del ciel di sé largir non vole;
70
71
72

ché a tutti un fil di ferro i cigli fóra
e cusce sì, come a sparvier selvaggio
si fa però che queto non dimora.
73
74
75

A me pareva, andando, fare oltraggio,
veggendo altrui, non essendo veduto:
per ch'io mi volsi al mio consiglio saggio.
76
77
78

Ben sapev' ei che volea dir lo muto;
e però non attese mia dimanda,
ma disse: “Parla, e sie breve e arguto.”
79
80
81

Virgilio mi venìa da quella banda
de la cornice onde cader si puote,
perché da nulla sponda s'inghirlanda;
82
83
84

da l'altra parte m'eran le divote
ombre, che per l'orribile costura
premevan sì, che bagnavan le gote.
85
86
87

Volsimi a loro e: “O gente sicura,”
incominciai, “di veder l'alto lume
che 'l disio vostro solo ha in sua cura,
88
89
90

se tosto grazia resolva le schiume
di vostra coscïenza sì che chiaro
per essa scenda de la mente il fiume,
91
92
93

ditemi, ché mi fia grazioso e caro,
s'anima è qui tra voi che sia latina;
e forse lei sarà buon s'i' l'apparo.”
94
95
96

“O frate mio, ciascuna è cittadina
d'una vera città; ma tu vuo' dire
che vivesse in Italia peregrina.”
97
98
99

Questo mi parve per risposta udire
più innanzi alquanto che là dov' io stava,
ond' io mi feci ancor più là sentire.
100
101
102

Tra l'altre vidi un'ombra ch'aspettava
in vista; e se volesse alcun dir “Come?”
lo mento a guisa d'orbo in sù levava.
103
104
105

“Spirto,” diss' io, “che per salir ti dome,
se tu se' quelli che mi rispondesti,
fammiti conto o per luogo o per nome.”
106
107
108

“Io fui sanese,” rispuose, “e con questi
altri rimendo qui la vita ria,
lagrimando a colui che sé ne presti.
109
110
111

Savia non fui, avvegna che Sapìa
fossi chiamata, e fui de li altrui danni
più lieta assai che di ventura mia.
112
113
114

E perché tu non creda ch'io t'inganni,
odi s'i' fui, com' io ti dico, folle,
già discendendo l'arco d'i miei anni.
115
116
117

Eran li cittadin miei presso a Colle
in campo giunti co' loro avversari,
e io pregava Iddio di quel ch'e' volle.
118
119
120

Rotti fuor quivi e vòlti ne li amari
passi di fuga; e veggendo la caccia,
letizia presi a tutte altre dispari,
121
122
123

tanto ch'io volsi in sù l'ardita faccia,
gridando a Dio: 'Omai più non ti temo!'
come fé 'l merlo per poca bonaccia.
124
125
126

Pace volli con Dio in su lo stremo
de la mia vita; e ancor non sarebbe
lo mio dover per penitenza scemo,
127
128
129

se ciò non fosse, ch'a memoria m'ebbe
Pier Pettinaio in sue sante orazioni,
a cui di me per caritate increbbe.
130
131
132

Ma tu chi se', che nostre condizioni
vai dimandando, e porti li occhi sciolti,
sì com' io credo, e spirando ragioni?”
133
134
135

“Li occhi,” diss' io, “mi fieno ancor qui tolti,
ma picciol tempo, ché poca è l'offesa
fatta per esser con invidia vòlti.
136
137
138

Troppa è più la paura ond' è sospesa
l'anima mia del tormento di sotto,
che già lo 'ncarco di là giù mi pesa.”
139
140
141

Ed ella a me: “Chi t'ha dunque condotto
qua sù tra noi, se giù ritornar credi?”
E io: “Costui ch'è meco e non fa motto.
142
143
144

E vivo sono; e però mi richiedi,
spirito eletto, se tu vuo' ch'i' mova
di là per te ancor li mortai piedi.”
145
146
147

“Oh, questa è a udir sì cosa nuova,”
rispuose, “che gran segno è che Dio t'ami;
però col priego tuo talor mi giova.
148
149
150

E cheggioti, per quel che tu più brami,
se mai calchi la terra di Toscana,
che a' miei propinqui tu ben mi rinfami.
151
152
153
154

Tu li vedrai tra quella gente vana
che spera in Talamone, e perderagli
più di speranza ch'a trovar la Diana;
ma più vi perderanno li ammiragli.”
1
2
3

We were upon the summit of the stairs,
  Where for the second time is cut away
  The mountain, which ascending shriveth all.

4
5
6

There in like manner doth a cornice bind
  The hill all round about, as does the first,
  Save that its arc more suddenly is curved.

7
8
9

Shade is there none, nor sculpture that appears;
  So seems the bank, and so the road seems smooth,
  With but the livid colour of the stone.

10
11
12

"If to inquire we wait for people here,"
  The Poet said, "I fear that peradventure
  Too much delay will our election have."

13
14
15

Then steadfast on the sun his eyes he fixed,
  Made his right side the centre of his motion,
  And turned the left part of himself about.

16
17
18

"O thou sweet light! with trust in whom I enter
  Upon this novel journey, do thou lead us,"
  Said he, "as one within here should be led.

19
20
21

Thou warmest the world, thou shinest over it;
  If other reason prompt not otherwise,
  Thy rays should evermore our leaders be!"

22
23
24

As much as here is counted for a mile,
  So much already there had we advanced
  In little time, by dint of ready will;

25
26
27

And tow'rds us there were heard to fly, albeit
  They were not visible, spirits uttering
  Unto Love's table courteous invitations,

28
29
30

The first voice that passed onward in its flight,
  "Vinum non habent," said in accents loud,
  And went reiterating it behind us.

31
32
33

And ere it wholly grew inaudible
  Because of distance, passed another, crying,
  "I am Orestes!" and it also stayed not.

34
35
36

"O," said I, "Father, these, what voices are they?"
  And even as I asked, behold the third,
  Saying: "Love those from whom ye have had evil!"

37
38
39

And the good Master said: "This circle scourges
  The sin of envy, and on that account
  Are drawn from love the lashes of the scourge.

40
41
42

The bridle of another sound shall be;
  I think that thou wilt hear it, as I judge,
  Before thou comest to the Pass of Pardon.

43
44
45

But fix thine eyes athwart the air right steadfast,
  And people thou wilt see before us sitting,
  And each one close against the cliff is seated."

46
47
48

Then wider than at first mine eyes I opened;
  I looked before me, and saw shades with mantles
  Not from the colour of the stone diverse.

49
50
51

And when we were a little farther onward,
  I heard a cry of, "Mary, pray for us!"
  A cry of, "Michael, Peter, and all Saints!"

52
53
54

I do not think there walketh still on earth
  A man so hard, that he would not be pierced
  With pity at what afterward I saw.

55
56
57

For when I had approached so near to them
  That manifest to me their acts became,
  Drained was I at the eyes by heavy grief.

58
59
60

Covered with sackcloth vile they seemed to me,
  And one sustained the other with his shoulder,
  And all of them were by the bank sustained.

61
62
63

Thus do the blind, in want of livelihood,
  Stand at the doors of churches asking alms,
  And one upon another leans his head,

64
65
66

So that in others pity soon may rise,
  Not only at the accent of their words,
  But at their aspect, which no less implores.

67
68
69

And as unto the blind the sun comes not,
  So to the shades, of whom just now I spake,
  Heaven's light will not be bounteous of itself;

70
71
72

For all their lids an iron wire transpierces,
  And sews them up, as to a sparhawk wild
  Is done, because it will not quiet stay.

73
74
75

To me it seemed, in passing, to do outrage,
  Seeing the others without being seen;
  Wherefore I turned me to my counsel sage.

76
77
78

Well knew he what the mute one wished to say,
  And therefore waited not for my demand,
  But said: "Speak, and be brief, and to the point."

79
80
81

I had Virgilius upon that side
  Of the embankment from which one may fall,
  Since by no border 'tis engarlanded;

82
83
84

Upon the other side of me I had
  The shades devout, who through the horrible seam
  Pressed out the tears so that they bathed their cheeks.

85
86
87

To them I turned me, and, "O people, certain,"
  Began I, "of beholding the high light,
  Which your desire has solely in its care,

88
89
90

So may grace speedily dissolve the scum
  Upon your consciences, that limpidly
  Through them descend the river of the mind,

91
92
93

Tell me, for dear 'twill be to me and gracious,
  If any soul among you here is Latian,
  And 'twill perchance be good for him I learn it."

94
95
96

"O brother mine, each one is citizen
  Of one true city; but thy meaning is,
  Who may have lived in Italy a pilgrim."

97
98
99

By way of answer this I seemed to hear
  A little farther on than where I stood,
  Whereat I made myself still nearer heard.

100
101
102

Among the rest I saw a shade that waited
  In aspect, and should any one ask how,
  Its chin it lifted upward like a blind man.

103
104
105

"Spirit," I said, "who stoopest to ascend,
  If thou art he who did reply to me,
  Make thyself known to me by place or name."

106
107
108

"Sienese was I," it replied, "and with
  The others here recleanse my guilty life,
  Weeping to Him to lend himself to us.

109
110
111

Sapient I was not, although I Sapia
  Was called, and I was at another's harm
  More happy far than at my own good fortune.

112
113
114

And that thou mayst not think that I deceive thee,
  Hear if I was as foolish as I tell thee.
  The arc already of my years descending,

115
116
117

My fellow-citizens near unto Colle
  Were joined in battle with their adversaries,
  And I was praying God for what he willed.

118
119
120

Routed were they, and turned into the bitter
  Passes of flight; and I, the chase beholding,
  A joy received unequalled by all others;

121
122
123

So that I lifted upward my bold face
  Crying to God, 'Henceforth I fear thee not,'
  As did the blackbird at the little sunshine.

124
125
126

Peace I desired with God at the extreme
  Of my existence, and as yet would not
  My debt have been by penitence discharged,

127
128
129

Had it not been that in remembrance held me
  Pier Pettignano in his holy prayers,
  Who out of charity was grieved for me.

130
131
132

But who art thou, that into our conditions
  Questioning goest, and hast thine eyes unbound
  As I believe, and breathing dost discourse?"

133
134
135

"Mine eyes," I said, "will yet be here ta'en from me,
  But for short space; for small is the offence
  Committed by their being turned with envy.

136
137
138

Far greater is the fear, wherein suspended
  My soul is, of the torment underneath,
  For even now the load down there weighs on me."

139
140
141

And she to me: "Who led thee, then, among us
  Up here, if to return below thou thinkest?"
  And I: "He who is with me, and speaks not;

142
143
144

And living am I; therefore ask of me,
  Spirit elect, if thou wouldst have me move
  O'er yonder yet my mortal feet for thee."

145
146
147

"O, this is such a novel thing to hear,"
  She answered, "that great sign it is God loves thee;
  Therefore with prayer of thine sometimes assist me.

148
149
150

And I implore, by what thou most desirest,
  If e'er thou treadest the soil of Tuscany,
  Well with my kindred reinstate my fame.

151
152
153
154

Them wilt thou see among that people vain
  Who hope in Talamone, and will lose there
  More hope than in discovering the Diana;
But there still more the admirals will lose."

Robert Hollander (English, 2000-2007)
1 - 3

The whole mountain, by virtue of the way in which it is seven times sliced away, resembles a huge circular stairway cut in stone. The travelers' arrival at the second of these terraces coincides with a canto beginning. This is the only time that such a coincidence occurs in this cantica. It is as though Dante wanted to acknowledge the reader's expectation that the arrival at each terrace might coincide with the beginning of a canto, thus forcing that reader to speculate upon the aesthetic reasons for the poet's not being overly 'neat.'

The verb dismalare is almost certainly a Dantean coinage; we have tried to reflect its unusual character in our translation with an English coinage: 'unsins.'

7 - 7

The verse 'Ombra non lì è né segno che si paia' (There are no shades nor any carvings) has drawn some more complicated discussions than our translation would call for. As does Carmelo Musumarra (“Purgatorio Canto XIII,” in Lectura Dantis Scaligera [Florence: Le Monnier, 1967]), p. 442, we believe that the word ombra here means a 'shade,' and is to be distinguished from segno, which here means 'designs,' i.e., such as the intaglios that were found on the preceding terrace. In other words, the travelers see neither penitents nor carvings as they first examine this new space. Some others are of the opinion that both words refer to the shapes and designs on the wall of the terrace of Pride and not even the first of them to the penitents themselves. However, once the latter become manifest to Dante and Virgil, they are referred to as ombre; in fact this word is used as often in this canto as in any other of the poem (Purg. XXI also shows the word five times). It appears here and then again (at Purg. XIII.47, 68, 83, and 100); it is clear that all four of these later uses refer to 'shades.' It is a curious fact that occurrences of the word ombra are far more numerous in Purgatorio than in both other cantiche together: 47 appearances as compared to 26 in Inferno and 16 in Paradiso.

8 - 9

The barren 'landscape' of the terrace of Envy contrasts with the highly wrought carvings that greet the travelers on that of Pride (Purg. X.28-33), as does the livid color of this place contrast with the gleaming whiteness found below. For all its vanity, Pride is a sin that has its vitality and brightness. Here all is the livid, or gray-blue (as in a bruise) color of stone. The sin of envy, as Dante has already acknowledged (Inf. I.111; and see the note to Inf. I.109-111), was the cause of death's entering the world because of the envy Satan felt for God. This sin, much less present in the modern imagination than it was in the minds of medieval thinkers, was seen as particularly pernicious and widespread. Most of us tend to think of envy as a form of jealousy, motivated by the desire to possess a good that someone else holds. In Dante's time it represented, instead, the negative wish that this person lose his or her goods, his or her apparent advantage. It is thus not a form of avarice, but the expression of resentment against the perceived happiness of others. For a compelling modern example, see Prince Myshkin's words to the agonized and resentful Ippolit in Dostoevsky's The Idiot: 'Forgive us our happiness.' In the next canto, Guido del Duca will give it a similar expression (see Purg. XIV.82-84). For a similar and more compact expression of such thoughts see the gloss of Benvenuto da Imola (comm. to vv. 7-9).

Fernando Salsano presents the salient features of this sin in Dante; see his entry “invidia,” ED III (1971); for a discussion of the sin in English see Cassell, “Envy,” in the Dante Encyclopedia (Lans.2000.1).

10 - 12

Virgil again (as he did in Purg. III.52-56), seeing no one present who may give directions, assumes that the situation is worse than it actually is.

13 - 21

Virgil's prayer to the sun (his only prayer in the poem) has drawn conflicting interpretations over the centuries. Is it, as most early commentators believed, a prayer to the Christian God (possibly for his grace), expressed in a metaphor (and surely the sun is a frequent metaphor for God in medieval culture and in this poem)? Is it directed to disembodied 'speculative reason' as some other early commentators, followed by many moderns, believed? Or is it a prayer to the sun itself, unallegorized, for the light that will reveal the path that must be chosen? This is the position of a number of moderns, Porena (1946, comm. to vv. 16-21) perhaps the most convincing of these, citing Purgatorio I.107-108, where Cato tells the travelers that the sun's light will show them their way. Bosco/Reggio (comm. to verse 16), in a similar anti-allegorical vein, point out that the next lines (vv. 19-21) speak only of the physical properties of the sun's light, as was true in the verses spoken by Cato in the first canto of this cantica. It seems prudent to allow a literal meaning that makes sense to stand alone, without further interpretive scaffolding. Indeed, if, as Virgil says, the sun's light should serve as guide unless a better source be found, he cannot be speaking of any final authority, whether God or rational certainty, neither of which may be superseded by secondary causes. It seems best to take the passage as yet another sign of Virgil's inadequacy in matters of faith and of his rather poor ability to grasp the significance of his immediate surroundings (see the note to Purg. III.52-57). It also seems strange that Virgil turns to the right because the sun is in that direction, when he should have learned in the third canto (Purg. III.100-102) that in purgatory one always moves to the right, since the travelers have been moving in that direction ever since.

25 - 27

Virgil's prayer to the sun is not answered; instead, supernatural voices are heard flying overhead, bearing the identities of the positive exemplary figures of the virtue opposed to envy, charity. This 'banquet' of affection recalls the controlling metaphor of Dante's unfinished treatise, Convivio.

28 - 30

Mary's voice is, we are not surprised to discover, given our experience of the positive exemplars in Purgatorio X.40-45, the first whose words are represented by a flying voice. Dante never makes clear how these sounds are made or by whom, but we may be sure that their sources are not present on this terrace, as we know that Mary is in paradise (while one of the negative exemplars, Cain, in Purg. XIV.133, is probably in hell, since one of its final zones is named for him [see Inf. V.107 and XXXII.58]).

The biblical scene invoked is that of the marriage feast at Cana of Galilee when Mary tells Jesus there is no wine left for the guests ('Vinum non habent') and Jesus shortly thereafter turns water to wine (John 2:1-7). Anthony Cassell (“The Letter of Envy: Purgatorio XIII-XIV,” Stanford Italian Review 4 [1984]), pp. 18-21, brings into his discussion of this canto St. Augustine's comments on John's gospel, with their equivalence of sapience and the wine Christ produced at Cana.

31 - 33

Orestes is known to Dante in two basic contexts, first as the avenger of his family honor as the killer of his adulterous mother, Clytemnestra; second, as the friend of Pylades. When, after these two friends have also killed the adulterous Aegisthus and Orestes is sought for capital punishment, Pylades cries out 'Ego sum Orestes' (I am Orestes), while Orestes, not to be outdone, shouts 'Immo enimvero ego sum, inquam, Orestes' (But I truly am, I say to you, – Cicero, De finibus V.xxii.63 [and see De amicitia VII.24]). According to the commentators, this second voice is either that of Orestes, of Pylades, or somehow relates to both of these. And the history of interpretation is curious. Benvenuto da Imola was the first to mention Pylades, but still holds to the earliest commentators' opinion that Orestes is the exemplary figure. John of Serravalle, however, confesses that Benvenuto, who taught him Dante, found this passage very difficult. The Anonimo Fiorentino is the first to say, flat out, that the voice refers to Pylades. Beginning with Andreoli (comm. to verse 32) nearly every commentator thinks that the reference is to Pylades or to both men. As we have seen, however, if Dante has the specific text of Cicero in mind, the precise words that he cites are those of Pylades. Further, being willing to die for one's friend is probably the highest form of charity Dante could imagine. And since it is ungainly to have to think of the words representing more than one speaker, it seems more than reasonable to believe that Pylades is indicated by these words. See the untroubled and unambiguous judgment of Salvatore Accardo (“Il canto XIII del Purgatorio,” in Purgatorio: letture degli anni 1976-'79, ed. Silvio Zennaro, Casa di Dante in Roma [Roma: Bonacci, 1981]), p. 266, who simply states that this voice speaks for Pylades without even considering the tradition that holds it to be that of Orestes, not to mention the ungainly view that somehow both youths are represented by its words.

34 - 36

The third exemplar is Jesus Christ, calling on his disciples to return love for hatred (see Matthew 5:44, where the words are a bit more expansive than they are here: 'Diligite inimicos vestros, benefacite his qui oderunt vos' [love your enemies, do good to those who hate you]). The first two voices are identical with their sources, the first, Latin word for Latin word; the second, a perfect Italian translation of the Latin original. The last, however, is a looser Italian version of the Vulgate's Latin.

37 - 42

This is the first precise verbal formulation of the mode of purgatorial instruction by examples: first one is spurred to imitate the good, then dissuaded from following the bad, the goad and the bit that we have already encountered and will continue to come to know on each terrace. Having understood how these functions were experienced on the first terrace, Virgil now correctly surmises that, if the travelers have now heard the goad, they will hear the bit before they confront the angel with his blessing and leave this terrace.

43 - 48

The coloration of the garments worn by the penitents in Envy is so close to that of the rocks themselves that it has taken Virgil a long while to make them out; he only now calls them to Dante's attention – and the protagonist has had no sense of their presence at all.

Envy, which is so clearly aware of difference, is cloaked in a uniform that makes distinction of difference nearly impossible. As Dante interacts with these penitents, it is clear that he has a hard time making out the features of any one of them.

49 - 51

The voices we hear now emanate from the penitents on the terrace, not from unknown sources overhead. As Bosco/Reggio suggest, they cry out in only the invocations of litanies because the rest of these would not be appropriate here, since these passages regard earthly ills and temptations, no longer of potential harm to these souls.

52 - 57

Perhaps no passage indicates more clearly the disparity of attitude required of an onlooker in hell and purgatory. There the growth in the protagonist was measured, in part, by his ability not to respond pityingly; here compassion is an essential part of his ceremonial purgation.

58 - 58

Haircloth, according to Francesco da Buti's gloss to this verse, both pricks the skin where it is knotted and leaves it chilled, because it has openings as does a net.

59 - 60

The envious in life were not involved in supporting others; the contrary was their care. Now their communal attitude shows their penance – as does their mendicant pose, apparent in the following simile.

61 - 66

Those who looked upon their fellows in unseeing ways (the sin invidia was etymologized in the Middle Ages as in + videre, i.e., more usually as 'not seeing,' but sometimes also understood as 'seeing against,' another being [see Dino Bigongiari (Essays on Dante and Medieval Culture, ed. Henry Paolucci [New York: The Bagehot Council, 2000 (1964)], pp. 90-91)]), they now hope for the opposite, to be looked upon with pity. Like Satan, the avatar of Envy, the envious soul is proud as well. And the proud cannot bear pity. These penitents show compassionate affection for one another as part of their purgation of Envy. The language of the simile reminds the reader of special occasions on which the Church offered indulgences to its flock on a given feast day or similar occasion; such 'pardons' provided targets of opportunity to mendicants outside churches or other holy places. Dante's language also allows us to see the theatricality implicit in the act of begging; we are now, however, asked to believe in the wholehearted sincerity of these posthumous penitents.

67 - 72

The aesthetic abnegation of this terrace is eased somewhat by these two back-to-back similes. Fastening our attention on the closed eyes of the envious, Dante compares them to the sewn-up eyes of sparrowhawks, captured in their maturity and temporarily blinded in this manner so that they remain docile in the presence of their handlers. The penitents' eyes are sewn, not with the thread used on hawks and falcons, but with iron wire.

73 - 78

Dante, feeling sheepish about his position of privileged and unnoticed onlooker, is 'read' by Virgil as he and Dante have been reading the feelings of the equally mute penitents. Virgil gives Dante permission to address them – and indeed withdraws from colloquy himself for the rest of this and nearly all the next canto (his next words will be heard only at Purg. XIV.143).

79 - 81

One might observe that this and other remarks concerning the topography of this terrace are not really specific to it, but could have been made earlier (i.e., on the terrace of Pride). It is clear that Dante was pressed for poetic space on that terrace, so artistically and personally challenging for him. Here there is more of it to fill.

85 - 93

The protagonist's labored and heavily rhetoricized captatio (including periphrastic references to the twin rivers of purgatory, Lethe and Eunoe) is perhaps meant to contrast with Sapia's far more immediate and direct response (vv. 94-96). He wants to find an Italian for his cast of characters and promises, in return, a prayer to speed the process of purgation. How ironically we are meant to take this speech is not clear, but Bosco/Reggio (comm to vv. 73-93) are derisive about Dante's 'overblown rhetoric' here.

94 - 96

The response by the shade who, we will soon discover, is Sapia, is a polite but incisive correction of the question she answers. (1) Dante had set the penitent souls apart from others, even from himself; Sapia joins them all in fellowship with a single word, frate. (2) Dante had spoken of earthly territories; Sapia makes all those beloved of God citizens of His city alone. (3) Dante had spoken of Italianness as a present condition; Sapia insists that geographical/political identities on earth were only fleeting and are now irrelevant.

102 - 102

This physical gesture is familiar to anyone who has spoken with people who are blind, since they, guided by their ears, position their faces squarely in line with the source of the voice of their interlocutor.

105 - 108

The protagonist's question receives its first answer, as nearly anonymous as it can be, with the exception of the identification of the speaker's homeland, and thus responding to only one part of the protagonist's request ('make yourself known by your city or your name'). Knowing only this much, our memories return to the last shade and, indeed, the last Sienese we encountered, Provenzan Salvani, his story recounted by Oderisi in Purgatorio XI.120-138. There we heard about his triumph in humility; here we will become aware, between the lines, of the horror of his death.

The word rimendo (verse 107), meaning 'mending,' 'stitching back together,' is Petrocchi's replacement for the former reading, rimondo, 'cleansing,' 'purifying.' There are those who continue to take issue with Petrocchi's emendation, e.g., William Stephany (“Purgatorio XIII,” Lectura Dantis [virginiana] 9 [1991]), pp. 76-77.

109 - 111

Punning on her name, she now identifies herself as Sapia if not savia (sapient) and speaks of her envious nature (see the note to vv. 8-9).

For the history of the gradually more certain identification of Sapia, see Giorgio Varanini, “Sapia” (ED.1976.5), p. 26. Most now accept the work of nineteenth-century students of the problem, which demonstrated that she, born ca. 1210, was a noblewoman of Siena, an aunt of Provenzan Salvani (Purg. XI.121-142), and wife of one Ghinibaldo Saracini. After the battle of Colle Val d'Elsa in 1269 and before her death (sometime between 1275 and 1289) she gave much of her wealth to a hospital (S. Maria dei Pellegrini) that she and her husband (who had died before the great battle) had founded in 1265 in Siena.

112 - 123

Sapia's narrative falls into two parts, this first containing the evidence of her former sinfulness, exemplified most savagely in her admission of her joy in witnessing the death of her own people, most probably Provenzan Salvani, her nephew.

As for Provenzan (a rough Sienese equivalent of the Florentine Farinata [Inf. X]), the man who led the Sienese Ghibellines in their triumph over the Guelphs of Florence at Montaperti in 1260 and the leading Ghibelline soldier of his city, he was captured in the battle of Colle Val d'Elsa, some ten miles northwest of Siena, and decapitated. According to Giovanni Villani (Cronica VII.31), his head, at the end of a pike, was then marched around the battlefield by his triumphant French and Florentine Guelph enemies. Since Sapia was also a Ghibelline it is difficult or impossible to know why she was so pleased by his death (most assume that Provenzan is among the 'townsmen' whose death brought her so much pleasure). Since her sin was envy, it seems clear that Dante wants us to understand that she resented his and/or other townsmen's position and fame, that her involvement was personal, not political.

While some are of the opinion that Dante's inclusion of these two great Ghibelline figures in purgatory shows an attempt at impartiality, it is probably better to avoid that issue, since by this time in the composition of the poem Dante's overall political sympathies were essentially Ghibelline, or at least imperial and thus in line with Ghibelline ideals, whatever he may have thought of particular Ghibelline individuals.

Her reference to her age (verse 114) merely places that as post-thirty-five (past the mezzo del cammin di sua vita) and she may have been nearly sixty when she witnessed the battle (from her dead husband's castle near Colle?). Loosely, the phrase means 'old enough to have known better.'

Benvenuto (comm. to vv. 112-114) paraphrases her prideful address to God as follows: 'whatever God may wish for me henceforth, and even if He do to me his worst, I shall evermore live joyful and die happy.' She was like, she now considers, the blackbird in winter who, at a premature spring-like day, thinks the need for help is done. It is not.

124 - 129

Before her death, Sapia's change of heart brought her back to the love of God and her neighbor. As for Pier Pettinaio, whose second name is not a family name but an epithet denoting his profession, i.e., he sold combs to ladies (pettine means 'comb'), it was his prayerful intervention after her death that reduced her time in ante-purgatory. Since she has been dead between twenty-five and eleven years, and since we would assume she would have spent at least a little time on the terrace of Pride, she has surely moved quickly up the mountain, sped by Pier's prayers. A 'native of Campi in the Chianti district NE. of Siena, he was a hermit of the Franciscan Order, and dwelt in Siena, where he was renowned for his piety and miracles. Ubertino da Casale (Par. XII.124) in the prologue to his Arbor Vitae Crucifixae Jesu mentions that he had received spiritual instruction from him. Pier died on Dec. 5, 1289, and was buried at Siena, where he was long venerated as a saint, in a handsome tomb erected at the public expense' (Toynbee, “Pettinagno, Pier” [Concise Dante Dictionary]).

130 - 132

Sapia now, having satisfied Dante's question in both its points, asks after his identity. Having heard him breathe, she divines that he is present in the flesh (but has no sense of Virgil's presence as his guide, thus motivating the exchange that follows at vv. 139-142).

133 - 138

Benvenuto (comm. to vv. 136-138) paraphrases Dante's response as follows: 'And here take note that our poet from his youth was prideful by reason of his nobility, his knowledge, and his good standing; yet surely he bore the burden for this in his life, the burden I mean of exile, poverty, and the envy of others. As for myself I dare say the same with a good conscience, that is, I have been more prideful than I have been envious; yet I too have carried my stone in this world.' Dante's admission of his culpability in Pride is a brilliant stroke, taking that stick out of his reader's hand and also, in some strange way, convincing us that this prideful poet has become, under the burden of this poem, humble – or something like that. It also serves to free him from the curse of every artist (as Oderisi knew): the emulous consideration of his or her competitors, from which he pronounces himself, if not totally free, only a little bit guilty. However, from what we know of Dante's reaction to some of his competitors, e.g., to take only two examples, Guittone d'Arezzo (see the note to Purg. XXVI.124-126) and Albertino Mussato (see the notes to Purg. IX.29-30 and Par. XXV.7-9), we can sense that, like most competitive people, he was intensely jealous of the success of his rivals. To his credit, he does not give himself a free pass with respect to invidia; nonetheless, he is probably guilty at least of gilding the lily.

141 - 141

Dante's locution is noteworthy in that it recapitulates exactly what Virgil had said describing Brutus in Inferno XXXIV.66: 'e non fa motto.' Perhaps one should not make too much of this, since other versions of the phrase occur variously through the poem (Inf. IX.101; Inf. XIX.48; Inf. XXXIII.48; Purg. II.25; Purg. V.7; Purg. VII.78).

143 - 144

The protagonist fulfills the terms of the condition he had offered at verse 93: if an Italian will come forward, he will pray for that soul.

145 - 150

Sapia's acceptance of Dante's offer of prayer, making him her second Pier Pettinaio, is accepted with a grace that is also morally telling: she may have envied Provenzan his prowess and his fame, but not Dante, who has won the greatest victory of anyone, coming to the afterworld in the flesh. She responds to his charity for her with charity.

151 - 154

These four lines produce perhaps the most debated passage in this canto. Before approaching that controversy, it may be helpful to understand some of the rather recondite references in play here. In 1303 Siena purchased the seaport called Talamone, on the Mediterranean coast about fifteen miles away, in order to have better access to shipping routes; the problem was that the dredging necessary to keep the waters between Siena and the sea negotiable was an overwhelming problem. Consequently, the project had to be abandoned soon after the funds had been appropriated to support it. Similarly, another civic works project involved a search for an underground river (named Diana because the statue of the goddess had stood in the market square of the city); it too was a failure. The final frecciata, or gibe, of Sapia is to suggest that the biggest losers in the scheme to acquire a harbor on the sea will be the admirals. This word has been greatly debated: does Sapia refer to actual admirals? to investors in the scheme? to those who sold participation in the enterprise? It seems clear that Dante is making Sapia joke for him (Siena jokes being for Florentines what Harvard jokes are for Yales). This writer's view is that the playfully nasty phrase is precisely similar to one still in use today: 'the Swiss navy.' The phrase requires that we recognize that the Swiss cannot have a navy because they do not have an ocean to put a navy on – exactly the same condition in which we find the Sienese. For a similar appreciation see Porena's lengthy discussion (1946) of these verses.

Sapia, as we have seen, is a moving figure, convincingly grappling with her former sin and seemingly in control of it. It seems clear that every verse she speaks in this canto is stamped by that change in her character, including her shrewd understanding of exactly what she was like within herself, precisely what she sounded like to others. It is a remarkable exercise in self-awareness. On the other hand, some argue that these final lines show that she is still very much in the grip of her old failing. Here, for example, is Singleton's analysis (comm. to verse 154): 'Thus, by this jibe at her fellow-townsmen, it is clear that Sapia can still be malicious and still has time to serve on this terrace, purging away such feelings.' This is a fairly typical reaction. It should be observed that, if these last remarks present a soul still sinful, her sin is not envy. She may be insensitive, perhaps, but not envious. First of all, she is speaking only of a few Sienese here, the would-be big shots in whose company Dante may find her decent relatives. Second, her remarks are not intended to affect these thieves and fools, but only (perhaps) to aid her relatives in fending off their wiles – if they are intended to have any practical worldly effect at all. Both Cassell (“The Letter of Envy: Purgatorio XIII-XIV,” Stanford Italian Review 4 [1984]), p. 9n., and Stephany (“Purgatorio XIII,” Lectura Dantis [virginiana] 9 [1991]), pp. 83-86, support the view of Musumarra (“Purgatorio Canto XIII,” in Lectura Dantis Scaligera [Florence: Le Monnier, 1967]), pp. 461-67, that Sapia's words are not to be read as evidence of her slipping back into the sin of Envy but rather as reflecting her desire to help her familiars and fellow citizens escape from the devastations that will befall them because of their misguided civic pride. In such readings, Sapia's last moment in the poem (and she has been given more of its space, forty-nine verses [106-154], than anyone encountered on the mountain except for Oderisi [Purg. XI.79-142 – much of whose speech is devoted to the discussion of others] after the extended meeting with Sordello [Purg. VI-VIII]) is not offered up as a kind of recantation. Rather, this sharp-tongued, witty, and self-understanding woman ends her words with charity for all who have chosen the true way, along with acerbic wit for those who are governed by foolishness and pride. If that sounds like a description of the poet who created her, so be it.