Purgatorio: Canto 4

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2
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Quando per dilettanze o ver per doglie,
che alcuna virtù nostra comprenda,
l'anima bene ad essa si raccoglie,
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par ch'a nulla potenza più intenda;
e questo è contra quello error che crede
ch'un'anima sovr' altra in noi s'accenda.
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E però, quando s'ode cosa o vede
che tegna forte a sé l'anima volta,
vassene 'l tempo e l'uom non se n'avvede;
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ch'altra potenza è quella che l'ascolta,
e altra è quella c'ha l'anima intera:
questa è quasi legata e quella è sciolta.
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Di ciò ebb' io esperïenza vera,
udendo quello spirto e ammirando;
ché ben cinquanta gradi salito era
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lo sole, e io non m'era accorto, quando
venimmo ove quell' anime ad una
gridaro a noi: “Qui è vostro dimando.”
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Maggiore aperta molte volte impruna
con una forcatella di sue spine
l'uom de la villa quando l'uva imbruna,
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che non era la calla onde salìne
lo duca mio, e io appresso, soli,
come da noi la schiera si partìne.
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Vassi in Sanleo e discendesi in Noli,
montasi su in Bismantova e' n Cacume
con esso i piè; ma qui convien ch'om voli;
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dico con l'ale snelle e con le piume
del gran disio, di retro a quel condotto
che speranza mi dava e facea lume.
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Noi salavam per entro 'l sasso rotto,
e d'ogne lato ne stringea lo stremo,
e piedi e man volea il suol di sotto.
34
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Poi che noi fummo in su l'orlo suppremo
de l'alta ripa, a la scoperta piaggia,
“Maestro mio,” diss' io, “che via faremo?”
37
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Ed elli a me: “Nessun tuo passo caggia;
pur su al monte dietro a me acquista,
fin che n'appaia alcuna scorta saggia.”
40
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Lo sommo er' alto che vincea la vista,
e la costa superba più assai
che da mezzo quadrante a centro lista.
43
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Io era lasso, quando cominciai:
“O dolce padre, volgiti, e rimira
com' io rimango sol, se non restai.”
46
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48

“Figliuol mio,” disse, “infin quivi ti tira,”
additandomi un balzo poco in sùe
che da quel lato il poggio tutto gira.
49
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Sì mi spronaron le parole sue,
ch'i' mi sforzai carpando appresso lui,
tanto che 'l cinghio sotto i piè mi fue.
52
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A seder ci ponemmo ivi ambedui
vòlti a levante ond' eravam saliti,
che suole a riguardar giovare altrui.
55
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Li occhi prima drizzai ai bassi liti;
poscia li alzai al sole, e ammirava
che da sinistra n'eravam feriti.
58
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60

Ben s'avvide il poeta ch'ïo stava
stupido tutto al carro de la luce,
ove tra noi e Aquilone intrava.
61
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Ond' elli a me: “Se Castore e Poluce
fossero in compagnia di quello specchio
che sù e giù del suo lume conduce
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tu vedresti il Zodïaco rubecchio
ancora a l'Orse più stretto rotare,
se non uscisse fuor del cammin vecchio.
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Come ciò sia, se 'l vuoi poter pensare,
dentro raccolto, imagina Sïòn
con questo monte in su la terra stare
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sì, ch'amendue hanno un solo orizzòn
e diversi emisperi; onde la strada
che mal non seppe carreggiar Fetòn,
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vedrai come a costui convien che vada
da l'un, quando a colui da l'altro fianco,
se lo 'ntelletto tuo ben chiaro bada.”
76
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“Certo, maestro mio,” diss' io, “unquanco
non vid' io chiaro sì com' io discerno
là dove mio ingegno parea manco,
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che 'l mezzo cerchio del moto superno,
che si chiama Equatore in alcun' arte,
e che sempre riman tra 'l sole e 'l verno,
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per la ragion che di', quinci si parte
verso settentrïon, quanto li Ebrei
vedevan lui verso la calda parte.
85
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Ma se a te piace, volontier saprei
quanto avemo ad andar; ché 'l poggio sale
più che salir non posson li occhi miei.”
88
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Ed elli a me: “Questa montagna è tale,
che sempre al cominciar di sotto è grave;
e quant' om più va sù, e men fa male.
91
92
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Però, quand' ella ti parrà soave
tanto, che sù andar ti fia leggero
com' a seconda giù andar per nave,
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allor sarai al fin d'esto sentiero;
quivi di riposar l'affanno aspetta.
Più non rispondo, e questo so per vero.”
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E com' elli ebbe sua parola detta,
una voce di presso sonò: “Forse
che di sedere in pria avrai distretta!”
100
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Al suon di lei ciascun di noi si torse,
e vedemmo a mancina un gran petrone,
del qual né io né ei prima s'accorse.
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Là ci traemmo; e ivi eran persone
che si stavano a l'ombra dietro al sasso
come l'uom per negghienza a star si pone.
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E un di lor, che mi sembiava lasso,
sedeva e abbracciava le ginocchia,
tenendo 'l viso giù tra esse basso.
109
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“O dolce segnor mio,” diss' io, “adocchia
colui che mostra sé più negligente
che se pigrizia fosse sua serocchia.”
112
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Allor si volse a noi e puose mente,
movendo 'l viso pur su per la coscia,
e disse: “Or va tu sù, che se' valente!”
115
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Conobbi allor chi era, e quella angoscia
che m'avacciava un poco ancor la lena,
non m'impedì l'andare a lui; e poscia
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ch'a lui fu' giunto, alzò la testa a pena,
dicendo: “Hai ben veduto come 'l sole
da l'omero sinistro il carro mena?”
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123

Li atti suoi pigri e le corte parole
mosser le labbra mie un poco a riso;
poi cominciai: “Belacqua, a me non dole
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di te omai; ma dimmi: perché assiso
quiritto se'? attendi tu iscorta,
o pur lo modo usato t'ha' ripriso?”
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Ed elli: “O frate, andar in sù che porta?
ché non mi lascerebbe ire a' martìri
l'angel di Dio che siede in su la porta.
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Prima convien che tanto il ciel m'aggiri
di fuor da essa, quanto fece in vita,
per ch'io 'ndugiai al fine i buon sospiri,
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se orazïone in prima non m'aita
che surga sù di cuor che in grazia viva;
l'altra che val, che 'n ciel non è udita?”
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E già il poeta innanzi mi saliva,
e dicea: “Vienne omai; vedi ch'è tocco
meridïan dal sole, e a la riva
cuopre la notte già col piè Morrocco.”
1
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Whenever by delight or else by pain,
  That seizes any faculty of ours,
  Wholly to that the soul collects itself,

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It seemeth that no other power it heeds;
  And this against that error is which thinks
  One soul above another kindles in us.

7
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And hence, whenever aught is heard or seen
  Which keeps the soul intently bent upon it,
  Time passes on, and we perceive it not,

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Because one faculty is that which listens,
  And other that which the soul keeps entire;
  This is as if in bonds, and that is free.

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Of this I had experience positive
  In hearing and in gazing at that spirit;
  For fifty full degrees uprisen was

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The sun, and I had not perceived it, when
  We came to where those souls with one accord
  Cried out unto us: "Here is what you ask."

19
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A greater opening ofttimes hedges up
  With but a little forkful of his thorns
  The villager, what time the grape imbrowns,

22
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Than was the passage-way through which ascended
  Only my Leader and myself behind him,
  After that company departed from us.

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One climbs Sanleo and descends in Noli,
  And mounts the summit of Bismantova,
  With feet alone; but here one needs must fly;

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With the swift pinions and the plumes I say
  Of great desire, conducted after him
  Who gave me hope, and made a light for me.

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We mounted upward through the rifted rock,
  And on each side the border pressed upon us,
  And feet and hands the ground beneath required.

34
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When we were come upon the upper rim
  Of the high bank, out on the open slope,
  "My Master," said I, "what way shall we take?"

37
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And he to me: "No step of thine descend;
  Still up the mount behind me win thy way,
  Till some sage escort shall appear to us."

40
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The summit was so high it vanquished sight,
  And the hillside precipitous far more
  Than line from middle quadrant to the centre.

43
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Spent with fatigue was I, when I began:
  "O my sweet Father! turn thee and behold
  How I remain alone, unless thou stay!"

46
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"O son," he said, "up yonder drag thyself,"
  Pointing me to a terrace somewhat higher,
  Which on that side encircles all the hill.

49
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These words of his so spurred me on, that I
  Strained every nerve, behind him scrambling up,
  Until the circle was beneath my feet.

52
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Thereon ourselves we seated both of us
  Turned to the East, from which we had ascended,
  For all men are delighted to look back.

55
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To the low shores mine eyes I first directed,
  Then to the sun uplifted them, and wondered
  That on the left hand we were smitten by it.

58
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The Poet well perceived that I was wholly
  Bewildered at the chariot of the light,
  Where 'twixt us and the Aquilon it entered.

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Whereon he said to me: "If Castor and Pollux
  Were in the company of yonder mirror,
  That up and down conducteth with its light,

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Thou wouldst behold the zodiac's jagged wheel
  Revolving still more near unto the Bears,
  Unless it swerved aside from its old track.

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How that may be wouldst thou have power to think,
  Collected in thyself, imagine Zion
  Together with this mount on earth to stand,

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So that they both one sole horizon have,
  And hemispheres diverse; whereby the road
  Which Phaeton, alas! knew not to drive,

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Thou'lt see how of necessity must pass
  This on one side, when that upon the other,
  If thine intelligence right clearly heed."

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"Truly, my Master," said I, "never yet
  Saw I so clearly as I now discern,
  There where my wit appeared incompetent,

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That the mid-circle of supernal motion,
  Which in some art is the Equator called,
  And aye remains between the Sun and Winter,

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For reason which thou sayest, departeth hence
  Tow'rds the Septentrion, what time the Hebrews
  Beheld it tow'rds the region of the heat.

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But, if it pleaseth thee, I fain would learn
  How far we have to go; for the hill rises
  Higher than eyes of mine have power to rise."

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And he to me: "This mount is such, that ever
  At the beginning down below 'tis tiresome,
  And aye the more one climbs, the less it hurts.

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Therefore, when it shall seem so pleasant to thee,
  That going up shall be to thee as easy
  As going down the current in a boat,

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Then at this pathway's ending thou wilt be;
  There to repose thy panting breath expect;
  No more I answer; and this I know for true."

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And as he finished uttering these words,
  A voice close by us sounded: "Peradventure
  Thou wilt have need of sitting down ere that."

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At sound thereof each one of us turned round,
  And saw upon the left hand a great rock,
  Which neither I nor he before had noticed.

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Thither we drew; and there were persons there
  Who in the shadow stood behind the rock,
  As one through indolence is wont to stand.

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And one of them, who seemed to me fatigued,
  Was sitting down, and both his knees embraced,
  Holding his face low down between them bowed.

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"O my sweet Lord," I said, "do turn thine eye
  On him who shows himself more negligent
  Then even Sloth herself his sister were."

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Then he turned round to us, and he gave heed,
  Just lifting up his eyes above his thigh,
  And said: "Now go thou up, for thou art valiant."

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Then knew I who he was; and the distress,
  That still a little did my breathing quicken,
  My going to him hindered not; and after

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I came to him he hardly raised his head,
  Saying: "Hast thou seen clearly how the sun
  O'er thy left shoulder drives his chariot?"

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His sluggish attitude and his curt words
  A little unto laughter moved my lips;
  Then I began: "Belacqua, I grieve not

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For thee henceforth; but tell me, wherefore seated
  In this place art thou? Waitest thou an escort?
  Or has thy usual habit seized upon thee?"

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And he: "O brother, what's the use of climbing?
  Since to my torment would not let me go
  The Angel of God, who sitteth at the gate.

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First heaven must needs so long revolve me round
  Outside thereof, as in my life it did,
  Since the good sighs I to the end postponed,

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Unless, e'er that, some prayer may bring me aid
  Which rises from a heart that lives in grace;
  What profit others that in heaven are heard not?"

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Meanwhile the Poet was before me mounting,
  And saying: "Come now; see the sun has touched
  Meridian, and from the shore the night
Covers already with her foot Morocco."

Robert Hollander (English, 2000-2007)
1 - 15

This complex opening passage has its roots in classical and Scholastic discussions of the nature of the human soul. Commentators indicate passages known to Dante in Plato (Timaeus, putting forth a belief that there are three independent souls in man, a belief found also, in slightly different form, in the Manichees, and then repeated in Averroës), in Aristotle (De anima, arguing against Plato for a single soul, not a plurality of them), Albertus Magnus (De spiritu et respiratione), and Aquinas (Summa theologica, Summa contra Gentiles, and commentary on De anima) as these are reflected in Dante's Vita nuova (VN II.4-5 – see De Robertis, ed., Vita nuova [Milan: Ricciardi, 1980], pp. 31-32), De vulgari eloquentia (II.ii.6) and Convivio (III.ii.11-16). For some of these texts see Singleton's commentary (comm. to vv. 1-12).

Following Aristotle and Aquinas, Dante believed that there was but a single soul in man, divided first into three faculties or powers (with this meaning, Dante uses, synonymously, the words virtù or potenze – he uses both of them in this passage): the vegetative (governing physical growth), the sensitive (governing the feelings), and the rational or intellective (governing thought). These are presented by Dante (Conv. III.ii.11) as 'vivere, sentire e ragionare' (the force of life, of the senses, of the reason). Considering what happened within himself so that, absorbed by the words of Manfred for over three hours (50 degrees of the sun's ascent), he could so lose track of time, Dante uses the evidence of his senses to argue, as Aquinas had done before him, that the very fact that parts of the soul cease their function when one of them is fully enjoined proves that we have not a plurality of souls, for these would simply continue to function independently at all times. That is, had Dante's rational soul functioned unimpaired, he would have noted the passage of time even as he listened to Manfred.

The three faculties are all further divided into subsets, the sensitive soul into two, one of these including the five senses, and it is to this set (the senses of hearing and of sight) that Dante adverts here. See the commentary of Daniello (comm. to vv. 5-6) to this passage and the discussion of virtù by Philippe Delhaye and Giorgio Stabile (ED.1976.5), pp. 1050-59, esp. pp. 1053-55.

Singleton (comm. to verse 10) suggests that the apparently forced diction, regarding an ability to hear the passage of time, in fact refers to the sound of bells, the primary means of telling time in the Middle Ages. Tony Cuzzilla (“The Perception of Time in the Commedia: Purg. IV.10-12,” Electronic Bulletin of the Dante Society of America [May 2002]) points out that a listener's sense of time, located in the sensitive soul, is impeded when the rational soul is entirely devoted to what it is seeing (or, as in this case, hearing), thus disregarding the passage of time.

10 - 12

As Cuzzilla (“The Perception of Time in the Commedia: Purg. IV.10-12,” Electronic Bulletin of the Dante Society of America [May 2002]) has pointed out, the passage would be less difficult to understand had Petrocchi accepted the variant, found in the Urbinate Latino 366, 'questa' (for 'quella') in verse 10. Cuzzilla also muses on the strange fact that Sanguineti, who bases his edition primarily on that MS, does not include this reading in it.

16 - 18

This 'flock of sheep' was made aware of Dante's desire to move upward in the last canto (Purg. III.99). From behind the travelers they call out their courteous instruction, their 'guidance' now at an end.

19 - 24

A pseudosimile only because its formal grammatical relations (e.g., 'just as... so') are not expressed, these verses return to the countryside and the 'humble style' that Dante has deployed in many of his similes in Inferno and that typified the sole simile found in the preceding canto (Purg. III.79-87). The farmer fixes his hedge, by filling holes in it with thorns, when the grapes come ripe so as to protect his vineyard from thieves. Steiner (comm. to vv. 19-21) was perhaps the first commentator to note the reference to Matthew 7:14: 'Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leads to life, and there are few that find it.'

25 - 30

Here is another pseudosimile, even less grammatically ordered than the last, in which steep paths to towns or to mountain peaks in north and central Italy are compared to this path, which is even steeper. Dante's desire to rise is a necessary spur to such strenuous effort, but it is Virgil's guidance that lights his way and lends him hope.

37 - 39

Virgil, unacquainted with this place, gives sound provisional advice: it is best to keep moving up until some indication make the way plain.

41 - 42

Beginning with Benvenuto da Imola (comm. to vv. 40-42) there has been a small battle over the reference here. Is it to geometry, the line drawn from the apex of the triangle formed by bisecting the right angle of a quadrant of a circle? Or is it (as Benvenuto strongly believed) to the astronomical instrument, the quadrant, which is so called because it replicates precisely a quadrant of a circle? In either case the angle of ascent is even greater than 45o.

50 - 50

It is no wonder, given the steepness of the slope, that Dante completes this part of the ascent by crawling on his hands and knees (carpando). (For previous uses of the word carpone see Inf. XXV.141; Inf. XXIX.68.)

52 - 54

This brief respite may, at least intrinsically, bring to mind the antithetic figure of Ulysses. Where he left the east behind him (Inf. XXVI.124) and always ventured forward, Dante now looks back to the east, whence the sun had risen. The eastern sky, locus of the sunrise, has a long tradition in Christianity of representing Jesus, the 'light of the world' (John 8:12; 9:5).

Christopher Kleinhenz (“Canto IV,” in Dante's “Divine Comedy”: Introductory Readings II: “Purgatorio,” ed. Tibor Wlassics [Charlottesville: Lectura Dantis, University of Virginia, 1993]) pp. 60-61, would seem to suggest that Virgil here is looking back at the path that has brought them this far, while Dante is looking at the Christ-signifying sun, but there seems to be no evidence in the text to support this otherwise promising hypothesis.

55 - 57

Pietro di Dante (Pietro1, comm. to vv. 55-60) was the first to cite, as a source for this detail, a passage in Lucan (Phars. III.247-248), where Arabs, coming south of the equator, marveled at the fact that the shadows of trees fell to their right, not to their left. Trucchi (comm. to these verses) reminds the reader that, here in purgatory, levante, the place where the sun rises, is not east but west – from our perspective in the northern hemisphere.

Dante offers a more extended and entirely similar discussion of these matters in Convivio III.v.13-17.

58 - 60

Aquilone (line 60 in the Italian) is the north wind. The tercet repeats the protagonist's amazement upon seeing the morning sun to his left. The reader needs to understand that the poet imagines an 'ideal' left and right in this and other particulars. That is, two people facing one another, in either hemisphere, would each claim that the sun is to the other hand. In the astronomical givens of the poem, above the Tropic of Cancer the sun is to the south of the imagined observer, to his or her right; 'below' the Tropic of Capricorn (this is a northernizer's view, it should be noted) it is to the north, or left. Substituting 'north' for 'left' and 'south' for 'right,' the reader may find this passage more readily understandable.

61 - 66

Virgil's explanation of the position of the sun in the morning sky may be paraphrased as follows: If the sun (the mirror), which moves from one side of the equator to the other, were in the constellation Gemini (Castor and Pollux, the celestial twins) and not Aries (where it is now – see Inf. I.37-40), Dante would see the sun's path (the red part of the zodiac) as close to the Bears (Ursa Major and Ursa Minor) and thus as far north as it ever gets (at the summer solstice, 21 June). It would do this, Virgil adds, in an apparently gratuitous detail (but see the next passage), unless it were to veer from its ordained path (which of course it will not in any normal expectation).

'Zodiac, a belt of the heavens eighteen degrees in breadth, extending nine degrees on either side of the Ecliptic, within which, according to the Ptolemaic system, the Moon, Mercury, Venus, the Sun, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn perform their annual revolutions. It is divided into twelve equal parts of thirty degrees, called signs, which are named from the constellations lying within them' (Toynbee, “zodiaco” [Concise Dante Dictionary]).

67 - 75

Having made this much clear, Virgil goes on to offer Dante a 'thought experiment' that in fact exactly replicates what was, in Dante's time, considered geographical actuality. For Dante, Jerusalem, upon the hill Zion, and the mount of purgatory are precisely antipodal and share a common horizon (the equator). From this 'experiment' it quickly becomes clear that the path of the sun (the 'highway' that Phaeton flew off when he lost control of the chariot of the sun – see the note to Inf. XVII.106-108) must pass beneath (south) of Jerusalem and (in once more northcentric thinking), above (north) of the mount of purgatory. And thus we understand why Dante was surprised at the sun's leftness and why he should not have been.

The reference to Phaeton, now making clear the reason for the inclusion of reference to the possibility of the sun's not keeping its ordained path, is part of a 'Phaeton program' in the poem (see Kevin Brownlee, “Phaeton's Fall and Dante's Ascent,” Dante Studies 102 [1984], pp. 135-44). As Brownlee points out, Phaeton's presumptuous and failed heavenly voyage is set against Dante's ordained and successful voyage to the otherworld. That is clearly what the poet would have us believe. However, just as in this passage, where reference to the myth seems otiose, the presence of such a tale has the effect of reminding the reader that Dante is aware of the Phaeton in himself; that this poem is ever in need of management lest it crash from its own presumption. See, with regard to Ulysses, strong statements of a similar view in Teodolinda Barolini (The Undivine “Comedy”: Detheologizing Dante [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992]), passim. Some support for such a view may be found in the reference to the astrological sign that marked Dante's birth, Gemini, at the beginning of this convoluted passage (Purg. IV.61).

76 - 82

The protagonist's rephrasing of what he has learned from Virgil is, one must admit, easier to grasp quickly than the master's presentation of it.

83 - 84

The Hebrews used to see it from Jerusalem but do so no longer because of their diaspora.

85 - 87

Appeased, the student has learned his lesson but now would like to know how much longer he must continue this exhausting journey. It is interesting that, in a canto in which the primary new character is the extremely lazy Belacqua, the protagonist is so strongly presented as wanting to rest – perhaps more so than in any other part of the poem (but see Inf. XXIV.43-45).

88 - 94

Even Virgil's answer seems tailored to the concerns of a man who would rather quit than fight; the final ascent will feel like floating downstream.

98 - 99

The voice that breaks into what has by now become, for most readers, a rather labored and even fussily academic discussion will turn out to be that of Belacqua. Named only at verse 123, he was a 'Florentine, contemporary of Dante, said by the old commentators to have been a musical instrument-maker; modern research has suggested his identification with one Duccio di Bonavia' (Toynbee, “Belacqua” [Concise Dante Dictionary]). According to Santorre Debenedetti (“Documenti su Belacqua,” Bulletino della Società Dantesca Italiana 13 [1906], pp. 222-33), Belacqua was dead before March 1302 but still alive in 1299. In other words, like Casella, he would seem to have been, in Dante's mind, a recent arrival.

His ironic and witty response to the conversation he has overheard immediately wins the reader's affection. On the other hand, for a denial that this speech of Belacqua's is in fact ironic, see Petrocchi (Itinerari danteschi, Premessa a cura di C. Ossola [Milan: Franco Angeli, 1994 (Bari: Laterza, 1969)], pp. 270-71.) For a moment we feel drawn out of the moralizing concerns and serious tones of the two poets. Raffaele Manica (“Belacqua,” in Studi di letteratura, critica e linguistica offerti a Riccardo Scrivano [Rome: Bulzoni, 2000]), p. 35, calls attention to the great importance of Dante's Belacqua to Samuel Beckett's fiction. According to him, Belacqua becomes a contemporary myth of irony rather than a depiction of the loss of will; however, he may not sense how much of the Beckettian view of Belacqua is already present in Dante. Much of Beckett's work is a kind of rewriting of the Dantean universe from the point of view of Belacqua alone, a universe of waiting, boredom, question, and frustration, as in the early short story 'Dante and the Lobster' and certainly including the rock-snuggled hoboes of Waiting for Godot. For at least a moment in this extraordinary exchange, Dante's Belacqua seems to control the situation. Of course he will have to be swept aside in the name of progress toward a Christian goal. But it is astounding (and heartwarming) to see how greatly Dante empathized with this character we like to imagine as being so antipathetic to him.

Belacqua's first word, 'perhaps,' immediately reveals his character as being indecisive, at least where goals or noble purposes are concerned; what follows shows his wit, deftly puncturing the balloon of Dantean eagerness (for he is a man who longs to do some serious sitting – see verse Purgatorio IV.52, where he accomplishes that goal). As we shall see, Dante will fight back, and we will then have a scene that is reminiscent of the back-and-forth between Farinata and Dante in Inferno X.

105 - 111

The word negghienza (indolence) begins a steady run of words expressing a desire not to do: lasso (weary – 106), sedeva (was sitting – 107), negligente (indolent – 110), pigrizia (sloth – 111). The words express the point of view of the protagonist, undoubtedly buoyed by his own recent enthusiasm for spiritual mountaineering, if perhaps conveniently forgetting his recent fatigue – of which Belacqua will enjoy reminding him. Dante has now returned Belacqua's delicate barb with a rather hefty blow. The tenzone-like tone (see the note to Inf. VIII.31-39) of jesting rivalry that marks the rest of this scene may have been previously set in real life. A tale has come down to us, first found in Benvenuto's commentary (to vv. 106-111), yet almost always cited by later commentators only from the Anonimo Fiorentino's more pleasing account (to Purg. IV.123-126). According to him, Dante frequently reproached Belacqua for his sloth. One day Belacqua quoted Aristotle (the seventh chapter of the Physics, a passage also found in Mon. I.iv.2): 'The soul becomes wise when one is seated and quiet.' To this Dante supposedly replied: 'If sitting can make a man wise, no one is wiser than you.'

112 - 114

Best in show for laziness, Belacqua is not quashed by Dante's squib; his slow physical movements are not paralleled by his words, which are winged, his version of 'If you're so smart, why aren't you rich?'

115 - 117

Rather than what we might expect, a counterthrust from Dante, we receive the information that he now, with brotherly affection, recognizes this saved soul and approaches him, despite the physical distress he still feels from that energetic climb of his.

118 - 120

Once again, after having his actions described in ways that mark his physical laziness, Belacqua takes aim at Dante (and, guilty by association, Virgil): Have you, little man, quite finished figuring out the obvious?

121 - 121

The poet's summarizing phrase puts his technique of presentation of Belacqua into relief: lazy movements and curt speech. In fact, Belacqua's three laconic speeches spread over only five lines (Purg. IV.98-99, 114, 119-120), and not even the full extent of these. They make him out, as Dante almost certainly knew him, a familiar figure: a person of little physical energy and of incisive, biting wit.

122 - 123

Dante's sympathy now governs the mood of the rest of the scene and puts an end to the aggressive sallies of the finally named Belacqua.

124 - 126

Dante's last question is not without its barb; is Belaqua just being himself? Has nothing in him changed even in this state of grace?

127 - 135

In what seems surprising length for so laconic a speaker (first three speeches, five lines; final speech, nine lines), Belacqua now reveals his other side, not that of a keen listener waiting for his 'opponent' to fall into the net of his sharp wit, but of a lazy loser who can't quite get himself organized. It is, the more we reflect upon it, something of a miracle that God chose him to join the elect in Heaven (as the protagonist himself thought – see Purg. IV.123-124).

127 - 127

Belacqua's word of greeting, 'frate,' now used for the first time since we heard Ulysses – if with far different purpose (see the note to Inf. XXVI.124-126) – address his men as his 'brothers' (Inf. XXVI.112), establishes the bond of genuine community among the saved, and we shall hear it used to address one's fellow twelve more times in Purgatorio and five in Paradiso (Purg. XI.82, Purg. XIII.94, Purg. XVI.65, Purg. XIX.133, Purg. XXI.13, Purg. XXI.131, Purg. XXIII.97, Purg. XXIII.112, Purg. XXIV.55, Purg. XXVI.115, Purg. XXIX.15, Purg. XXXIII.23; Par. III.70, Par. IV.100, Par. VII.58, Par. VII.130, Par. XXII.61). See the note to Purgatorio XIX.133.

For an observation regarding the antithetic relationship between Belacqua and Ulysses see Frankel (“La similitudine della zara [Purg. VI, 1-12] ed il rapporto fra Dante e Virgilio nell'Antepurgatorio,” in Studi Americani su Dante, ed. G. C. Alessio and R. Hollander [Milan: F. Angeli, 1989]), pp. 125-26.

Does it seem that Belacqua does not realize that Dante is still in the flesh, merely assuming that he and Virgil are headed up the mountain to purge themselves? It is possible to ask this question because, in this exchange, there is no reference to Dante's condition or to the identity or role of Virgil, subjects that have and will come up in other colloquies on the mountain.

128 - 129

Belacqua, seated, imagines the angel at the gates, also seated, but in every other respect different from him. Yet, we should remember, even such as he will eventually pass through that gate on the way to Heaven.

130 - 131

Where Manfred and his flock were eager to move on to their punishment and probably have far longer to wait, Belacqua exhibits a slothful hesitance even to consider shortening his time here. As the first of the late-repentant, he here establishes the rule that applies to all whom we meet in the remainder of ante-purgatory, that is, all between Cantos IV and VIII: there is a prescribed time of waiting for these former sinners, an equal amount to that which they spent unrepentant for their sins.

132 - 132

Even his way of describing his last prayer, which in his view saved his soul, invokes a sense of laziness: it is composed, not of words, but of sighs, a lazy man's prayer if ever there was one.

133 - 135

Acknowledging that other 'law' of ante-purgatory, of which we have heard from Manfred in the last canto (Purg. III.138-141), Belacqua refers to the possibility that the sentences of the late-repentant, like those of the excommunicate, may be shortened by the prayers of the living. His way of phrasing the possibility makes us tend to agree with him that he will do the full term of his sentence, since it seems to him unlikely that any of his friends would seem to be possessed of 'a heart that lives in grace.' His speech trails off in dubiety; we reflect that his last negative words do not contain an appeal to Dante for help with the prayers of the living. It is no wonder that Beckett admired him so. He is the sole 'Beckettian' character occupying a place in the purposeful and harmonious world of purgation and salvation. Should we imagine some of the more sympathetic sinners whom we have met in hell somehow being able to read Dante's poem, we would have also to imagine their rage and chagrin that such as they are damned while this lazy ingrate knows the world of grace.

136 - 139

Virgil has had enough of this, perhaps revealing, in his stern tone, his own sense of the injustice of the salvation of the apparently undeserving Belacqua. His urgent summons to recommence the journey upward, abruptly terminating Dante's conversation with Belacqua before its formal conclusion (as Carroll, in his commentary to these verse, observed), ends the canto with a note of timeliness that the episode has disrupted. Belacqua, saved, has all the time in the world; Virgil, damned, does not. Life, or grace, does not always seem fair.

It is now noon in purgatory and 6pm in Morocco, across from Spain at Gibraltar. Since Purgatorio II.1-9, when it was dawn, the action on the mountain has consumed six hours (we learned that it was just after 9am at Purg. IV.15-16), just over two and a half of them spent in the difficult ascent and the meeting with Belacqua.

Purgatorio: Canto 4

1
2
3

Quando per dilettanze o ver per doglie,
che alcuna virtù nostra comprenda,
l'anima bene ad essa si raccoglie,
4
5
6

par ch'a nulla potenza più intenda;
e questo è contra quello error che crede
ch'un'anima sovr' altra in noi s'accenda.
7
8
9

E però, quando s'ode cosa o vede
che tegna forte a sé l'anima volta,
vassene 'l tempo e l'uom non se n'avvede;
10
11
12

ch'altra potenza è quella che l'ascolta,
e altra è quella c'ha l'anima intera:
questa è quasi legata e quella è sciolta.
13
14
15

Di ciò ebb' io esperïenza vera,
udendo quello spirto e ammirando;
ché ben cinquanta gradi salito era
16
17
18

lo sole, e io non m'era accorto, quando
venimmo ove quell' anime ad una
gridaro a noi: “Qui è vostro dimando.”
19
20
21

Maggiore aperta molte volte impruna
con una forcatella di sue spine
l'uom de la villa quando l'uva imbruna,
22
23
24

che non era la calla onde salìne
lo duca mio, e io appresso, soli,
come da noi la schiera si partìne.
25
26
27

Vassi in Sanleo e discendesi in Noli,
montasi su in Bismantova e' n Cacume
con esso i piè; ma qui convien ch'om voli;
28
29
30

dico con l'ale snelle e con le piume
del gran disio, di retro a quel condotto
che speranza mi dava e facea lume.
31
32
33

Noi salavam per entro 'l sasso rotto,
e d'ogne lato ne stringea lo stremo,
e piedi e man volea il suol di sotto.
34
35
36

Poi che noi fummo in su l'orlo suppremo
de l'alta ripa, a la scoperta piaggia,
“Maestro mio,” diss' io, “che via faremo?”
37
38
39

Ed elli a me: “Nessun tuo passo caggia;
pur su al monte dietro a me acquista,
fin che n'appaia alcuna scorta saggia.”
40
41
42

Lo sommo er' alto che vincea la vista,
e la costa superba più assai
che da mezzo quadrante a centro lista.
43
44
45

Io era lasso, quando cominciai:
“O dolce padre, volgiti, e rimira
com' io rimango sol, se non restai.”
46
47
48

“Figliuol mio,” disse, “infin quivi ti tira,”
additandomi un balzo poco in sùe
che da quel lato il poggio tutto gira.
49
50
51

Sì mi spronaron le parole sue,
ch'i' mi sforzai carpando appresso lui,
tanto che 'l cinghio sotto i piè mi fue.
52
53
54

A seder ci ponemmo ivi ambedui
vòlti a levante ond' eravam saliti,
che suole a riguardar giovare altrui.
55
56
57

Li occhi prima drizzai ai bassi liti;
poscia li alzai al sole, e ammirava
che da sinistra n'eravam feriti.
58
59
60

Ben s'avvide il poeta ch'ïo stava
stupido tutto al carro de la luce,
ove tra noi e Aquilone intrava.
61
62
63

Ond' elli a me: “Se Castore e Poluce
fossero in compagnia di quello specchio
che sù e giù del suo lume conduce
64
65
66

tu vedresti il Zodïaco rubecchio
ancora a l'Orse più stretto rotare,
se non uscisse fuor del cammin vecchio.
67
68
69

Come ciò sia, se 'l vuoi poter pensare,
dentro raccolto, imagina Sïòn
con questo monte in su la terra stare
70
71
72

sì, ch'amendue hanno un solo orizzòn
e diversi emisperi; onde la strada
che mal non seppe carreggiar Fetòn,
73
74
75

vedrai come a costui convien che vada
da l'un, quando a colui da l'altro fianco,
se lo 'ntelletto tuo ben chiaro bada.”
76
77
78

“Certo, maestro mio,” diss' io, “unquanco
non vid' io chiaro sì com' io discerno
là dove mio ingegno parea manco,
79
80
81

che 'l mezzo cerchio del moto superno,
che si chiama Equatore in alcun' arte,
e che sempre riman tra 'l sole e 'l verno,
82
83
84

per la ragion che di', quinci si parte
verso settentrïon, quanto li Ebrei
vedevan lui verso la calda parte.
85
86
87

Ma se a te piace, volontier saprei
quanto avemo ad andar; ché 'l poggio sale
più che salir non posson li occhi miei.”
88
89
90

Ed elli a me: “Questa montagna è tale,
che sempre al cominciar di sotto è grave;
e quant' om più va sù, e men fa male.
91
92
93

Però, quand' ella ti parrà soave
tanto, che sù andar ti fia leggero
com' a seconda giù andar per nave,
94
95
96

allor sarai al fin d'esto sentiero;
quivi di riposar l'affanno aspetta.
Più non rispondo, e questo so per vero.”
97
98
99

E com' elli ebbe sua parola detta,
una voce di presso sonò: “Forse
che di sedere in pria avrai distretta!”
100
101
102

Al suon di lei ciascun di noi si torse,
e vedemmo a mancina un gran petrone,
del qual né io né ei prima s'accorse.
103
104
105

Là ci traemmo; e ivi eran persone
che si stavano a l'ombra dietro al sasso
come l'uom per negghienza a star si pone.
106
107
108

E un di lor, che mi sembiava lasso,
sedeva e abbracciava le ginocchia,
tenendo 'l viso giù tra esse basso.
109
110
111

“O dolce segnor mio,” diss' io, “adocchia
colui che mostra sé più negligente
che se pigrizia fosse sua serocchia.”
112
113
114

Allor si volse a noi e puose mente,
movendo 'l viso pur su per la coscia,
e disse: “Or va tu sù, che se' valente!”
115
116
117

Conobbi allor chi era, e quella angoscia
che m'avacciava un poco ancor la lena,
non m'impedì l'andare a lui; e poscia
118
119
120

ch'a lui fu' giunto, alzò la testa a pena,
dicendo: “Hai ben veduto come 'l sole
da l'omero sinistro il carro mena?”
121
122
123

Li atti suoi pigri e le corte parole
mosser le labbra mie un poco a riso;
poi cominciai: “Belacqua, a me non dole
124
125
126

di te omai; ma dimmi: perché assiso
quiritto se'? attendi tu iscorta,
o pur lo modo usato t'ha' ripriso?”
127
128
129

Ed elli: “O frate, andar in sù che porta?
ché non mi lascerebbe ire a' martìri
l'angel di Dio che siede in su la porta.
130
131
132

Prima convien che tanto il ciel m'aggiri
di fuor da essa, quanto fece in vita,
per ch'io 'ndugiai al fine i buon sospiri,
133
134
135

se orazïone in prima non m'aita
che surga sù di cuor che in grazia viva;
l'altra che val, che 'n ciel non è udita?”
136
137
138
139

E già il poeta innanzi mi saliva,
e dicea: “Vienne omai; vedi ch'è tocco
meridïan dal sole, e a la riva
cuopre la notte già col piè Morrocco.”
1
2
3

Whenever by delight or else by pain,
  That seizes any faculty of ours,
  Wholly to that the soul collects itself,

4
5
6

It seemeth that no other power it heeds;
  And this against that error is which thinks
  One soul above another kindles in us.

7
8
9

And hence, whenever aught is heard or seen
  Which keeps the soul intently bent upon it,
  Time passes on, and we perceive it not,

10
11
12

Because one faculty is that which listens,
  And other that which the soul keeps entire;
  This is as if in bonds, and that is free.

13
14
15

Of this I had experience positive
  In hearing and in gazing at that spirit;
  For fifty full degrees uprisen was

16
17
18

The sun, and I had not perceived it, when
  We came to where those souls with one accord
  Cried out unto us: "Here is what you ask."

19
20
21

A greater opening ofttimes hedges up
  With but a little forkful of his thorns
  The villager, what time the grape imbrowns,

22
23
24

Than was the passage-way through which ascended
  Only my Leader and myself behind him,
  After that company departed from us.

25
26
27

One climbs Sanleo and descends in Noli,
  And mounts the summit of Bismantova,
  With feet alone; but here one needs must fly;

28
29
30

With the swift pinions and the plumes I say
  Of great desire, conducted after him
  Who gave me hope, and made a light for me.

31
32
33

We mounted upward through the rifted rock,
  And on each side the border pressed upon us,
  And feet and hands the ground beneath required.

34
35
36

When we were come upon the upper rim
  Of the high bank, out on the open slope,
  "My Master," said I, "what way shall we take?"

37
38
39

And he to me: "No step of thine descend;
  Still up the mount behind me win thy way,
  Till some sage escort shall appear to us."

40
41
42

The summit was so high it vanquished sight,
  And the hillside precipitous far more
  Than line from middle quadrant to the centre.

43
44
45

Spent with fatigue was I, when I began:
  "O my sweet Father! turn thee and behold
  How I remain alone, unless thou stay!"

46
47
48

"O son," he said, "up yonder drag thyself,"
  Pointing me to a terrace somewhat higher,
  Which on that side encircles all the hill.

49
50
51

These words of his so spurred me on, that I
  Strained every nerve, behind him scrambling up,
  Until the circle was beneath my feet.

52
53
54

Thereon ourselves we seated both of us
  Turned to the East, from which we had ascended,
  For all men are delighted to look back.

55
56
57

To the low shores mine eyes I first directed,
  Then to the sun uplifted them, and wondered
  That on the left hand we were smitten by it.

58
59
60

The Poet well perceived that I was wholly
  Bewildered at the chariot of the light,
  Where 'twixt us and the Aquilon it entered.

61
62
63

Whereon he said to me: "If Castor and Pollux
  Were in the company of yonder mirror,
  That up and down conducteth with its light,

64
65
66

Thou wouldst behold the zodiac's jagged wheel
  Revolving still more near unto the Bears,
  Unless it swerved aside from its old track.

67
68
69

How that may be wouldst thou have power to think,
  Collected in thyself, imagine Zion
  Together with this mount on earth to stand,

70
71
72

So that they both one sole horizon have,
  And hemispheres diverse; whereby the road
  Which Phaeton, alas! knew not to drive,

73
74
75

Thou'lt see how of necessity must pass
  This on one side, when that upon the other,
  If thine intelligence right clearly heed."

76
77
78

"Truly, my Master," said I, "never yet
  Saw I so clearly as I now discern,
  There where my wit appeared incompetent,

79
80
81

That the mid-circle of supernal motion,
  Which in some art is the Equator called,
  And aye remains between the Sun and Winter,

82
83
84

For reason which thou sayest, departeth hence
  Tow'rds the Septentrion, what time the Hebrews
  Beheld it tow'rds the region of the heat.

85
86
87

But, if it pleaseth thee, I fain would learn
  How far we have to go; for the hill rises
  Higher than eyes of mine have power to rise."

88
89
90

And he to me: "This mount is such, that ever
  At the beginning down below 'tis tiresome,
  And aye the more one climbs, the less it hurts.

91
92
93

Therefore, when it shall seem so pleasant to thee,
  That going up shall be to thee as easy
  As going down the current in a boat,

94
95
96

Then at this pathway's ending thou wilt be;
  There to repose thy panting breath expect;
  No more I answer; and this I know for true."

97
98
99

And as he finished uttering these words,
  A voice close by us sounded: "Peradventure
  Thou wilt have need of sitting down ere that."

100
101
102

At sound thereof each one of us turned round,
  And saw upon the left hand a great rock,
  Which neither I nor he before had noticed.

103
104
105

Thither we drew; and there were persons there
  Who in the shadow stood behind the rock,
  As one through indolence is wont to stand.

106
107
108

And one of them, who seemed to me fatigued,
  Was sitting down, and both his knees embraced,
  Holding his face low down between them bowed.

109
110
111

"O my sweet Lord," I said, "do turn thine eye
  On him who shows himself more negligent
  Then even Sloth herself his sister were."

112
113
114

Then he turned round to us, and he gave heed,
  Just lifting up his eyes above his thigh,
  And said: "Now go thou up, for thou art valiant."

115
116
117

Then knew I who he was; and the distress,
  That still a little did my breathing quicken,
  My going to him hindered not; and after

118
119
120

I came to him he hardly raised his head,
  Saying: "Hast thou seen clearly how the sun
  O'er thy left shoulder drives his chariot?"

121
122
123

His sluggish attitude and his curt words
  A little unto laughter moved my lips;
  Then I began: "Belacqua, I grieve not

124
125
126

For thee henceforth; but tell me, wherefore seated
  In this place art thou? Waitest thou an escort?
  Or has thy usual habit seized upon thee?"

127
128
129

And he: "O brother, what's the use of climbing?
  Since to my torment would not let me go
  The Angel of God, who sitteth at the gate.

130
131
132

First heaven must needs so long revolve me round
  Outside thereof, as in my life it did,
  Since the good sighs I to the end postponed,

133
134
135

Unless, e'er that, some prayer may bring me aid
  Which rises from a heart that lives in grace;
  What profit others that in heaven are heard not?"

136
137
138
139

Meanwhile the Poet was before me mounting,
  And saying: "Come now; see the sun has touched
  Meridian, and from the shore the night
Covers already with her foot Morocco."

Robert Hollander (English, 2000-2007)
1 - 15

This complex opening passage has its roots in classical and Scholastic discussions of the nature of the human soul. Commentators indicate passages known to Dante in Plato (Timaeus, putting forth a belief that there are three independent souls in man, a belief found also, in slightly different form, in the Manichees, and then repeated in Averroës), in Aristotle (De anima, arguing against Plato for a single soul, not a plurality of them), Albertus Magnus (De spiritu et respiratione), and Aquinas (Summa theologica, Summa contra Gentiles, and commentary on De anima) as these are reflected in Dante's Vita nuova (VN II.4-5 – see De Robertis, ed., Vita nuova [Milan: Ricciardi, 1980], pp. 31-32), De vulgari eloquentia (II.ii.6) and Convivio (III.ii.11-16). For some of these texts see Singleton's commentary (comm. to vv. 1-12).

Following Aristotle and Aquinas, Dante believed that there was but a single soul in man, divided first into three faculties or powers (with this meaning, Dante uses, synonymously, the words virtù or potenze – he uses both of them in this passage): the vegetative (governing physical growth), the sensitive (governing the feelings), and the rational or intellective (governing thought). These are presented by Dante (Conv. III.ii.11) as 'vivere, sentire e ragionare' (the force of life, of the senses, of the reason). Considering what happened within himself so that, absorbed by the words of Manfred for over three hours (50 degrees of the sun's ascent), he could so lose track of time, Dante uses the evidence of his senses to argue, as Aquinas had done before him, that the very fact that parts of the soul cease their function when one of them is fully enjoined proves that we have not a plurality of souls, for these would simply continue to function independently at all times. That is, had Dante's rational soul functioned unimpaired, he would have noted the passage of time even as he listened to Manfred.

The three faculties are all further divided into subsets, the sensitive soul into two, one of these including the five senses, and it is to this set (the senses of hearing and of sight) that Dante adverts here. See the commentary of Daniello (comm. to vv. 5-6) to this passage and the discussion of virtù by Philippe Delhaye and Giorgio Stabile (ED.1976.5), pp. 1050-59, esp. pp. 1053-55.

Singleton (comm. to verse 10) suggests that the apparently forced diction, regarding an ability to hear the passage of time, in fact refers to the sound of bells, the primary means of telling time in the Middle Ages. Tony Cuzzilla (“The Perception of Time in the Commedia: Purg. IV.10-12,” Electronic Bulletin of the Dante Society of America [May 2002]) points out that a listener's sense of time, located in the sensitive soul, is impeded when the rational soul is entirely devoted to what it is seeing (or, as in this case, hearing), thus disregarding the passage of time.

10 - 12

As Cuzzilla (“The Perception of Time in the Commedia: Purg. IV.10-12,” Electronic Bulletin of the Dante Society of America [May 2002]) has pointed out, the passage would be less difficult to understand had Petrocchi accepted the variant, found in the Urbinate Latino 366, 'questa' (for 'quella') in verse 10. Cuzzilla also muses on the strange fact that Sanguineti, who bases his edition primarily on that MS, does not include this reading in it.

16 - 18

This 'flock of sheep' was made aware of Dante's desire to move upward in the last canto (Purg. III.99). From behind the travelers they call out their courteous instruction, their 'guidance' now at an end.

19 - 24

A pseudosimile only because its formal grammatical relations (e.g., 'just as... so') are not expressed, these verses return to the countryside and the 'humble style' that Dante has deployed in many of his similes in Inferno and that typified the sole simile found in the preceding canto (Purg. III.79-87). The farmer fixes his hedge, by filling holes in it with thorns, when the grapes come ripe so as to protect his vineyard from thieves. Steiner (comm. to vv. 19-21) was perhaps the first commentator to note the reference to Matthew 7:14: 'Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leads to life, and there are few that find it.'

25 - 30

Here is another pseudosimile, even less grammatically ordered than the last, in which steep paths to towns or to mountain peaks in north and central Italy are compared to this path, which is even steeper. Dante's desire to rise is a necessary spur to such strenuous effort, but it is Virgil's guidance that lights his way and lends him hope.

37 - 39

Virgil, unacquainted with this place, gives sound provisional advice: it is best to keep moving up until some indication make the way plain.

41 - 42

Beginning with Benvenuto da Imola (comm. to vv. 40-42) there has been a small battle over the reference here. Is it to geometry, the line drawn from the apex of the triangle formed by bisecting the right angle of a quadrant of a circle? Or is it (as Benvenuto strongly believed) to the astronomical instrument, the quadrant, which is so called because it replicates precisely a quadrant of a circle? In either case the angle of ascent is even greater than 45o.

50 - 50

It is no wonder, given the steepness of the slope, that Dante completes this part of the ascent by crawling on his hands and knees (carpando). (For previous uses of the word carpone see Inf. XXV.141; Inf. XXIX.68.)

52 - 54

This brief respite may, at least intrinsically, bring to mind the antithetic figure of Ulysses. Where he left the east behind him (Inf. XXVI.124) and always ventured forward, Dante now looks back to the east, whence the sun had risen. The eastern sky, locus of the sunrise, has a long tradition in Christianity of representing Jesus, the 'light of the world' (John 8:12; 9:5).

Christopher Kleinhenz (“Canto IV,” in Dante's “Divine Comedy”: Introductory Readings II: “Purgatorio,” ed. Tibor Wlassics [Charlottesville: Lectura Dantis, University of Virginia, 1993]) pp. 60-61, would seem to suggest that Virgil here is looking back at the path that has brought them this far, while Dante is looking at the Christ-signifying sun, but there seems to be no evidence in the text to support this otherwise promising hypothesis.

55 - 57

Pietro di Dante (Pietro1, comm. to vv. 55-60) was the first to cite, as a source for this detail, a passage in Lucan (Phars. III.247-248), where Arabs, coming south of the equator, marveled at the fact that the shadows of trees fell to their right, not to their left. Trucchi (comm. to these verses) reminds the reader that, here in purgatory, levante, the place where the sun rises, is not east but west – from our perspective in the northern hemisphere.

Dante offers a more extended and entirely similar discussion of these matters in Convivio III.v.13-17.

58 - 60

Aquilone (line 60 in the Italian) is the north wind. The tercet repeats the protagonist's amazement upon seeing the morning sun to his left. The reader needs to understand that the poet imagines an 'ideal' left and right in this and other particulars. That is, two people facing one another, in either hemisphere, would each claim that the sun is to the other hand. In the astronomical givens of the poem, above the Tropic of Cancer the sun is to the south of the imagined observer, to his or her right; 'below' the Tropic of Capricorn (this is a northernizer's view, it should be noted) it is to the north, or left. Substituting 'north' for 'left' and 'south' for 'right,' the reader may find this passage more readily understandable.

61 - 66

Virgil's explanation of the position of the sun in the morning sky may be paraphrased as follows: If the sun (the mirror), which moves from one side of the equator to the other, were in the constellation Gemini (Castor and Pollux, the celestial twins) and not Aries (where it is now – see Inf. I.37-40), Dante would see the sun's path (the red part of the zodiac) as close to the Bears (Ursa Major and Ursa Minor) and thus as far north as it ever gets (at the summer solstice, 21 June). It would do this, Virgil adds, in an apparently gratuitous detail (but see the next passage), unless it were to veer from its ordained path (which of course it will not in any normal expectation).

'Zodiac, a belt of the heavens eighteen degrees in breadth, extending nine degrees on either side of the Ecliptic, within which, according to the Ptolemaic system, the Moon, Mercury, Venus, the Sun, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn perform their annual revolutions. It is divided into twelve equal parts of thirty degrees, called signs, which are named from the constellations lying within them' (Toynbee, “zodiaco” [Concise Dante Dictionary]).

67 - 75

Having made this much clear, Virgil goes on to offer Dante a 'thought experiment' that in fact exactly replicates what was, in Dante's time, considered geographical actuality. For Dante, Jerusalem, upon the hill Zion, and the mount of purgatory are precisely antipodal and share a common horizon (the equator). From this 'experiment' it quickly becomes clear that the path of the sun (the 'highway' that Phaeton flew off when he lost control of the chariot of the sun – see the note to Inf. XVII.106-108) must pass beneath (south) of Jerusalem and (in once more northcentric thinking), above (north) of the mount of purgatory. And thus we understand why Dante was surprised at the sun's leftness and why he should not have been.

The reference to Phaeton, now making clear the reason for the inclusion of reference to the possibility of the sun's not keeping its ordained path, is part of a 'Phaeton program' in the poem (see Kevin Brownlee, “Phaeton's Fall and Dante's Ascent,” Dante Studies 102 [1984], pp. 135-44). As Brownlee points out, Phaeton's presumptuous and failed heavenly voyage is set against Dante's ordained and successful voyage to the otherworld. That is clearly what the poet would have us believe. However, just as in this passage, where reference to the myth seems otiose, the presence of such a tale has the effect of reminding the reader that Dante is aware of the Phaeton in himself; that this poem is ever in need of management lest it crash from its own presumption. See, with regard to Ulysses, strong statements of a similar view in Teodolinda Barolini (The Undivine “Comedy”: Detheologizing Dante [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992]), passim. Some support for such a view may be found in the reference to the astrological sign that marked Dante's birth, Gemini, at the beginning of this convoluted passage (Purg. IV.61).

76 - 82

The protagonist's rephrasing of what he has learned from Virgil is, one must admit, easier to grasp quickly than the master's presentation of it.

83 - 84

The Hebrews used to see it from Jerusalem but do so no longer because of their diaspora.

85 - 87

Appeased, the student has learned his lesson but now would like to know how much longer he must continue this exhausting journey. It is interesting that, in a canto in which the primary new character is the extremely lazy Belacqua, the protagonist is so strongly presented as wanting to rest – perhaps more so than in any other part of the poem (but see Inf. XXIV.43-45).

88 - 94

Even Virgil's answer seems tailored to the concerns of a man who would rather quit than fight; the final ascent will feel like floating downstream.

98 - 99

The voice that breaks into what has by now become, for most readers, a rather labored and even fussily academic discussion will turn out to be that of Belacqua. Named only at verse 123, he was a 'Florentine, contemporary of Dante, said by the old commentators to have been a musical instrument-maker; modern research has suggested his identification with one Duccio di Bonavia' (Toynbee, “Belacqua” [Concise Dante Dictionary]). According to Santorre Debenedetti (“Documenti su Belacqua,” Bulletino della Società Dantesca Italiana 13 [1906], pp. 222-33), Belacqua was dead before March 1302 but still alive in 1299. In other words, like Casella, he would seem to have been, in Dante's mind, a recent arrival.

His ironic and witty response to the conversation he has overheard immediately wins the reader's affection. On the other hand, for a denial that this speech of Belacqua's is in fact ironic, see Petrocchi (Itinerari danteschi, Premessa a cura di C. Ossola [Milan: Franco Angeli, 1994 (Bari: Laterza, 1969)], pp. 270-71.) For a moment we feel drawn out of the moralizing concerns and serious tones of the two poets. Raffaele Manica (“Belacqua,” in Studi di letteratura, critica e linguistica offerti a Riccardo Scrivano [Rome: Bulzoni, 2000]), p. 35, calls attention to the great importance of Dante's Belacqua to Samuel Beckett's fiction. According to him, Belacqua becomes a contemporary myth of irony rather than a depiction of the loss of will; however, he may not sense how much of the Beckettian view of Belacqua is already present in Dante. Much of Beckett's work is a kind of rewriting of the Dantean universe from the point of view of Belacqua alone, a universe of waiting, boredom, question, and frustration, as in the early short story 'Dante and the Lobster' and certainly including the rock-snuggled hoboes of Waiting for Godot. For at least a moment in this extraordinary exchange, Dante's Belacqua seems to control the situation. Of course he will have to be swept aside in the name of progress toward a Christian goal. But it is astounding (and heartwarming) to see how greatly Dante empathized with this character we like to imagine as being so antipathetic to him.

Belacqua's first word, 'perhaps,' immediately reveals his character as being indecisive, at least where goals or noble purposes are concerned; what follows shows his wit, deftly puncturing the balloon of Dantean eagerness (for he is a man who longs to do some serious sitting – see verse Purgatorio IV.52, where he accomplishes that goal). As we shall see, Dante will fight back, and we will then have a scene that is reminiscent of the back-and-forth between Farinata and Dante in Inferno X.

105 - 111

The word negghienza (indolence) begins a steady run of words expressing a desire not to do: lasso (weary – 106), sedeva (was sitting – 107), negligente (indolent – 110), pigrizia (sloth – 111). The words express the point of view of the protagonist, undoubtedly buoyed by his own recent enthusiasm for spiritual mountaineering, if perhaps conveniently forgetting his recent fatigue – of which Belacqua will enjoy reminding him. Dante has now returned Belacqua's delicate barb with a rather hefty blow. The tenzone-like tone (see the note to Inf. VIII.31-39) of jesting rivalry that marks the rest of this scene may have been previously set in real life. A tale has come down to us, first found in Benvenuto's commentary (to vv. 106-111), yet almost always cited by later commentators only from the Anonimo Fiorentino's more pleasing account (to Purg. IV.123-126). According to him, Dante frequently reproached Belacqua for his sloth. One day Belacqua quoted Aristotle (the seventh chapter of the Physics, a passage also found in Mon. I.iv.2): 'The soul becomes wise when one is seated and quiet.' To this Dante supposedly replied: 'If sitting can make a man wise, no one is wiser than you.'

112 - 114

Best in show for laziness, Belacqua is not quashed by Dante's squib; his slow physical movements are not paralleled by his words, which are winged, his version of 'If you're so smart, why aren't you rich?'

115 - 117

Rather than what we might expect, a counterthrust from Dante, we receive the information that he now, with brotherly affection, recognizes this saved soul and approaches him, despite the physical distress he still feels from that energetic climb of his.

118 - 120

Once again, after having his actions described in ways that mark his physical laziness, Belacqua takes aim at Dante (and, guilty by association, Virgil): Have you, little man, quite finished figuring out the obvious?

121 - 121

The poet's summarizing phrase puts his technique of presentation of Belacqua into relief: lazy movements and curt speech. In fact, Belacqua's three laconic speeches spread over only five lines (Purg. IV.98-99, 114, 119-120), and not even the full extent of these. They make him out, as Dante almost certainly knew him, a familiar figure: a person of little physical energy and of incisive, biting wit.

122 - 123

Dante's sympathy now governs the mood of the rest of the scene and puts an end to the aggressive sallies of the finally named Belacqua.

124 - 126

Dante's last question is not without its barb; is Belaqua just being himself? Has nothing in him changed even in this state of grace?

127 - 135

In what seems surprising length for so laconic a speaker (first three speeches, five lines; final speech, nine lines), Belacqua now reveals his other side, not that of a keen listener waiting for his 'opponent' to fall into the net of his sharp wit, but of a lazy loser who can't quite get himself organized. It is, the more we reflect upon it, something of a miracle that God chose him to join the elect in Heaven (as the protagonist himself thought – see Purg. IV.123-124).

127 - 127

Belacqua's word of greeting, 'frate,' now used for the first time since we heard Ulysses – if with far different purpose (see the note to Inf. XXVI.124-126) – address his men as his 'brothers' (Inf. XXVI.112), establishes the bond of genuine community among the saved, and we shall hear it used to address one's fellow twelve more times in Purgatorio and five in Paradiso (Purg. XI.82, Purg. XIII.94, Purg. XVI.65, Purg. XIX.133, Purg. XXI.13, Purg. XXI.131, Purg. XXIII.97, Purg. XXIII.112, Purg. XXIV.55, Purg. XXVI.115, Purg. XXIX.15, Purg. XXXIII.23; Par. III.70, Par. IV.100, Par. VII.58, Par. VII.130, Par. XXII.61). See the note to Purgatorio XIX.133.

For an observation regarding the antithetic relationship between Belacqua and Ulysses see Frankel (“La similitudine della zara [Purg. VI, 1-12] ed il rapporto fra Dante e Virgilio nell'Antepurgatorio,” in Studi Americani su Dante, ed. G. C. Alessio and R. Hollander [Milan: F. Angeli, 1989]), pp. 125-26.

Does it seem that Belacqua does not realize that Dante is still in the flesh, merely assuming that he and Virgil are headed up the mountain to purge themselves? It is possible to ask this question because, in this exchange, there is no reference to Dante's condition or to the identity or role of Virgil, subjects that have and will come up in other colloquies on the mountain.

128 - 129

Belacqua, seated, imagines the angel at the gates, also seated, but in every other respect different from him. Yet, we should remember, even such as he will eventually pass through that gate on the way to Heaven.

130 - 131

Where Manfred and his flock were eager to move on to their punishment and probably have far longer to wait, Belacqua exhibits a slothful hesitance even to consider shortening his time here. As the first of the late-repentant, he here establishes the rule that applies to all whom we meet in the remainder of ante-purgatory, that is, all between Cantos IV and VIII: there is a prescribed time of waiting for these former sinners, an equal amount to that which they spent unrepentant for their sins.

132 - 132

Even his way of describing his last prayer, which in his view saved his soul, invokes a sense of laziness: it is composed, not of words, but of sighs, a lazy man's prayer if ever there was one.

133 - 135

Acknowledging that other 'law' of ante-purgatory, of which we have heard from Manfred in the last canto (Purg. III.138-141), Belacqua refers to the possibility that the sentences of the late-repentant, like those of the excommunicate, may be shortened by the prayers of the living. His way of phrasing the possibility makes us tend to agree with him that he will do the full term of his sentence, since it seems to him unlikely that any of his friends would seem to be possessed of 'a heart that lives in grace.' His speech trails off in dubiety; we reflect that his last negative words do not contain an appeal to Dante for help with the prayers of the living. It is no wonder that Beckett admired him so. He is the sole 'Beckettian' character occupying a place in the purposeful and harmonious world of purgation and salvation. Should we imagine some of the more sympathetic sinners whom we have met in hell somehow being able to read Dante's poem, we would have also to imagine their rage and chagrin that such as they are damned while this lazy ingrate knows the world of grace.

136 - 139

Virgil has had enough of this, perhaps revealing, in his stern tone, his own sense of the injustice of the salvation of the apparently undeserving Belacqua. His urgent summons to recommence the journey upward, abruptly terminating Dante's conversation with Belacqua before its formal conclusion (as Carroll, in his commentary to these verse, observed), ends the canto with a note of timeliness that the episode has disrupted. Belacqua, saved, has all the time in the world; Virgil, damned, does not. Life, or grace, does not always seem fair.

It is now noon in purgatory and 6pm in Morocco, across from Spain at Gibraltar. Since Purgatorio II.1-9, when it was dawn, the action on the mountain has consumed six hours (we learned that it was just after 9am at Purg. IV.15-16), just over two and a half of them spent in the difficult ascent and the meeting with Belacqua.

Purgatorio: Canto 4

1
2
3

Quando per dilettanze o ver per doglie,
che alcuna virtù nostra comprenda,
l'anima bene ad essa si raccoglie,
4
5
6

par ch'a nulla potenza più intenda;
e questo è contra quello error che crede
ch'un'anima sovr' altra in noi s'accenda.
7
8
9

E però, quando s'ode cosa o vede
che tegna forte a sé l'anima volta,
vassene 'l tempo e l'uom non se n'avvede;
10
11
12

ch'altra potenza è quella che l'ascolta,
e altra è quella c'ha l'anima intera:
questa è quasi legata e quella è sciolta.
13
14
15

Di ciò ebb' io esperïenza vera,
udendo quello spirto e ammirando;
ché ben cinquanta gradi salito era
16
17
18

lo sole, e io non m'era accorto, quando
venimmo ove quell' anime ad una
gridaro a noi: “Qui è vostro dimando.”
19
20
21

Maggiore aperta molte volte impruna
con una forcatella di sue spine
l'uom de la villa quando l'uva imbruna,
22
23
24

che non era la calla onde salìne
lo duca mio, e io appresso, soli,
come da noi la schiera si partìne.
25
26
27

Vassi in Sanleo e discendesi in Noli,
montasi su in Bismantova e' n Cacume
con esso i piè; ma qui convien ch'om voli;
28
29
30

dico con l'ale snelle e con le piume
del gran disio, di retro a quel condotto
che speranza mi dava e facea lume.
31
32
33

Noi salavam per entro 'l sasso rotto,
e d'ogne lato ne stringea lo stremo,
e piedi e man volea il suol di sotto.
34
35
36

Poi che noi fummo in su l'orlo suppremo
de l'alta ripa, a la scoperta piaggia,
“Maestro mio,” diss' io, “che via faremo?”
37
38
39

Ed elli a me: “Nessun tuo passo caggia;
pur su al monte dietro a me acquista,
fin che n'appaia alcuna scorta saggia.”
40
41
42

Lo sommo er' alto che vincea la vista,
e la costa superba più assai
che da mezzo quadrante a centro lista.
43
44
45

Io era lasso, quando cominciai:
“O dolce padre, volgiti, e rimira
com' io rimango sol, se non restai.”
46
47
48

“Figliuol mio,” disse, “infin quivi ti tira,”
additandomi un balzo poco in sùe
che da quel lato il poggio tutto gira.
49
50
51

Sì mi spronaron le parole sue,
ch'i' mi sforzai carpando appresso lui,
tanto che 'l cinghio sotto i piè mi fue.
52
53
54

A seder ci ponemmo ivi ambedui
vòlti a levante ond' eravam saliti,
che suole a riguardar giovare altrui.
55
56
57

Li occhi prima drizzai ai bassi liti;
poscia li alzai al sole, e ammirava
che da sinistra n'eravam feriti.
58
59
60

Ben s'avvide il poeta ch'ïo stava
stupido tutto al carro de la luce,
ove tra noi e Aquilone intrava.
61
62
63

Ond' elli a me: “Se Castore e Poluce
fossero in compagnia di quello specchio
che sù e giù del suo lume conduce
64
65
66

tu vedresti il Zodïaco rubecchio
ancora a l'Orse più stretto rotare,
se non uscisse fuor del cammin vecchio.
67
68
69

Come ciò sia, se 'l vuoi poter pensare,
dentro raccolto, imagina Sïòn
con questo monte in su la terra stare
70
71
72

sì, ch'amendue hanno un solo orizzòn
e diversi emisperi; onde la strada
che mal non seppe carreggiar Fetòn,
73
74
75

vedrai come a costui convien che vada
da l'un, quando a colui da l'altro fianco,
se lo 'ntelletto tuo ben chiaro bada.”
76
77
78

“Certo, maestro mio,” diss' io, “unquanco
non vid' io chiaro sì com' io discerno
là dove mio ingegno parea manco,
79
80
81

che 'l mezzo cerchio del moto superno,
che si chiama Equatore in alcun' arte,
e che sempre riman tra 'l sole e 'l verno,
82
83
84

per la ragion che di', quinci si parte
verso settentrïon, quanto li Ebrei
vedevan lui verso la calda parte.
85
86
87

Ma se a te piace, volontier saprei
quanto avemo ad andar; ché 'l poggio sale
più che salir non posson li occhi miei.”
88
89
90

Ed elli a me: “Questa montagna è tale,
che sempre al cominciar di sotto è grave;
e quant' om più va sù, e men fa male.
91
92
93

Però, quand' ella ti parrà soave
tanto, che sù andar ti fia leggero
com' a seconda giù andar per nave,
94
95
96

allor sarai al fin d'esto sentiero;
quivi di riposar l'affanno aspetta.
Più non rispondo, e questo so per vero.”
97
98
99

E com' elli ebbe sua parola detta,
una voce di presso sonò: “Forse
che di sedere in pria avrai distretta!”
100
101
102

Al suon di lei ciascun di noi si torse,
e vedemmo a mancina un gran petrone,
del qual né io né ei prima s'accorse.
103
104
105

Là ci traemmo; e ivi eran persone
che si stavano a l'ombra dietro al sasso
come l'uom per negghienza a star si pone.
106
107
108

E un di lor, che mi sembiava lasso,
sedeva e abbracciava le ginocchia,
tenendo 'l viso giù tra esse basso.
109
110
111

“O dolce segnor mio,” diss' io, “adocchia
colui che mostra sé più negligente
che se pigrizia fosse sua serocchia.”
112
113
114

Allor si volse a noi e puose mente,
movendo 'l viso pur su per la coscia,
e disse: “Or va tu sù, che se' valente!”
115
116
117

Conobbi allor chi era, e quella angoscia
che m'avacciava un poco ancor la lena,
non m'impedì l'andare a lui; e poscia
118
119
120

ch'a lui fu' giunto, alzò la testa a pena,
dicendo: “Hai ben veduto come 'l sole
da l'omero sinistro il carro mena?”
121
122
123

Li atti suoi pigri e le corte parole
mosser le labbra mie un poco a riso;
poi cominciai: “Belacqua, a me non dole
124
125
126

di te omai; ma dimmi: perché assiso
quiritto se'? attendi tu iscorta,
o pur lo modo usato t'ha' ripriso?”
127
128
129

Ed elli: “O frate, andar in sù che porta?
ché non mi lascerebbe ire a' martìri
l'angel di Dio che siede in su la porta.
130
131
132

Prima convien che tanto il ciel m'aggiri
di fuor da essa, quanto fece in vita,
per ch'io 'ndugiai al fine i buon sospiri,
133
134
135

se orazïone in prima non m'aita
che surga sù di cuor che in grazia viva;
l'altra che val, che 'n ciel non è udita?”
136
137
138
139

E già il poeta innanzi mi saliva,
e dicea: “Vienne omai; vedi ch'è tocco
meridïan dal sole, e a la riva
cuopre la notte già col piè Morrocco.”
1
2
3

Whenever by delight or else by pain,
  That seizes any faculty of ours,
  Wholly to that the soul collects itself,

4
5
6

It seemeth that no other power it heeds;
  And this against that error is which thinks
  One soul above another kindles in us.

7
8
9

And hence, whenever aught is heard or seen
  Which keeps the soul intently bent upon it,
  Time passes on, and we perceive it not,

10
11
12

Because one faculty is that which listens,
  And other that which the soul keeps entire;
  This is as if in bonds, and that is free.

13
14
15

Of this I had experience positive
  In hearing and in gazing at that spirit;
  For fifty full degrees uprisen was

16
17
18

The sun, and I had not perceived it, when
  We came to where those souls with one accord
  Cried out unto us: "Here is what you ask."

19
20
21

A greater opening ofttimes hedges up
  With but a little forkful of his thorns
  The villager, what time the grape imbrowns,

22
23
24

Than was the passage-way through which ascended
  Only my Leader and myself behind him,
  After that company departed from us.

25
26
27

One climbs Sanleo and descends in Noli,
  And mounts the summit of Bismantova,
  With feet alone; but here one needs must fly;

28
29
30

With the swift pinions and the plumes I say
  Of great desire, conducted after him
  Who gave me hope, and made a light for me.

31
32
33

We mounted upward through the rifted rock,
  And on each side the border pressed upon us,
  And feet and hands the ground beneath required.

34
35
36

When we were come upon the upper rim
  Of the high bank, out on the open slope,
  "My Master," said I, "what way shall we take?"

37
38
39

And he to me: "No step of thine descend;
  Still up the mount behind me win thy way,
  Till some sage escort shall appear to us."

40
41
42

The summit was so high it vanquished sight,
  And the hillside precipitous far more
  Than line from middle quadrant to the centre.

43
44
45

Spent with fatigue was I, when I began:
  "O my sweet Father! turn thee and behold
  How I remain alone, unless thou stay!"

46
47
48

"O son," he said, "up yonder drag thyself,"
  Pointing me to a terrace somewhat higher,
  Which on that side encircles all the hill.

49
50
51

These words of his so spurred me on, that I
  Strained every nerve, behind him scrambling up,
  Until the circle was beneath my feet.

52
53
54

Thereon ourselves we seated both of us
  Turned to the East, from which we had ascended,
  For all men are delighted to look back.

55
56
57

To the low shores mine eyes I first directed,
  Then to the sun uplifted them, and wondered
  That on the left hand we were smitten by it.

58
59
60

The Poet well perceived that I was wholly
  Bewildered at the chariot of the light,
  Where 'twixt us and the Aquilon it entered.

61
62
63

Whereon he said to me: "If Castor and Pollux
  Were in the company of yonder mirror,
  That up and down conducteth with its light,

64
65
66

Thou wouldst behold the zodiac's jagged wheel
  Revolving still more near unto the Bears,
  Unless it swerved aside from its old track.

67
68
69

How that may be wouldst thou have power to think,
  Collected in thyself, imagine Zion
  Together with this mount on earth to stand,

70
71
72

So that they both one sole horizon have,
  And hemispheres diverse; whereby the road
  Which Phaeton, alas! knew not to drive,

73
74
75

Thou'lt see how of necessity must pass
  This on one side, when that upon the other,
  If thine intelligence right clearly heed."

76
77
78

"Truly, my Master," said I, "never yet
  Saw I so clearly as I now discern,
  There where my wit appeared incompetent,

79
80
81

That the mid-circle of supernal motion,
  Which in some art is the Equator called,
  And aye remains between the Sun and Winter,

82
83
84

For reason which thou sayest, departeth hence
  Tow'rds the Septentrion, what time the Hebrews
  Beheld it tow'rds the region of the heat.

85
86
87

But, if it pleaseth thee, I fain would learn
  How far we have to go; for the hill rises
  Higher than eyes of mine have power to rise."

88
89
90

And he to me: "This mount is such, that ever
  At the beginning down below 'tis tiresome,
  And aye the more one climbs, the less it hurts.

91
92
93

Therefore, when it shall seem so pleasant to thee,
  That going up shall be to thee as easy
  As going down the current in a boat,

94
95
96

Then at this pathway's ending thou wilt be;
  There to repose thy panting breath expect;
  No more I answer; and this I know for true."

97
98
99

And as he finished uttering these words,
  A voice close by us sounded: "Peradventure
  Thou wilt have need of sitting down ere that."

100
101
102

At sound thereof each one of us turned round,
  And saw upon the left hand a great rock,
  Which neither I nor he before had noticed.

103
104
105

Thither we drew; and there were persons there
  Who in the shadow stood behind the rock,
  As one through indolence is wont to stand.

106
107
108

And one of them, who seemed to me fatigued,
  Was sitting down, and both his knees embraced,
  Holding his face low down between them bowed.

109
110
111

"O my sweet Lord," I said, "do turn thine eye
  On him who shows himself more negligent
  Then even Sloth herself his sister were."

112
113
114

Then he turned round to us, and he gave heed,
  Just lifting up his eyes above his thigh,
  And said: "Now go thou up, for thou art valiant."

115
116
117

Then knew I who he was; and the distress,
  That still a little did my breathing quicken,
  My going to him hindered not; and after

118
119
120

I came to him he hardly raised his head,
  Saying: "Hast thou seen clearly how the sun
  O'er thy left shoulder drives his chariot?"

121
122
123

His sluggish attitude and his curt words
  A little unto laughter moved my lips;
  Then I began: "Belacqua, I grieve not

124
125
126

For thee henceforth; but tell me, wherefore seated
  In this place art thou? Waitest thou an escort?
  Or has thy usual habit seized upon thee?"

127
128
129

And he: "O brother, what's the use of climbing?
  Since to my torment would not let me go
  The Angel of God, who sitteth at the gate.

130
131
132

First heaven must needs so long revolve me round
  Outside thereof, as in my life it did,
  Since the good sighs I to the end postponed,

133
134
135

Unless, e'er that, some prayer may bring me aid
  Which rises from a heart that lives in grace;
  What profit others that in heaven are heard not?"

136
137
138
139

Meanwhile the Poet was before me mounting,
  And saying: "Come now; see the sun has touched
  Meridian, and from the shore the night
Covers already with her foot Morocco."

Robert Hollander (English, 2000-2007)
1 - 15

This complex opening passage has its roots in classical and Scholastic discussions of the nature of the human soul. Commentators indicate passages known to Dante in Plato (Timaeus, putting forth a belief that there are three independent souls in man, a belief found also, in slightly different form, in the Manichees, and then repeated in Averroës), in Aristotle (De anima, arguing against Plato for a single soul, not a plurality of them), Albertus Magnus (De spiritu et respiratione), and Aquinas (Summa theologica, Summa contra Gentiles, and commentary on De anima) as these are reflected in Dante's Vita nuova (VN II.4-5 – see De Robertis, ed., Vita nuova [Milan: Ricciardi, 1980], pp. 31-32), De vulgari eloquentia (II.ii.6) and Convivio (III.ii.11-16). For some of these texts see Singleton's commentary (comm. to vv. 1-12).

Following Aristotle and Aquinas, Dante believed that there was but a single soul in man, divided first into three faculties or powers (with this meaning, Dante uses, synonymously, the words virtù or potenze – he uses both of them in this passage): the vegetative (governing physical growth), the sensitive (governing the feelings), and the rational or intellective (governing thought). These are presented by Dante (Conv. III.ii.11) as 'vivere, sentire e ragionare' (the force of life, of the senses, of the reason). Considering what happened within himself so that, absorbed by the words of Manfred for over three hours (50 degrees of the sun's ascent), he could so lose track of time, Dante uses the evidence of his senses to argue, as Aquinas had done before him, that the very fact that parts of the soul cease their function when one of them is fully enjoined proves that we have not a plurality of souls, for these would simply continue to function independently at all times. That is, had Dante's rational soul functioned unimpaired, he would have noted the passage of time even as he listened to Manfred.

The three faculties are all further divided into subsets, the sensitive soul into two, one of these including the five senses, and it is to this set (the senses of hearing and of sight) that Dante adverts here. See the commentary of Daniello (comm. to vv. 5-6) to this passage and the discussion of virtù by Philippe Delhaye and Giorgio Stabile (ED.1976.5), pp. 1050-59, esp. pp. 1053-55.

Singleton (comm. to verse 10) suggests that the apparently forced diction, regarding an ability to hear the passage of time, in fact refers to the sound of bells, the primary means of telling time in the Middle Ages. Tony Cuzzilla (“The Perception of Time in the Commedia: Purg. IV.10-12,” Electronic Bulletin of the Dante Society of America [May 2002]) points out that a listener's sense of time, located in the sensitive soul, is impeded when the rational soul is entirely devoted to what it is seeing (or, as in this case, hearing), thus disregarding the passage of time.

10 - 12

As Cuzzilla (“The Perception of Time in the Commedia: Purg. IV.10-12,” Electronic Bulletin of the Dante Society of America [May 2002]) has pointed out, the passage would be less difficult to understand had Petrocchi accepted the variant, found in the Urbinate Latino 366, 'questa' (for 'quella') in verse 10. Cuzzilla also muses on the strange fact that Sanguineti, who bases his edition primarily on that MS, does not include this reading in it.

16 - 18

This 'flock of sheep' was made aware of Dante's desire to move upward in the last canto (Purg. III.99). From behind the travelers they call out their courteous instruction, their 'guidance' now at an end.

19 - 24

A pseudosimile only because its formal grammatical relations (e.g., 'just as... so') are not expressed, these verses return to the countryside and the 'humble style' that Dante has deployed in many of his similes in Inferno and that typified the sole simile found in the preceding canto (Purg. III.79-87). The farmer fixes his hedge, by filling holes in it with thorns, when the grapes come ripe so as to protect his vineyard from thieves. Steiner (comm. to vv. 19-21) was perhaps the first commentator to note the reference to Matthew 7:14: 'Because strait is the gate, and narrow is the way, which leads to life, and there are few that find it.'

25 - 30

Here is another pseudosimile, even less grammatically ordered than the last, in which steep paths to towns or to mountain peaks in north and central Italy are compared to this path, which is even steeper. Dante's desire to rise is a necessary spur to such strenuous effort, but it is Virgil's guidance that lights his way and lends him hope.

37 - 39

Virgil, unacquainted with this place, gives sound provisional advice: it is best to keep moving up until some indication make the way plain.

41 - 42

Beginning with Benvenuto da Imola (comm. to vv. 40-42) there has been a small battle over the reference here. Is it to geometry, the line drawn from the apex of the triangle formed by bisecting the right angle of a quadrant of a circle? Or is it (as Benvenuto strongly believed) to the astronomical instrument, the quadrant, which is so called because it replicates precisely a quadrant of a circle? In either case the angle of ascent is even greater than 45o.

50 - 50

It is no wonder, given the steepness of the slope, that Dante completes this part of the ascent by crawling on his hands and knees (carpando). (For previous uses of the word carpone see Inf. XXV.141; Inf. XXIX.68.)

52 - 54

This brief respite may, at least intrinsically, bring to mind the antithetic figure of Ulysses. Where he left the east behind him (Inf. XXVI.124) and always ventured forward, Dante now looks back to the east, whence the sun had risen. The eastern sky, locus of the sunrise, has a long tradition in Christianity of representing Jesus, the 'light of the world' (John 8:12; 9:5).

Christopher Kleinhenz (“Canto IV,” in Dante's “Divine Comedy”: Introductory Readings II: “Purgatorio,” ed. Tibor Wlassics [Charlottesville: Lectura Dantis, University of Virginia, 1993]) pp. 60-61, would seem to suggest that Virgil here is looking back at the path that has brought them this far, while Dante is looking at the Christ-signifying sun, but there seems to be no evidence in the text to support this otherwise promising hypothesis.

55 - 57

Pietro di Dante (Pietro1, comm. to vv. 55-60) was the first to cite, as a source for this detail, a passage in Lucan (Phars. III.247-248), where Arabs, coming south of the equator, marveled at the fact that the shadows of trees fell to their right, not to their left. Trucchi (comm. to these verses) reminds the reader that, here in purgatory, levante, the place where the sun rises, is not east but west – from our perspective in the northern hemisphere.

Dante offers a more extended and entirely similar discussion of these matters in Convivio III.v.13-17.

58 - 60

Aquilone (line 60 in the Italian) is the north wind. The tercet repeats the protagonist's amazement upon seeing the morning sun to his left. The reader needs to understand that the poet imagines an 'ideal' left and right in this and other particulars. That is, two people facing one another, in either hemisphere, would each claim that the sun is to the other hand. In the astronomical givens of the poem, above the Tropic of Cancer the sun is to the south of the imagined observer, to his or her right; 'below' the Tropic of Capricorn (this is a northernizer's view, it should be noted) it is to the north, or left. Substituting 'north' for 'left' and 'south' for 'right,' the reader may find this passage more readily understandable.

61 - 66

Virgil's explanation of the position of the sun in the morning sky may be paraphrased as follows: If the sun (the mirror), which moves from one side of the equator to the other, were in the constellation Gemini (Castor and Pollux, the celestial twins) and not Aries (where it is now – see Inf. I.37-40), Dante would see the sun's path (the red part of the zodiac) as close to the Bears (Ursa Major and Ursa Minor) and thus as far north as it ever gets (at the summer solstice, 21 June). It would do this, Virgil adds, in an apparently gratuitous detail (but see the next passage), unless it were to veer from its ordained path (which of course it will not in any normal expectation).

'Zodiac, a belt of the heavens eighteen degrees in breadth, extending nine degrees on either side of the Ecliptic, within which, according to the Ptolemaic system, the Moon, Mercury, Venus, the Sun, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn perform their annual revolutions. It is divided into twelve equal parts of thirty degrees, called signs, which are named from the constellations lying within them' (Toynbee, “zodiaco” [Concise Dante Dictionary]).

67 - 75

Having made this much clear, Virgil goes on to offer Dante a 'thought experiment' that in fact exactly replicates what was, in Dante's time, considered geographical actuality. For Dante, Jerusalem, upon the hill Zion, and the mount of purgatory are precisely antipodal and share a common horizon (the equator). From this 'experiment' it quickly becomes clear that the path of the sun (the 'highway' that Phaeton flew off when he lost control of the chariot of the sun – see the note to Inf. XVII.106-108) must pass beneath (south) of Jerusalem and (in once more northcentric thinking), above (north) of the mount of purgatory. And thus we understand why Dante was surprised at the sun's leftness and why he should not have been.

The reference to Phaeton, now making clear the reason for the inclusion of reference to the possibility of the sun's not keeping its ordained path, is part of a 'Phaeton program' in the poem (see Kevin Brownlee, “Phaeton's Fall and Dante's Ascent,” Dante Studies 102 [1984], pp. 135-44). As Brownlee points out, Phaeton's presumptuous and failed heavenly voyage is set against Dante's ordained and successful voyage to the otherworld. That is clearly what the poet would have us believe. However, just as in this passage, where reference to the myth seems otiose, the presence of such a tale has the effect of reminding the reader that Dante is aware of the Phaeton in himself; that this poem is ever in need of management lest it crash from its own presumption. See, with regard to Ulysses, strong statements of a similar view in Teodolinda Barolini (The Undivine “Comedy”: Detheologizing Dante [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1992]), passim. Some support for such a view may be found in the reference to the astrological sign that marked Dante's birth, Gemini, at the beginning of this convoluted passage (Purg. IV.61).

76 - 82

The protagonist's rephrasing of what he has learned from Virgil is, one must admit, easier to grasp quickly than the master's presentation of it.

83 - 84

The Hebrews used to see it from Jerusalem but do so no longer because of their diaspora.

85 - 87

Appeased, the student has learned his lesson but now would like to know how much longer he must continue this exhausting journey. It is interesting that, in a canto in which the primary new character is the extremely lazy Belacqua, the protagonist is so strongly presented as wanting to rest – perhaps more so than in any other part of the poem (but see Inf. XXIV.43-45).

88 - 94

Even Virgil's answer seems tailored to the concerns of a man who would rather quit than fight; the final ascent will feel like floating downstream.

98 - 99

The voice that breaks into what has by now become, for most readers, a rather labored and even fussily academic discussion will turn out to be that of Belacqua. Named only at verse 123, he was a 'Florentine, contemporary of Dante, said by the old commentators to have been a musical instrument-maker; modern research has suggested his identification with one Duccio di Bonavia' (Toynbee, “Belacqua” [Concise Dante Dictionary]). According to Santorre Debenedetti (“Documenti su Belacqua,” Bulletino della Società Dantesca Italiana 13 [1906], pp. 222-33), Belacqua was dead before March 1302 but still alive in 1299. In other words, like Casella, he would seem to have been, in Dante's mind, a recent arrival.

His ironic and witty response to the conversation he has overheard immediately wins the reader's affection. On the other hand, for a denial that this speech of Belacqua's is in fact ironic, see Petrocchi (Itinerari danteschi, Premessa a cura di C. Ossola [Milan: Franco Angeli, 1994 (Bari: Laterza, 1969)], pp. 270-71.) For a moment we feel drawn out of the moralizing concerns and serious tones of the two poets. Raffaele Manica (“Belacqua,” in Studi di letteratura, critica e linguistica offerti a Riccardo Scrivano [Rome: Bulzoni, 2000]), p. 35, calls attention to the great importance of Dante's Belacqua to Samuel Beckett's fiction. According to him, Belacqua becomes a contemporary myth of irony rather than a depiction of the loss of will; however, he may not sense how much of the Beckettian view of Belacqua is already present in Dante. Much of Beckett's work is a kind of rewriting of the Dantean universe from the point of view of Belacqua alone, a universe of waiting, boredom, question, and frustration, as in the early short story 'Dante and the Lobster' and certainly including the rock-snuggled hoboes of Waiting for Godot. For at least a moment in this extraordinary exchange, Dante's Belacqua seems to control the situation. Of course he will have to be swept aside in the name of progress toward a Christian goal. But it is astounding (and heartwarming) to see how greatly Dante empathized with this character we like to imagine as being so antipathetic to him.

Belacqua's first word, 'perhaps,' immediately reveals his character as being indecisive, at least where goals or noble purposes are concerned; what follows shows his wit, deftly puncturing the balloon of Dantean eagerness (for he is a man who longs to do some serious sitting – see verse Purgatorio IV.52, where he accomplishes that goal). As we shall see, Dante will fight back, and we will then have a scene that is reminiscent of the back-and-forth between Farinata and Dante in Inferno X.

105 - 111

The word negghienza (indolence) begins a steady run of words expressing a desire not to do: lasso (weary – 106), sedeva (was sitting – 107), negligente (indolent – 110), pigrizia (sloth – 111). The words express the point of view of the protagonist, undoubtedly buoyed by his own recent enthusiasm for spiritual mountaineering, if perhaps conveniently forgetting his recent fatigue – of which Belacqua will enjoy reminding him. Dante has now returned Belacqua's delicate barb with a rather hefty blow. The tenzone-like tone (see the note to Inf. VIII.31-39) of jesting rivalry that marks the rest of this scene may have been previously set in real life. A tale has come down to us, first found in Benvenuto's commentary (to vv. 106-111), yet almost always cited by later commentators only from the Anonimo Fiorentino's more pleasing account (to Purg. IV.123-126). According to him, Dante frequently reproached Belacqua for his sloth. One day Belacqua quoted Aristotle (the seventh chapter of the Physics, a passage also found in Mon. I.iv.2): 'The soul becomes wise when one is seated and quiet.' To this Dante supposedly replied: 'If sitting can make a man wise, no one is wiser than you.'

112 - 114

Best in show for laziness, Belacqua is not quashed by Dante's squib; his slow physical movements are not paralleled by his words, which are winged, his version of 'If you're so smart, why aren't you rich?'

115 - 117

Rather than what we might expect, a counterthrust from Dante, we receive the information that he now, with brotherly affection, recognizes this saved soul and approaches him, despite the physical distress he still feels from that energetic climb of his.

118 - 120

Once again, after having his actions described in ways that mark his physical laziness, Belacqua takes aim at Dante (and, guilty by association, Virgil): Have you, little man, quite finished figuring out the obvious?

121 - 121

The poet's summarizing phrase puts his technique of presentation of Belacqua into relief: lazy movements and curt speech. In fact, Belacqua's three laconic speeches spread over only five lines (Purg. IV.98-99, 114, 119-120), and not even the full extent of these. They make him out, as Dante almost certainly knew him, a familiar figure: a person of little physical energy and of incisive, biting wit.

122 - 123

Dante's sympathy now governs the mood of the rest of the scene and puts an end to the aggressive sallies of the finally named Belacqua.

124 - 126

Dante's last question is not without its barb; is Belaqua just being himself? Has nothing in him changed even in this state of grace?

127 - 135

In what seems surprising length for so laconic a speaker (first three speeches, five lines; final speech, nine lines), Belacqua now reveals his other side, not that of a keen listener waiting for his 'opponent' to fall into the net of his sharp wit, but of a lazy loser who can't quite get himself organized. It is, the more we reflect upon it, something of a miracle that God chose him to join the elect in Heaven (as the protagonist himself thought – see Purg. IV.123-124).

127 - 127

Belacqua's word of greeting, 'frate,' now used for the first time since we heard Ulysses – if with far different purpose (see the note to Inf. XXVI.124-126) – address his men as his 'brothers' (Inf. XXVI.112), establishes the bond of genuine community among the saved, and we shall hear it used to address one's fellow twelve more times in Purgatorio and five in Paradiso (Purg. XI.82, Purg. XIII.94, Purg. XVI.65, Purg. XIX.133, Purg. XXI.13, Purg. XXI.131, Purg. XXIII.97, Purg. XXIII.112, Purg. XXIV.55, Purg. XXVI.115, Purg. XXIX.15, Purg. XXXIII.23; Par. III.70, Par. IV.100, Par. VII.58, Par. VII.130, Par. XXII.61). See the note to Purgatorio XIX.133.

For an observation regarding the antithetic relationship between Belacqua and Ulysses see Frankel (“La similitudine della zara [Purg. VI, 1-12] ed il rapporto fra Dante e Virgilio nell'Antepurgatorio,” in Studi Americani su Dante, ed. G. C. Alessio and R. Hollander [Milan: F. Angeli, 1989]), pp. 125-26.

Does it seem that Belacqua does not realize that Dante is still in the flesh, merely assuming that he and Virgil are headed up the mountain to purge themselves? It is possible to ask this question because, in this exchange, there is no reference to Dante's condition or to the identity or role of Virgil, subjects that have and will come up in other colloquies on the mountain.

128 - 129

Belacqua, seated, imagines the angel at the gates, also seated, but in every other respect different from him. Yet, we should remember, even such as he will eventually pass through that gate on the way to Heaven.

130 - 131

Where Manfred and his flock were eager to move on to their punishment and probably have far longer to wait, Belacqua exhibits a slothful hesitance even to consider shortening his time here. As the first of the late-repentant, he here establishes the rule that applies to all whom we meet in the remainder of ante-purgatory, that is, all between Cantos IV and VIII: there is a prescribed time of waiting for these former sinners, an equal amount to that which they spent unrepentant for their sins.

132 - 132

Even his way of describing his last prayer, which in his view saved his soul, invokes a sense of laziness: it is composed, not of words, but of sighs, a lazy man's prayer if ever there was one.

133 - 135

Acknowledging that other 'law' of ante-purgatory, of which we have heard from Manfred in the last canto (Purg. III.138-141), Belacqua refers to the possibility that the sentences of the late-repentant, like those of the excommunicate, may be shortened by the prayers of the living. His way of phrasing the possibility makes us tend to agree with him that he will do the full term of his sentence, since it seems to him unlikely that any of his friends would seem to be possessed of 'a heart that lives in grace.' His speech trails off in dubiety; we reflect that his last negative words do not contain an appeal to Dante for help with the prayers of the living. It is no wonder that Beckett admired him so. He is the sole 'Beckettian' character occupying a place in the purposeful and harmonious world of purgation and salvation. Should we imagine some of the more sympathetic sinners whom we have met in hell somehow being able to read Dante's poem, we would have also to imagine their rage and chagrin that such as they are damned while this lazy ingrate knows the world of grace.

136 - 139

Virgil has had enough of this, perhaps revealing, in his stern tone, his own sense of the injustice of the salvation of the apparently undeserving Belacqua. His urgent summons to recommence the journey upward, abruptly terminating Dante's conversation with Belacqua before its formal conclusion (as Carroll, in his commentary to these verse, observed), ends the canto with a note of timeliness that the episode has disrupted. Belacqua, saved, has all the time in the world; Virgil, damned, does not. Life, or grace, does not always seem fair.

It is now noon in purgatory and 6pm in Morocco, across from Spain at Gibraltar. Since Purgatorio II.1-9, when it was dawn, the action on the mountain has consumed six hours (we learned that it was just after 9am at Purg. IV.15-16), just over two and a half of them spent in the difficult ascent and the meeting with Belacqua.