Era già l'ora che volge il disio
ai navicanti e 'ntenerisce il core
lo dì c'han detto ai dolci amici addio;
e che lo novo peregrin d'amore
punge, se ode squilla di lontano
che paia il giorno pianger che si more;
quand' io incominciai a render vano
l'udire e a mirare una de l'alme
surta, che l'ascoltar chiedea con mano.
Ella giunse e levò ambo le palme,
ficcando li occhi verso l'orïente,
come dicesse a Dio: “D'altro non calme.”
“Te lucis ante” sì devotamente
le uscìo di bocca e con sì dolci note,
che fece me a me uscir di mente;
e l'altre poi dolcemente e devote
seguitar lei per tutto l'inno intero,
avendo li occhi a le superne rote.
Aguzza qui, lettor, ben li occhi al vero,
ché 'l velo è ora ben tanto sottile,
certo che 'l trapassar dentro è leggero.
Io vidi quello essercito gentile
tacito poscia riguardare in sùe,
quasi aspettando, palido e umìle;
e vidi uscir de l'alto e scender giùe
due angeli con due spade affocate,
tronche e private de le punte sue.
Verdi come fogliette pur mo nate
erano in veste, che da verdi penne
percosse traean dietro e ventilate.
L'un poco sovra noi a star si venne,
e l'altro scese in l'opposita sponda,
sì che la gente in mezzo si contenne.
Ben discernëa in lor la testa bionda;
ma ne la faccia l'occhio si smarria,
come virtù ch'a troppo si confonda
“Ambo vegnon del grembo di Maria,”
disse Sordello, “a guardia de la valle,
per lo serpente che verrà vie via.”
Ond' io, che non sapeva per qual calle,
mi volsi intorno, e stretto m'accostai,
tutto gelato, a le fidate spalle.
E Sordello anco: “Or avvalliamo omai
tra le grandi ombre, e parleremo ad esse;
grazïoso fia lor vedervi assai.”
Solo tre passi credo ch'i' scendesse,
e fui di sotto, e vidi un che mirava
pur me, come conoscer mi volesse.
Temp' era già che l'aere s'annerava,
ma non sì che tra li occhi suoi e ' miei
non dichiarisse ciò che pria serrava.
Ver' me si fece, e io ver' lui mi fei:
giudice Nin gentil, quanto mi piacque
quando ti vidi non esser tra ' rei!
Nullo bel salutar tra noi si tacque;
poi dimandò: “Quant' è che tu venisti
a piè del monte per le lontane acque?”
“Oh!” diss' io lui, “per entro i luoghi tristi
venni stamane, e sono in prima vita,
ancor che l'altra, sì andando, acquisti.”
E come fu la mia risposta udita,
Sordello ed elli in dietro si raccolse
come gente di sùbito smarrita.
L'uno a Virgilio e l'altro a un si volse
che sedea lì, gridando: “Sù, Currado!
vieni a veder che Dio per grazia volse.”
Poi, vòlto a me: “Per quel singular grado
che tu dei a colui che sì nasconde
lo suo primo perché, che non lì è guado,
quando sarai di là da le larghe onde,
dì a Giovanna mia che per me chiami
là dove a li 'nnocenti si risponde.
Non credo che la sua madre più m'ami,
poscia che trasmutò le bianche bende,
le quai convien che, misera!, ancor brami.
Per lei assai di lieve si comprende
quanto in femmina foco d'amor dura,
se l'occhio o 'l tatto spesso non l'accende.
Non le farà sì bella sepultura
la vipera che Melanesi accampa,
com' avria fatto il gallo di Gallura.”
Così dicea, segnato de la stampa,
nel suo aspetto, di quel dritto zelo
che misuratamente in core avvampa.
Li occhi miei ghiotti andavan pur al cielo,
pur là dove le stelle son più tarde,
sì come rota più presso a lo stelo.
E 'l duca mio: “Figliuol, che là sù guarde?”
E io a lui: “A quelle tre facelle
di che 'l polo di qua tutto quanto arde.”
ond' elli a me: “Le quattro chiare stelle
che vedevi staman, son di là basse,
e queste son salite ov' eran quelle.”
Com' ei parlava, e Sordello a sé il trasse
dicendo: “Vedi là 'l nostro avversaro”;
e drizzò il dito perché 'n là guardasse.
Da quella parte onde non ha riparo
la picciola vallea, era una biscia,
forse qual diede ad Eva il cibo amaro.
Tra l'erba e ' fior venìa la mala striscia,
volgendo ad ora ad or la testa, e 'l dosso
leccando come bestia che si liscia.
Io non vidi, e però dicer non posso,
come mosser li astor celestïali;
ma vidi bene e l'uno e l'altro mosso.
Sentendo fender l'aere a le verdi ali,
fuggì 'l serpente, e li angeli dier volta,
suso a le poste rivolando iguali.
L'ombra che s'era al giudice raccolta
quando chiamò, per tutto quello assalto
punto non fu da me guardare sciolta.
“Se la lucerna che ti mena in alto
truovi nel tuo arbitrio tanta cera
quant' è mestiere infino al sommo smalto,”
cominciò ella, “se novella vera
di Val di Magra o di parte vicina
sai, dillo a me, che già grande là era.
Fui chiamato Currado Malaspina;
non son l'antico, ma di lui discesi;
a' miei portai l'amor che qui raffina.”
“Oh!” diss' io lui, “per li vostri paesi
già mai non fui; ma dove si dimora
per tutta Europa ch'ei non sien palesi?
La fama che la vostra casa onora,
grida i segnori e grida la contrada,
sì che ne sa chi non vi fu ancora;
e io vi giuro, s'io di sopra vada,
che vostra gente onrata non si sfregia
del pregio de la borsa e de la spada.
Uso e natura sì la privilegia,
che, perché il capo reo il mondo torca,
sola va dritta e 'l mal cammin dispregia.”
Ed elli: “Or va; che 'l sol non si ricorca
sette volte nel letto che 'l Montone
con tutti e quattro i piè cuopre e inforca,
che cotesta cortese oppinïone
ti fia chiavata in mezzo de la testa
con maggior chiovi che d'altrui sermone,
se corso di giudicio non s'arresta.”
'Twas now the hour that turneth back desire
In those who sail the sea, and melts the heart,
The day they've said to their sweet friends farewell,
And the new pilgrim penetrates with love,
If he doth hear from far away a bell
That seemeth to deplore the dying day,
When I began to make of no avail
My hearing, and to watch one of the souls
Uprisen, that begged attention with its hand.
It joined and lifted upward both its palms,
Fixing its eyes upon the orient,
As if it said to God, "Naught else I care for."
"Te lucis ante" so devoutly issued
Forth from its mouth, and with such dulcet notes,
It made me issue forth from my own mind.
And then the others, sweetly and devoutly,
Accompanied it through all the hymn entire,
Having their eyes on the supernal wheels.
Here, Reader, fix thine eyes well on the truth,
For now indeed so subtile is the veil,
Surely to penetrate within is easy.
I saw that army of the gentle-born
Thereafterward in silence upward gaze,
As if in expectation, pale and humble;
And from on high come forth and down descend,
I saw two Angels with two flaming swords,
Truncated and deprived of their points.
Green as the little leaflets just now born
Their garments were, which, by their verdant pinions
Beaten and blown abroad, they trailed behind.
One just above us came to take his station,
And one descended to the opposite bank,
So that the people were contained between them.
Clearly in them discerned I the blond head;
But in their faces was the eye bewildered,
As faculty confounded by excess.
"From Mary's bosom both of them have come,"
Sordello said, "as guardians of the valley
Against the serpent, that will come anon."
Whereupon I, who knew not by what road,
Turned round about, and closely drew myself,
Utterly frozen, to the faithful shoulders.
And once again Sordello: "Now descend we
'Mid the grand shades, and we will speak to them;
Right pleasant will it be for them to see you."
Only three steps I think that I descended,
And was below, and saw one who was looking
Only at me, as if he fain would know me.
Already now the air was growing dark,
But not so that between his eyes and mine
It did not show what it before locked up.
Tow'rds me he moved, and I tow'rds him did move;
Noble Judge Nino! how it me delighted,
When I beheld thee not among the damned!
No greeting fair was left unsaid between us;
Then asked he: "How long is it since thou camest
O'er the far waters to the mountain's foot?"
"Oh!" said I to him, "through the dismal places
I came this morn; and am in the first life,
Albeit the other, going thus, I gain."
And on the instant my reply was heard,
He and Sordello both shrank back from me,
Like people who are suddenly bewildered.
One to Virgilius, and the other turned
To one who sat there, crying, "Up, Currado!
Come and behold what God in grace has willed!"
Then, turned to me: "By that especial grace
Thou owest unto Him, who so conceals
His own first wherefore, that it has no ford,
When thou shalt be beyond the waters wide,
Tell my Giovanna that she pray for me,
Where answer to the innocent is made.
I do not think her mother loves me more,
Since she has laid aside her wimple white,
Which she, unhappy, needs must wish again.
Through her full easily is comprehended
How long in woman lasts the fire of love,
If eye or touch do not relight it often.
So fair a hatchment will not make for her
The Viper marshalling the Milanese
A-field, as would have made Gallura's Cock."
In this wise spake he, with the stamp impressed
Upon his aspect of that righteous zeal
Which measurably burneth in the heart.
My greedy eyes still wandered up to heaven,
Still to that point where slowest are the stars,
Even as a wheel the nearest to its axle.
And my Conductor: "Son, what dost thou gaze at
Up there?" And I to him: "At those three torches
With which this hither pole is all on fire."
And he to me: "The four resplendent stars
Thou sawest this morning are down yonder low,
And these have mounted up to where those were."
As he was speaking, to himself Sordello
Drew him, and said, "Lo there our Adversary!"
And pointed with his finger to look thither.
Upon the side on which the little valley
No barrier hath, a serpent was; perchance
The same which gave to Eve the bitter food.
'Twixt grass and flowers came on the evil streak,
Turning at times its head about, and licking
Its back like to a beast that smoothes itself.
I did not see, and therefore cannot say
How the celestial falcons 'gan to move,
But well I saw that they were both in motion.
Hearing the air cleft by their verdant wings,
The serpent fled, and round the Angels wheeled,
Up to their stations flying back alike.
The shade that to the Judge had near approached
When he had called, throughout that whole assault
Had not a moment loosed its gaze on me.
"So may the light that leadeth thee on high
Find in thine own free-will as much of wax
As needful is up to the highest azure,"
Began it, "if some true intelligence
Of Valdimagra or its neighbourhood
Thou knowest, tell it me, who once was great there.
Currado Malaspina was I called;
I'm not the elder, but from him descended;
To mine I bore the love which here refineth."
"O," said I unto him, "through your domains
I never passed, but where is there a dwelling
Throughout all Europe, where they are not known?
That fame, which doeth honour to your house,
Proclaims its Signors and proclaims its land,
So that he knows of them who ne'er was there.
And, as I hope for heaven, I swear to you
Your honoured family in naught abates
The glory of the purse and of the sword.
It is so privileged by use and nature,
That though a guilty head misguide the world,
Sole it goes right, and scorns the evil way."
And he: "Now go; for the sun shall not lie
Seven times upon the pillow which the Ram
With all his four feet covers and bestrides,
Before that such a courteous opinion
Shall in the middle of thy head be nailed
With greater nails than of another's speech,
Unless the course of justice standeth still."
This pseudosimile (it has the effect but not the grammatical form of a simile) sets the protagonist apart from more usual mortal travelers. Using the two great metaphors for this journey and this poem, the voyage across a sea and the pilgrimage, the poet presents his earthbound counterparts as filled with all-too-human backward-looking sentiment. The protagonist pays attention to the event taking place before him, avoiding nostalgia, the sort of distraction we found him so attracted by in the second canto of Purgatorio when he encountered Casella and experienced associated memories of his former life.
Grabher's gloss to verse 5 runs as follows: 'This is the bell for Compline, the last of the canonical hours of the day, when indeed the hymn Te lucis ante terminum [Before the ending of the light] is sung in order to invoke divine assistance against the temptations of the night.' This hymn immediately follows the lesson in the service occurring after Vespers (the time between 3pm and 6pm), ideally accompanying the setting sun.
Tommaseo (comm. to vv. 4-6) was perhaps the first to note the closeness to Dante's description of the pilgrims whom he observed in Florence, perhaps rapt in thoughts of the friends they had left behind at home (VN XL.2).
Byron's close translation of these much-admired verses in Don Juan III.108 is noted by Carroll (comm. to vv. 1-6). For a reading of this canto in the spirit of these lines see Enrico “La nostalgia che 'volge il disio': Lettura del canto VIII del Purgatorio,” Rivista di Studi Danteschi, 1 [2001], pp. 91-119.
The opening passage is so beautiful and its readers so moved by it that most of them assume that the protagonist is being associated by the poet with the travelers it refers to. Yet it is clear that, unlike those travelers, he does not yield to the temptation of yearning for a past that is out of reach, even though this is his first evening in a distant, foreign place. Indeed, he may be drawing some of his attention from the hymn Salve, Regina in order to pay heed to the soul who calls for attention. Who this soul may be is a matter for which there are no grounds for discovery; we cannot even say whether it is male or female, although the entirely male cast of those identified in the Valley of the Princes makes the former possibility a more likely one. Commentators, including Scartazzini (comm. to verse 9), have been reminded of Acts 13:16: 'Paul arose, motioning with his hand for silence' (Paul is addressing the Jews in the synagogue at Antioch; his main message is the Resurrection of Jesus).
Some commentators believe that Dante is 'tuning out' Sordello, but this seems unlikely for two reasons: (1) Sordello's speech, ending the previous canto, has a finished feel to it; (2) we know that almost all the penitents in the valley are singing the hymn Salve, Regina (Purg. VII.82), and surely seem to be continuing to do so, as Sordello's words indicate (Purg. VII.93; VII.113; VII.125); we are not told they have ceased to sing it until they join this cantor in Te lucis ante terminum (Purg. VIII.13-18). It thus seems likely that Dante is taking his attention from their song in order to attend to this fairly urgent signal, which in turn quiets them. As Scartazzini (comm. to verse 7) argues, 'The Poet did not wish to say, 'I began to be aware that silence had fallen' [as Scartazzini berates many commentators for saying], for when one is hearing nothing it is not necessary to cut short one's listening.'
The praying figure is facing east, not because the sun is there (it is setting in the west), but because the east is traditionally associated with Christ as 'rising sun.' For the Virgilian provenance of his gesture see Tommaseo (comm. to these verses): Dante's 'levò ambo le palme' is indeed close to Aeneid X.844-845: 'et ambas / ad caelum tendit palmas.' However, Heilbronn (“Dante's Valley of the Princes,” Dante Studies 90 [1972]), pp. 56-57, points out that his action 'imitates the words of Psalm 133:3: 'In noctibus extollite manus vestras in sancta, et benedicite dominum' [134:1-2: by night... lift up your hands in the sanctuary and bless the Lord]. At Compline, this psalm immediately precedes the hymn, Te lucis, as the gesture does in Purg. VIII.'
Te lucis ante, an evening hymn, is sung in its entirety. As Singleton points out, in his remarks about this verse, the context of what is sung is closely pertinent to the scene played out here in the valley; he also offers both the Latin and the English texts of the hymn. As opposed to Salve, Regina, which looks back upon the sadness of sin and exile, hoping for Marian intercession, Te lucis ante looks ahead and requests the Father's and the Son's protection from the dangers of the Satanic forces of the night. Thus, while surely there is nothing 'wrong' with singing Salve, Regina, in this context it is time to turn to the future, and this is what the protagonist does.
Dante's reaction to this singing is reminiscent of his rapt response to the singing performed on his account by Casella in Purgatorio II (Poletto comm. to vv. 10-15) also notes this). The religious tone of this hymn and the 'proper' behavior of this crowd gives us a very different perspective on this scene. There is no need of a Cato to come to reprimand these singers, whose eyes are fixed on heavenly things.
This is the first of seven addresses to the reader in Purgatorio (see the note to Inf. VIII.94-96). Most reminiscent, in its use of the language of allegory, of 'veiled' truth, found in the second address (Inf. IX.61-63), this passage also involves treating an action performed in the poem as though it were not 'historical' but metaphoric (see the note to Inf .IX.58-63). In the first case that such was the case was suggested by Virgil's covering Dante's hands with his own, a physical gesture laden with allegorical significance, while now the text will refer to a battle that does not in fact take place (see Purg. VIII.103-108), but which needs to be understood for its significance. In each case we are dealing with what would seem to be related, in Dante's mind, with the 'allegory of the poets,' i.e., a text that can be understood metaphorically, even though it is presented as 'historical.' See Hollander (Allegory in Dante's “Commedia” [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969]), pp. 239-49. For the view that the 'veil' that needs to be pierced covers the preceding verses, the hymn Te lucis ante, offered as prayer by the penitents, see Natascia Tonelli, “Intorno agli angeli di Dante. I. Nella Valletta dei Principi,” L'Alighieri 20 (2002), p. 96.
Most of the early commentators, following their natural inclination, allegorize the meaning of the two swords (often as God's justice and mercy), but Pietro di Dante (Pietro1, comm. to vv. 25-27) turns to the Bible for their source, and presents a more interesting analysis. Yet it will only be with Lombardi (comm. to vv. 26-27) that a later commentator turns to this most likely source. Genesis 3:24 records God's placing (two?) Cherubim at the east of the garden of Eden along with a flaming sword to keep sinful humans from the tree of life. Dante's redoing of the scene is careful and meaningful. The swords have no points because they do not need to do any harm, since the enemy has been defeated by Christ and need no longer be feared by those having faith in Christ; they are aflame with God's love for humanity, which has reversed the exclusionary rule of law in Genesis and reopened the garden with its tree of eternal life; the angels are green of wing and vestment because they give expression to the hope for salvation brought by Christ. Georges Güntert (“Canto VIII,” in Lectura Dantis Turicensis: Purgatorio, ed. Georges Güntert and Michelangelo Picone [Florence: Cesati, 2001]), p. 109, notes the pivotal reversals of the scene in Genesis here.
As Singleton suggests in his comment to this line, the image brings to mind an army camped for the night and guarded by sentinels (the host was indeed first [Purg. VIII.22] referred to as an essercito, literally an 'army,' but the term generally had a wider sense in Dante's day).
Genesis (3:14-15) is another text visible behind the scenes of this drama (as Christopher McElroy, Princeton '72, suggested in a classroom many years ago), God's curse upon the serpent and the conjoined prophecy of the the woman's seed who will bruise the serpent's head and have his heel bruised as a result, taken by Christian exegetes – and surely by Dante among them – to refer to the Crucifixion. Both these Cherubs come from the bosom of Mary, that 'anti-Eve,' to guard the valley, now safe from harm, as we shall see, against the serpent. This garden, foreshadowing the garden of Eden that lies above, has been reopened to humanity, as has been that higher place. Paradise has been regained. See Amilcare Iannucci (“The Nino Visconti Episode in Purgatorio VIII [vv. 43-84],” La Fusta 3, no. 2 [1978]), p. 1: 'We have an audience watching a kind of mystery play which contains both paradise lost and paradise regained.'
For the palindromatic opposition Ave/Eva see Pietro di Dante (Pietro1, comm. to Par. XXXII.4-6 [the locus of most commentators' discussion of this topos]): 'And the holy men say that, just as sickness was born from that most prideful one, that is, Eve, just so its cure springs from that most humble one, that is, Mary.' And thus, Pietro continues, the 'Ave' of the 'Hail, Mary' counters the effect of Eve, whose name it spells backward. Commenting on this canto, J. S. Carroll (comm. to vv. 22-30) ties in that subject to this scene: 'this contrast between Mary and Eve is a favourite subject with early and mediaeval theologians, in sign of which Eva is reversed and becomes the Ave of the Angel's salutation, as in the Ave, Maris Stella hymn: Sumens illud Ave / Gabrielis ore, / Funda nos in pace / Mutans Evae nomen' (Taking that 'Ave' from the mouth of Gabriel, put us at peace, changing the name of Eve).
On the basis of Sordello's description, the serpent sounds both real and threatening enough for Dante to be afraid, especially since he has not yet read the signs as well as he will eventually. There is only one other occasion in the poem in which Dante has been gelato (chilled): when he looks upon Satan (Inf. XXXIV.22). This serpent is indeed Satan in his 'serpent suit' in the garden (Genesis 3:1 and passim).
Sordello's maneuver puts the appointment with the serpent on hold and occupies Dante's mind with other things. Now the Mantuan poet has Dante descend among the inhabitants of the valley – what he and Virgil specifically did not do in their first view of them (Purg. VII.88-90). The rest of the Edenic drama must wait until Purgatorio VIII.94-108.
These three steps, unlike those at Purgatorio XXVIII.70, are taken by almost all commentators at face value. But even they, understood by most as indicating that it was but a short distance down into the valley (see Purg. VII.72), have made allegorists stir with interpretive excitement, e.g., Vellutello (comm. to vv. 46-54); Scartazzini (comm. to this verse). Poletto (comm. to vv. 46-48) waxes hot against such attempts. However, Trucchi (comm. to vv. 46-48) yields to temptation with a totally unconvincing sally: the three steps reflect the three orders of rulers Dante has observed in the preceding canto, an emperor, kings, great vassals. Mattalia (comm. to this verse) struggles for a moment before succumbing: the colors of the angels are three, as are the poets gathered here, and as will be the stars that Dante will see. And Chimenz (comm. to vv. 46-48) is of the opinion that the three steps must be allegories, but of what he cannot even begin to say. And even Bosco/Reggio (comm. to vv. 46-48) remark that an allegorical reading is possible, if impossible to be certain of, but insist that three is such an important symbolic number that some sort of allegory must be latent in it.
Like the anonymous lethargic penitent at Purgatorio V.9, this penitent has eyes for Dante alone. On this occasion, however, it tells us more about him than it does about Dante. See the note to Purgatorio VIII.109-111.
From the distance, this soul and Dante could not recognize one another, but the darkness of nightfall is not yet so great as to prevent their doing so now.
This 'recognition scene' reestablishes Dante's role as 'star' of the poem. Virgil has his Sordello, for whom Dante does not exist; Dante has his Nino, for whom Virgil does not exist.
'Nino Visconti of Pisa, judge of the district of Gallura in Sardinia; he was grandson of Count Ugolino della Gherardesca, and in 1288 was chief of the Guelf party in Pisa; in that year he and the Guelfs were treacherously expelled from Pisa by Count Ugolino, whereupon he retired to Lucca, and in alliance with Genoa and the Lucchese and Florentine Guelfs made war upon Pisa, which he carried on at intervals for the next five years. In 1293, on the conclusion of peace between the Pisans and the Tuscan Guelfs, Nino betook himself to Genoa, and shortly after departed to his judgeship of Gallura.... Nino died in Sardinia in 1296' (Toynbee, “Nino2” [Concise Dante Dictionary]). Nino fought at the battle of Campaldino and probably spent some time in Florence in the time between his exile from Pisa and his removal to Sardinia; it is possible that Dante came to know him then, as the conversation is clearly meant to be taken as one between old friends.
Dante's surprise at Nino's salvation is not necessarily based on any specific knowledge of any particular sin; all are sinners and, if honest, are surprised to find themselves saved.
The meeting between Dante and Nino contrasts with that between Virgil and Sordello, this one untinged by tragic notes. Nino assumes, almost correctly, that Dante is one of the saved; Sordello, guided by Virgil's admission that he has lost heaven, asks about Virgil's location in hell (Purg. VII.21).
Chiavacci Leonardi (Purgatorio, con il commento di A. M. C. L. [Milan: Mondadori, 1994]), p. 241, cites Francesco D'Ovidio for the view that the phrase in verse 57, 'over far waters,' reflects, once again, a scene in the Elysian fields, when Anchises welcomes Aeneas (Aen. VI.692), who had journeyed 'over wide seas' to experience that reunion.
Dante finally is able to answer Sordello's question (Purg. VI.70) with regard to his own condition. These are the first words he has spoken since Purgatorio VI.51, a fact that underlines the way in which Sordello and Virgil have taken over the stage in these scenes. Now Dante is once again the 'star' of the drama. See the note to Purgatorio VII.1-3.
Sordello and Nino are both surprised to learn that Dante is here in the flesh, is not yet dead, the one turning to his new companion, Virgil the Mantuan, the other, Nino, to his friend in God's grace, Currado, perhaps known to him from his recent travels in Tuscany. It is likely that Dante considered both Virgil and Sordello, champions of empire, sympathetic to the Ghibelline cause, while Nino was a Guelph and Currado, though a Ghibelline, was a cousin of Moroello Malaspina, with whom Dante had good relations and who was a Guelph. In the next world such divisive distinctions begin to break down.
Currado Malaspina was the grandson of Currado 'l'antico' and son of Federigo of Villafranca. He died ca. 1294. His first cousin, Franceschino, was probably Dante's host in Lunigiana in 1306 (see Purg. VIII.133-139).
Nino comments upon the unknown and unknowable purpose of God in bringing this living human soul into the immortal realm. He is content to accept the quia, the sheer fact of Dante's having been chosen to be here. See Purgatorio III.37.
Nino hopes that Dante, returning to the world, will see his daughter, Giovanna, in Pisa and cause her, by recounting this meeting, to pray for his soul. Giovanna's innocence is the result at least of her age, since she was born in 1291 or so.
Nino's unnamed wife was Beatrice d'Este. Sometime after his death in 1296 she stopped wearing widow's vestments, which featured white bands drawn around the head (her 'wimple'), and eventually married, after a previous betrothal, a second husband, Galeazzo Visconti of Milan, in June of 1300. The misery that awaits her is to share the exile of her new husband because of the expulsion of the powerful Visconti family from Milan in 1302.
For early awareness of the citation of Virgil here, see the Anonimo Fiorentino (comm. to vv. 76-78), who brings to bear Aeneid IV.569-570: 'A woman is ever a fickle and a changeful thing.'
Nino's heraldic language suggests that the device of the Milanese Visconti's coat of arms, the viper, will not decorate her tomb as well as would have his family's device, the rooster, had she remained a widow and eventually died in Pisa. According to Amilcare Iannucci (“The Nino Visconti Episode in Purgatorio VIII [vv. 43-84],” La Fusta 3, no. 2 [1978]), pp. 4-6, Nino's family drama is resolved in biblical terms, with his wife, Beatrice, associated with the serpent of Genesis, and his daughter, Giovanna, with Mary.
Whether with a purpose or not, Dante plays off the situation that pertained in Vita nuova .XXIV3, when Guido Cavalcanti's Giovanna preceded Dante's Beatrice as John the Baptist preceded Christ. Here the innocent Giovanna is a foil to the unnamed but vicious Beatrice d'Este, her own mother. In the language of King Lear turned inside out, 'bad wombs have borne good daughters.'
The poet underlines the fact, lest we fail to observe it, that Nino takes no pleasure in his former wife's coming tribulations, but merely notes God's justice in them.
These three tercets distance the reader from the intense family drama narrated by Nino, as though to put that drama into a cosmic context. The protagonist gazes at the pole in the southern sky where, as on a wheel, that which is closest to the axle moves more slowly than points farther from it. The four stars, representing the four cardinal virtues (as almost all agree), seen by the travelers in Purgatorio I.23 near the pole, are now setting on the other side of the mount of purgatory and are thus shielded from view. They are replaced in their former position by these three. Nearly all, primarily because of their allegorical reading of the four, also insist that these represent the three theological virtues, faith, hope, and charity. However, some commentators, following Portirelli (comm. to vv. 86-93), argue for a strictly literal and astronomical reference here, the three stars being among the brightest of two southern constellations, Dorado and Achernar in Eridanus; Canopus in Carina. (For Portirelli's notion that Dante knew about the southern heavens from Marco Polo, see the note to Purg. I.22-24.) Later commentators, following Paget Toynbee (see “Alfergano” [Concise Dante Dictionary]), think that Dante had his information from the texts of Alfraganus. Toynbee is responsible for demonstrating Dante's reliance on Alfraganus's Elementa astronomica, based heavily on Ptolemy's Almagest, written in Arabic in the ninth century and then translated into Latin in the twelfth century by Gerard of Cremona and in the thirteenth by John of Seville. Dante cites this text twice in Convivio, once by Alfraganus' name (Conv. II.xiii.11), once by the title 'Libro de l'Aggregazioni de le Stelle' (Conv. II.v.16) but, as Toynbee has shown, probably resorts to it on at least seventeen other occasions in his works (mainly in Convivio). Beginning with Andreoli (comm. to verse 89), for half a century most commentators argue for a literal sense that indicates phenomena in the southern sky and an allegorical sense. But after Poletto (comm. to vv. 91-93) most indicate only the allegorical meaning.
Sordello interrupts Virgil's heavenly discourse to call his (and, once again, not Dante's) attention to the drama unfolding in the garden.
We have seen this 'snake' before, in Inferno XXXIV, imprisoned for his arrogant assault on God. Now we see him replaying his role in the Fall, licking himself in prideful self-absorption as he plans another assault, now that he has lost his first battle, upon humankind. Both Sordello's urgency in interrupting Virgil's notice of the heavens' beauties and the fact that no opposition has as yet deployed its forces have the effect of creating uncertainty (and fear) in the naïve onlooker and in the reader. This serpent seems dangerous indeed, as he was when he tempted Eve in Eden, but in fact is not, as we presently discover.
Dante's attention to the snake kept the rapid defensive action of the angels from his view until they suddenly enter his field of vision, immediately thwarting the plans of the snake. We now see why their swords are blunted: they have no need of them because this serpent is powerless to offend. This drama is precisely that, a play, by which the onlookers, now safe in their potentially (but definitively) saved state, may be reminded of their sinful lives – their vulnerability to the serpent – and the grace that has rewarded their goodness with salvation. Mark Musa (Advent at the Gates [Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1974]) examines this scene as a representation of Christ's recurring second advent, as set forth by St. Bernard in his First Sermon on the Advents. Between His first (when He came to earth to save humankind) and final coming (at the end of time, to judge and rule the world), Christ is understood as coming into the heart of each successive believer. For Denise Heilbronn (“Dante's Valley of the Princes,” Dante Studies 90 [1972]), who accepts (p. 46) Musa's view, the intervention of the angels represents 'an allegorical enactment of the intermediate Advent – that is, the coming of Christ into the hearts of the faithful in this world.'
The astor is a bird of prey, domesticated in order to hunt other birds, but also particularly aggressive against snakes: this is the composite gloss that rises from many commentators, if generally without the presentation of further evidence. Torraca (1905) cites Brunetto Latini (Tresor, I.v.148) for the first traits but not the last. Beginning with the Ottimo (comm. to these verses) commentators have reported this species of bird (Latin astur, i.e., from Asturia [Fallani, comm. to vv. 103-105]) to be 'unfriendly to snakes,' whether because they believe this to be true or because the context would encourage such an explanation and it is found in preceding commentaries.
Heilbronn (“Dante's Valley of the Princes,” Dante Studies 90 (1972]), p. 55, argues that it is to Nino's companion's credit (we will shortly discover that this is Currado Malaspina) that he never takes his eyes from Dante, whose presence marks the really important event taking place here, against the backdrop of this now familiar play, in which nothing is really happening, for all its symbolic significance. The play reflects the past, Dante's physical presence in purgatory in the present, and the future – Dante's among Currado's family in Lunigiana and Currado's hopes for prayer from them, never expressed, but clear from all the similar requests we have already heard from others.
It is strange, in light of other images in the poem that make Virgil a light for Dante (e.g., Purg. I.43: lucerna; Purg. VI.29: luce; Inf. I.82, Purg. XVIII.11, Purg. XXII.68: lume) that so few commentators have thought that lucerna here even might refer to Virgil (only Benvenuto [comm. to vv. 112-117] and John of Serravalle [comm. to vv. 112-117]). From the first, glossators have insisted that Dante's guiding light is divine grace, a view made more specific by Vellutello (comm. to these verses) and most commentators after him: illuminating grace, which will light Dante's way toward the earthly paradise (and thence true heaven) if only his good will (his 'wax') will feed its flame.
The valley of the river Magra, flowing through Lunigiana, home of the Malaspina family. For Currado and his grandfather see the note to Purgatorio VIII.61-66. Currado's disclaimer is probably meant to be taken as a sign of his modesty (his grandfather was the real Currado), as is his awareness that his love of the world must be purged above on the mountain.
Dante's words in praise of the valor and generosity of the house of Malaspina in 1300 are in fact words of thanks for the hospitality of Franceschino Malaspina in Lunigiana in 1306 (and, according to Boccaccio, in his Vita di Dante [Trattatello in laude di Dante, ed. P. G. Ricci (Milan: Mondadori, 1974)], p. 483, of Moroello Malaspina as well [see Dante's letter to Moroello, his fourth Epistle, ca. 1307]).
This verse has been variously interpreted. If we agree that capo is the subject (and not the object) of the sentence, as almost all do, then we may choose among the following solutions: the wicked chief who corrupts the world may be Satan, the pope (and then surely Boniface VIII), Rome (with its corrupt papacy and no emperor in her saddle), or bad governance in general. Whichever solution Dante may himself have had in mind, it is clear that any and all of these solutions 'work,' and are, in fact, interrelated. If Satan is the 'prince of darkness' who leads most humans astray, his minions on earth (corrupt popes, pusillanimous emperors), or even corrupt leadership generally understood, all point to a common failing and a common cause: weak humans falling under the influence of those who govern poorly. From this failing only the Malaspina family is.currently exempt.
Guglielmo Gorni (“Il canto VIII del Purgatorio,” L'Alighieri 19 [2002]), p. 67, suggests a venturesome possible reading, in which the 'capo' (head) is to be separated from its accompanying adjective (rio [wicked]), which Gorni would like to treat as a part of the object of the verb, taking 'the world's head' as a metaphor. The world, then, would be turning its head toward evil. The grammar of the clause would not seem to allow this reading.
'Va' or, literally, 'Go' seems here to have the same sense that it sometimes has in Shakespeare, i.e., 'Go to,' meaning 'Enough of such words.' Currado, embarrassed by Dante's praise of his family, goes on to promise his interlocutor that he indeed will have cause to praise it more in 1306 (i.e., before the sun returns to the constellation Aries seven years from now).
Commentary text is copyrighted and reproduced by permission.
Please enter a search term.
Era già l'ora che volge il disio
ai navicanti e 'ntenerisce il core
lo dì c'han detto ai dolci amici addio;
e che lo novo peregrin d'amore
punge, se ode squilla di lontano
che paia il giorno pianger che si more;
quand' io incominciai a render vano
l'udire e a mirare una de l'alme
surta, che l'ascoltar chiedea con mano.
Ella giunse e levò ambo le palme,
ficcando li occhi verso l'orïente,
come dicesse a Dio: “D'altro non calme.”
“Te lucis ante” sì devotamente
le uscìo di bocca e con sì dolci note,
che fece me a me uscir di mente;
e l'altre poi dolcemente e devote
seguitar lei per tutto l'inno intero,
avendo li occhi a le superne rote.
Aguzza qui, lettor, ben li occhi al vero,
ché 'l velo è ora ben tanto sottile,
certo che 'l trapassar dentro è leggero.
Io vidi quello essercito gentile
tacito poscia riguardare in sùe,
quasi aspettando, palido e umìle;
e vidi uscir de l'alto e scender giùe
due angeli con due spade affocate,
tronche e private de le punte sue.
Verdi come fogliette pur mo nate
erano in veste, che da verdi penne
percosse traean dietro e ventilate.
L'un poco sovra noi a star si venne,
e l'altro scese in l'opposita sponda,
sì che la gente in mezzo si contenne.
Ben discernëa in lor la testa bionda;
ma ne la faccia l'occhio si smarria,
come virtù ch'a troppo si confonda
“Ambo vegnon del grembo di Maria,”
disse Sordello, “a guardia de la valle,
per lo serpente che verrà vie via.”
Ond' io, che non sapeva per qual calle,
mi volsi intorno, e stretto m'accostai,
tutto gelato, a le fidate spalle.
E Sordello anco: “Or avvalliamo omai
tra le grandi ombre, e parleremo ad esse;
grazïoso fia lor vedervi assai.”
Solo tre passi credo ch'i' scendesse,
e fui di sotto, e vidi un che mirava
pur me, come conoscer mi volesse.
Temp' era già che l'aere s'annerava,
ma non sì che tra li occhi suoi e ' miei
non dichiarisse ciò che pria serrava.
Ver' me si fece, e io ver' lui mi fei:
giudice Nin gentil, quanto mi piacque
quando ti vidi non esser tra ' rei!
Nullo bel salutar tra noi si tacque;
poi dimandò: “Quant' è che tu venisti
a piè del monte per le lontane acque?”
“Oh!” diss' io lui, “per entro i luoghi tristi
venni stamane, e sono in prima vita,
ancor che l'altra, sì andando, acquisti.”
E come fu la mia risposta udita,
Sordello ed elli in dietro si raccolse
come gente di sùbito smarrita.
L'uno a Virgilio e l'altro a un si volse
che sedea lì, gridando: “Sù, Currado!
vieni a veder che Dio per grazia volse.”
Poi, vòlto a me: “Per quel singular grado
che tu dei a colui che sì nasconde
lo suo primo perché, che non lì è guado,
quando sarai di là da le larghe onde,
dì a Giovanna mia che per me chiami
là dove a li 'nnocenti si risponde.
Non credo che la sua madre più m'ami,
poscia che trasmutò le bianche bende,
le quai convien che, misera!, ancor brami.
Per lei assai di lieve si comprende
quanto in femmina foco d'amor dura,
se l'occhio o 'l tatto spesso non l'accende.
Non le farà sì bella sepultura
la vipera che Melanesi accampa,
com' avria fatto il gallo di Gallura.”
Così dicea, segnato de la stampa,
nel suo aspetto, di quel dritto zelo
che misuratamente in core avvampa.
Li occhi miei ghiotti andavan pur al cielo,
pur là dove le stelle son più tarde,
sì come rota più presso a lo stelo.
E 'l duca mio: “Figliuol, che là sù guarde?”
E io a lui: “A quelle tre facelle
di che 'l polo di qua tutto quanto arde.”
ond' elli a me: “Le quattro chiare stelle
che vedevi staman, son di là basse,
e queste son salite ov' eran quelle.”
Com' ei parlava, e Sordello a sé il trasse
dicendo: “Vedi là 'l nostro avversaro”;
e drizzò il dito perché 'n là guardasse.
Da quella parte onde non ha riparo
la picciola vallea, era una biscia,
forse qual diede ad Eva il cibo amaro.
Tra l'erba e ' fior venìa la mala striscia,
volgendo ad ora ad or la testa, e 'l dosso
leccando come bestia che si liscia.
Io non vidi, e però dicer non posso,
come mosser li astor celestïali;
ma vidi bene e l'uno e l'altro mosso.
Sentendo fender l'aere a le verdi ali,
fuggì 'l serpente, e li angeli dier volta,
suso a le poste rivolando iguali.
L'ombra che s'era al giudice raccolta
quando chiamò, per tutto quello assalto
punto non fu da me guardare sciolta.
“Se la lucerna che ti mena in alto
truovi nel tuo arbitrio tanta cera
quant' è mestiere infino al sommo smalto,”
cominciò ella, “se novella vera
di Val di Magra o di parte vicina
sai, dillo a me, che già grande là era.
Fui chiamato Currado Malaspina;
non son l'antico, ma di lui discesi;
a' miei portai l'amor che qui raffina.”
“Oh!” diss' io lui, “per li vostri paesi
già mai non fui; ma dove si dimora
per tutta Europa ch'ei non sien palesi?
La fama che la vostra casa onora,
grida i segnori e grida la contrada,
sì che ne sa chi non vi fu ancora;
e io vi giuro, s'io di sopra vada,
che vostra gente onrata non si sfregia
del pregio de la borsa e de la spada.
Uso e natura sì la privilegia,
che, perché il capo reo il mondo torca,
sola va dritta e 'l mal cammin dispregia.”
Ed elli: “Or va; che 'l sol non si ricorca
sette volte nel letto che 'l Montone
con tutti e quattro i piè cuopre e inforca,
che cotesta cortese oppinïone
ti fia chiavata in mezzo de la testa
con maggior chiovi che d'altrui sermone,
se corso di giudicio non s'arresta.”
'Twas now the hour that turneth back desire
In those who sail the sea, and melts the heart,
The day they've said to their sweet friends farewell,
And the new pilgrim penetrates with love,
If he doth hear from far away a bell
That seemeth to deplore the dying day,
When I began to make of no avail
My hearing, and to watch one of the souls
Uprisen, that begged attention with its hand.
It joined and lifted upward both its palms,
Fixing its eyes upon the orient,
As if it said to God, "Naught else I care for."
"Te lucis ante" so devoutly issued
Forth from its mouth, and with such dulcet notes,
It made me issue forth from my own mind.
And then the others, sweetly and devoutly,
Accompanied it through all the hymn entire,
Having their eyes on the supernal wheels.
Here, Reader, fix thine eyes well on the truth,
For now indeed so subtile is the veil,
Surely to penetrate within is easy.
I saw that army of the gentle-born
Thereafterward in silence upward gaze,
As if in expectation, pale and humble;
And from on high come forth and down descend,
I saw two Angels with two flaming swords,
Truncated and deprived of their points.
Green as the little leaflets just now born
Their garments were, which, by their verdant pinions
Beaten and blown abroad, they trailed behind.
One just above us came to take his station,
And one descended to the opposite bank,
So that the people were contained between them.
Clearly in them discerned I the blond head;
But in their faces was the eye bewildered,
As faculty confounded by excess.
"From Mary's bosom both of them have come,"
Sordello said, "as guardians of the valley
Against the serpent, that will come anon."
Whereupon I, who knew not by what road,
Turned round about, and closely drew myself,
Utterly frozen, to the faithful shoulders.
And once again Sordello: "Now descend we
'Mid the grand shades, and we will speak to them;
Right pleasant will it be for them to see you."
Only three steps I think that I descended,
And was below, and saw one who was looking
Only at me, as if he fain would know me.
Already now the air was growing dark,
But not so that between his eyes and mine
It did not show what it before locked up.
Tow'rds me he moved, and I tow'rds him did move;
Noble Judge Nino! how it me delighted,
When I beheld thee not among the damned!
No greeting fair was left unsaid between us;
Then asked he: "How long is it since thou camest
O'er the far waters to the mountain's foot?"
"Oh!" said I to him, "through the dismal places
I came this morn; and am in the first life,
Albeit the other, going thus, I gain."
And on the instant my reply was heard,
He and Sordello both shrank back from me,
Like people who are suddenly bewildered.
One to Virgilius, and the other turned
To one who sat there, crying, "Up, Currado!
Come and behold what God in grace has willed!"
Then, turned to me: "By that especial grace
Thou owest unto Him, who so conceals
His own first wherefore, that it has no ford,
When thou shalt be beyond the waters wide,
Tell my Giovanna that she pray for me,
Where answer to the innocent is made.
I do not think her mother loves me more,
Since she has laid aside her wimple white,
Which she, unhappy, needs must wish again.
Through her full easily is comprehended
How long in woman lasts the fire of love,
If eye or touch do not relight it often.
So fair a hatchment will not make for her
The Viper marshalling the Milanese
A-field, as would have made Gallura's Cock."
In this wise spake he, with the stamp impressed
Upon his aspect of that righteous zeal
Which measurably burneth in the heart.
My greedy eyes still wandered up to heaven,
Still to that point where slowest are the stars,
Even as a wheel the nearest to its axle.
And my Conductor: "Son, what dost thou gaze at
Up there?" And I to him: "At those three torches
With which this hither pole is all on fire."
And he to me: "The four resplendent stars
Thou sawest this morning are down yonder low,
And these have mounted up to where those were."
As he was speaking, to himself Sordello
Drew him, and said, "Lo there our Adversary!"
And pointed with his finger to look thither.
Upon the side on which the little valley
No barrier hath, a serpent was; perchance
The same which gave to Eve the bitter food.
'Twixt grass and flowers came on the evil streak,
Turning at times its head about, and licking
Its back like to a beast that smoothes itself.
I did not see, and therefore cannot say
How the celestial falcons 'gan to move,
But well I saw that they were both in motion.
Hearing the air cleft by their verdant wings,
The serpent fled, and round the Angels wheeled,
Up to their stations flying back alike.
The shade that to the Judge had near approached
When he had called, throughout that whole assault
Had not a moment loosed its gaze on me.
"So may the light that leadeth thee on high
Find in thine own free-will as much of wax
As needful is up to the highest azure,"
Began it, "if some true intelligence
Of Valdimagra or its neighbourhood
Thou knowest, tell it me, who once was great there.
Currado Malaspina was I called;
I'm not the elder, but from him descended;
To mine I bore the love which here refineth."
"O," said I unto him, "through your domains
I never passed, but where is there a dwelling
Throughout all Europe, where they are not known?
That fame, which doeth honour to your house,
Proclaims its Signors and proclaims its land,
So that he knows of them who ne'er was there.
And, as I hope for heaven, I swear to you
Your honoured family in naught abates
The glory of the purse and of the sword.
It is so privileged by use and nature,
That though a guilty head misguide the world,
Sole it goes right, and scorns the evil way."
And he: "Now go; for the sun shall not lie
Seven times upon the pillow which the Ram
With all his four feet covers and bestrides,
Before that such a courteous opinion
Shall in the middle of thy head be nailed
With greater nails than of another's speech,
Unless the course of justice standeth still."
This pseudosimile (it has the effect but not the grammatical form of a simile) sets the protagonist apart from more usual mortal travelers. Using the two great metaphors for this journey and this poem, the voyage across a sea and the pilgrimage, the poet presents his earthbound counterparts as filled with all-too-human backward-looking sentiment. The protagonist pays attention to the event taking place before him, avoiding nostalgia, the sort of distraction we found him so attracted by in the second canto of Purgatorio when he encountered Casella and experienced associated memories of his former life.
Grabher's gloss to verse 5 runs as follows: 'This is the bell for Compline, the last of the canonical hours of the day, when indeed the hymn Te lucis ante terminum [Before the ending of the light] is sung in order to invoke divine assistance against the temptations of the night.' This hymn immediately follows the lesson in the service occurring after Vespers (the time between 3pm and 6pm), ideally accompanying the setting sun.
Tommaseo (comm. to vv. 4-6) was perhaps the first to note the closeness to Dante's description of the pilgrims whom he observed in Florence, perhaps rapt in thoughts of the friends they had left behind at home (VN XL.2).
Byron's close translation of these much-admired verses in Don Juan III.108 is noted by Carroll (comm. to vv. 1-6). For a reading of this canto in the spirit of these lines see Enrico “La nostalgia che 'volge il disio': Lettura del canto VIII del Purgatorio,” Rivista di Studi Danteschi, 1 [2001], pp. 91-119.
The opening passage is so beautiful and its readers so moved by it that most of them assume that the protagonist is being associated by the poet with the travelers it refers to. Yet it is clear that, unlike those travelers, he does not yield to the temptation of yearning for a past that is out of reach, even though this is his first evening in a distant, foreign place. Indeed, he may be drawing some of his attention from the hymn Salve, Regina in order to pay heed to the soul who calls for attention. Who this soul may be is a matter for which there are no grounds for discovery; we cannot even say whether it is male or female, although the entirely male cast of those identified in the Valley of the Princes makes the former possibility a more likely one. Commentators, including Scartazzini (comm. to verse 9), have been reminded of Acts 13:16: 'Paul arose, motioning with his hand for silence' (Paul is addressing the Jews in the synagogue at Antioch; his main message is the Resurrection of Jesus).
Some commentators believe that Dante is 'tuning out' Sordello, but this seems unlikely for two reasons: (1) Sordello's speech, ending the previous canto, has a finished feel to it; (2) we know that almost all the penitents in the valley are singing the hymn Salve, Regina (Purg. VII.82), and surely seem to be continuing to do so, as Sordello's words indicate (Purg. VII.93; VII.113; VII.125); we are not told they have ceased to sing it until they join this cantor in Te lucis ante terminum (Purg. VIII.13-18). It thus seems likely that Dante is taking his attention from their song in order to attend to this fairly urgent signal, which in turn quiets them. As Scartazzini (comm. to verse 7) argues, 'The Poet did not wish to say, 'I began to be aware that silence had fallen' [as Scartazzini berates many commentators for saying], for when one is hearing nothing it is not necessary to cut short one's listening.'
The praying figure is facing east, not because the sun is there (it is setting in the west), but because the east is traditionally associated with Christ as 'rising sun.' For the Virgilian provenance of his gesture see Tommaseo (comm. to these verses): Dante's 'levò ambo le palme' is indeed close to Aeneid X.844-845: 'et ambas / ad caelum tendit palmas.' However, Heilbronn (“Dante's Valley of the Princes,” Dante Studies 90 [1972]), pp. 56-57, points out that his action 'imitates the words of Psalm 133:3: 'In noctibus extollite manus vestras in sancta, et benedicite dominum' [134:1-2: by night... lift up your hands in the sanctuary and bless the Lord]. At Compline, this psalm immediately precedes the hymn, Te lucis, as the gesture does in Purg. VIII.'
Te lucis ante, an evening hymn, is sung in its entirety. As Singleton points out, in his remarks about this verse, the context of what is sung is closely pertinent to the scene played out here in the valley; he also offers both the Latin and the English texts of the hymn. As opposed to Salve, Regina, which looks back upon the sadness of sin and exile, hoping for Marian intercession, Te lucis ante looks ahead and requests the Father's and the Son's protection from the dangers of the Satanic forces of the night. Thus, while surely there is nothing 'wrong' with singing Salve, Regina, in this context it is time to turn to the future, and this is what the protagonist does.
Dante's reaction to this singing is reminiscent of his rapt response to the singing performed on his account by Casella in Purgatorio II (Poletto comm. to vv. 10-15) also notes this). The religious tone of this hymn and the 'proper' behavior of this crowd gives us a very different perspective on this scene. There is no need of a Cato to come to reprimand these singers, whose eyes are fixed on heavenly things.
This is the first of seven addresses to the reader in Purgatorio (see the note to Inf. VIII.94-96). Most reminiscent, in its use of the language of allegory, of 'veiled' truth, found in the second address (Inf. IX.61-63), this passage also involves treating an action performed in the poem as though it were not 'historical' but metaphoric (see the note to Inf .IX.58-63). In the first case that such was the case was suggested by Virgil's covering Dante's hands with his own, a physical gesture laden with allegorical significance, while now the text will refer to a battle that does not in fact take place (see Purg. VIII.103-108), but which needs to be understood for its significance. In each case we are dealing with what would seem to be related, in Dante's mind, with the 'allegory of the poets,' i.e., a text that can be understood metaphorically, even though it is presented as 'historical.' See Hollander (Allegory in Dante's “Commedia” [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969]), pp. 239-49. For the view that the 'veil' that needs to be pierced covers the preceding verses, the hymn Te lucis ante, offered as prayer by the penitents, see Natascia Tonelli, “Intorno agli angeli di Dante. I. Nella Valletta dei Principi,” L'Alighieri 20 (2002), p. 96.
Most of the early commentators, following their natural inclination, allegorize the meaning of the two swords (often as God's justice and mercy), but Pietro di Dante (Pietro1, comm. to vv. 25-27) turns to the Bible for their source, and presents a more interesting analysis. Yet it will only be with Lombardi (comm. to vv. 26-27) that a later commentator turns to this most likely source. Genesis 3:24 records God's placing (two?) Cherubim at the east of the garden of Eden along with a flaming sword to keep sinful humans from the tree of life. Dante's redoing of the scene is careful and meaningful. The swords have no points because they do not need to do any harm, since the enemy has been defeated by Christ and need no longer be feared by those having faith in Christ; they are aflame with God's love for humanity, which has reversed the exclusionary rule of law in Genesis and reopened the garden with its tree of eternal life; the angels are green of wing and vestment because they give expression to the hope for salvation brought by Christ. Georges Güntert (“Canto VIII,” in Lectura Dantis Turicensis: Purgatorio, ed. Georges Güntert and Michelangelo Picone [Florence: Cesati, 2001]), p. 109, notes the pivotal reversals of the scene in Genesis here.
As Singleton suggests in his comment to this line, the image brings to mind an army camped for the night and guarded by sentinels (the host was indeed first [Purg. VIII.22] referred to as an essercito, literally an 'army,' but the term generally had a wider sense in Dante's day).
Genesis (3:14-15) is another text visible behind the scenes of this drama (as Christopher McElroy, Princeton '72, suggested in a classroom many years ago), God's curse upon the serpent and the conjoined prophecy of the the woman's seed who will bruise the serpent's head and have his heel bruised as a result, taken by Christian exegetes – and surely by Dante among them – to refer to the Crucifixion. Both these Cherubs come from the bosom of Mary, that 'anti-Eve,' to guard the valley, now safe from harm, as we shall see, against the serpent. This garden, foreshadowing the garden of Eden that lies above, has been reopened to humanity, as has been that higher place. Paradise has been regained. See Amilcare Iannucci (“The Nino Visconti Episode in Purgatorio VIII [vv. 43-84],” La Fusta 3, no. 2 [1978]), p. 1: 'We have an audience watching a kind of mystery play which contains both paradise lost and paradise regained.'
For the palindromatic opposition Ave/Eva see Pietro di Dante (Pietro1, comm. to Par. XXXII.4-6 [the locus of most commentators' discussion of this topos]): 'And the holy men say that, just as sickness was born from that most prideful one, that is, Eve, just so its cure springs from that most humble one, that is, Mary.' And thus, Pietro continues, the 'Ave' of the 'Hail, Mary' counters the effect of Eve, whose name it spells backward. Commenting on this canto, J. S. Carroll (comm. to vv. 22-30) ties in that subject to this scene: 'this contrast between Mary and Eve is a favourite subject with early and mediaeval theologians, in sign of which Eva is reversed and becomes the Ave of the Angel's salutation, as in the Ave, Maris Stella hymn: Sumens illud Ave / Gabrielis ore, / Funda nos in pace / Mutans Evae nomen' (Taking that 'Ave' from the mouth of Gabriel, put us at peace, changing the name of Eve).
On the basis of Sordello's description, the serpent sounds both real and threatening enough for Dante to be afraid, especially since he has not yet read the signs as well as he will eventually. There is only one other occasion in the poem in which Dante has been gelato (chilled): when he looks upon Satan (Inf. XXXIV.22). This serpent is indeed Satan in his 'serpent suit' in the garden (Genesis 3:1 and passim).
Sordello's maneuver puts the appointment with the serpent on hold and occupies Dante's mind with other things. Now the Mantuan poet has Dante descend among the inhabitants of the valley – what he and Virgil specifically did not do in their first view of them (Purg. VII.88-90). The rest of the Edenic drama must wait until Purgatorio VIII.94-108.
These three steps, unlike those at Purgatorio XXVIII.70, are taken by almost all commentators at face value. But even they, understood by most as indicating that it was but a short distance down into the valley (see Purg. VII.72), have made allegorists stir with interpretive excitement, e.g., Vellutello (comm. to vv. 46-54); Scartazzini (comm. to this verse). Poletto (comm. to vv. 46-48) waxes hot against such attempts. However, Trucchi (comm. to vv. 46-48) yields to temptation with a totally unconvincing sally: the three steps reflect the three orders of rulers Dante has observed in the preceding canto, an emperor, kings, great vassals. Mattalia (comm. to this verse) struggles for a moment before succumbing: the colors of the angels are three, as are the poets gathered here, and as will be the stars that Dante will see. And Chimenz (comm. to vv. 46-48) is of the opinion that the three steps must be allegories, but of what he cannot even begin to say. And even Bosco/Reggio (comm. to vv. 46-48) remark that an allegorical reading is possible, if impossible to be certain of, but insist that three is such an important symbolic number that some sort of allegory must be latent in it.
Like the anonymous lethargic penitent at Purgatorio V.9, this penitent has eyes for Dante alone. On this occasion, however, it tells us more about him than it does about Dante. See the note to Purgatorio VIII.109-111.
From the distance, this soul and Dante could not recognize one another, but the darkness of nightfall is not yet so great as to prevent their doing so now.
This 'recognition scene' reestablishes Dante's role as 'star' of the poem. Virgil has his Sordello, for whom Dante does not exist; Dante has his Nino, for whom Virgil does not exist.
'Nino Visconti of Pisa, judge of the district of Gallura in Sardinia; he was grandson of Count Ugolino della Gherardesca, and in 1288 was chief of the Guelf party in Pisa; in that year he and the Guelfs were treacherously expelled from Pisa by Count Ugolino, whereupon he retired to Lucca, and in alliance with Genoa and the Lucchese and Florentine Guelfs made war upon Pisa, which he carried on at intervals for the next five years. In 1293, on the conclusion of peace between the Pisans and the Tuscan Guelfs, Nino betook himself to Genoa, and shortly after departed to his judgeship of Gallura.... Nino died in Sardinia in 1296' (Toynbee, “Nino2” [Concise Dante Dictionary]). Nino fought at the battle of Campaldino and probably spent some time in Florence in the time between his exile from Pisa and his removal to Sardinia; it is possible that Dante came to know him then, as the conversation is clearly meant to be taken as one between old friends.
Dante's surprise at Nino's salvation is not necessarily based on any specific knowledge of any particular sin; all are sinners and, if honest, are surprised to find themselves saved.
The meeting between Dante and Nino contrasts with that between Virgil and Sordello, this one untinged by tragic notes. Nino assumes, almost correctly, that Dante is one of the saved; Sordello, guided by Virgil's admission that he has lost heaven, asks about Virgil's location in hell (Purg. VII.21).
Chiavacci Leonardi (Purgatorio, con il commento di A. M. C. L. [Milan: Mondadori, 1994]), p. 241, cites Francesco D'Ovidio for the view that the phrase in verse 57, 'over far waters,' reflects, once again, a scene in the Elysian fields, when Anchises welcomes Aeneas (Aen. VI.692), who had journeyed 'over wide seas' to experience that reunion.
Dante finally is able to answer Sordello's question (Purg. VI.70) with regard to his own condition. These are the first words he has spoken since Purgatorio VI.51, a fact that underlines the way in which Sordello and Virgil have taken over the stage in these scenes. Now Dante is once again the 'star' of the drama. See the note to Purgatorio VII.1-3.
Sordello and Nino are both surprised to learn that Dante is here in the flesh, is not yet dead, the one turning to his new companion, Virgil the Mantuan, the other, Nino, to his friend in God's grace, Currado, perhaps known to him from his recent travels in Tuscany. It is likely that Dante considered both Virgil and Sordello, champions of empire, sympathetic to the Ghibelline cause, while Nino was a Guelph and Currado, though a Ghibelline, was a cousin of Moroello Malaspina, with whom Dante had good relations and who was a Guelph. In the next world such divisive distinctions begin to break down.
Currado Malaspina was the grandson of Currado 'l'antico' and son of Federigo of Villafranca. He died ca. 1294. His first cousin, Franceschino, was probably Dante's host in Lunigiana in 1306 (see Purg. VIII.133-139).
Nino comments upon the unknown and unknowable purpose of God in bringing this living human soul into the immortal realm. He is content to accept the quia, the sheer fact of Dante's having been chosen to be here. See Purgatorio III.37.
Nino hopes that Dante, returning to the world, will see his daughter, Giovanna, in Pisa and cause her, by recounting this meeting, to pray for his soul. Giovanna's innocence is the result at least of her age, since she was born in 1291 or so.
Nino's unnamed wife was Beatrice d'Este. Sometime after his death in 1296 she stopped wearing widow's vestments, which featured white bands drawn around the head (her 'wimple'), and eventually married, after a previous betrothal, a second husband, Galeazzo Visconti of Milan, in June of 1300. The misery that awaits her is to share the exile of her new husband because of the expulsion of the powerful Visconti family from Milan in 1302.
For early awareness of the citation of Virgil here, see the Anonimo Fiorentino (comm. to vv. 76-78), who brings to bear Aeneid IV.569-570: 'A woman is ever a fickle and a changeful thing.'
Nino's heraldic language suggests that the device of the Milanese Visconti's coat of arms, the viper, will not decorate her tomb as well as would have his family's device, the rooster, had she remained a widow and eventually died in Pisa. According to Amilcare Iannucci (“The Nino Visconti Episode in Purgatorio VIII [vv. 43-84],” La Fusta 3, no. 2 [1978]), pp. 4-6, Nino's family drama is resolved in biblical terms, with his wife, Beatrice, associated with the serpent of Genesis, and his daughter, Giovanna, with Mary.
Whether with a purpose or not, Dante plays off the situation that pertained in Vita nuova .XXIV3, when Guido Cavalcanti's Giovanna preceded Dante's Beatrice as John the Baptist preceded Christ. Here the innocent Giovanna is a foil to the unnamed but vicious Beatrice d'Este, her own mother. In the language of King Lear turned inside out, 'bad wombs have borne good daughters.'
The poet underlines the fact, lest we fail to observe it, that Nino takes no pleasure in his former wife's coming tribulations, but merely notes God's justice in them.
These three tercets distance the reader from the intense family drama narrated by Nino, as though to put that drama into a cosmic context. The protagonist gazes at the pole in the southern sky where, as on a wheel, that which is closest to the axle moves more slowly than points farther from it. The four stars, representing the four cardinal virtues (as almost all agree), seen by the travelers in Purgatorio I.23 near the pole, are now setting on the other side of the mount of purgatory and are thus shielded from view. They are replaced in their former position by these three. Nearly all, primarily because of their allegorical reading of the four, also insist that these represent the three theological virtues, faith, hope, and charity. However, some commentators, following Portirelli (comm. to vv. 86-93), argue for a strictly literal and astronomical reference here, the three stars being among the brightest of two southern constellations, Dorado and Achernar in Eridanus; Canopus in Carina. (For Portirelli's notion that Dante knew about the southern heavens from Marco Polo, see the note to Purg. I.22-24.) Later commentators, following Paget Toynbee (see “Alfergano” [Concise Dante Dictionary]), think that Dante had his information from the texts of Alfraganus. Toynbee is responsible for demonstrating Dante's reliance on Alfraganus's Elementa astronomica, based heavily on Ptolemy's Almagest, written in Arabic in the ninth century and then translated into Latin in the twelfth century by Gerard of Cremona and in the thirteenth by John of Seville. Dante cites this text twice in Convivio, once by Alfraganus' name (Conv. II.xiii.11), once by the title 'Libro de l'Aggregazioni de le Stelle' (Conv. II.v.16) but, as Toynbee has shown, probably resorts to it on at least seventeen other occasions in his works (mainly in Convivio). Beginning with Andreoli (comm. to verse 89), for half a century most commentators argue for a literal sense that indicates phenomena in the southern sky and an allegorical sense. But after Poletto (comm. to vv. 91-93) most indicate only the allegorical meaning.
Sordello interrupts Virgil's heavenly discourse to call his (and, once again, not Dante's) attention to the drama unfolding in the garden.
We have seen this 'snake' before, in Inferno XXXIV, imprisoned for his arrogant assault on God. Now we see him replaying his role in the Fall, licking himself in prideful self-absorption as he plans another assault, now that he has lost his first battle, upon humankind. Both Sordello's urgency in interrupting Virgil's notice of the heavens' beauties and the fact that no opposition has as yet deployed its forces have the effect of creating uncertainty (and fear) in the naïve onlooker and in the reader. This serpent seems dangerous indeed, as he was when he tempted Eve in Eden, but in fact is not, as we presently discover.
Dante's attention to the snake kept the rapid defensive action of the angels from his view until they suddenly enter his field of vision, immediately thwarting the plans of the snake. We now see why their swords are blunted: they have no need of them because this serpent is powerless to offend. This drama is precisely that, a play, by which the onlookers, now safe in their potentially (but definitively) saved state, may be reminded of their sinful lives – their vulnerability to the serpent – and the grace that has rewarded their goodness with salvation. Mark Musa (Advent at the Gates [Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1974]) examines this scene as a representation of Christ's recurring second advent, as set forth by St. Bernard in his First Sermon on the Advents. Between His first (when He came to earth to save humankind) and final coming (at the end of time, to judge and rule the world), Christ is understood as coming into the heart of each successive believer. For Denise Heilbronn (“Dante's Valley of the Princes,” Dante Studies 90 [1972]), who accepts (p. 46) Musa's view, the intervention of the angels represents 'an allegorical enactment of the intermediate Advent – that is, the coming of Christ into the hearts of the faithful in this world.'
The astor is a bird of prey, domesticated in order to hunt other birds, but also particularly aggressive against snakes: this is the composite gloss that rises from many commentators, if generally without the presentation of further evidence. Torraca (1905) cites Brunetto Latini (Tresor, I.v.148) for the first traits but not the last. Beginning with the Ottimo (comm. to these verses) commentators have reported this species of bird (Latin astur, i.e., from Asturia [Fallani, comm. to vv. 103-105]) to be 'unfriendly to snakes,' whether because they believe this to be true or because the context would encourage such an explanation and it is found in preceding commentaries.
Heilbronn (“Dante's Valley of the Princes,” Dante Studies 90 (1972]), p. 55, argues that it is to Nino's companion's credit (we will shortly discover that this is Currado Malaspina) that he never takes his eyes from Dante, whose presence marks the really important event taking place here, against the backdrop of this now familiar play, in which nothing is really happening, for all its symbolic significance. The play reflects the past, Dante's physical presence in purgatory in the present, and the future – Dante's among Currado's family in Lunigiana and Currado's hopes for prayer from them, never expressed, but clear from all the similar requests we have already heard from others.
It is strange, in light of other images in the poem that make Virgil a light for Dante (e.g., Purg. I.43: lucerna; Purg. VI.29: luce; Inf. I.82, Purg. XVIII.11, Purg. XXII.68: lume) that so few commentators have thought that lucerna here even might refer to Virgil (only Benvenuto [comm. to vv. 112-117] and John of Serravalle [comm. to vv. 112-117]). From the first, glossators have insisted that Dante's guiding light is divine grace, a view made more specific by Vellutello (comm. to these verses) and most commentators after him: illuminating grace, which will light Dante's way toward the earthly paradise (and thence true heaven) if only his good will (his 'wax') will feed its flame.
The valley of the river Magra, flowing through Lunigiana, home of the Malaspina family. For Currado and his grandfather see the note to Purgatorio VIII.61-66. Currado's disclaimer is probably meant to be taken as a sign of his modesty (his grandfather was the real Currado), as is his awareness that his love of the world must be purged above on the mountain.
Dante's words in praise of the valor and generosity of the house of Malaspina in 1300 are in fact words of thanks for the hospitality of Franceschino Malaspina in Lunigiana in 1306 (and, according to Boccaccio, in his Vita di Dante [Trattatello in laude di Dante, ed. P. G. Ricci (Milan: Mondadori, 1974)], p. 483, of Moroello Malaspina as well [see Dante's letter to Moroello, his fourth Epistle, ca. 1307]).
This verse has been variously interpreted. If we agree that capo is the subject (and not the object) of the sentence, as almost all do, then we may choose among the following solutions: the wicked chief who corrupts the world may be Satan, the pope (and then surely Boniface VIII), Rome (with its corrupt papacy and no emperor in her saddle), or bad governance in general. Whichever solution Dante may himself have had in mind, it is clear that any and all of these solutions 'work,' and are, in fact, interrelated. If Satan is the 'prince of darkness' who leads most humans astray, his minions on earth (corrupt popes, pusillanimous emperors), or even corrupt leadership generally understood, all point to a common failing and a common cause: weak humans falling under the influence of those who govern poorly. From this failing only the Malaspina family is.currently exempt.
Guglielmo Gorni (“Il canto VIII del Purgatorio,” L'Alighieri 19 [2002]), p. 67, suggests a venturesome possible reading, in which the 'capo' (head) is to be separated from its accompanying adjective (rio [wicked]), which Gorni would like to treat as a part of the object of the verb, taking 'the world's head' as a metaphor. The world, then, would be turning its head toward evil. The grammar of the clause would not seem to allow this reading.
'Va' or, literally, 'Go' seems here to have the same sense that it sometimes has in Shakespeare, i.e., 'Go to,' meaning 'Enough of such words.' Currado, embarrassed by Dante's praise of his family, goes on to promise his interlocutor that he indeed will have cause to praise it more in 1306 (i.e., before the sun returns to the constellation Aries seven years from now).
Commentary text is copyrighted and reproduced by permission.
Please enter a search term.
Era già l'ora che volge il disio
ai navicanti e 'ntenerisce il core
lo dì c'han detto ai dolci amici addio;
e che lo novo peregrin d'amore
punge, se ode squilla di lontano
che paia il giorno pianger che si more;
quand' io incominciai a render vano
l'udire e a mirare una de l'alme
surta, che l'ascoltar chiedea con mano.
Ella giunse e levò ambo le palme,
ficcando li occhi verso l'orïente,
come dicesse a Dio: “D'altro non calme.”
“Te lucis ante” sì devotamente
le uscìo di bocca e con sì dolci note,
che fece me a me uscir di mente;
e l'altre poi dolcemente e devote
seguitar lei per tutto l'inno intero,
avendo li occhi a le superne rote.
Aguzza qui, lettor, ben li occhi al vero,
ché 'l velo è ora ben tanto sottile,
certo che 'l trapassar dentro è leggero.
Io vidi quello essercito gentile
tacito poscia riguardare in sùe,
quasi aspettando, palido e umìle;
e vidi uscir de l'alto e scender giùe
due angeli con due spade affocate,
tronche e private de le punte sue.
Verdi come fogliette pur mo nate
erano in veste, che da verdi penne
percosse traean dietro e ventilate.
L'un poco sovra noi a star si venne,
e l'altro scese in l'opposita sponda,
sì che la gente in mezzo si contenne.
Ben discernëa in lor la testa bionda;
ma ne la faccia l'occhio si smarria,
come virtù ch'a troppo si confonda
“Ambo vegnon del grembo di Maria,”
disse Sordello, “a guardia de la valle,
per lo serpente che verrà vie via.”
Ond' io, che non sapeva per qual calle,
mi volsi intorno, e stretto m'accostai,
tutto gelato, a le fidate spalle.
E Sordello anco: “Or avvalliamo omai
tra le grandi ombre, e parleremo ad esse;
grazïoso fia lor vedervi assai.”
Solo tre passi credo ch'i' scendesse,
e fui di sotto, e vidi un che mirava
pur me, come conoscer mi volesse.
Temp' era già che l'aere s'annerava,
ma non sì che tra li occhi suoi e ' miei
non dichiarisse ciò che pria serrava.
Ver' me si fece, e io ver' lui mi fei:
giudice Nin gentil, quanto mi piacque
quando ti vidi non esser tra ' rei!
Nullo bel salutar tra noi si tacque;
poi dimandò: “Quant' è che tu venisti
a piè del monte per le lontane acque?”
“Oh!” diss' io lui, “per entro i luoghi tristi
venni stamane, e sono in prima vita,
ancor che l'altra, sì andando, acquisti.”
E come fu la mia risposta udita,
Sordello ed elli in dietro si raccolse
come gente di sùbito smarrita.
L'uno a Virgilio e l'altro a un si volse
che sedea lì, gridando: “Sù, Currado!
vieni a veder che Dio per grazia volse.”
Poi, vòlto a me: “Per quel singular grado
che tu dei a colui che sì nasconde
lo suo primo perché, che non lì è guado,
quando sarai di là da le larghe onde,
dì a Giovanna mia che per me chiami
là dove a li 'nnocenti si risponde.
Non credo che la sua madre più m'ami,
poscia che trasmutò le bianche bende,
le quai convien che, misera!, ancor brami.
Per lei assai di lieve si comprende
quanto in femmina foco d'amor dura,
se l'occhio o 'l tatto spesso non l'accende.
Non le farà sì bella sepultura
la vipera che Melanesi accampa,
com' avria fatto il gallo di Gallura.”
Così dicea, segnato de la stampa,
nel suo aspetto, di quel dritto zelo
che misuratamente in core avvampa.
Li occhi miei ghiotti andavan pur al cielo,
pur là dove le stelle son più tarde,
sì come rota più presso a lo stelo.
E 'l duca mio: “Figliuol, che là sù guarde?”
E io a lui: “A quelle tre facelle
di che 'l polo di qua tutto quanto arde.”
ond' elli a me: “Le quattro chiare stelle
che vedevi staman, son di là basse,
e queste son salite ov' eran quelle.”
Com' ei parlava, e Sordello a sé il trasse
dicendo: “Vedi là 'l nostro avversaro”;
e drizzò il dito perché 'n là guardasse.
Da quella parte onde non ha riparo
la picciola vallea, era una biscia,
forse qual diede ad Eva il cibo amaro.
Tra l'erba e ' fior venìa la mala striscia,
volgendo ad ora ad or la testa, e 'l dosso
leccando come bestia che si liscia.
Io non vidi, e però dicer non posso,
come mosser li astor celestïali;
ma vidi bene e l'uno e l'altro mosso.
Sentendo fender l'aere a le verdi ali,
fuggì 'l serpente, e li angeli dier volta,
suso a le poste rivolando iguali.
L'ombra che s'era al giudice raccolta
quando chiamò, per tutto quello assalto
punto non fu da me guardare sciolta.
“Se la lucerna che ti mena in alto
truovi nel tuo arbitrio tanta cera
quant' è mestiere infino al sommo smalto,”
cominciò ella, “se novella vera
di Val di Magra o di parte vicina
sai, dillo a me, che già grande là era.
Fui chiamato Currado Malaspina;
non son l'antico, ma di lui discesi;
a' miei portai l'amor che qui raffina.”
“Oh!” diss' io lui, “per li vostri paesi
già mai non fui; ma dove si dimora
per tutta Europa ch'ei non sien palesi?
La fama che la vostra casa onora,
grida i segnori e grida la contrada,
sì che ne sa chi non vi fu ancora;
e io vi giuro, s'io di sopra vada,
che vostra gente onrata non si sfregia
del pregio de la borsa e de la spada.
Uso e natura sì la privilegia,
che, perché il capo reo il mondo torca,
sola va dritta e 'l mal cammin dispregia.”
Ed elli: “Or va; che 'l sol non si ricorca
sette volte nel letto che 'l Montone
con tutti e quattro i piè cuopre e inforca,
che cotesta cortese oppinïone
ti fia chiavata in mezzo de la testa
con maggior chiovi che d'altrui sermone,
se corso di giudicio non s'arresta.”
'Twas now the hour that turneth back desire
In those who sail the sea, and melts the heart,
The day they've said to their sweet friends farewell,
And the new pilgrim penetrates with love,
If he doth hear from far away a bell
That seemeth to deplore the dying day,
When I began to make of no avail
My hearing, and to watch one of the souls
Uprisen, that begged attention with its hand.
It joined and lifted upward both its palms,
Fixing its eyes upon the orient,
As if it said to God, "Naught else I care for."
"Te lucis ante" so devoutly issued
Forth from its mouth, and with such dulcet notes,
It made me issue forth from my own mind.
And then the others, sweetly and devoutly,
Accompanied it through all the hymn entire,
Having their eyes on the supernal wheels.
Here, Reader, fix thine eyes well on the truth,
For now indeed so subtile is the veil,
Surely to penetrate within is easy.
I saw that army of the gentle-born
Thereafterward in silence upward gaze,
As if in expectation, pale and humble;
And from on high come forth and down descend,
I saw two Angels with two flaming swords,
Truncated and deprived of their points.
Green as the little leaflets just now born
Their garments were, which, by their verdant pinions
Beaten and blown abroad, they trailed behind.
One just above us came to take his station,
And one descended to the opposite bank,
So that the people were contained between them.
Clearly in them discerned I the blond head;
But in their faces was the eye bewildered,
As faculty confounded by excess.
"From Mary's bosom both of them have come,"
Sordello said, "as guardians of the valley
Against the serpent, that will come anon."
Whereupon I, who knew not by what road,
Turned round about, and closely drew myself,
Utterly frozen, to the faithful shoulders.
And once again Sordello: "Now descend we
'Mid the grand shades, and we will speak to them;
Right pleasant will it be for them to see you."
Only three steps I think that I descended,
And was below, and saw one who was looking
Only at me, as if he fain would know me.
Already now the air was growing dark,
But not so that between his eyes and mine
It did not show what it before locked up.
Tow'rds me he moved, and I tow'rds him did move;
Noble Judge Nino! how it me delighted,
When I beheld thee not among the damned!
No greeting fair was left unsaid between us;
Then asked he: "How long is it since thou camest
O'er the far waters to the mountain's foot?"
"Oh!" said I to him, "through the dismal places
I came this morn; and am in the first life,
Albeit the other, going thus, I gain."
And on the instant my reply was heard,
He and Sordello both shrank back from me,
Like people who are suddenly bewildered.
One to Virgilius, and the other turned
To one who sat there, crying, "Up, Currado!
Come and behold what God in grace has willed!"
Then, turned to me: "By that especial grace
Thou owest unto Him, who so conceals
His own first wherefore, that it has no ford,
When thou shalt be beyond the waters wide,
Tell my Giovanna that she pray for me,
Where answer to the innocent is made.
I do not think her mother loves me more,
Since she has laid aside her wimple white,
Which she, unhappy, needs must wish again.
Through her full easily is comprehended
How long in woman lasts the fire of love,
If eye or touch do not relight it often.
So fair a hatchment will not make for her
The Viper marshalling the Milanese
A-field, as would have made Gallura's Cock."
In this wise spake he, with the stamp impressed
Upon his aspect of that righteous zeal
Which measurably burneth in the heart.
My greedy eyes still wandered up to heaven,
Still to that point where slowest are the stars,
Even as a wheel the nearest to its axle.
And my Conductor: "Son, what dost thou gaze at
Up there?" And I to him: "At those three torches
With which this hither pole is all on fire."
And he to me: "The four resplendent stars
Thou sawest this morning are down yonder low,
And these have mounted up to where those were."
As he was speaking, to himself Sordello
Drew him, and said, "Lo there our Adversary!"
And pointed with his finger to look thither.
Upon the side on which the little valley
No barrier hath, a serpent was; perchance
The same which gave to Eve the bitter food.
'Twixt grass and flowers came on the evil streak,
Turning at times its head about, and licking
Its back like to a beast that smoothes itself.
I did not see, and therefore cannot say
How the celestial falcons 'gan to move,
But well I saw that they were both in motion.
Hearing the air cleft by their verdant wings,
The serpent fled, and round the Angels wheeled,
Up to their stations flying back alike.
The shade that to the Judge had near approached
When he had called, throughout that whole assault
Had not a moment loosed its gaze on me.
"So may the light that leadeth thee on high
Find in thine own free-will as much of wax
As needful is up to the highest azure,"
Began it, "if some true intelligence
Of Valdimagra or its neighbourhood
Thou knowest, tell it me, who once was great there.
Currado Malaspina was I called;
I'm not the elder, but from him descended;
To mine I bore the love which here refineth."
"O," said I unto him, "through your domains
I never passed, but where is there a dwelling
Throughout all Europe, where they are not known?
That fame, which doeth honour to your house,
Proclaims its Signors and proclaims its land,
So that he knows of them who ne'er was there.
And, as I hope for heaven, I swear to you
Your honoured family in naught abates
The glory of the purse and of the sword.
It is so privileged by use and nature,
That though a guilty head misguide the world,
Sole it goes right, and scorns the evil way."
And he: "Now go; for the sun shall not lie
Seven times upon the pillow which the Ram
With all his four feet covers and bestrides,
Before that such a courteous opinion
Shall in the middle of thy head be nailed
With greater nails than of another's speech,
Unless the course of justice standeth still."
This pseudosimile (it has the effect but not the grammatical form of a simile) sets the protagonist apart from more usual mortal travelers. Using the two great metaphors for this journey and this poem, the voyage across a sea and the pilgrimage, the poet presents his earthbound counterparts as filled with all-too-human backward-looking sentiment. The protagonist pays attention to the event taking place before him, avoiding nostalgia, the sort of distraction we found him so attracted by in the second canto of Purgatorio when he encountered Casella and experienced associated memories of his former life.
Grabher's gloss to verse 5 runs as follows: 'This is the bell for Compline, the last of the canonical hours of the day, when indeed the hymn Te lucis ante terminum [Before the ending of the light] is sung in order to invoke divine assistance against the temptations of the night.' This hymn immediately follows the lesson in the service occurring after Vespers (the time between 3pm and 6pm), ideally accompanying the setting sun.
Tommaseo (comm. to vv. 4-6) was perhaps the first to note the closeness to Dante's description of the pilgrims whom he observed in Florence, perhaps rapt in thoughts of the friends they had left behind at home (VN XL.2).
Byron's close translation of these much-admired verses in Don Juan III.108 is noted by Carroll (comm. to vv. 1-6). For a reading of this canto in the spirit of these lines see Enrico “La nostalgia che 'volge il disio': Lettura del canto VIII del Purgatorio,” Rivista di Studi Danteschi, 1 [2001], pp. 91-119.
The opening passage is so beautiful and its readers so moved by it that most of them assume that the protagonist is being associated by the poet with the travelers it refers to. Yet it is clear that, unlike those travelers, he does not yield to the temptation of yearning for a past that is out of reach, even though this is his first evening in a distant, foreign place. Indeed, he may be drawing some of his attention from the hymn Salve, Regina in order to pay heed to the soul who calls for attention. Who this soul may be is a matter for which there are no grounds for discovery; we cannot even say whether it is male or female, although the entirely male cast of those identified in the Valley of the Princes makes the former possibility a more likely one. Commentators, including Scartazzini (comm. to verse 9), have been reminded of Acts 13:16: 'Paul arose, motioning with his hand for silence' (Paul is addressing the Jews in the synagogue at Antioch; his main message is the Resurrection of Jesus).
Some commentators believe that Dante is 'tuning out' Sordello, but this seems unlikely for two reasons: (1) Sordello's speech, ending the previous canto, has a finished feel to it; (2) we know that almost all the penitents in the valley are singing the hymn Salve, Regina (Purg. VII.82), and surely seem to be continuing to do so, as Sordello's words indicate (Purg. VII.93; VII.113; VII.125); we are not told they have ceased to sing it until they join this cantor in Te lucis ante terminum (Purg. VIII.13-18). It thus seems likely that Dante is taking his attention from their song in order to attend to this fairly urgent signal, which in turn quiets them. As Scartazzini (comm. to verse 7) argues, 'The Poet did not wish to say, 'I began to be aware that silence had fallen' [as Scartazzini berates many commentators for saying], for when one is hearing nothing it is not necessary to cut short one's listening.'
The praying figure is facing east, not because the sun is there (it is setting in the west), but because the east is traditionally associated with Christ as 'rising sun.' For the Virgilian provenance of his gesture see Tommaseo (comm. to these verses): Dante's 'levò ambo le palme' is indeed close to Aeneid X.844-845: 'et ambas / ad caelum tendit palmas.' However, Heilbronn (“Dante's Valley of the Princes,” Dante Studies 90 [1972]), pp. 56-57, points out that his action 'imitates the words of Psalm 133:3: 'In noctibus extollite manus vestras in sancta, et benedicite dominum' [134:1-2: by night... lift up your hands in the sanctuary and bless the Lord]. At Compline, this psalm immediately precedes the hymn, Te lucis, as the gesture does in Purg. VIII.'
Te lucis ante, an evening hymn, is sung in its entirety. As Singleton points out, in his remarks about this verse, the context of what is sung is closely pertinent to the scene played out here in the valley; he also offers both the Latin and the English texts of the hymn. As opposed to Salve, Regina, which looks back upon the sadness of sin and exile, hoping for Marian intercession, Te lucis ante looks ahead and requests the Father's and the Son's protection from the dangers of the Satanic forces of the night. Thus, while surely there is nothing 'wrong' with singing Salve, Regina, in this context it is time to turn to the future, and this is what the protagonist does.
Dante's reaction to this singing is reminiscent of his rapt response to the singing performed on his account by Casella in Purgatorio II (Poletto comm. to vv. 10-15) also notes this). The religious tone of this hymn and the 'proper' behavior of this crowd gives us a very different perspective on this scene. There is no need of a Cato to come to reprimand these singers, whose eyes are fixed on heavenly things.
This is the first of seven addresses to the reader in Purgatorio (see the note to Inf. VIII.94-96). Most reminiscent, in its use of the language of allegory, of 'veiled' truth, found in the second address (Inf. IX.61-63), this passage also involves treating an action performed in the poem as though it were not 'historical' but metaphoric (see the note to Inf .IX.58-63). In the first case that such was the case was suggested by Virgil's covering Dante's hands with his own, a physical gesture laden with allegorical significance, while now the text will refer to a battle that does not in fact take place (see Purg. VIII.103-108), but which needs to be understood for its significance. In each case we are dealing with what would seem to be related, in Dante's mind, with the 'allegory of the poets,' i.e., a text that can be understood metaphorically, even though it is presented as 'historical.' See Hollander (Allegory in Dante's “Commedia” [Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1969]), pp. 239-49. For the view that the 'veil' that needs to be pierced covers the preceding verses, the hymn Te lucis ante, offered as prayer by the penitents, see Natascia Tonelli, “Intorno agli angeli di Dante. I. Nella Valletta dei Principi,” L'Alighieri 20 (2002), p. 96.
Most of the early commentators, following their natural inclination, allegorize the meaning of the two swords (often as God's justice and mercy), but Pietro di Dante (Pietro1, comm. to vv. 25-27) turns to the Bible for their source, and presents a more interesting analysis. Yet it will only be with Lombardi (comm. to vv. 26-27) that a later commentator turns to this most likely source. Genesis 3:24 records God's placing (two?) Cherubim at the east of the garden of Eden along with a flaming sword to keep sinful humans from the tree of life. Dante's redoing of the scene is careful and meaningful. The swords have no points because they do not need to do any harm, since the enemy has been defeated by Christ and need no longer be feared by those having faith in Christ; they are aflame with God's love for humanity, which has reversed the exclusionary rule of law in Genesis and reopened the garden with its tree of eternal life; the angels are green of wing and vestment because they give expression to the hope for salvation brought by Christ. Georges Güntert (“Canto VIII,” in Lectura Dantis Turicensis: Purgatorio, ed. Georges Güntert and Michelangelo Picone [Florence: Cesati, 2001]), p. 109, notes the pivotal reversals of the scene in Genesis here.
As Singleton suggests in his comment to this line, the image brings to mind an army camped for the night and guarded by sentinels (the host was indeed first [Purg. VIII.22] referred to as an essercito, literally an 'army,' but the term generally had a wider sense in Dante's day).
Genesis (3:14-15) is another text visible behind the scenes of this drama (as Christopher McElroy, Princeton '72, suggested in a classroom many years ago), God's curse upon the serpent and the conjoined prophecy of the the woman's seed who will bruise the serpent's head and have his heel bruised as a result, taken by Christian exegetes – and surely by Dante among them – to refer to the Crucifixion. Both these Cherubs come from the bosom of Mary, that 'anti-Eve,' to guard the valley, now safe from harm, as we shall see, against the serpent. This garden, foreshadowing the garden of Eden that lies above, has been reopened to humanity, as has been that higher place. Paradise has been regained. See Amilcare Iannucci (“The Nino Visconti Episode in Purgatorio VIII [vv. 43-84],” La Fusta 3, no. 2 [1978]), p. 1: 'We have an audience watching a kind of mystery play which contains both paradise lost and paradise regained.'
For the palindromatic opposition Ave/Eva see Pietro di Dante (Pietro1, comm. to Par. XXXII.4-6 [the locus of most commentators' discussion of this topos]): 'And the holy men say that, just as sickness was born from that most prideful one, that is, Eve, just so its cure springs from that most humble one, that is, Mary.' And thus, Pietro continues, the 'Ave' of the 'Hail, Mary' counters the effect of Eve, whose name it spells backward. Commenting on this canto, J. S. Carroll (comm. to vv. 22-30) ties in that subject to this scene: 'this contrast between Mary and Eve is a favourite subject with early and mediaeval theologians, in sign of which Eva is reversed and becomes the Ave of the Angel's salutation, as in the Ave, Maris Stella hymn: Sumens illud Ave / Gabrielis ore, / Funda nos in pace / Mutans Evae nomen' (Taking that 'Ave' from the mouth of Gabriel, put us at peace, changing the name of Eve).
On the basis of Sordello's description, the serpent sounds both real and threatening enough for Dante to be afraid, especially since he has not yet read the signs as well as he will eventually. There is only one other occasion in the poem in which Dante has been gelato (chilled): when he looks upon Satan (Inf. XXXIV.22). This serpent is indeed Satan in his 'serpent suit' in the garden (Genesis 3:1 and passim).
Sordello's maneuver puts the appointment with the serpent on hold and occupies Dante's mind with other things. Now the Mantuan poet has Dante descend among the inhabitants of the valley – what he and Virgil specifically did not do in their first view of them (Purg. VII.88-90). The rest of the Edenic drama must wait until Purgatorio VIII.94-108.
These three steps, unlike those at Purgatorio XXVIII.70, are taken by almost all commentators at face value. But even they, understood by most as indicating that it was but a short distance down into the valley (see Purg. VII.72), have made allegorists stir with interpretive excitement, e.g., Vellutello (comm. to vv. 46-54); Scartazzini (comm. to this verse). Poletto (comm. to vv. 46-48) waxes hot against such attempts. However, Trucchi (comm. to vv. 46-48) yields to temptation with a totally unconvincing sally: the three steps reflect the three orders of rulers Dante has observed in the preceding canto, an emperor, kings, great vassals. Mattalia (comm. to this verse) struggles for a moment before succumbing: the colors of the angels are three, as are the poets gathered here, and as will be the stars that Dante will see. And Chimenz (comm. to vv. 46-48) is of the opinion that the three steps must be allegories, but of what he cannot even begin to say. And even Bosco/Reggio (comm. to vv. 46-48) remark that an allegorical reading is possible, if impossible to be certain of, but insist that three is such an important symbolic number that some sort of allegory must be latent in it.
Like the anonymous lethargic penitent at Purgatorio V.9, this penitent has eyes for Dante alone. On this occasion, however, it tells us more about him than it does about Dante. See the note to Purgatorio VIII.109-111.
From the distance, this soul and Dante could not recognize one another, but the darkness of nightfall is not yet so great as to prevent their doing so now.
This 'recognition scene' reestablishes Dante's role as 'star' of the poem. Virgil has his Sordello, for whom Dante does not exist; Dante has his Nino, for whom Virgil does not exist.
'Nino Visconti of Pisa, judge of the district of Gallura in Sardinia; he was grandson of Count Ugolino della Gherardesca, and in 1288 was chief of the Guelf party in Pisa; in that year he and the Guelfs were treacherously expelled from Pisa by Count Ugolino, whereupon he retired to Lucca, and in alliance with Genoa and the Lucchese and Florentine Guelfs made war upon Pisa, which he carried on at intervals for the next five years. In 1293, on the conclusion of peace between the Pisans and the Tuscan Guelfs, Nino betook himself to Genoa, and shortly after departed to his judgeship of Gallura.... Nino died in Sardinia in 1296' (Toynbee, “Nino2” [Concise Dante Dictionary]). Nino fought at the battle of Campaldino and probably spent some time in Florence in the time between his exile from Pisa and his removal to Sardinia; it is possible that Dante came to know him then, as the conversation is clearly meant to be taken as one between old friends.
Dante's surprise at Nino's salvation is not necessarily based on any specific knowledge of any particular sin; all are sinners and, if honest, are surprised to find themselves saved.
The meeting between Dante and Nino contrasts with that between Virgil and Sordello, this one untinged by tragic notes. Nino assumes, almost correctly, that Dante is one of the saved; Sordello, guided by Virgil's admission that he has lost heaven, asks about Virgil's location in hell (Purg. VII.21).
Chiavacci Leonardi (Purgatorio, con il commento di A. M. C. L. [Milan: Mondadori, 1994]), p. 241, cites Francesco D'Ovidio for the view that the phrase in verse 57, 'over far waters,' reflects, once again, a scene in the Elysian fields, when Anchises welcomes Aeneas (Aen. VI.692), who had journeyed 'over wide seas' to experience that reunion.
Dante finally is able to answer Sordello's question (Purg. VI.70) with regard to his own condition. These are the first words he has spoken since Purgatorio VI.51, a fact that underlines the way in which Sordello and Virgil have taken over the stage in these scenes. Now Dante is once again the 'star' of the drama. See the note to Purgatorio VII.1-3.
Sordello and Nino are both surprised to learn that Dante is here in the flesh, is not yet dead, the one turning to his new companion, Virgil the Mantuan, the other, Nino, to his friend in God's grace, Currado, perhaps known to him from his recent travels in Tuscany. It is likely that Dante considered both Virgil and Sordello, champions of empire, sympathetic to the Ghibelline cause, while Nino was a Guelph and Currado, though a Ghibelline, was a cousin of Moroello Malaspina, with whom Dante had good relations and who was a Guelph. In the next world such divisive distinctions begin to break down.
Currado Malaspina was the grandson of Currado 'l'antico' and son of Federigo of Villafranca. He died ca. 1294. His first cousin, Franceschino, was probably Dante's host in Lunigiana in 1306 (see Purg. VIII.133-139).
Nino comments upon the unknown and unknowable purpose of God in bringing this living human soul into the immortal realm. He is content to accept the quia, the sheer fact of Dante's having been chosen to be here. See Purgatorio III.37.
Nino hopes that Dante, returning to the world, will see his daughter, Giovanna, in Pisa and cause her, by recounting this meeting, to pray for his soul. Giovanna's innocence is the result at least of her age, since she was born in 1291 or so.
Nino's unnamed wife was Beatrice d'Este. Sometime after his death in 1296 she stopped wearing widow's vestments, which featured white bands drawn around the head (her 'wimple'), and eventually married, after a previous betrothal, a second husband, Galeazzo Visconti of Milan, in June of 1300. The misery that awaits her is to share the exile of her new husband because of the expulsion of the powerful Visconti family from Milan in 1302.
For early awareness of the citation of Virgil here, see the Anonimo Fiorentino (comm. to vv. 76-78), who brings to bear Aeneid IV.569-570: 'A woman is ever a fickle and a changeful thing.'
Nino's heraldic language suggests that the device of the Milanese Visconti's coat of arms, the viper, will not decorate her tomb as well as would have his family's device, the rooster, had she remained a widow and eventually died in Pisa. According to Amilcare Iannucci (“The Nino Visconti Episode in Purgatorio VIII [vv. 43-84],” La Fusta 3, no. 2 [1978]), pp. 4-6, Nino's family drama is resolved in biblical terms, with his wife, Beatrice, associated with the serpent of Genesis, and his daughter, Giovanna, with Mary.
Whether with a purpose or not, Dante plays off the situation that pertained in Vita nuova .XXIV3, when Guido Cavalcanti's Giovanna preceded Dante's Beatrice as John the Baptist preceded Christ. Here the innocent Giovanna is a foil to the unnamed but vicious Beatrice d'Este, her own mother. In the language of King Lear turned inside out, 'bad wombs have borne good daughters.'
The poet underlines the fact, lest we fail to observe it, that Nino takes no pleasure in his former wife's coming tribulations, but merely notes God's justice in them.
These three tercets distance the reader from the intense family drama narrated by Nino, as though to put that drama into a cosmic context. The protagonist gazes at the pole in the southern sky where, as on a wheel, that which is closest to the axle moves more slowly than points farther from it. The four stars, representing the four cardinal virtues (as almost all agree), seen by the travelers in Purgatorio I.23 near the pole, are now setting on the other side of the mount of purgatory and are thus shielded from view. They are replaced in their former position by these three. Nearly all, primarily because of their allegorical reading of the four, also insist that these represent the three theological virtues, faith, hope, and charity. However, some commentators, following Portirelli (comm. to vv. 86-93), argue for a strictly literal and astronomical reference here, the three stars being among the brightest of two southern constellations, Dorado and Achernar in Eridanus; Canopus in Carina. (For Portirelli's notion that Dante knew about the southern heavens from Marco Polo, see the note to Purg. I.22-24.) Later commentators, following Paget Toynbee (see “Alfergano” [Concise Dante Dictionary]), think that Dante had his information from the texts of Alfraganus. Toynbee is responsible for demonstrating Dante's reliance on Alfraganus's Elementa astronomica, based heavily on Ptolemy's Almagest, written in Arabic in the ninth century and then translated into Latin in the twelfth century by Gerard of Cremona and in the thirteenth by John of Seville. Dante cites this text twice in Convivio, once by Alfraganus' name (Conv. II.xiii.11), once by the title 'Libro de l'Aggregazioni de le Stelle' (Conv. II.v.16) but, as Toynbee has shown, probably resorts to it on at least seventeen other occasions in his works (mainly in Convivio). Beginning with Andreoli (comm. to verse 89), for half a century most commentators argue for a literal sense that indicates phenomena in the southern sky and an allegorical sense. But after Poletto (comm. to vv. 91-93) most indicate only the allegorical meaning.
Sordello interrupts Virgil's heavenly discourse to call his (and, once again, not Dante's) attention to the drama unfolding in the garden.
We have seen this 'snake' before, in Inferno XXXIV, imprisoned for his arrogant assault on God. Now we see him replaying his role in the Fall, licking himself in prideful self-absorption as he plans another assault, now that he has lost his first battle, upon humankind. Both Sordello's urgency in interrupting Virgil's notice of the heavens' beauties and the fact that no opposition has as yet deployed its forces have the effect of creating uncertainty (and fear) in the naïve onlooker and in the reader. This serpent seems dangerous indeed, as he was when he tempted Eve in Eden, but in fact is not, as we presently discover.
Dante's attention to the snake kept the rapid defensive action of the angels from his view until they suddenly enter his field of vision, immediately thwarting the plans of the snake. We now see why their swords are blunted: they have no need of them because this serpent is powerless to offend. This drama is precisely that, a play, by which the onlookers, now safe in their potentially (but definitively) saved state, may be reminded of their sinful lives – their vulnerability to the serpent – and the grace that has rewarded their goodness with salvation. Mark Musa (Advent at the Gates [Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1974]) examines this scene as a representation of Christ's recurring second advent, as set forth by St. Bernard in his First Sermon on the Advents. Between His first (when He came to earth to save humankind) and final coming (at the end of time, to judge and rule the world), Christ is understood as coming into the heart of each successive believer. For Denise Heilbronn (“Dante's Valley of the Princes,” Dante Studies 90 [1972]), who accepts (p. 46) Musa's view, the intervention of the angels represents 'an allegorical enactment of the intermediate Advent – that is, the coming of Christ into the hearts of the faithful in this world.'
The astor is a bird of prey, domesticated in order to hunt other birds, but also particularly aggressive against snakes: this is the composite gloss that rises from many commentators, if generally without the presentation of further evidence. Torraca (1905) cites Brunetto Latini (Tresor, I.v.148) for the first traits but not the last. Beginning with the Ottimo (comm. to these verses) commentators have reported this species of bird (Latin astur, i.e., from Asturia [Fallani, comm. to vv. 103-105]) to be 'unfriendly to snakes,' whether because they believe this to be true or because the context would encourage such an explanation and it is found in preceding commentaries.
Heilbronn (“Dante's Valley of the Princes,” Dante Studies 90 (1972]), p. 55, argues that it is to Nino's companion's credit (we will shortly discover that this is Currado Malaspina) that he never takes his eyes from Dante, whose presence marks the really important event taking place here, against the backdrop of this now familiar play, in which nothing is really happening, for all its symbolic significance. The play reflects the past, Dante's physical presence in purgatory in the present, and the future – Dante's among Currado's family in Lunigiana and Currado's hopes for prayer from them, never expressed, but clear from all the similar requests we have already heard from others.
It is strange, in light of other images in the poem that make Virgil a light for Dante (e.g., Purg. I.43: lucerna; Purg. VI.29: luce; Inf. I.82, Purg. XVIII.11, Purg. XXII.68: lume) that so few commentators have thought that lucerna here even might refer to Virgil (only Benvenuto [comm. to vv. 112-117] and John of Serravalle [comm. to vv. 112-117]). From the first, glossators have insisted that Dante's guiding light is divine grace, a view made more specific by Vellutello (comm. to these verses) and most commentators after him: illuminating grace, which will light Dante's way toward the earthly paradise (and thence true heaven) if only his good will (his 'wax') will feed its flame.
The valley of the river Magra, flowing through Lunigiana, home of the Malaspina family. For Currado and his grandfather see the note to Purgatorio VIII.61-66. Currado's disclaimer is probably meant to be taken as a sign of his modesty (his grandfather was the real Currado), as is his awareness that his love of the world must be purged above on the mountain.
Dante's words in praise of the valor and generosity of the house of Malaspina in 1300 are in fact words of thanks for the hospitality of Franceschino Malaspina in Lunigiana in 1306 (and, according to Boccaccio, in his Vita di Dante [Trattatello in laude di Dante, ed. P. G. Ricci (Milan: Mondadori, 1974)], p. 483, of Moroello Malaspina as well [see Dante's letter to Moroello, his fourth Epistle, ca. 1307]).
This verse has been variously interpreted. If we agree that capo is the subject (and not the object) of the sentence, as almost all do, then we may choose among the following solutions: the wicked chief who corrupts the world may be Satan, the pope (and then surely Boniface VIII), Rome (with its corrupt papacy and no emperor in her saddle), or bad governance in general. Whichever solution Dante may himself have had in mind, it is clear that any and all of these solutions 'work,' and are, in fact, interrelated. If Satan is the 'prince of darkness' who leads most humans astray, his minions on earth (corrupt popes, pusillanimous emperors), or even corrupt leadership generally understood, all point to a common failing and a common cause: weak humans falling under the influence of those who govern poorly. From this failing only the Malaspina family is.currently exempt.
Guglielmo Gorni (“Il canto VIII del Purgatorio,” L'Alighieri 19 [2002]), p. 67, suggests a venturesome possible reading, in which the 'capo' (head) is to be separated from its accompanying adjective (rio [wicked]), which Gorni would like to treat as a part of the object of the verb, taking 'the world's head' as a metaphor. The world, then, would be turning its head toward evil. The grammar of the clause would not seem to allow this reading.
'Va' or, literally, 'Go' seems here to have the same sense that it sometimes has in Shakespeare, i.e., 'Go to,' meaning 'Enough of such words.' Currado, embarrassed by Dante's praise of his family, goes on to promise his interlocutor that he indeed will have cause to praise it more in 1306 (i.e., before the sun returns to the constellation Aries seven years from now).
Commentary text is copyrighted and reproduced by permission.
Please enter a search term.
Copyright | © 2024 Trustees of Dartmouth College. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
