sweet name of his city, to give greeting there to his fellow citizen and
now in thee thy living abide not without war and one doth rend the other
of those that one wall and one foss shuts in" (VI, 79).
As night approaches Sordello leads the poets to the angelically
protected Flowery Valley wherein are found the souls of those rulers who
were negligent of the spiritual life. Many of them were once old enemies
but now they not only sing together but live in harmony, united also in
paying tributes to the worth of some reigning monarchs or in expressing
denunciation at the degeneracy of others. Here in the Valley of the
Princes, while sleeping on the grass and among the flowers, Dante has a
strange dream indicative of a near episode in his journey. He sees an
eagle in the sky with wings wide open and intent upon swooping
"Then wheeling somewhat more, it seemed to me
Terrible as the lightning he descended
And snatched me upward even to the (sphere of) fire
Therein it seemed that he and I were burning,
And the imagined fire did scorch me so
That of necessity my sleep was broken."
(IX, 28.)
He awakes to find himself actually transported up the perpendicular wall
to the entrance Gate of Purgatory. Virgil interprets the dream, pointing
out that the eagle represents Lucia (Illuminating Grace) who has carried
the poet to St. Peter's Gate.
"Thou hast at length arrived at Purgatory;
See there the cliff that closeth it around;
See there the entrance, where it seems disjoined.
While at dawn, which doth precede the day,
When inwardly thy spirit was asleep
Upon the flowers that deck the land below,
There came a Lady and said: 'I am Lucia;
Let me take this one up, who is asleep;
So will I make his journey easier for him.'
Sordello and the other noble shapes
Remained; she took thee, and, as day grew bright,
Upward she came, and I upon her footprints.
She laid thee here; and first her beauteous eyes
That open entrance pointed out to me;
Then she and sleep together went away."
(IX, 49.)
The poet, as we said before, cannot enter Purgatory until he mounts the
three steps of confession, contrition and satisfaction. Moreover, he
must receive absolution from the angel-keeper, typical of the priestly
confessor, and he must have seven P's branded upon his forehead. When
this is done the angel opens the gate and Dante enters to the sound of a
thunder-peal from the organ of Heaven, and of voices expressing the joy
of Heaven upon the sinner's doing penance.
Dante's description, which now follows, of the lovely art displayed on
the terrace of Pride leads to the reflection that he must have been a
matchless master of visual instruction or at least the representative of
his times, which, before the age of printing, taught the people by means
of pictures painted upon canvas, burnt in glass or chiseled in stone.
Certain it is that the people of Dante's day from seeing the productions
of art knew the Bible and sacred and profane history so well as to amaze
subsequent generations taught from the printed page. Be that as it may,
the power and beauty of Dante's pictures on the terraces of Purgatory
show his consummate knowledge of a principle of psychology very much
operative in our day, a principle which makes character by educating the
will far better than any other pedagogical method. _Verba movent,
exampla trahunt_, is a principle which Dante illustrates on every
terrace of Purgatory.
On the terrace of Pride the penitent sees examples of humility carved of
white marble out of the mountain side like Thorwaldsen's Lion, at
Lucerne, Switzerland. Their reality is so compelling that, "not only
Polycletus (the great Greek sculptor) but Nature there would be put to
shame." First to meet the penitent's eyes is the scene of the
Annunciation--the angel Gabriel saluting the Blessed Virgin and
unfolding to her God's plan of making her the Mother of His Son for the
salvation of mankind. In humility she gives her consent in the words:
"Behold the handmaid of the Lord, be it done to me according to thy
word." That is the attitude in which she is represented in sculpture,
says Dante, an attitude "imprinting those words as expressly as a figure
is stamped in wax" (X, 44). Near that work of art David stands forth in
marble, dancing before the Ark of the Covenant. Trajan, the Roman
emperor, is also seen, interrupting affairs of state to grant a poor
woman a favor. Not only of humility but also of pride are examples
given. Looking down on the pavement over which they slowly walk with
their heavy burdens, the proud have before their eyes the sculptured
punishment of pride as committed by Satan, Briareus, the Giants, Nimrod,
Niobe, Saul and others. Meditating on the loveliness of humility and the
hatefulness of pride, as suggested by those examples and bearing with
prayer the heavy weights imposed upon them for their humiliation and
penance, the proud experience a transformation of disposition wholly
alien to them in the days of their mortality. Among the souls in this
first terrace is Oderisi, who attained such renown as an illuminator of
manuscripts and a painter of miniatures that he boasted that no one
could surpass him. Now he not only is conscious of his former blatant
pride, but in proof of his change of heart he gives full credit for
superiority to his former pupil and subsequent rival, Franco Bolognese;
"O," asked I him, "art thou not Oderisi,
Agobbio's honor and honor of that art
Which is in Paris called illuminating?
'Brother,' said he, 'more laughing are the leaves
Touched by the brush of Franco Bolognese.
All his the honor now, and mine in part,
In sooth I had not been so courteous
While I was living, for the great desire
Of excellence on which my heart was bent.'"
(XI, 79.)
Dante sees here another spirit, Provenzano Salvani. His rapid advance
from Outer Purgatory to Purgatory was due to the merit of a
self-humiliating act performed in favor of a friend. This friend had
been taken prisoner by King Charles of Anjou and was held for ransom of
a thousand florins of gold, the threat being made that if the amount was
not raised within a month he would be put to death. It speaks well for
the tender friendship of Salvani that he put aside all his pride and
arrogance while he took his place in the market square to beg alms with
which to liberate his friend. Dante relates the incident in the
following words; "When he was living in highest glory, in the market
place of Sienna he stationed himself of his own free will and put away
all shame and there to deliver his friend from the pains he was
suffering in Charles' prison, he brought himself to tremble in every
vein" (XI, 133).
As the poets enter the terrace of Envy aerial voices proclaim examples
of Brotherly Love. First are heard the words of the Blessed
Virgin:--"They have no wine," words in favor of those who were in need
at the marriage feast, which led Christ to perform his first miracle.
Then as an example of exposing one's self to death for the sake of
another, the incident is recalled of the pagan Pylades feigning himself
to be Orestes to save the latter from death. The voice saying, "Love
those from whom ye have had evil," is an exhortation to the heroic act
of charity of returning good for evil. In contrast with those counsels
of charity, other voices call out direct warnings against envy.
On this terrace is neither beauty nor art but envy's own color. A livid
hue is the whole landscape. Of this color also are the garments of the
suffering souls. They are depicted one leaning against the other in
mutual love and for mutual support, like beggars sitting at the entrance
of a church to which crowds go for the gaining of an Indulgence.
Pitiable is the scene, for the envious in expiation for their sin,
which entered their soul through its windows, the eyes, are deprived of
sight, their lids being fastened by a wire suture such as is used for
the taming of a hawk. Dante says of them:
"I saw,
Shadows with garments dark as was the rock;
And when we pass'd a little forth, I heard
A crying, 'Blessed Mary! pray for us,
Michael and Peter! all ye saintly host!'
I do not think there walks on earth this day
Man so remorseless, that he had not yearn'd
With pity at the sight that next I saw.
Mine eyes a load of sorrow teem'd, when now
I stood so near them, that their semblance
Came clearly to my view. Of sackcloth vile
Their covering seem'd; and, on his shoulder, one
Did stay another, leaning; and all lean'd
Against the cliff. E'en thus the blind and poor,
Near the confessionals, to crave an alms,
Stand, each his head upon his fellow's sunk;
So most to stir compassion, not by sound
Of words alone, but that which moves not less,
The sight of misery. And as never beam
Of noonday visiteth the eyeless man,
E'en so was heaven a niggard unto these
Of this fair light: for, through the orbs of all,
A thread of wire, impiercing, knits them up,
As for the taming of a haggard hawk."
(Canto, XIII, 42.)
As the poets continue their way over the second terrace Virgil explains
an obscure phrase uttered by Guido del Duca, a soul punished for the sin
of envy. That spirit speaking to Dante reproached mankind for setting
its heart upon material things; "The heavens are calling to you and
wheel around you, displaying unto you their eternal beauties and your
eye gazes only on earth." Envy is consequently engendered because as the
spirit says: "Mankind sets its heart there where exclusion of
partnership is necessary." (XV, 43). "What meant the spirit from Romagna
by mentioning exclusion and partnership?" asks Dante. Virgil proceeds to
tell him that companionship in earthly possessions is not possible, for
the more of any material thing a person has, the less of it remains for
others. Hence envy arises from the very nature of the object which
excludes partnership. On the other hand the more of the spiritual life
one has, the more others participate in knowledge, peace and love, and
this is especially true of the angels and the elect. The greater their
number, the greater is the sum total of grace bestowed by God and the
more each spirit shares his love with others. "The more spirits there
on high yonder who love, the more there are to love perfectly and the
more do they love each other and as a mirror one reflects back to the
other" (XV, 75).
This doctrine is expounded until the poets reach the third terrace,
where wrath is punished. Here Dante represents himself as having a
vision wherein he beholds examples of meekness and patience. First he
sees the Finding of the Boy Christ in the temple and hears Mary's gentle
complaint. Then follows the scene of Pisistratus refusing to condemn a
youth for insulting his daughter. The third picture is that of the
stoning of St. Stephen.
"Then suddenly I seem'd
By an ecstatic vision wrapt away:
And in a temple saw, methought, a crowd
Of many persons; and at the entrance stood
A dame, whose sweet demeanor did express
Another's love, who said, 'Child! why hast thou
Dealt with us thus? Behold thy sire and I
Sorrowing have sought thee;' and so held her peace;
And straight the vision fled. A female next
Appear'd before me, down whose visage coursed
Those waters, that grief forces out from one
By deep resentment stung who seem'd to say:
'If thou, Pisistratus, be lord indeed
Over this city, named with such debate
Of adverse gods, and whence each science sparkles,
Avenge thee of those arms, whose bold embrace
Hath clasp'd our daughter;' and to her, me seem'd,
Benigh and meek, with visage undisturb'd,
Her sovereign spake: 'How shall we those requite
Who wish us evil, if we thus condemn
The man that loves us?' After that I saw
A multitude, in fury burning, slay
With stones a stripling youth, and shout amain
'Destroy, destroy'; and him I saw, who bow'd
Heavy with death unto the ground, yet made
His eyes, unfolded upward, gates to heaven,
Praying forgiveness of the Almighty Sire,
Amidst that cruel conflict, on his foes,
With looks that win compassion to their aim."
(Canto, XV, 84.)
The wrathful are punished by being enveloped in a dense pungent smoke,
emblematic of the stifling caused by angry passions.
"Darkness of hell, and of a night deprived
Of every planet under a poor sky,
As much as may be tenebrous with cloud,
Ne'er made unto my sight so thick a veil,
As did that smoke which there enveloped us,
Nor to the feeling of so rough a texture;
For not an eye it suffered to stay open;
Whereat mine escort, faithful and sagacious,
Drew near to me and offered me his shoulder.
E'en as a blind man goes behind his guide,
Lest he should wander, or should strike against
Aught that may harm or peradventure kill him,
So went I through the bitter and foul air,
Listening unto my Leader, who said only,
'Look that from me thou be not separated.'
Voices I heard, and every one appeared
To supplicate for peace and misericord
The Lamb of God who takes away our sins.
Still _Agnus Dei_ their exordium was;
One word there was in all, and metre one,
So that all harmony appeared among them.
'Master,' I said, 'are spirits those I hear?'
And he to me: 'Thou apprehendest truly,
And they the knot of anger go unloosing.'"
(Canto, XVI, 1.)
Soon after this our poet hears one of the spirits of the wrathful,
discoursing on the degeneracy of human life and sees in a second series
of visions, historic instances of wrath and its punishment. He is
awakened from his trance by the shining light and the glad summons of
the Angel of meekness, who is at the stair leading to the next terrace.
"This is a spirit divine who in the way
Of going up directs us without asking
And who with his own light himself conceals.
* * * * *
Accord we our feet, to such inviting
Let us make haste to mount ere it grow dark;
For then we could not till the day return."
(XVII, 55.)
Lightened of the third P the poet passes from the circle of the wrathful
up the fourth stairway. Here he takes the opportunity to engage Virgil
in conversation regarding love as the seed of the capital sins. These
sins, it may be remarked in passing, are not always mortal sins, though
many Dantian editors make the mistake of so classifying them. It is to
be observed that on all the stairways of Purgatory there is a conference
between the two poets on things likely to be of interest to Dante, in
the matter of his salvation. At the end of the present conference Dante
falls into slumber, from which he is aroused by the racing activity of
the souls of the slothful, shouting instances of zeal and energy.
Sloth is defined by St. Thomas Aquinas as sadness and torpor in the face
of some spiritual good which one has to achieve, and a preacher of our
day modernizes that definition to mean, the "don't-care-feeling" in the
presence of duty. The sin is unlisted in modern treatises on Ethics,
the writers of which see in its symptoms only indications of
melancholia, neurasthenia or pellagra. But according to the scholastic
classification still followed in this matter by the Catholic Church,
sloth is to be considered as a specific vice opposed to the great
commandment to love God with our whole heart.
So Dante estimates it in his scheme of punishment, representing the
souls crying out in their diligence, "Haste, haste, let no time be lost
through little love." These souls are condemned to rush round and round
at the topmost speed, those in front proclaiming instances of alacrity,
viz., how the Blessed Virgin hastened to the hill country to visit
Elizabeth and how Julius Caesar hurried to subdue Lerida. Those in the
rear recall examples of sloth, viz., how the Israelites through
wandering in the desert lost the Promised Land, and how the Trojans who
dallied in Sicily gave themselves up to a life inglorious. Dante's
slothful souls are startlingly swift in their action. One of them, the
Abbot Zeno giving directions for ascent to Virgil and reprobating the
sins of his successors in the monastery is out of hearing as soon as he
speaks: "If more be said or if he was silent I know not, so far already
had he raced beyond us" (XVIII, 127).
The reader will not fail to note that the terrace of the slothful is
the only circle of Purgatory where there is no request for intercessory
prayer and that Dante here never speaks to any of those souls. Is that
because the poet wishes us to understand that his own sentiment is that
they do not deserve to be prayed for who neglected through sloth to pray
for themselves and that his own silence in their presence is indicative
of his disregard for souls so stained?
To foreshow the sins to be treated on the three upper terraces, where
are punished those who yielded to the sins of the body, Dante represents
himself as tempted by a Siren. She is described as ugly and repulsive
and then becoming, under the gaze of the beholder, fair and alluringly
attractive--a description, perhaps, unconsciously reproduced by Pope
when he wrote:
"Vice is a monster of so frightful mien
As to be hated needs but to be seen.
Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face
We first endure, then pity, then embrace."
Saved from the Siren by a noble lady (perhaps Lucia, Illuminating Grace)
and Virgil, the poet is brooding upon the dream which has brought to his
senses the pleasures of the world, when his guide admonishes him how
salvation from sin's seduction is to be had--viz., by using worldly
things as things to be trodden under foot, while the mind is raised to
Heaven, God's lure to draw it upward.
"Didst thou behold, that old enchantress
Who sole above us henceforth is lamented?
Didst thou behold how man is free from her?
Suffice it thee, and smite earth with thy heels,
Thine eyes lift upward to the lure, that whirls
The Eternal King with revolutions vast."
(XIX, 58.)
On the fifth terrace our poets find the shades of the avaricious and the
prodigals. They lie face to the ground, bound hand and foot, recalling
during the night instances of avarice and during the day proclaiming the
praise of liberality, as manifested in the Blessed Virgin, the pagan
Fabricius and St. Nicholas. The latter is identified in the United
States and some other countries, with the popular Santa Claus. Dante
says of St. Nicholas that "the spirit went on to speak of the bounty
which Nicholas gave to the maidens, to lead their youth to honor" (XX,
32). The allusion is to the legend that this Bishop of Myra secretly
threw at different times into the windows of the home of three destitute
maidens, bags of gold sufficient to provide them with dowries without
which they would have been forced by poverty to a life of shame. In the
realm of the avaricious and the prodigals, Dante addresses one of the
repentent souls: "Spirit, who thou wast and why ye have your backs
turned upward, tell me" (XX, 94).
The answer of the shade of Pope Adrian IV, who died thirty-nine days
after his election to the supreme pontificate without having been
crowned, is one of the fine passages of the poem.
"And he to me: 'Why Heaven makes us turn our backs to it, thou
shalt learn: but first know that I was the successor of Peter.
Between Siestri and Chiaveri there rushes down a fair river and
from its name the title of my race takes its proudest distinction.
For one month and a little more I experienced how heavily the great
mantle weighs on him who keeps it out of the mire, so much so that
all the other burdens seem but feathers. My conversion alas! was
tardy; but when I had become the Roman pastor then I discovered how
false life is. In it I found that the heart had no repose nor was
it possible to rise higher in that life; wherefore the desire for
this (immortal life) was kindled in me. Up to that time, I was a
wretched soul and severed from God, wholly given up to Avarice. Now
as thou seest I am punished for it here. What is the effect of
Avarice is here made manifest in the purgation of the converted
souls, and the mountain has no more bitter penalty, as our eyes
fixed on earthly things, were not lifted up on high, even so has
justice sunk them to the ground in this place. Even as Avarice
quenched our love for every good, wherefore our works were lost, so
justice doth hold us fast, bound and seized by feet and hands; and
so long as it shall be the pleasure of the just Lord, so long shall
we lie here motionless and outstretched.'" (XIX, 97.)
At this point occurs one of those delightful surprises full of realism,
that Dante uses from time to time to heighten the reader's interest. The
poet has just learned that the spirit before him is Pope Adrian IV. At
once Dante falls on his knees to pay homage to the high office of the
Roman Pontiff, and he is about to say according to the conjecture of
Benvenuto "Holy Father, I entreat your holiness to excuse my natural
ignorance, for I was not aware of your being Pope." But the spirit bids
the poet arise, telling him that in the spirit world the dignities and
relations of this life are abolished.
"I on my knees had fallen and wished to speak;
But even as I began and he was aware,
Only by listening, of my reverence,
'What cause,' he said, 'has downward bent thee thus?'
And I told him: 'For your dignity,
Standing, my conscience stung me with remorse.'
'Straighten thy legs, and upward raise thee, brother,'
He answered, 'Err not, fellow servant am I
With thee and with the others to one power
If e'er that holy, evangelic sound
Which sayeth _neque nubent_, thou hast heard
Well canst thou see why in this wise I speak.'"
(XIX, 127.)
In this part of Purgatory Dante treats his readers to two other
instances of surprise. The first case which also makes use of the
dramatic quality of suspense, postponing the explanation to the
following canto in order to prolong the eager expectation of the reader,
narrates the occurrence of a wonderful phenomenon, the shaking of the
mountain of Purgatory, accompanied by a harmonious outburst of joyful
thanksgiving.
* * * * *
"We were striving to surmount the way so far as was permitted to our power
when I felt the mountain quake like a thing which is falling; whereupon a
chill gripped me, as is wont to grip him who is given to death. Of a surety
Delos was not shaken so violently ere Latona made her nest therein to give
birth to heaven's two eyes. Then began on all sides a shout, such that the
Master drew toward me saying: 'Fear not while I do guide thee.' _Gloria in
Excelsis Deo_ all were saying, by what I understood from those near by,
whose cry could be heard. Motionless we stood and in suspense, like the
shepherds who first heard that hymn, until the quaking ceased and it was
ended. Then we took up again our holy way, looking at the shades, that lay
on the ground already returned to their wonted plaint. No ignorance, if my
memory err not in this, did ever with so great assault give me yearning for
knowledge, I then seemed to have while pondering: nor by reason of our
haste was I bold to ask; nor of myself could I see aught there; thus I went
on timid and pensive."
His curiosity is satisfied in an unexpected way. "The natural thirst which
never is sated, save with the water whereof the poor Samaritan woman asked
the grace, was burning within me--and lo, even as Luke writes to us that
Christ appeared to the two who were on the way, already risen from the
mouth of the tomb, a shade appeared to us saying: 'My brothers God give you
peace.' Quickly we turned us and Virgil gave back to him the sign that is
fitting thereto. Then began, 'May the true court that binds me in eternal
exile, bring thee peace to the council of the blest.' 'How,' said he, and
meantime we met sturdily, 'If ye are shades that God deigns not above, who
hath escorted you so far by his stairs'? And my Teacher: 'If thou lookest
at the marks which this man bears and which the angel outlines clearly
wilt thou see 'tis meet he reign with the good.... Wherefore I was brought
from Hell's wide jaws to guide him and I will guide him onward, so far as
my school can lead him. But tell us, if thou knowest, why the mount gave
before such quakings and wherefore all seemed to shout with one voice down
to its soft base.'"
It was the very question Dante had been yearning to utter.
"Thus, by asking did he thread the very needle of my desire and with the
pope alone my thirst was made less fasting."
* * * * *