This epic fourteenth century poem is one wild ride from its beginnings in Hell, before passing through Purgatory, and into Paradise. The poem’s hero, Dante, though still mortal, is guided through the lands of the dead by Virgil. “I once was man. Both of my parents came from Lombardy, and both claimed Mantua as native city. And I was born, though late, sub Julio, and lived in Rome under the good Augustus—the season of the false and lying gods. I was a poet, and I sang the righteous son of Anchises who had come from Troy when flames destroyed the pride of Ilium.” Dante is first led by Virgil through the torments in each of the circles of the Inferno. “How many up above now count themselves great kings, who’ll wallow here like pigs in slime, leaving behind foul memories of their crimes!”
Dante, the poet, understandably drops many references to classical myths during the course of the epic. “Within that flame, Ulysses and Diomedes suffer; they, who went as one to rage, now share one punishment. And there, together in their flame, they grieve over the horse’s fraud that caused a breach—the gate that let Rome’s noble seed escape. There they regret the guile that makes the dead Deidamia still lament Achilles; and there, for the Palladium, they pay.” However, this is no doubt a Christian poem and the repeated juxtapositions between God and Lucifer are stark. “If he was once as handsome as he now is ugly and, despite that, raised his brows against his Maker, one can understand how every sorrow has its source in him!”
Another theme that runs through the Comedia is the decay and sinfulness that abounds in contemporary Italy. “Ah, abject Italy, you inn of sorrows, you ship without a helmsman in harsh seas, no queen of provinces but of bordellos! That noble soul had such enthusiasm: his city’s sweet name was enough for him to welcome—there—his fellow-citizen; But those who are alive within you now can’t live without their warring—even those whom one same wall and one same moat enclose gnaw at each other. Squalid Italy, search round your shores and then look inland—see if any part of you delight in peace. What use was there in Justinian’s mending your bridle, when the saddle’s empty? Indeed, were there no reins, your shame were less.” At one point Virgil also explains his own personal circumstances, so to speak. “Before the spirits worthy of ascent to God had been directed to this mountain, my bones were buried by Octavian. I am Virgil, and I am deprived of Heaven for no fault other than my lack of faith.” He continues to describe the fate of all those who also lacked Christian faith, through no fault of their own. “There is a place below that only shadows—not torments—have assigned to sadness; there, lament is not an outcry, but a sigh. There I am with the infant innocents, those whom the teeth of death had seized before they were set from human sinfulness; there I am with those souls who were not clothed in the three holy virtues—but who knew and followed after the other virtues.”
As Dante and Virgil transition from the Inferno to Purgatorio the tone of the whole poem shifts and begins to lighten. “When all the staircase lay beneath us and we’d reached the highest step, then Virgil set his eyes insistently on me and said: “My son, you’ve seen the temporary fire and the eternal fire; you have reached the place past which my powers cannot see. I’ve brought you here through intellect and art; from now on, let your pleasure be your guide; you’re past the steep and past the narrow paths. Look at the sun that shines upon your brow; look at the grasses, flowers, and the shrubs born here, spontaneously, of the earth. Among them, you can rest or walk until the coming of the glad and lovely eyes—those eyes that, weeping, sent me to your side. Await no further word or sign from me: your will is free, erect, and whole—to act against that will would be to err: therefore I crown and miter you over yourself.”” Dante finally catches sight of his beloved, who has brought him on this journey. “Although the veil she wore—down from her head, which was encircled by Minerva’s leaves—did not allow her to be seen distinctly, her stance still regal and disdainful, she continued, just as one who speaks but keeps until the end the fiercest parts of speech: “Look here! For I am Beatrice, I am!””
In Paradiso, the poem shifts tone again and becomes a more overt explication for Christian belief. ‘To mortal eyes our justice seems unjust; that this is so, should serve as evidence for faith—not heresy’s depravity.” Dante feels the awe of Christ himself. “Thus, if the penalty the Cross inflicted is measured by the nature He assumed, no one has ever been so unjustly stung; yet none was ever done so great a wrong, if we regard the Person made to suffer, He who had gathered Himself that nature. Thus, from one action, issued differing things: God and the Jews were pleased by one same death; earth trembled for that death and Heaven opened.” As Dante, the hero, travels through Paradiso, Dante, the poet, tackles the minutia of Christian theology. “How distant, o predestination, is your root from those whose vision does not see the Primal Cause in Its entirety! And, mortals, do take care—judge prudently: for we, though we see God, do not yet know all those whom He has chosen; but within the incompleteness of our knowledge is a sweetness, for our good is then refined in this good, since what God wills, we too will.”
Dante concludes with words of hope for those still living justly, amongst all those who sin. “Oh, in those richest coffers, what abundance is garnered up for those who, while below, on earth, were faithful workers when they sowed! Here do they live, delighting in the treasure they earned with tears in Babylonian exile, where they had no concern for gold. Here, under the high son of God and Mary, together with the ancient and the new councils, he triumphs in his victory—he who is keeper of the keys of glory.” Dante ends with words of love, which triumphs over all. ““O lady, you in whom my hope gains strength, you who, for my salvation, have allowed your footsteps left in Hell, in all the things that I have seen, I recognize the grace and benefit that I, depending upon your power and goodness, have received. You drew me out from slavery to freedom by all those paths, by all those means that were within your power. Do, in me, preserve your generosity, so that my soul, which you have healed, when it is set loose from my body, be a soul that you will welcome.” So did I pray.”
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