Purgatorio

‘“Compare: when doves, when gleaning grain or weeds,

flock all together at their feeding place,

With none of their habitual pride, at peace,

if something they are fearful of appears,

then suddenly they’ll leave that bait behind,

assailed by greater worries as they are now.

In that same way, I saw that fresh new band

break off their song and flee towards the cliff,

as people do, not knowing where they’ll end.

Our own departure wasn’t much less swift.’” 

Cato, Purgatory’s caretaker, urges penitents to hurry on their journey. Dante compares the penitents’ response to doves who rush off when startled by something that frightens them. The translator, Kirkpatrick, explains that he uses “compare” throughout the poem to render Dante’s liberal use of extended similes in his Italian verse. “Compare” invites readers to engage deeply with the text, contemplate the relationship between the elements under comparison, and make connections between them. Kirkpatrick also uses alliteration, internal rhyme, and assonance to capture the importance of formal elements in Dante’s original verse. 

“If nothing now is shadowed at my feet,

don’t wonder any more than when the rays

the heavens project don’t block each other out.

To suffer torments both of heat and chill,

the Utmost Power gives bodies, fit for that,

not wishing how it does to be revealed.

It’s madness if we hope that rational minds

should ever follow to its end the road

that one true being in three persons takes.

Content yourself with quia, human kind.” 

Dante admits confusion upon realizing that he casts a shadow, but Virgil does not. Virgil explains that only Dante retains his earthly body. Virgil asserts that the process is a mystery, adding that “rational minds” cannot hope to understand the Holy Trinity. Statius demystifies the process in Canto 25, which may indicate that the Trinity is inaccessible to Virgil because he is a pagan. Moreover, Virgil urges Dante to concern himself with “human kind.” His statement speaks to Dante’s vision of Purgatory as a journey to recover self and community. Conversations with penitents, exchanging ideas and experiences, are an important part of his purification journey. Through this process, penitents become cleansed of the preoccupations that distract them from caring properly for others.

“Why should Justinian have formed your reins?

What use is that? The saddle’s riderless.

The shame would be far less were there no curb.

You people! If only you understood what God intends you’d be more reverent,

and let the saddle be great Caesar’s seat.

Just look how fierce and cruel the beast’s become.

No spur to set it on its proper course,

since you, Italia, took the bridle up.

You German Albert! You abandon her,

so hard to handle now, untamed and wild,

you who should sit astride her saddle bows.” 

Sordello discusses the situation in Italy through an extended simile. He complains that Justinian, a fifth-century Christian Roman emperor who systematized Roman law, need not have bothered since subsequent rulers have allowed Italy to fall into chaos. The “beast” is Italy, which has become untamed because its “saddle,” meaning its seat of justice, is empty. “German Albert” is likely Albert I of Hapsburg. Albert never received a coronation, despite his election in 1298 for Holy Roman Emperor. Sordello rails against the factionalizing and in-fighting that have ravaged the region, leaving it vulnerable to corruption and spiritual decay. 

“Gold, finest silver, cochineal, white lead, 

indigo, ebony polished to a sheen, 

the freshest emeralds when they’ve just been split, 

each in pure colour would be overcome

by all the flowers and grasses in that fold— 

as by the greater any lesser is. 

Nor had great nature worked in paint alone. 

She also with a thousand perfumes wrought

a sweetness never known and indistinct.” 

Dante describes the beauty of the view as Sordello leads Dante and Virgil to a vale where they will rest for the night. Dante uses visual imagery and allusions to scent, but in the service of contrast rather than comparison. Since words can’t describe divine beauty, Dante instead shows how even the most luxurious riches would be dull compared to the vision he witnessed.

“I do not think her mother loves me now.

For she has changed her widowhood’s white veil—

which, wretchedly, she’ll yearn for once gain.

[…]

The viper of the Milanese camp

will make for her less splendid burial

than my Gallurian cockerel would have done.” 

Nino asks Dante to deliver a message to his daughter. Nino laments that his widow (“her mother”) has remarried and prophesies that she will regret doing so. Nino was a public figure in Tuscany during the 13th century, and his wife indeed regretted her remarriage after her second husband’s exile from his home in Milan and descent into poverty. Equally significant is the illustration of Dante’s purpose in including contemporary references, though they pose a challenge for modern readers. Contemporary readers may have known that the “cockerel” symbolized Nino’s Gallurian clan while the “viper” was the emblem for the Milanese clan into which Nino’s widow remarried (194). While the symbolic meanings may have been more accessible for contemporary readers, they nevertheless require significant decoding. Purgatorio’s readers cannot be passive, as humanity should not be passive in pursuing virtue and seeking to understand the divine.

“The concubine of timeworn Tithonus

already on the eastern balcony,

out of her dear love’s arms, was glimmering white.

Her forehead shone with gemstones in the form

of that chill animal, the Scorpion,

that strikes then stings us with its vicious tail.” 

Dante marks the time of day through a detailed description of the pagan Greco-Roman goddess Aurora, goddess of dawn. Her name references the “concubine of timeworn Tithonus” (197), an ancient myth in which Aurora falls in love with Tithonus and convinces the gods to grant him immortality but forgets to ask for eternal youth. He never dies but continues to age until Aurora takes pity on him and turns him into a grasshopper. Scholars have debated whether Aurora was here ushering in the moon or the sun, demonstrating the impenetrability of Dante’s text. 

“Around him, surging horsemen, as it seemed,

filled all the space. And eagles, wrought in gold,

were seen above, as moving in the wind.

The wretched widow, as these throned around,

was saying, seemingly: ‘My lord, avenge

my dearest son. He’s dead. That is my heart-wound.” 

Dante provides an example of humility through an anecdote about Roman emperor Trajan. Trajan was on his way out of the city but delayed in order to pursue justice for a woman with a murdered son. Especially significant in this passage is the eagle imagery, which recurs throughout the poem. Eagles were the emblem of the Roman Empire and associated with Zeus/Jupiter in Greco-Roman myth. In Purgatorio, eagles symbolize imperial justice, which Dante associates with a healthily functioning Rome.

“Oh, what vainglorying in human powers!

How short a time the green lasts on the height

unless some cruder, darker age succeeds.

Once, as a painter, Cimambue thought

he took the prize. Now ‘Giotto’ ’s on all lips

and Cimabue’s fame is quite eclipsed.

In verse, as well, a second Guido steals

all glory from the first. And someone’s born,

who’ll thrust, perhaps, both Guidos from the nest.

The roar of earthly fame is just a breath

of wind, blowing from here and then from there,

that changes name in changing origin.” 

Oderisi da Gubbio, a famed manuscript illuminator, addresses the pointlessness of pride since human achievement and acclaim are fleeting. Oderisi’s purification journey is to confront what he refused to accept while alive—that earthly fame is temporary. His desire to excel as an artist caused him to sin, but now even the greatest painters (i.e. Cimambue) wane when a new talent appears (i.e. Giotto). Thus, it is better to apply one’s talent to the service of one’s community, as Dante will do by recording his experiences in the afterlife.

“A poor hair shirt appeared to blanket each.

Each let the other lean against his side,

and all were let to lean against the cliff.

In that same way, the blind, for lack of things,

stand begging for their needs on Pardon Days,

the head of one bent low above the next,

to gain from others pity for their plight

not only through the sound of their sad words

but also through the sight, which ached no less.” 

This passage describes the penitents atoning for the sin of envy. Kirkpatrick’s translation creates rhythm and momentum through the repetition of “let” and the use of alliteration (“let the other lean,” “let to lean”). Dante compares these penitents to the blind and impoverished who must beg for help to meet their basic needs. At each level, penitents experience what they were unable to accept during life. Thus, Oderisi, who was guilty of pride, admits that human achievement does not last. Here, those who were guilty of envy receive blindness as punishment to represent their jealous hoarding in life.  

“Sapia (though not sapient) I was called.” 

Dante encounters Sapia at the second level of Purgatory, where penitents atone for envy. Here, she plays on a meaning of her name—sapient, meaning wise—to point out the foolishness of envy. In Sapia’s case, her intense envy caused her to delight in seeing her own people fall in battle, thus preventing her from being wise enough to care about her community. Her purification journey involves recognizing the importance of communal bonds.

“The stars initiate your vital moves.

I don’t say all. And yet suppose I did.

you’re given light to know what’s good and bad,

and free will, too, which if it can endure

beyond its early battles with the stars,

and if it’s nourished well, will conquer all.

Of better nature and of greater power

you are free subject. And you have a mind

that planets cannot rule or stars concern.

So if the present world has gone astray,

the reason lies in you, in you it’s sought,

and I, on your behalf, will spy it out.”

Mark Lombard, possibly a Venetian noble, explains to Dante the relationship between the “stars,” meaning fate, and free will. This conversation is part of an extended conversation that unfolds across Purgatorio, in which Dante, Virgil, and the penitents they converse with explore moral responsibility. Lombard introduces the idea of a rational, conscious mind/self that can make choices. This thread will continue in Cantos 17, 18, 25, and 28.

“Once, Rome, which made this world for us pure good,

had two suns in its sky. And these made known

both roads to take, the world’s and that of God.

One sun has snuffed out the other. The sword

is joined now to the shepherd’s crook. And ill

is bound to follow when force links these two.” 

Mark Lombard continues his discussion with Dante, here explaining the present corruption in Italy. Significantly, he relies more on familiar imagery than on explicit statements to communicate his message. Rome’s “two suns” refer to the emperor and the pope, ideally working in concert as caretakers of justice and spirituality, respectively. Dante seemingly condemns the Church for aligning itself with political factions battling for power in Italy, thus joining the “sword” (symbolic of political power) with “the shepherd’s crook” (representing the Church’s role as spiritual guide and protector). In doing so, the Church has abandoned its proper role and corrupted itself.

‘“The natural love can never go astray.

The other, though, may err when wrongly aimed.,

or else through too much vigour or the lack.

Where mind-love sets itself on primary good

and keeps, in secondaries, a due control,

it cannot be the cause of false delight.

But when it wrongly twists toward the ill,

or runs towards the good too fast or too slow,

what’s made then works against its maker’s plan.’” 

Virgil explains the nature of love and sin. He differentiates between “natural love,” which leads all living beings to seek that which enables their existence, and “mind-love,” which can lead humans astray when not properly regulated. In itself, love is value-neutral. It is a condition of having a soul. Because humans have free will (introduced in Canto 16), they can misunderstand or misapply love and thus engage in sin.

“Against a better will, will can’t well fight.

And so, against what pleased me, pleasing him,

I drew the sponge still thirsty from the stream.” 

These opening lines of Canto 20 create an alliterative tangle that embodies Dante’s poetic form. He denies readers a passive role, compelling them to work at making meaning. In simple terms, this passage indicates that Dante reluctantly ends his conversation with a penitent, at the penitent’s request. Deferring to the “better will” (allusive of the penitent’s greater strength), Dante leaves the conversation wanting more, hence drawing “the sponge still thirsty from the stream” (251).  

‘“You acted then like someone who, at night,

bears at his back a lamp—no use to him,

but teaching those the way who come behind

when once you said: ‘The years begin anew,

justice returns, so, too, Man’s earliest time.

A new race, born of Heaven, now descends.’

I was, through you, a poet and was Christian, too.’” 

Statius explains to Virgil how reading the pagan poet’s works inspired him to convert to Christianity. Though Virgil himself was born before Christ, he was able to light the way for those in the future through his divinely-inspired work. Statius quotes a section from the Fourth Eclogue, Virgil’s pastoral poem. In the Middle Ages, it purportedly prophesied Christ’s birth because it mentions a “new race, born of Heaven” (262) that heralds the return of justice. 

“He came from Tours, and purges, by this fast,

Bolsena eels and flagons of vernaccia.” 

As Dante travels through Purgatory’s various levels, he frequently encounters penitents who correspond to real-life figures of the Middle Ages. Some of these penitents receive identification, but others receive only features associated with them or popular anecdotes told about them, compelling readers to make associations and connections. The above passage is an instance of the latter. “He” most likely refers to Pope Martin IV, who purportedly drowned eels in vernaccia wine to eat as a delicacy. Fittingly, Dante encounters him in the level of Purgatory at which penitents atone for gluttony.

‘“And I to him: ‘I am just one who, when

Love breathes in me, takes note and then goes on

showing the meaning that’s ordained within.’” 

Dante speaks with Bonagiunta about his poetic inspiration, which is love. Bonagiunta has quoted Dante’s poetry and asked if he is the author of those lines. When Dante confirms that he is, Bonagiunta praises him, but Dante downplays his talent. To do otherwise would fall into the sin of pride of which Dante has already received purification from. Thus, he defers to a greater power that speaks through. 

‘“To me he said: ‘Through what I hear, you leave

so clear a trace and footprint in my mind,

Lethe won’t cancel it or make it fade.’” 

Dante again discusses poetry with a fellow poet, in this case Guido Guinizelli. Dante praises Guinizelli’s poetry, who in return praises Dante’s poetry, then points out another excellent poet, Arnaut Daniel, who is in the vicinity. Through this circle of praise, Dante exemplifies how sharing love can expand it, as each poet echoes the praise of the other. Guinizelli’s statement that Lethe will not “cancel” or make Dante’s impact “fade” foreshadows Dante bathing in Lethe and emerging with his poetic gift intact. 

“As when it strikes its first vibrating rays

where once its own Creator shed His blood

(the river Ebro falling under Libra’s height,

while Ganges’ waves are scorched by noon-time heat)

at that degree the sun now stood. So day

was leaving when, in Joy, God’s angel showed.” 

Dante describes the time of day in Purgatory (sunset), comparing it to the time of day in other parts of the world, therefore setting the events in Purgatory against events in the earthly world. In his typical fashion, Dante uses allusion and association to identify places around the world. The place where “its own Creator shed His blood” (284) refers to Jerusalem. Since Dante places Purgatory in the southern hemisphere, directly opposite Jerusalem, the time of day there is sunrise. The river Ebro refers to Spain, where it would be midnight by Dante’s calculations, while the Ganges river flows through the Indian subcontinent, where it is noon. Dante continually challenges readers to make connections and associations. 

“Then, firmly, Virgil fixed his eyes on me,

saying: ‘The temporal and eternal fires

you’ve seen, my son, and now you’re in a place

Where I, through my own powers, can tell no more.

I’ve drawn you here by skill and searching mind.

Now take what pleases you to be your guide.” 

After Dante, Virgil, and Statius pass through Purgatory’s seven levels and proceed to the entrance of the Garden of Eden, Virgil announces that his role as Dante’s guide is complete. Virgil has done everything within his power as a divinely-inspired pagan poet, which is to contribute rational and intellectual insights. The events in the Garden of Eden speak to Christian faith, thus Matelda and Beatrice, two Christian women, take over for Virgil.

‘“Those who, in times long gone, composed those poems

that sang the Age of Gold and all its joys

thought, maybe here’s Parnassus when they dreamed.

Here, once, the root of man was innocent.

Here, there is always spring and every fruit.

And that’s the nectar they all speak about.’”

In this passage, Matelda explains how pagan poets paved the way for and prophesied the coming of Christ. It follows her explaining to Dante that weather conditions in the Garden of Eden exist in a perfectly harmonious cycle created by God. She adds that what the pagan poets called “the Age of Gold” was them dreaming of Eden. The endless spring, existence of every fruit, and “nectar,” the drink of the gods that bestowed immortality, were part of that dream. Her discussion further articulates how, according to Dante, God’s divine truth has unfolded across human history.

“You holy virgin Muses, if, for you,

I’ve ever suffered vigils, fast or cold,

there’s now all reason to beseech your aid.

Now Helicon must pour streams for me,

Urania with her choirs assist me here,

to put in verse things hardly thinkable.”

As Dante looks around him at the beauty of the Garden, he reflects on his struggle to put it into words. His task as a poet—as Beatrice will reiterate at the end of the poem—is to capture in words all that he has seen and experienced. As he did at the beginning of the poem, Dante again invokes the Muses, asking them to help him in the impossible task of capturing the divine. Significantly, the Muses are an ancient pagan construct, yet Dante calls on them to help him.  

“Note well. And, as these words are borne from me,

inscribe them for a sign to those who live

the life that rapidly runs on to death.

And take good care, when you write all this down,

that you don’t hide how you have seen the tree,

twice over now, stripped bare and robbed of green.

Whoever steals from it, or tears its trunk

blasphemes, by doing so, against the God

who made it sacred for His use alone.” 

Throughout Dante’s journey through the seven levels of purgation, penitents asked him to pray for them or to carry the same request back to their family members. Here, Beatrice charges Dante to use his poetry to bring a message back to humanity, to apply his abilities to the service of his community. Beatrice’s message features specific reference to the contemporary turmoil in Italy, as she instructs Dante to share the attacks on the tree that he has witnessed. With his poem’s many contemporary references and allusions, Dante fulfilled her request.