"Love follows knowledge."
"Beauty above all beauty!"
– St. Catherine of Siena

Showing posts with label Robert and Jean Hollander. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Robert and Jean Hollander. Show all posts

Thursday, May 2, 2019

2019 Reads, Update #1

My first quarter update is running a month behind, which is not unusual.  I was waiting to complete the major read of this quarter, Dante Alighieri’s Paradiso, the third canticle from his epic Divine Comedy before I posted this.  I just finished it.  You can probably see I’m still posting my summaries and comments.  I’m spreading them out, so they’ll be coming out for the next few weeks.  I’ve actually read Paradiso twice in that I’m reading two translations in parallel, which has been my method for the other canticles.  I’ve been reading the outstanding Hollander and Hollander translation and the equally good Anthony Esolen translation.  The way I would compare the translations is in this way: the Hollander and Hollander has outstanding commentary and bibliography, so that’s more geared for graduate students.  The Esolen is just a fine, clean translation with less commentary, so that’s more geared for undergraduate students. 

I’ve also read seven short stories and two essays.  “Mother” by Sherwood Anderson is an excellent story and well worth reading.  You can find it for free on the internet.  “The Background” (Saki) and “Poldi” (McCullers), “A Sin Confessed” (Guareschi), and "Why Bugsy Siegel Was a Friend of Mine” (Burke) were good stories, and I’d recommend them.  The others were not worth it.  The two essays, one on how to mark up a book you are reading by the great academic, Mortimer J. Adler, and the other by Joshua Wren (published in Dappled Things, Vol 13, Issue 4) on the French Catholic writer Léon Bloy and his contribution to the Catholic literary tradition are both excellent reads.  The Adler essay you can find for free on-line.

I’m also reading the Old Testament’s Book of Jeremiah.  I finished the modern English translation and about half way through the King James Version.

I have to say I am reader who juggles many books at the same time.  For our parish Bible class, we are reading Mike Aquilina’s The Fathers of the Church, and we’re about thirty pages from the end.  I’m about forty pages from the end of The Life of Saint Dominic.  I’m reading the Narnia series with my son, and we are a third of the way into The Horse and His Boy, which I think is excellent.  And our Catholic Thought Book Club at Goodreads has just started reading Thomas à Kempis’ The Imitation of Christ.  We just started the first week of a planned five week read.  You can still join us, and you can find the work for free on-line.  Here’s one site.  

So here’s a listing of the first quarter activity. 


Completed First Quarter:

“The Background,” a short story by Saki (H. H. Munro).
“How to Mark a Book,” an essay by Mortimer J. Adler.
“In the Snow,” a short story by Stefan Zweig, translated by Anathea Bell.
“Poldi,” a short story by Carson McCullers.
“Mother,” a short story by Sherwood Anderson. 
“A Sin Confessed,” a short story by Giovanni Guareschi, translated by Adam Elgar.
“A Fire-Stained Cathedral Gargoyle: Léon Bloy and the Catholic Literary Tradition,” an essay by Joshua Wren.
“Gibberish,” a short story by Thomas Berger. 
Book of Jeremiah, a book of the Old Testament, NIV Translation.
"Why Bugsy Siegel Was a Friend of Mine," a short story by James Lee Burke.
Paradisio, 3rd part of the epic poem, The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri, translated and annotated by Robert and Jean Hollander.
Paradisio, 3rd part of the epic poem, The Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri, translated and annotated by Anthony Esolen.


Currently Reading:
The Fathers of the Church: An Introduction to the First Christian Teachers, 3rd Edition, a non-fiction work by Mike Aquilina.
The Life of Saint Dominic, a biography by Augusta Theodosia Drane.
Book of Jeremiah, a book of the Old Testament, KJV Translation.
The Horse and His Boy, a novel from the The Chronicles of Narnia series by C. S. Lewis.
The Imitation of Christ, a non-fiction devotional by Thomas à Kempis.


Upcoming Plans:
“The Light of the World,” a short story by Ernest Hemingway.
“God Rest You Merry Gentleman,” a short story by Ernest Hemingway.
“The Sea Change,” a short story by Ernest Hemingway.
“A Matter of Chance,” a short story by Vladimir Nabokov.
 “The Manager of ‘The Kremlin,’” a short story by Evelyn Waugh.



I has been a very busy quarter.

Sunday, March 11, 2018

Comments, Inferno, Cantos XXX thru XXXIV

Some random thoughts.  Ice is the final state for the worst sinners in Cocytus.  Why ice?  Flame is the sign of the Holy Spirit, and one burns with the love of God.  One is purged by fire in Purgatory.  The Holy Spirit descends at Pentecost as a breath of flame, but Satan in Cocytus whips up the winds that freeze as a frigid breath.  Ice freezes one into a final state, preserving the final state of the heart.  In physics, cold is the absence of heat, not really its own condition.  Dante could not have known that, but as it turns out evil is the absence of good, again not its own condition.  I think Dante would have been happy to make the analogy.

Back in Canto XXI, when the leader of the Malebranche blew a fart, I had said that Hollander pointed out that the critic Gian Roberto Saroli said the fart and the razzes by the other Malebranche were only musical notes in hell.  Well isn't the horn blast in XXXI by Nimrod a musical note?  Maybe Saroli meant the only musical notes in the Malebolge, not all of hell?  I don't know.  It seems to me the horn is a musical note.  It's not important.

The incoherence of Nimrod's unartful speech accentuates the theme of building the language and poetry that praises God.  Dante follows the belief that God created the beauty of language that got degenerated into a babel of tongues, and Nimrod is supposed to have been the legendary cause of it.

I'm not sure it was clear in the last Canto, but a time scheme is provided.  If you break through the hints, you can deduce two 24 hour periods between when Dante starts his journey back in Canto I and when he exits the underground of hell at the end of Canto XXXIV, but the perception of time is greatly distorted.  It takes 24 hours to go through all of hell, which is the thirty-three and a half cantos before they go into that crevice and 24 hours to walk through the underground in the second half of the last canto to reach the purgatory island.  How can they have gone through all of hell in 24 hours?  Dante is just as adept with time distortion as the modernist writers.

Dante's hell is portrayed as a funnel of concentric, descending circles.  But with all the ravenous eating that happens, especially here in the lower reaches (tenth bolge where the sinners rip into each other, Ugolino eating the brains of Ruggieri, Satan munching on Judas, Brutus, and Cassius, perhaps one can look at hell as a digestive tract.  Eating is definitely a motif here, and I think it's meant to be a parody of eating the body of Christ. 

Such mimic parody of sacred activities and ideas run throughout, as I have pointed out with the three sinners in Satan’s mouth as parodies of the three crucified at Golgotha.  Such parodies run throughout literature, but mostly in modern literature.  I can't think of another literary work prior to the modernist movement that relied on parodies of Christian theology.  Can anyone think of any?  Did Dante invent this?  I like to think of such parodies as the inverse of that which they parody. 

Irene was surprised that alongside Judas are two Romans from antiquity, Brutus and Cassius.  Yes, they are subordinate in importance to Judas Iscariot.  Remember Judas is in the middle and the region of hell, Judecca, is named after him, which is kind of odd since Brutus and Cassius died chronologically before Judas and would have been in hell before him.  But despite being ancillary to Judas, their importance is still paramount.  Remember the three themes that are overarching to the Comedia: man's relationship to God, man's relationship to society, and building the language that reflects the beauty of the Divine.  Brutus and Cassius assassinated the just lord of what would be the Roman Empire, and the Empire to Dante was the proper arrangement of society.  Ideally Dante probably would have wanted an evil poet who betrayed someone to be placed in one of Satan's mouths, and therefore represent each one of his overarching themes.  I guess there was no one, and so he doubled up with two Romans.

That Dante selected two Romans from antiquity is important for more reasons.  Throughout the Inferno you kept seeing characters from the classical world as well as those surely in Christendom.  Dante is knitting together the two worlds as complementary and continuous.  The early days of Christianity struggled with how to understand their classical roots, but ultimately they came to accept them.  Dante clearly does, but this is over a thousand years after the start of Christianity.  Personally I find the mythical characters incorporated rather hokey, one of my minor criticisms.  Though legendary characters such as Ulysses might have been real in Dante's mind, surely he knew the Minotaur wasn't real.  Hell is the only part of the Comedia he can use pagan world persons, so he does maximize interspersing them.  Remember one can only be saved if you're a noble Jew or a Christian, so classical world persons do not figure much in Purgatorio and Paradisio, though by hook and by crook Dante does sneak a few in. 

The Roman world was also important because it was through the Roman Empire that God spread Christianity.  If God had given Constantine a sign to conquer, then the integration of Christianity with the Roman Empire was divinely sanctioned.  So Brutus' and Cassius' assassination was an attempt to thwart the will of God that would have established the best of secular government possible.  To Dante, the Roman secular government was a check on the clergy and set up a rational organization of society.  If you look at the trend in the severity of sins - in increase of severity: sins of appetite, sins of heresy, sins of violence, the Malebolge which are sins of undermining society, sins of treachery - they represent a trend toward the greater dissolution of community.  The tenth bolge, that for counterfeiters where now it's not demons exacting punishment but other sinners on each other, shows Dante's view that the undermining of community is the greatest sin because it creates cynicism and doubts to its legitimacy.  Dante stresses, therefore, that the community takes precedence over the individual. 

Finally one last trend we see culminate in the last cantos is Dante's loss of pity for those in hell.  Remember at the beginning he had such compassion for Francesca and Ciacco in those early circles, but his sense of pity seems to attenuate as the journey progresses, and finally in these last cantos he is hardened and willing to exact justice himself.  He feels nothing for the suffering and the slapstick violence of those in the tenth bolge, no compassion or even contrition for the face he accidently (or divinely guided) kicks, no compassion for the traitor Bocca - indeed he tries to pull out his hair - no compassion, except for the children, for Ugolino's tragic story, and no compassion for Fra Alberigo, even reneging on a promise to him.  One can say that this loss of compassion for those in hell is the lesson that Dante the pilgrim learns as he goes on his journey.  Today we might be taken aback by that.  There are those today that pray for those in hell, and personally I think Christians should have compassion for all, even those undergoing eternal punishment.  But here's Dante's view.  Those in hell have come to God's divine justice, and to hope otherwise is to work against God's will. 

One other point I forgot to make.  As I said in my summary, being inverted while traveling out of hell is his imaginative understanding of what it means to pass from the northern hemisphere to the southern.  Notice when he passes what I think is the midpoint of Satan, he crossed the equator.  When the pilgrims come to the outside world again, they find themselves on the shores of an island, which they will discover when the sun comes out that it’s the island of purgatory.  Dante’s geology is interesting and will be further explained in the Purgatorio.  I’ve never completely understood it, but the critics say it makes sense.  Notice though, Dante in the early 1300’s knows the earth is round.  Don’t let people tell you that it was only with Columbus that people realized the earth was not flat.  It was known before hand.  The one thing Dante seems to get wrong I think is that he believes there is a 12 hour time difference between the northern and southern hemisphere.  Time differences work across longitudinal lines, not latitudinal lines.  There would be no time difference if Dante had just traveled due south on the same longitudinal line.

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Since the Ugolino scene, spanning Cantos XXXII and XXXIII, is so famous I should examine it in some detail.  The pilgrims have just left the traitorous Bocca behind when they stumble onto two souls locked together.

We had left him behind when I took note
of two souls so frozen in a single hole
the head of one served as the other's hat.  (XXXII. l. 124-6)

Describing Ugolino as Ruggieri’s cap is I think meant to be funny, though we will see it’s dark, ghastly humor.  The top man is gnawing on the brain of the bottom man, and Dante gets rather specific:

As a famished man will bite into his bread,
the one above had set his teeth into the other
just where the brain's stem leaves the spinal cord. (127-129)

Apparently Ugolino’s mouth is right at the base of the skull, just above the neck.  And Dante asks him, 'O you, who by so bestial a sign/show loathing for the one whom you devour,/tell me why’ (133-5).  The “bestial” significance is clearly emphasized and shows how when community breaks down man returns to a savage state.  It is also meant to recall the three beasts that were chasing Dante at the beginning of the Inferno in Canto I.  If one of the beasts had caught Dante, would he be in Ruggieri’s position?  We were never told what was the cause of Dante’s midlife crises.  Was it something as sinful as Ruggieri?  Probably not, nonetheless there is a parallel.  Side note: isn’t it stunning that a bishop, a man of religion, would be as cunning and viscious as Ruggieri? 

With skillful use of suspense, Dante holds off Ugolino’s response until the next canto.

He raised his mouth from his atrocious meal,
that sinner, and wiped it on the hair
of the very head he had been ravaging.

Then he began: 'You ask me to revive
the desperate grief that racks my heart
even in thought, before I tell it.

'But if my words shall be the seeds that bear
infamous fruit to the traitor I am gnawing,
then you will see me speak and weep together. (XXXIII.l. 1-9)

Hollander points out that Ugolino’s first words 'You ask me to revive/the desperate grief that racks my heart’ echo Aeneas’ words in The Aeneid when he is asked to tell the story of the fall of Troy and his escape from the burning city.  It is a memory most painful as he had witnessed the slaughter of his friends and relatives.  Ugolino too is dealing with a painful memory.  It’s interesting to contrast that Aeneas heroically saves his father and children at his horrific moment while Ugolino indirectly causes his children’s deaths.  Memory will be an important theme in Purgatorio in that we are presented with the problem of how do sinners who repent clean away a sinful memory, since memory is almost a reliving of that sin.  Ugolino’s punishment, and actually all the sinners in hell, includes the eternal memory of their sin.

Dante takes it for granted that his reader knows the Ugolino/Ruggieri story, which I outlined in my summary for this canto.  The two had colluded on a series of betrayals with ultimately Ruggieri betraying Ugolino by locking him and his children in a tower and starving them to death.  Ugolino’s story focuses on the starvation inside the tower.  First, before food was withheld, he tells how he had a premonition of his future, ‘when, in a dreadful dream,/the veil was rent, and I foresaw the future’ (26-7).  “The veil was rent” connects with the Christ’s crucifixion, the veil in the temple being split (Matt 27:51).  His dream is of a lord (standing for Ruggieri) hunting a wolf and wolfcubs (Ugolino and his children) with hounds, and the hounds ripping at the wolf’s flesh. 

Ugolino next turns to Dante and realizes Dante is unmoved by the story.

'You are cruel indeed, thinking what my heart
foretold, if you remain untouched by grief,
and if you weep not, what can make you weep? (40-2)

He is looking for pity it seems, and when he doesn’t receive any he ups the ante on his story.  He tells of when he wakes and at the hour he would normally have been fed, instead of food he heard the nailing shut of the door.  His reaction was of being stunned: 'I was so turned to stone inside I did not weep’ (49).  How should we take that?  A heart of stone tends to imply a lack of compassion.  He doesn’t weep but his children weep.  They don’t have a heart of stone.  Ugolino says that he gnawed his hands in sorrow, while the children thought he did it out of hunger.  Should we believe him?  Many of the souls encountered in Inferno have not been completely straight with the truth.  The children offer themselves for food.  He doesn’t offer himself as food for them.  Is there a selfish motive here for not telling the full truth?  I suspect so. 

Ugolino goes on to tell on how one by one his children died in front of him.  And he concludes his story, the bodies of his children in front of him, with enigmatic line, “Then fasting had more power than grief” (75).  Are we to read it as because of his grief he was able to fast from eating his children, or the hunger from not having eaten overwhelmed his grief and he ate his children to survive as long as possible?  Hollander goes on to explain both readings have at various times been in vogue, and that the historical evidence probably, though not conclusively, showed he did not eat his children.  However, this is a work of fiction, and Dante has at times altered history for his use.  But it’s unclear if Dante even knew the reality; tales have a way acclimating barnacles.  Look at the very next lines.

Having said this, with maddened eyes he seized
that wretched skull again between his teeth
and clenched them on the bone just like a dog. (76-8)


Ugolino seized with rage returns to gnawing on Ruggieri.  The memory of gnawing on his children is what I think overwhelms him.  And the cannibalism on Ruggieri becomes poetic justice as eternal punishment.  And the feeding upon other human beings is an ongoing motif in these latter cantos.  Why would Dante not go as far with it as possible?  I believe Ugolino did eat the bodies of his children, until he too died.

With that I conclude this survey of Dante’s Inferno.  I hope you got something out of it.  The book club will be taking up Purgatorio in a few months, probably around June.  Currently we are reading G. K. Chesterton’s The Everlasting Man.  I should have a few posts on that, but come and join the Catholic Thought Book Club at Goodreads.  It’s free and filled with good discussion.

Thursday, March 1, 2018

Comments, Inferno, Cantos XXIV thru XXIX

I think I made a slight mistake at the end of Canto XXIII.  The Malebranche told the pilgrims that the bridge for the sixth Bolge was out, and that was true.  What was false was they said the bridges in the other causeways (remember there are a sequence of causeways like spokes in a wheel that run toward the center) were available.  As it turns out all the bridges in all the causeways over the sixth-and as it turns out seventh as well-ditch are collapsed.  This collapse occurred with the earthquake that shook the world at Christ's crucifixion. 

It's interesting how Dante's body weight drags him down while climbing through the boulders of the collapsed bridges.  Here's a passage:

At last we made it to the point
where the outermost stone had broken off.

And there I felt my lungs so sucked of breath
that I could go no farther,
but I sat down as quickly as I could.

'Now must you cast off sloth,' my master said.
'Sitting on feather cushions or stretched out
under comforters, no one comes to fame.

'Without fame, he who spends his time on earth
leaves only such a mark upon the world
as smoke does on the air or foam on water.

'Get to your feet! Conquer this laboring breath
with strength of mind, which wins the battle
if not dragged down by body's weight. (XXIV. L. 41-54)

Virgil characterizes Dante's difficulty in climbing in terms of the sin of sloth.  For those interested in the allegory, I would say this is surely allegorical, and I think significant for the entire Comedia.  The body's flesh drags one down in sin, which makes the climb toward heaven difficult.  This will be more fully developed in Purgatorio, which is a mountain that must be ascended, and contrasted in Paradisio where the body becomes weightless for flight through the heavens.

While I'm on that passage, notice how Virgil's line of motivation is for "fame," and earthly endeavor.  Virgil is a pagan; a Christian would say that even fame is nothing but air and smoke that vanishes with respect to heavenly endeavors.  St. Thomas Aquinas called his work nothing but straw at the end of his life when confronted with a heavenly vision.

As someone with Italian ethnicity with immigrant parents from Italy, I had to smirk at the beginning of Canto XXV.  First Vanni Fucci makes some sort of obscene hand gesture as he blasphemes God.  It's not clear what the exact hand gesture is or what exactly it means, and Hollander provides some possibilities.  Italians today are known for their hand gestures.  I wonder if Italians in Dante's day also used a lot of hand gestures, and if they were similar.  Probably not similar, though profanity is profanity.

The other thing that catches my eye is the small rant that Dante has against Fucci's town of Pistoia. 

Ah, Pistoia, Pistoia, why won't you resolve
to burn yourself to ashes, cease to be,
since you exceed your ancestors in evil?  (XXV. L. 10-12)

I'm reminded of Brunetto Latini who goes off on a rant on Florence's neighboring town of Fiesole in Canto XV, calling them "blind," "greedy, envious, and proud," and then we see in Canto XXVIII Dante make a snarky comment about the Sienese and French: "Were people ever/quite so fatuous as are the Sienese?/Why, not even the French can match them!" (l. 121-123).  Hollander's note on those lines is worth quoting: "Florentines love to belittle the Sienese; Italians love to belittle the French.  Dante gets two for one."  I haven't noted it elsewhere, but this kind of anti-other city disparagement seems to be throughout the Comedia, or at least in hell.  I'll have to keep my eyes open for it in the other two cantica.  Back when I commented on Latini's smear I thought it was indicative of his character, but perhaps Dante sees this as a norm since he has his persona participate in it, and apparently frequently.  Some of this borders on what we today might call racist.

I wonder how much of this has to do with Italian city-state rivalries.  I know that Florence and Siena were at war frequently.  Italy didn't get unified into a country until 1871, so regions thought of themselves as insular.  Perhaps it's less so today with unification and easy travel and relocation.  But my mother, who is of an older generation and who under most circumstances is a kindly woman, will to this day slander people from different parts Italy, and she does it almost unconsciously.  Sicilians are a common whipping boy of the despised regions.  And I remember my father hating the French!  I don't know if he ever met a French person in his life, but he would malign them.  He said it had to do with being forced to learn French in school, but it went beyond that.  We do that today here with other countries too, especially the French!  Well, we should all be more considerate, but it's curious that someone as noble as Dante participated in this.

And yet Dante creates a whole ditch for the schismatics, the ninth Bolge where the sinners are split open similar with respect to the division they caused in life.  Would Dante belong in this ditch if he were conscious of his sin?  Or is he conscious that his snarky remarks are sinful and there is some underlying meaning to their inclusion?  If there is, I can't quite grasp the meaning.  It would be some sort of irony, but I can't see the greater significance.  The inclusion of Bertram de Born in that twenty-fifth canto is interesting.  He was a French troubadour poet, of which Dante had a fondness for, but Dante apparently believed de Born's  poetry caused division between father and son.  Carrying his severed head de Born is referred to as "two in one and one in two" (l. 125).  One of the commentators points out that this echoes the Trinity, "three in one and one in three."  The echo is clearly meant to be ironic, since the Trinity reflects the unity ("in the unity of the Holy Spirit") of God while de Born is not unified.

de Born's closing line, line 142 and the final line of Canto XXVIII, is of utmost importance.  "Così s'osserva in me lo contrapasso."  Hollander translates it as "In me you may observe fit punishment."  "Contrapasso" or "fit punishment" is what the entire Inferno is based on.  Either the souls choose to be locked into their sin forever, although in a degenerated manner, as in the sins of appetite, or either the souls are forced into a torture as with the sins of volition, they are all fitting punishments.  The notion of contrapasso goes back to Aristotle (contrapossum in Latin), but as Hollander points it goes back to Old Testament retribution, i.e. "taking an eye for an eye." 

I haven't discussed the fascinating sinners of the eighth Bolge, that of false counselors.  I'm going to hold off discussing Guido da Montefeltro (Canto XXVII) until we get to Purgatorio.  His son resides in purgatory and the two make an interesting comparison.  At a minimum I should say that formal repentance without a change of heart doesn't work, even if the Pope absolves your sins.  Since he is so fascinating a case, I will go into a close reading of Ulysses (Canto XXVI) later this week.

I hope you're enjoying this as much as I am.

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Canto XXVI with Ulysses residing in the bolge of the false counselors is one of those special cantos that is filled with depth.  It strikes me that there are two levels worth exploring: first on the surface, which pertains to the Ulysses testimony, and second below the surface pertaining how Ulysses resonates to Dante as poet and pilgrim.  But before I get to either, I need to provide context.

1. Context.

As probably pointed out in everyone’s notes, the notion of a false counselor being associated with flame comes from the third chapter of the Letter of James.  Let me quote the entire relevant passage, because even Hollander cuts it short.  I think all six verses from the top of the chapter have relevance.

1 Not many of you should become teachers, my brothers, for you realize that we will be judged more strictly, 2 for we all fall short in many respects. If anyone does not fall short in speech, he is a perfect man, able to bridle his whole body also. 3 If we put bits into the mouths of horses to make them obey us, we also guide their whole bodies. 4 It is the same with ships: even though they are so large and driven by fierce winds, they are steered by a very small rudder wherever the pilot’s inclination wishes. 5 In the same way the tongue is a small member and yet has great pretensions.  Consider how small a fire can set a huge forest ablaze. 6 The tongue is also a fire. It exists among our members as a world of malice, defiling the whole body and setting the entire course of our lives on fire, itself set on fire by Gehenna.  (James 3:1-6)

From the first four verses we see how those that provide information—and I would expand teachers to include counselors—have a responsibility and will be judged “strictly” for what they say.  The fourth verse takes on a nautical metaphor which is particularly germane to the Ulysses story.  “The tongue is also a fire” in that it can inspire and lead, but if it lead toward ill it is a fire that can set the whole forest ablaze.  So we can see the Divine Justice in false counselors eternally bound in a tongue of fire.  Contrast this to the tongue of fire that comes down from heaven from the Holy Spirit at Pentecost.  The malevolent tongue spews out from the inside for narcissistic ends while the benevolent tongue is a grace from outside.

More context.  Ulysses and Diomedes, his fellow prisoner in the flame, were the two characters from Greek antiquity who devised the Trojan Horse—an empty shell of a structure which tricked the Trojans and caused the fall of Troy.  Inside the belly of the horse were Greek soldiers and when the Trojans opened their gates to bring in what they was a victory offering, the Greeks came out of the horse and sacked the city.  Now Homer only alludes to that part of the story; it is not in The Iliad.  But Virgil in the Aeneid fills in the story.  Now the Romans always identified with the Trojans and did not have a high opinion of Ulysses, and that perspective filters down through the middle ages.  You can see then how Aeneas, Virgil’s hero, is more in accord with Christian values rather than the trickster, almost Machiavellian Ulysses.  In addition to Ulysses deceit, he abandoned his wife and child (although reluctantly which seems to evade Dante) and took up with many women, especially for nine years with the enchantress Circe.  Contrast that to Aeneas who saved his father and child from the burning Troy and was distraught over failing to save his wife.  Aeneas is a true family man while it could be questionable for Ulysses, and it was questioned in the middle ages.

Perhaps I should also state that Odysseus and Ulysses are one and the same.  Ulysses is the Latin name for the Greek.  Dante comes from the Latin evolved part of the Roman world, and so knows him as Ulysses.

More context.  Ulysses in The Odyssey does find his way home after spending a year with Circe.  But Dante either doesn’t know that part of the story—which I find hard to believe, though that’s what most critics claim—or he re-writes that story with care for the old story.  Dante did not have Homer’s stories in Greek, but had to go by anecdote.  But the return to home is such a big part of the Odyssey that I find it difficult to believe that wasn’t in the known anecdotes.  But I’m not a scholar.  In either case, Dante the author takes on the role of the epic writer and creates his own story of Ulysses after his Circe encounter.

2. Dante’s Re-Write of the Ulysses story. 

So Dante has Ulysses shun going home and go forth on further quest after the Circe encounter.  The flame-entrapped soul speaks of it with his first words.

Then, brandishing its tip this way and that,
as if it were the tongue of fire that spoke,
it brought forth a voice and said: 'When I

'took leave of Circe, who for a year and more
beguiled me there, not far from Gaëta,
before Aeneas gave that name to it,

'not tenderness for a son, nor filial duty
toward my agèd father, nor the love I owed
Penelope that would have made her glad,

'could overcome the fervor that was mine
to gain experience of the world
and learn about man's vices, and his worth.  (XXVI. l. 88-99)

That part about “duty’ to family is particularly meant to contrast Ulysses with Aeneas, and of course undermine him in our Christian eyes.  Particularly disturbing is his motivation to “gain experience of the world/and learn man’s vices.”  Christians don’t learn about vices; we’re supposed to reject them.  And on the ship he lets his tongue of fire motivate his men;

'"O brothers," I said, "who, in the course
of a hundred thousand perils, at last
have reached the west, to such brief wakefulness

'"of our senses as remains to us,
do not deny yourselves the chance to know --
following the sun -- the world where no one lives.

'"Consider how your souls were sown:
you were not made to live like brutes or beasts,
but to pursue virtue and knowledge."

'With this brief speech I had my companions
so ardent for the journey
I could scarce have held them back. (XXVI. l. 112-23)

So Ulysses may be in hell for advocating the deceit of the Trojan Horse, but he is a serial sinner of the sin.  He leads his men to where they shouldn’t go and search for things they shouldn’t know.  Ulysses travels beyond the known world, comes across a mountain that reaches the heavens, and instead of flying up to it, his ship submerges and they all perish. 

Perhaps a note on the geography is warranted.  In Dante’s day it was thought that there was no land below the equator.  The mountain they come across is Dante’s mountain of Purgatory which was supposed to be directly opposite Jerusalem on the globe.  Ulysses potential exploration of that mountain can be seen as a blasphemous endeavor. 

The poetic skill arriving to this should also be noted.  Notice how many flying allusions are interspersed throughout the canto.  Ulysses describes his adventure “as a mad flight” where the oars were turned to wings (l. 125).  So even at the beginning of the canto, previous to meeting Ulysses Dante refers to Florence as having “wings [that] beat over land and sea” (l. 2) and there are references to flies and fireflies in the bolge, and finally an allusion to “Elijah’s chariot taking flight” rising up to heaven.  That of course is a contrast.  Ulysses goes down, not up, and he is not holy like Elijah.

It’s interesting that Diomedes never says a word, and so the pairing seems to be similar to that of Francesca and Paolo in Canto V.  They are forever together to suffer from the knowledge of the sin they committed together.


3. How it resonates with Dante:

Hollander and others point out how similar Dante’s journey and poetic endeavor is similar to Ulysses’ supra-human voyage.  Dante is on a journey through the various parts of the afterlife that no single human being has ever attempted.  He will come out of hell to the other side of the world where Ulysses had traveled by ship and be washed up on the very shores of that island with the purgatorial mountain where Ulysses was capsized.  Dante will actually take flight in Paradise where Ulysses attempts flight with his ship.  His flight of poetic skill is analogous to the Ulysses’ search for knowledge and virtue and fame.  Recall back in the Canto XXIV where Dante is struggling to climb out of the sixth bolge, Virgil motivates him with the promise of fame (l. 49-51).  Is Virgil being a false counselor there like Ulysses urges his men to sail on?  The parallels are striking.  And notice too how in the early lines of the this twenty-sixth canto the pilgrim’s climb is filled with potential plummets into an abyss.

We left that place and, on those stairs
that turned us pale when we came down,
my leader now climbed back and drew me up.

And as we took our solitary way
among the juts and crags of the escarpment,
our feet could not advance without our hands. (XXVI. l. 13-18)

And then later:

Rising to my feet to look, I stood up
on the bridge. Had I not grasped a jutting crag,
I would have fallen in without a shove. (l. 43-45)

Their journey is filled with the same potential plunges as Ulysses finds in his demise.  And then Dante ties that potential plunge with his intellectual powers.

I grieved then and now I grieve again
as my thoughts turn to what I saw,
and more than is my way, I curb my powers

lest they run on where virtue fail to guide them,
so that, if friendly star or something better still
has granted me its boon, I don't misuse the gift.  (l.19-24)

He needs curb his “powers/lest they run on where virtue fail to guide.”  He uses the same word “virtue” as Ulysses uses in line 120, “to pursue virtue and knowledge.”  And it’s not a translation discrepancy; Dante uses the same Italian word, albeit in different grammatical form.  That’s not a coincidence.  Dante in this canto is rivaling Homer and Virgil with his re-write of an epic poem, and we will see in a few cantos further how attempts to surpass the classic poets Ovid and Lucan with his poetic use of metamorphosis.  (This parallel between journey and writing poetry is of course is allegory for those who look for the allegorical connections, but as I’ve said before this would be no different than a metaphorical connection in a modernist work.)  Dante is striving for the highest literary achievement.  

So what is the difference?  Why is Dante’s journey virtuous while Ulysses’ a false virtue?  First, Dante tells us in the conditional phrase modifying his concerning about misusing his gift, “if friendly star or something better still/has granted me its boon.”  “Something better still” is God—or Divine Providence—and the “boon” is another wording for grace.  So God has granted him this gift, but still it doesn’t explain why.  I think we can surmise that Dante is journeying for God’s glory while Ulysses is journeying for his egotistical satisfaction.  The distinction I think is captured with the imagery of Elijah rising in his chariot toward heaven.  Dante thinks of Elijah when he first sees the flames as he enters the seventh bolge:

And as the one who was avenged by bears
could see Elijah's chariot taking flight,
when the horses reared and rose to Heaven,

but made out nothing with his eyes
except the flame alone
ascending like a cloud into the sky (l. 34-39)


Elijah is the prophet who is an apologist for the Judaic God, who hears the God’s “small whisper” in the cave at Horeb, who is truly virtuous in the confrontation with the wicked King Ahab, who I think is the only Old Testament person to be assumed into heaven bodily in a chariot of fire and horses, within the midst of a “whirlwind,” mind you.  A whirlwind drives Ulysses under water, but lifts Elijah to heaven.  Dante too will be lifted into the heavens.  Elijah is righteous, Ulysses is not, and Dante is in a learning experience.  When Dante does rise up into the heavens, his thoughts of fame and knowledge vanish, and like St. Thomas Aquinas who thought of his work as straw when confronted with the heavenly vision, Dante desire for humanly fame and knowledge too will vanish.

Saturday, February 24, 2018

Comments, Inferno, Cantos XVIII thru XXIII

Some observations about this section.  I think for the first time I finally understood the bridge structure of the Malebolge.  Dante keeps mentioning a bridge for each ditch, and yet they seem to keep walking along.  So I think there is an arched span over each ditch, which constitutes a bridge.  But each bridge butts up against its adjacent neighbor, and so the structure is similar to a causeway span.  There are a number of these causeways that run toward the center, forming a spokes in a wheel structure given that hell is circular.  Also the causeways connect at the center to a circular platform goes around Cocytus, the ninth circle and the heart of hell. 

I have to say that the Malebolge section of hell gives me the willies.  This is the brutal hell we all envision and fear.  When common slang refers to "being medieval," that is filled with torture chambers, this is a perfect example.  It seems to me that the sinners of this section are not here because they want to remain in their sin, even if it exiles them from God, but though they are not repentant in the least,  they do try to escape and get free.  And so the vicious demons are planted there as enforcers of punishment and torture.

There seems to be quite a few allusions to and actual appearances of Franciscan Friars in this section.  In Canto XIX Dante stands beside Pope Nicholas III "like a friar who confesses a treacherous assassin."  In Canto XXII the Navarrese soul, some have identified him as a man named Ciampolo, names Fra Gomita of Gallura as one of the residents of the ditch.  At the very first terza rima of Canto XXIII Dante describes he and Virgil as walking like two "Friars Minor walk along the roads."  Indeed, the pilgrims meet two Franciscans just a little further in that very Canto, Catalano and Loderingo, who in life were Jovial Friars, which are not Franciscans but of the Order of Blessed Virgin Mary.  Still they are friars.  Even the cord that Dante takes off his vestment and drops into the pool that summons (or forms, I can't tell which) Geryon (Canto XVI) suggests a Franciscan vestment. 

So what's going on?  Clearly alluding to Virgil and he as friars and then coming across two friars is meant for us as a comparison.  But what exactly are we to draw from the comparison?  I can't figure it out.  Perhaps he and Virgil are supposed to be honest while the others were frauds?  Perhaps the fair number of allusions to friars (and remember Brunetto said that there were quite a number of clerics and scholars, which I take as Dominican Friars, in his circle.  Now there will be positive friars in Purgatorio and Paradisio, so I don't think Dante is picking on them.  But there does seem to be a fair number of references for friars in hell, and I can't recall a single Benedictine Monk in hell.  There will be monks in heaven; in fact St. Bernard of Clairvaux will be his final guide.  Perhaps it has to do with Dante himself being a Third Order Franciscan, which is the Lay Order of the Franciscans.  Perhaps it has to do with Dante having been taught by the Dominicans as a youth.  Perhaps as a city person he has come in contact with friars much more so than monks, who are usually more detached from society.  Perhaps familiarity gave him knowledge of particular friars and prodded the imagination.

One other thing I'd like to discuss is the state of Pope Nicholas III in Canto XIX in the circle of simony.  Notice the number of inversions that make up for the irony of the punishment.  The sinners there are stuck upside down in what resembles a baptismal font, the very means of Christian initiation.  Their feet are lacquered with oil, which alludes to the anointing chrism placed on the head of the heads of those receiving baptism and holy orders.  Only for the sinners, the oil is on their feet, not their heads.  And their feet are further afflicted with a constant application of flame.  Here too is a Christian inversion.  The Apostles received the Holy Spirit in the form of a fire on their heads, a fire which filled them with inspiration, while these sinners are burned in torment on their feet.  And notice the inversion of roles when Dante goes up to the Nicholas, who can't see him and draws out a confession.  The Pope is confessing to a lay person.

I think it's unfortunate that at the end of Canto XIX Dante goes off on a rant decrying Popes.  He even alludes to the Papacy as the beast in Revelations with seven heads, which I think is a misreading of Revelations.  Protestants call up the same sort of nonsense to rip the Catholic Church.  Still it's sobering to know there have been bad popes, but rest assured there will be some good ones in Paradisio. 

Four Popes were mentioned or alluded to in Canto XIX.  Let me just list them for you with the years of their papacy.  You can look them up if you wish.
Pope Nicholas III, 1277-1280
Pope Celestine V, 1294
Pope Boniface VIII, 1294-1303
Pope Clement V, 1305-1314

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I did want to revel in the Malebranche scenes, which start in Canto XXI and extend even into the beginnings of Canto XXIII.  Hollander says that this is the longest extended scene in the entire Comedia.  No other scene actually touches three cantos.  Let’s just enjoy them too, so here is Hollander’s translation of the last third of Canto XXI.  Virgil has assured safe passage he and Dante, and so calls Dante out of his hiding spot.  But the Malebranche are devilishly provocative and constantly instigating.  Let’s start with the feint jab at Dante’s rear and end with the blast from the demon’s rear.

They aimed their hooks, and one said to another:
'How about I nick him on the rump?'
And the other answered: 'Sure, let him have one.'

But the demon who was speaking with my leader
turned round at once and said:
'Easy does it, Scarmiglione!'

And then to us: 'You can't continue farther
down this ridge, for the sixth arch
lies broken into pieces at the bottom.

'If you desire to continue on,
then make your way along this rocky ledge.
Nearby's another crag that yields a passage.

'Yesterday, at a time five hours from now,
it was a thousand two hundred sixty-six years
since the road down here was broken.

'I'm sending some men of mine along that way
to see if anyone is out to take the air.
Go with them -- they won't hurt you.'

'Step forward, Alichino, Calcabrina,'
he continued, 'and you Cagnazzo,
and let Barbariccia lead the squad.

'Let Libicocco come too, and Draghignazzo,
Ciriatto with his tusks, and Graffiacane,
Farfarello, and madcap Rubicante.

'Have a good look around the boiling glue.
Keep these two safe as far as the next crag
that runs all of a piece above the dens.'

'Oh, master,' I said, 'I don't like what I see.
Please, let us find our way without an escort,
if you know how. As for me, I do not want one.

'If you are as vigilant as ever,
don't you see they grind their teeth
while with their furrowed brows they threaten harm?'

And he to me: 'Don't be afraid.
Let them grind on to their hearts' content --
they do it for the stewing wretches.'

Off they set along the left-hand bank,
but first each pressed his tongue between his teeth
to blow a signal to their leader,
and he had made a trumpet of his asshole. (XXI. l. 100-139)

LOL, their salute is a razz with their tongues, and his commanding bugle blow is a fart.  This is farcical, low comedy.  Hollander points out that Italian critic Gian Roberto Saroli identifies these sounds as the only musical notes in all of hell.  Paradisio is filled with music, and I recall that Purgatorio too has hymns, but hell has razzes and farts for music.  Malacoda, the leader, tells his minions to guide them so no one will hurt them and to keep them safe. Yeah sure.  They are going to anticipate the pilgrims fouling up. 

But look at how Dante the author goes to such an extent to name the demons.  Scarmiglione, Alichino, Calcabrina, Cagnazzo, Barbaricci, Libicocco, Draghignazzo, Ciriatto, Graffiacane, Farfarello, and Rubicante.  To really appreciate it, you have to hear it in Italian with its long drawn out vowels.  I have had the good fortune of being Caaaahl-caaah-bree-na, Baah-baah-ree-zioh, Leee-beee-coooh-coh, Farrr-faah-reee-loh, Ruuu-bee-cahn-teh.  Hollander is spot on in keeping the names in Italian.  Esolen in his translation makes a huge mistake in my opinion by translating the names into English.  Dante is taking joy in the creative sounds of his Italian.  But we also should note in what the names mean.  Here’s how Esolen translates them.
Malacoda – Eviltail; Scarmiglione – Crumplehead; Alichino – Tramplefrost; Calcabrina – Harlequin; Cagnazzo – Larddog; Barbaricci – Curlybeard; Libicocco – Stormbreath; Draghignazzo – Dragonsnout; Ciriatto – Swinetooth; Graffiacane – Dogscratcher; Farfarello – Gobgoblin; Rubicante – Redfroth.  Somehow, the English doesn’t have the same comedic vigor.

Notice in the next canto how the Malebranche handle the one sinner who tries to rise out ot the pitch. 

On we went, escorted by ten demons.
What savage company! But, as they say,
'in church with saints, with guzzlers in the tavern.'

My attention was fixed upon the pitch
to note each detail of this gulch
and of the people poaching in it.

Like dolphins, when they arch their backs
above the water, giving sailors warning
to prepare to save their ship,

so from time to time, to ease his pain,
one of the sinners would show his back
and, quick as lightning, hide it once again.

And just as in a ditch at water's edge
frogs squat with but their snouts in sight,
their bodies and their legs all hidden,

so were the sinners scattered everywhere.
But they, at the approach of Barbariccia,
withdrew back down beneath the boiling.

There I saw -- and my heart still shudders at it --
one who lingered, as it can happen
that one frog stays while yet another plunges,

and Graffiacane, who was nearest him,
caught a billhook in his pitchy locks
and hauled him out, looking like an otter.

By now I knew their names,
since I had noted these when they were chosen
and when they called to one another.

'Set your claws to work, Rubicante,
see you rip his skin off,'
shouted all the accursèd crew together.  (XXII. l. 13-42)

The Malebranche are walking along menacingly, looking at the frog-like sinners submerged beneath the pitch when Grafficane hauls one up by the hair – like he’s pulling out an creature from a lake and tells Rubicante to set his claws to rip the sinner’s skin off.  But it’s Ciriatto who rips at him and Barbiriccia who wants to get into the action by crying out, “Stand back and let me jab him.”  But it’s Libicoco who gets pride of place.

Then Libicocco said: 'This is just too much,'
caught him with his grapple by the arm
and, ripping, gouged out a hunk of flesh. (XXII. l. 70-72)


They’re all fighting over each other to get the prime cut.  This and the closing vignette of the canto where the two demons fight with each other and in doing so both fall into the boiling pitch and get burnt to a crisp border on slapstick.  From what I understand, the medieval plays that featured demons all portrayed the demons as bumbling torturers or stumbling cops.  Dante is continuing a tradition, but he just seems to love the art of it.  This may be the funniest scene of the entire Comedia..