A
friend of mine, Mary Sue, is doing a term paper using Dante’s Canto VIII from
his Inferno as part of a larger main
point which ties into T.S. Eliot’s great poem, Ash Wednesday. So Mary Sue intrigued me enough to go back
and read Canto VIII, which then planted a seed of interest in me that compelled
me to think about it for days. I realize
this can happen on any one of Dante’s one hundred cantos from his Commedia. So let me provide the fruits of my thoughts
and perhaps it may help my friend.
When
I posted on the entire Divine Comedy
back in 2018 to 2019, other than summarizing that canto, I did not find the
time to write on it. (You can find links
to all my Dante blog posts above in the Header Bar with the hyperlink, “Dante
Links.”) I had wished I could comment on
every canto, but that was impossible at the time. Perhaps slowly in time as a need arises I can
fill in the cantos that I missed.
So
in Canto VII, to back up a little, Dante and Virgil are walking through the
fifth circle of hell, that of anger and sullenness, down the bank to the river Styx. At the river there is a bog in which the souls
of the fifth circle wade in the mud and filthy water. Here the wrathful fight and tear at each
other in everlasting anger.
Which
brings us to Canto VIII. At the bank
Virgil and Dante observe a tower at the other side of the river flashing two
lights of fire and further back another flashing light responded in a returning
signal. This causes Dante to ask Virgil
for its meaning.
And turning to that sea
of wisdom, I asked:
'What does this mean? And
that other fire,
what does it answer? And
who are they who made it?'
And he to me: 'Over the
filthy waves
you may already glimpse
what is to come,
if the marsh-fumes do not
hide it from you.' (7-12)
I
am using the wonderful Robert and Jean Hollander (husband and wife team)
translation. As I’ve said before in my
Dante posts, this is my preferred translation.
So
Dante asks some rather obvious questions, and Virgil doesn’t really answer
them, only perhaps to imply he will find out shortly. What captures my curiosity is the epithet
Dante uses for Virgil in verse seven: “the sea of wisdom.” (The use of an epithet for a proper in name
in rhetoric is called antonomasia.) Here Virgil is associated with wisdom
but couched in a metaphor of the sea. The
metaphor is not a function of the translation.
It’s there in the Italian: “al mar
di tutto 'l senno.”
Anthony
Esolen in his translation annotates that Virgil is punning with mar on Virgil’s
last name of “Maro.” That is possible
but I do think it goes beyond that. Certainly
Virgil is associated with wisdom, but “sea” brings in the naval term that runs throughout
the Divine Comedy. In fact we will see a boat speed to them in
the very next set of triplets from where I quoted. In addition to the naval metaphor, I think
the “sea of wisdom” is a contrasting epithet to the Ulysses character we will
see in Canto XXVI. There we will hear of
Ulysses’ tale of taking his crew on a voyage of exploration that leads to their
destruction. He who had the reputation
of wisdom—Ulysses—was unwise in his pride.
What
comes next is the arrival of the bark that will take them across the river, but
Dante (the author—I will need to distinguish between Dante the author and Dante
the character) frames it in a fascinating simile.
Never did a bowstring
loose an arrow
that whipped away more
swiftly through the air
than, even as I watched,
a skiff came skimming
straight toward us on the
water,
under the guidance of a
single helmsman,
crying: 'Now you are
caught, damned spirit!' (13-18)
The
boat, racing in, is compared to a flying arrow.
One envisions a speed boat here, and I find that remarkable in itself given
there is no such speed boat or any speedy vehicle in Dante’s time. That’s a remarkable image when you realize
that it would be outside of Dante’s experience to envision such speed. That conceit to archery will appear repeatedly
in the Divine Comedy (see Inf XII, XXXI, Pur XXV, XXXI, Par I, VII
and elsewhere). Ships and boats also appear
often throughout the Commedia. They emphasize the pilgrimage as the central
objective of our lives, the pilgrimage to God.
Charon’s ferry in Inferno Canto III is one example. The speed of Phlegyas’ boat in VIII recalls
the swift speed of the ship in Purgatorio
Canto II that ferries the souls to the Purgatory island. Even the opening lines of Purgatorio are framed in a ferry conceit:
“To run its course through smoother water/the small bark of my wit now hoists
its sail,/leaving that cruel sea behind” (Pur
I, 1-3). Both naval and archery imagery
are part of the overall web of imagery that underlies the themes of La Commedia.
So
Phlegyas thinks he has caught two escaping souls as he comes upon Dante and
Virgil, but Virgil sets him straight.
Phlegyas, Phlegyas, this
time you shout in vain,'
replied my lord. 'You'll
not have us any longer
than it takes to cross
this bog.'
Like one who learns of a
deceitful plot
that has been hatched
against him and begins to fret,
such was Phlegyas in his
stifled wrath. (19-24)
Phlegyas
is frustrated in his expecting thrill, but I find the metaphor describing his
reaction with deeper resonance. Phlegyas
is in wrath as one who learns of a deceit against him. Well, Dante and Virgil are leaving the circle
of anger and crossing over to the city of Dis, where all the various sins of deceit
are placed. Phlegyas in anger is echoing
his surroundings, and his “fretting” foreshadows Dante’s fretting when he and
Virgil later in the canto are locked out from entering the gates of Dis once
they are ferried across.
The
two get in the boat, encounter the soul of Felippo Argenti in the mire of the
river, who tries to grasp Dante but is pushed into the filthy water by Virgil,
and subsequently torn and beaten by the other damned in the river. Dante in fighting off the soul of Argenti,
curses him. Virgil for this praises
Dante.
Then my master put his
arms around my neck,
kissed my face and said:
'Indignant soul,
blessed is she that bore
you in her womb! (43-45)
Why
does Virgil praise Dante (the character) so here? Most annotations will explain that Dante (the
author) sees it as proper to take satisfaction in the justice done to damned
souls—and being in hell the characters know that the soul is truly damned while
we on earth can never know for certain. But
I find it fascinating that Virgil quotes Luke 11:27, “Blessed is the womb that
bore you” as a woman cries out to Christ in praise. I haven’t found any good annotation as to why
Dante (the author) uses that quote here.
Certainly Dante (the character) is not deserving of the Christ
allusion. The only speculation I could
propose—and this is me speculating, I have not found this commentary elsewhere—is
that in referencing Mary’s womb, Dante (the author) is alluding to the ark of
the covenant, furthering the naval imagery.
Certainly Dante (the character) is in a sort of ark on board Phlegyas’
boat.
I
have mentioned elsewhere how Dante usually structures his cantos in the Divine Comedy in three parts. He does so here in Canto VII. The first part (l. 1-27) is the opening scene
leading to getting on board Phlegyas’ boat; the second (l. 28-63) is the scene
with Filippo Argenti; the third (l. 64-130) is the landing on Dis and being
locked out.
The
city of Dis is of iron walls, separated by a moat, and heavily guarded by
thousands of demons, suggesting an iron and a closed off heart. It is the contrasting image of the “New
Jerusalem,” from the Books of Ezekiel (OT) and Revelation (NT). The towers
inside the ramparts appear to Dante (the pilgrim) as “mosques,” which Esolen
points out are probably minarets, and glow red from an “eternal fire.” Where Dante (the author) would have seen
mosques and minarets is a mystery to me.
As far as I know his travels were limited to Italy and France.
Upon
being kicked out of the boat by Phlegyas (no one is kind in hell), a small
drama ensues. The angry demons refuse to
let a living being into the city. Virgil
signals for Dante to hold back so he can arbitrate the situation, but the
demons are immovable. They will allow
Virgil to pass, but they will not yield concerning Dante.
Then they reined in their
great disdain
enough to say: 'You come
-- alone. Let him be gone,
who has so boldly made
his way into this kingdom.
'Let him retrace his
reckless path alone --
let him see if he can,
for you shall stay,
you who have led him
through this gloomy realm.' (88-93)
This
is where Dante frets and momentarily loses hope. He begs Virgil to not leave him, and Virgil
reassures him.
But the mentor who had
brought me there replied:
'Have no fear. None can
prevent our passage,
so great a power granted
it to us.
'Wait for me here.
Comfort your weary spirit
and feed it with good
hope.
I will not forsake you in
the nether world.' (103-108)
Two
important points can be gleaned from Virgil’s response. First, God has granted Dante’s passage, so
the will of God cannot be resisted. Second,
Dante should not lose hope. Hope is one
of the theological virtues, and a virtue requires strengthening, almost like an
exercise. We see Dante (the character)
here in these early cantos as spiritually immature. He has not built up his virtue.
Finally
Virgil leaves Dante while he walks over to the demons to mull the issue. Dante sees them speaking but is out of
hearing distance. Suddenly the demons
slam the gates shut against Virgil, who sullenly returns to Dante. The remainder of the canto is worth quoting
in its entirety.
He had his eyes upon the
ground, his brows
shorn of all confidence.
Sighing, he muttered:
'Who dares deny me access
to the realm of pain?'
To me he said: 'Be not
dismayed
at my vexation. In this
contest I'll prevail,
whatever they contrive to
keep us out.
'This insolence of theirs
is nothing new:
they showed it once
before, at another gate.
It still stands open
without lock or bolt.
'Over it you saw the
deadly writing.
Even now, making his
unescorted way
down through the circles,
one descends
by whom the city shall be
opened.' (118-130)
We
see Virgil’s virtue in contrast to Dante.
While he assesses the situation as serious, he does not give up hope. He has hope in divine intervention.
We
see the demons then are just being spiteful.
There is no reason why Dante cannot pass. Their “insolence” is merely a resistance to
the Divine Will. If the Divine Will did
not want Dante to enter, the demons would have lured him in. Anything to be adversarial to God.
We
will see in the next canto how a divinely sent angel arrives and with a touch
of a wand, the gates opened up. The
Divine Will cannot be overcome.
What
are we to make of Canto VIII? We see the
pilgrimage progress, the development of the naval and archery imagery, the
justice of hell, the contrast of wrath with reason, the iron heart of Dis, and
the testing of the theological virtue of hope.
Canto VIII is rich, but one can say that about all the cantos.
So
how does Canto VIII relate to Eliot’s Ash
Wednesday? Well, the opening stanzas
of Eliot’s poem are these:
Because I do not hope to
turn again
Because I do not hope
Because I do not hope to
turn
Desiring this man's gift
and that man's scope
I no longer strive to
strive towards such things
(Why should the agèd
eagle stretch its wings?)
Why should I mourn
The vanished power of the
usual reign?
Because I do not hope to
know
The infirm glory of the
positive hour
Because I do not think
Because I know I shall
not know
The one veritable
transitory power
Because I cannot drink
There, where trees
flower, and springs flow, for there is nothing again (1-15)
And
further down we get these closing stanzas of the poem’s part 1:
Because these wings are
no longer wings to fly
But merely vans to beat
the air
The air which is now
thoroughly small and dry
Smaller and dryer than
the will
Teach us to care and not
to care Teach us to sit still.
Pray for us sinners now
and at the hour of our death
Pray for us now and at
the hour of our death. (34-40)
Wings
that are “merely vans to beat the air”—ha!
That’s a reference Inferno’s
Canto XXXIV where satan is a winged creature half stuck in ice beating his
wings hopelessly in trying to fly. How
did I miss that in the past? Ash Wednesday is about hope and
hopelessness. I’ve completely misread
this poem. I used to think Eliot was
referring to Purgatorio. The allusion is to Inferno. Mary Sue is onto
something! I can’t wait to see what she
writes. ;)
