Virgil and Dante walk through the fiery cemetery inside the walls of the City of Dis. Dante has a conversation with Farinata.
(To read a footnote, click the number in the text. To come back from a footnote, click the up arrow at the note number.)
Between the city’s great walls and the suffering spirits, we now moved together down a narrow path – Virgil first and me close behind. “O noble power,” I started: “you who lead me through these circles of sin, I’m curious to know about the people buried in these fiery tombs. Can we see them? Anyway, they’re all open and no one seems to be guarding them.”
“After the Final Judgment in the Valley of Jehoshaphat, all of them – with their bodies – will be entombed here forever. The private cemetery over here on this side is reserved for Epicurus and his followers; they denied that we have immortal souls. As for seeing them, just wait – you’ll see them. And the wish you didn’t put into words will also be granted.”[1]Canto 9 ended with Dante perusing the landscape inside the walls of the City of Dis. He was reminded of the scattered sarcophagi in famous Roman cemeteries because that’s what he saw here – … Continue reading
“O good guide of mine,” I said, “I’m not trying to hide anything from you. It’s just that I’m trying to do what you’ve asked me more than once – to stop talking so much.”[2]Despite the seriousness of the surroundings, Dante is guileless in this comical scene. But by saying what he says, he’s also telling Virgil that he’s paying attention, even when he tells him to … Continue reading
“O Tuscan! You there, walking alive through our fiery city, and speaking with such elegance, would you be so kind as to stop here for a moment? It’s clear to me from the way you talk that you’re from Florence – a city, I feel, I was too hard on when I was alive.”[3]However one chooses to read this passage, if it’s nothing else, it’s Dante the poet cleverly advertising his literary skill by having Farinata address him like this. Before writing the Comedy, … Continue reading
These commanding words, addressed to me and coming directly from a nearby tomb, intimidated me and I huddled close to Virgil. He gave me a little push, saying: “What are you doing? Look over there and you’ll see the famous Farinata standing up in that tomb.”[4]It’s hard to understand why Dante would be “intimidated” by the “commanding words” of Farinata, particularly since they were so gracious and complimentary. Perhaps Dante was surprised or … Continue reading
Well, I was already doing what he told me. Farinata was grand: visible from the waist up, he stood tall and straight, and his whole body showed his disgust for Hell. Virgil pushed me again, this time gently encouraging me to make my way among those tombs, saying: “OK, now, but be careful what you say to him.”[5]There are several small points to note here. That Dante was already moving toward Farinata gives us a sense of the “right now-ness” of the scene, as though Dante tells Virgil: “Ok, I’m … Continue reading
When I got to the edge of his tomb he looked me up and down and said, with some contempt, “So, who were your ancestors?”[6]One can both see and hear the scorn in Farinata as he sizes Dante up. But this sizing-up is not just looking at Dante physically. Farinata, the Ghibelline leader, the knight, the noble, the arrogant … Continue reading
Not wanting to hold anything back, I told him politely. When I finished, he raised his eyebrows a little and replied: “They were bitter enemies of mine, of my ancestors, and of my party. Twice I scattered them from Florence.”
Not swayed by him now, I retorted: “You’re right! But they came back from exile – not once, but twice! That’s something you and your men never seemed to learn!”[7]In contrast to Farinata’s haughty demeanor and insulting question, Dante is polite and civil. Perhaps because history has given him the upper hand. But as far as Farinata is concerned, Dante … Continue reading
But just then, in front of where Farinata was standing, the head of another shade peeped over the edge of the tomb just up to his chin. I hate to say this, but it was a comical sight. I suspect he was probably kneeling there inside. The poor old man looked all around as though he were hoping to see someone else besides me. When it was clear that I was alone, and with his expectations shattered, he started crying. “If it’s great genius that enables you to walk through our blind jail, then where’s my son? Why isn’t he there with you?”[8]The tension that was building in the previous conversation is dissipated by this somewhat humorous interruption. But only for a moment, because this new scene ends sadly. The contrast is striking … Continue reading
“I’m not alone,” I said. And pointing to Virgil: “he’s the one guiding me down here. Perhaps in his studies your Guido may have held him in scorn.” His question and his punishment had already given me a good idea of who he was, and thus my pointed answer.[9]In his Vita Nuova, Dante referred to Guido Cavalcanti (1250-1300) as “he whom I call the first of my friends.” Like Dante, Guido was a well-known poet. Interestingly enough, after … Continue reading
But suddenly he jumped to his feet and cried out: “What did you say? He held him in scorn? Do you mean he’s no longer alive? He no longer sees the sweet rays of the sun?” His mistake caused me to pause for a moment, and when I didn’t reply right away he collapsed back down into the tomb, and I never saw him again.[10]One cannot fault Cavalcante for not being a good listener: he catches Dante’s use of the past tense immediately. But he does this so quickly that he also completely misinterpret’s Dante’s … Continue reading
But that bold Farinata, who had first stopped me to talk with him, didn’t show an ounce of concern about what had just happened in front of him. He didn’t even turn his head to look! He just went right on from where we were interrupted:[11]Farinata’s scorn and arrogance are amazing to Dante. He is so completely absorbed in himself that he completely disregards Cavalcante and his lament that Guido (Farinata’s son-in-law) might be … Continue reading “If they didn’t learn their lesson, that pains me more than this bed I’ve been lying in. But let me tell you, you won’t have seen fifty moons (she reigns down here) before you, too, will learn how hard it is to come back from exile. In spite of that, I hope you’ll return to the world above, so answer me this question: Why is your party so hard on mine?”[12]When Dante first saw Farinata, he reported that “his whole body showed his disgust for Hell.” That theme continues here when he tells Dante that it pains him more than being in Hell to think that … Continue reading
I knew our recent history well: “The brutal massacre we suffered – that filled the Arbia with our blood[13]A river just below Siena near where Farinata ambushed the Florentine Guelfs. – is the cause for our new laws against your descendants.”[14]Virtually every public document of amnesty included strict provisions against the Uberti.
He shook his head slowly and sighed: “I wasn’t the only one who took part in that battle, and I wouldn’t have joined in without good cause. But you have to take into account that when everyone was ready to destroy Florence, I was the one who openly defended her.”
“I know that,” I said, “and I’d like to hope that your descendants will find peace.[15]Once again Farinata is focused upon himself, though for posterity’s sake, one will excuse him time. The drama of his speech to the council at Empoli is noted in Henry Edward Napier’s … Continue reading But now let me ask you to solve a problem that’s been bothering me: if I understand correctly, everyone down here can see the future clearly, but you have no idea of what’s going on right now.”[16]But how did Dante come to know all this? He’s already heard two prophecies, one from Ciacco in Canto 6, and second one just moments ago from Farinata himself. In terms of the present being unknown … Continue reading
He explained: “Down here, none of us see well. It’s like we’re all far-sighted, and we can see into the future – at least that much the One above allows us. But when things are closer in time, or if they’re happening now, we’re blind. The only way we know these things is when someone else tells us.[17]Sadly, Cavalcante didn’t wait for Dante to give him news that would have comforted him. Dante didn’t withhold this information on purpose. And one doesn’t hear of the comforts of Hell! Now you can understand that at the end of time everything we know will be cut off forever.”[18]This entire canto has been building up to Farinata’s explanation here. Time has been a kind of energy at work under the action. The past, present, and future all have a role to play, and most often … Continue reading
I was still very sorry for not responding more quickly to poor Guido’s father, and I asked Farinata: “Please do me a favor and tell the one who interrupted us earlier that his son is still very much alive. Tell him I didn’t answer his question right away because I was trying to figure out what you just explained to me about the future.”[19]Given Farinata’s arrogance and earlier failure to even recognize the presence of Cavalcante, one wonders whether he will carry out Dante’s request. As to whether Guido was actually alive, from … Continue reading
At this point, Virgil was calling me back, so I quickly asked Farinata to tell me the names of some of the people who were there in his tomb. He obliged briefly: “There are more than a thousand in here with me, including Frederick II. And Cardinal Ubaldini is here, too. I won’t bother with the rest of them.” And with that he disappeared.[20]Virgil urged Dante to speak with Farinata when they first encountered him. Now that it’s time to go, Dante wants to make the most of what little time is left so he squeezes in one more question. … Continue reading
I wended my back to Virgil among those fiery tombs, thinking soberly about Farinata’s prophetic words, which had now become my new enemies.[21]We have already seen the power of words in several episodes so far in his poem. Here, Farinata’s words were not only prophetic, but now they are “enemies.” As we walked along, my Poet said: “What’s bothering you? How come you’re so agitated?” So, I told him everything I was thinking about. “Listen to me, now,” he said. “Be sure you remember every word Farinata said against you.” Here he pointed upward: “When you finally stand before that glorious beauty whose eyes see everything, you’ll learn all about your life’s journey.”[22]Virgil, who can read Dante’s mind, also sees the pilgrim’s heavy thoughts written on his face. He gently inquires, and Dante shares his heavy thoughts. Virgil doesn’t offer an immediate … Continue reading
What that, we turned to the left and moved away from the walls toward the center of that fiery cemetery. Our path took us to a place where the stench from far below overcame us with disgust even though we were still quite high up.[23]The two travelers now leave the fiery necropolis toward the next level of Hell. The sudden stench coming up from the depths of Hell overwhelms them carries Dante back from his brooding and … Continue reading
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Notes & Commentary
| ↑1 | Canto 9 ended with Dante perusing the landscape inside the walls of the City of Dis. He was reminded of the scattered sarcophagi in famous Roman cemeteries because that’s what he saw here – except these tombs were red hot and filled with screaming souls. Since these tombs are open already and there seem to be no infernal guards here, he is curious to look inside them, and he politely addresses Virgil in high language: “O noble power.” Virgil’s “noble power” is that he represents the height of human reason. By doing this, he subtly restores Virgil’s dignity and gravitas that got away from him in the frenzy on the other side of the wall. Note that Dante is following Virgil closely, since the path is narrow. And by now, most likely, we have forgotten that it is night, so the many flaming, red hot tombs scattered about the place must have stood out and cast a lurid glow over the landscape.
Virgil’s mention of the Final Judgment is important here because it is then that Christians believe their bodies and souls will be eternally reunited. In Joel 3:2 we read: “I will gather all nations, and will bring them down into the Valley of Jehoshaphat; and I will execute judgment on them there for my people, and for my heritage, Israel, whom they have scattered among the nations.” Tragically, because these heretics denied the immortality of the soul, they will be entombed here, body and immortal soul, forever. The lids that are now off the tombs will then be put back in place. Virgil also takes a moment to point out the private cemetery reserved for Epicurus and his followers. One will recall that he had told Dante at the end of Canto 9 that like is buried with like. Epicurus (342B.C. – 270B.C.) was a noted Athenian philosopher. He did not specifically deny the immortality of the soul, but his teachings focused on the temporal and virtuous pursuit of happiness and pleasure – the absence of pain – as the highest good that one could achieve. In a Christian context, the failure to acknowledge any future beyond this life was a denial of the immortality of the soul. Finally, we are reminded again that Virgil and other spirits we will meet throughout the poem can read Dante’s mind. So, Virgil answers “Yes” to both of Dante’s requests: to see the souls in the tombs, and the wish he didn’t state out loud. This unasked question has been answered by numerous commentators, many of whom suggest Dante’s wish is to speak with Farinata degli Uberti. If one will recall Canto 6, Dante asked Ciacco the whereabouts of several notable Florentines. Ciacco told him that they were all wicked souls and punished further down. Since Dante will have a long conversation with Farinata in a moment, it is thought that he is the object of the unspoken question. Another, more subtle possibility, also stems from Canto 6. Dante asked Ciacco about the sad state of affairs in Florence and the city’s future. Ciacco gave him a rather detailed answer (prophecy). Will Farinata also know things about the future? This may well be Dante’s unspoken question: How much do the sinners know about the future? |
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| ↑2 | Despite the seriousness of the surroundings, Dante is guileless in this comical scene. But by saying what he says, he’s also telling Virgil that he’s paying attention, even when he tells him to be quiet. Recall that in Canto 3, he had asked who the people were crowding the bank of the Acheron and why they were so anxious to cross. Virgil told him that he’d find out in good time and Dante felt ashamed that he may have spoken out of turn. In Canto 9, as the angel approached the gate of Dis, Dante looked inquiringly at Virgil, but Virgil told him to be silent and bow down. |
| ↑3 | However one chooses to read this passage, if it’s nothing else, it’s Dante the poet cleverly advertising his literary skill by having Farinata address him like this. Before writing the Comedy, Dante was already an established poet, and he’s recognized here not only by his dialect, but by the elegance with which he uses it. Writing the entire Comedy in Italian rather than the standard Latin (a risky thing to do in his day), Dante’s poetry led to the Tuscan dialect becoming standard Italian (though Italy is still a country of many dialects). He will be recognized by his dialect in several other cantos.
But there is one more thing here. Farinata makes a cryptic remark about being too hard on Florence. What is this about? Farinata degli Uberti (1212-1264) was a famous leader of the Ghibelline faction in Florentine history. In 1250 the Guelph faction rose up and expelled many, if not most, of the Ghibellines from Florence. Farinata and many others went to Siena, a Ghibelline city, and over the next several years plotted to overthrow the Guelphs. He tricked the Florentines into thinking that if they attacked Siena, one of their gates would be left unguarded, assuring a Florentine Victory. The Florentines fell for it. Having convinced the Sienese to join him, along with a large contingent of soldiers from the army of Manfred, King of Sicily, they ambushed the Florentines on September 4, 1260, and the battle at Montaperti is recorded as one of the worst in medieval Italian history. The loss of life was so staggering that the Guelphs subsequently fled from Florence, including Dante’s ancestors, and the Ghibellines returned in victory with Farinata leading them. At that time, the Ghibelline leaders decided to destroy the entire city of Florence, but it was Farinata who stopped them from carrying out this plan. The treachery at Montaperti was never forgotten by the Guelphs, and when they eventually returned to power in Florence, they tore down the palaces of the Uberti family. Farinata died in 1264, a year before Dante was born. Ten years later, Farinata and his wife were exhumed from their tombs in the cathedral of Florence and put on trial before the Inquisition for heresy, Farinata having been condemned as an Epicurean. They were then executed and their children were dispossessed of their property. Understanding all of this provides a useful context for much of what happens here in Canto 10. In his Commentary on Dante’s Canto 10 (L. xxxix, 38), Boccaccio writes of Farinata: “He was of the opinion of Epicurus, that the soul dies with the body, and maintained that human happiness consisted in temporal pleasures; but he did not follow these in the way that Epicurus did, that is by making long fasts to have afterwards pleasure in eating dry bread; but was fond of good and delicate viands, and ate them without waiting to be hungry; and for this sin he is damned as a Heretic in this place.” |
| ↑4 | It’s hard to understand why Dante would be “intimidated” by the “commanding words” of Farinata, particularly since they were so gracious and complimentary. Perhaps Dante was surprised or taken aback by Farinata’s first words, because he may not have seen him when he first scanned the fiery necropolis. Then, all of a sudden, there he was, probably having stood up in his tomb as he heard the two travelers passing by. And the proud Farinata never identifies himself by name, only by reputation in his cryptic remark. Morally speaking, the pilgrim’s movement away from Farinata is appropriate as the upright soul moves away from heresy. At the same time, though, Virgil, who represents Reason and who seems to know it’s Farinata already, shoves Dante back toward him because he has much to learn from him, as the rest of the canto will demonstrate. Not only that. Back in Canto 6, Dante had inquired about him and several other esteemed Florentines. Now he will meet him. |
| ↑5 | There are several small points to note here. That Dante was already moving toward Farinata gives us a sense of the “right now-ness” of the scene, as though Dante tells Virgil: “Ok, I’m going.” Then there’s the physicality of the scene – it’s real and really happening. Dante describes Farinata physically as being very imposing and powerful. His disgust for Hell is most likely connected to his sin – there is no afterlife, but here he is: scornful; so much so that it seems that any hint of pain or suffering on his part is far beneath him. Then Dante huddles against Virgil. Virgil gives him a push, as though to say, “Get off me!” A moment later, Virgil pushes him again, and warns him to watch out what he says. Virgil isn’t being mean, he’s just trying to connect Dante and Farinata as quickly as possible. But Virgil also represents reason, which always tells us: “Be careful what you say.” And since Farinata is a heretic, caution and precision in speech is important. |
| ↑6 | One can both see and hear the scorn in Farinata as he sizes Dante up. But this sizing-up is not just looking at Dante physically. Farinata, the Ghibelline leader, the knight, the noble, the arrogant victor wants to see how small he can make Dante by asking him who his people were and whether it’s worth taking the time to talk with him. |
| ↑7 | In contrast to Farinata’s haughty demeanor and insulting question, Dante is polite and civil. Perhaps because history has given him the upper hand. But as far as Farinata is concerned, Dante has failed the test: his family were Guelphs and this his enemies – three times over. In an attempt to show his superiority over him, Farinata reminds Dante that his family were expelled from Florence – twice (in 1248 and 1260). But he shouldn’t have said that because he falls into his own trap. Dante calmly admits the truth of Farinata’s jab, but reminds him that his family also came back each time (1251 and 1267) – something Farinata cannot claim. By now Dante would also know that the great Ghibelline champion was dug up from his grave, tried by the Inquisition, and posthumously executed as a heretic. Remarkably, in spite of his ill treatment by his heretical enemy, Dante treats him with civility, and his forthright candor and honesty leave the great Ghibelline looking rather small. He started by complimenting Dante for his elegant speech, but he ends as a bully, at least for now. |
| ↑8 | The tension that was building in the previous conversation is dissipated by this somewhat humorous interruption. But only for a moment, because this new scene ends sadly. The contrast is striking between the imposing Farinata, on the one hand, standing up to his waist in the fiery tomb, scorning Hell and its pains, and the poor old man peeping over the edge looking for his son and crying. This new character is Cavalcante dei Cavalcanti (1220-1280), an Eipcurean philosopher, a wealthy Florentine banker, and a Guelf. The irony here should not be lost. Both Farinata and Cavalcanti were Epicureans but they were political enemies, yet they’ve ended up in the same tomb. Not seeing his son, Cavalcante questions Dante: “If it’s genius that brought you here,” he says, “then where’s my son?” Notice the parallel between Farinata’s introductory compliment to Dante about his eloquent speech and Cavalcante’s compliment about Dante’s genius. Perhaps, we have Dante the poet, once again, taking an opportunity to advertise his skill. And if Farinata disdained Dante’s ancestry, to a certain extent Cavalcante seems to all but ignore Dante, who is right there in front of him, as he looks about for and questions the whereabouts of his son. But as he did with Farinata, he will have a fitting come-back for Cavalcante. |
| ↑9 |
In his Vita Nuova, Dante referred to Guido Cavalcanti (1250-1300) as “he whom I call the first of my friends.” Like Dante, Guido was a well-known poet. Interestingly enough, after Farinata had blocked the destruction of Florence, a hoped-for reconciliation among the factions was initiated with the marriage in 1267 of Guido to Beatrice degli Uberti, daughter of Farinata. Dante would have been two years old at the time. And so we have yet another irony to add to the entombment of Farinata and Cavalcante: they were fathers-in-law. Like his father, Guido was an Epicurean. Though they were very close friends, toward the end of his life, Guido was part of yet another factional uprising in Florence. In June of 1300, Dante was named one of the six Priors of Florence, the highest post in the Republic. Not long after his appointment, it was decided by the Priors that the leaders of both factions should be sent into exile in order to keep the peace. Dante was among the Priors who consented to this decree. Guido went to Sarzana, near the coast between Genoa and Pisa. Less than two months later, the exiles were allowed to return to Florence, but Guido caught malaria and died on the way home, an event that must have saddened Dante greatly. But there is one more issue here, and it has resulted in several different paths taken by commentators over the years. Dante answers Guido’s question by telling him that Guido is not with him, that he’s alone, and he’s being guided here by Virgil. Then he adds a cryptic remark: that in his studies Guido may have gone in a different – perhaps more contemporary – direction and turned his nose up at Virgil. Commentators then ask what Dante means by saying this. Some suggest that Guido, a Guelf, disdained Virgil because he was a symbol of imperial Rome. Some suggest he disliked Virgil’s classical poetry. And still others that Guido’s scholarly tastes ran strongly toward poetry and not philosophy. But for Dante the poet, Virgil symbolizes reason which should ultimately lead us to God. Perhaps because of his Epicureanism, Guido couldn’t or didn’t want to take this last step, which would have led him to repudiate his heretical tendencies. |
| ↑10 | One cannot fault Cavalcante for not being a good listener: he catches Dante’s use of the past tense immediately. But he does this so quickly that he also completely misinterpret’s Dante’s suggestion that the reason Guido is absent is because, as a poet, he “may have held“ Virgil in disdain. On the one hand, Cavalcante probably had no use for Virgil when he was alive. On the other hand, he was an Epicurean, and for him – and his son – mortal life was all there is. So is the concern here simply a manifestation of grief? Or does Cavalcante realize – too late – that the soul does live on forever, and it may be too late for his son to turn his life around? Dante most likely paused momentarily both to understand that he was misunderstood and to restate what he had said earlier – in a different tense. And in that moment, Cavalcante falls back into the fiery tomb never having heard Dante’s response. But there is also something about Hell and the souls there that Dante does not know yet. That will answer the question of Cavalcante’s collapsing in despair. Let’s see how this will come about. |
| ↑11 | Farinata’s scorn and arrogance are amazing to Dante. He is so completely absorbed in himself that he completely disregards Cavalcante and his lament that Guido (Farinata’s son-in-law) might be dead. Ironically, it’s as if neither Cavalcante nor Guido exist. But isn’t that the point? They don’t, in a sense. As Epicureans, they claimed that there is no further existence after death. And yet, as part of the contrapasso here, they’re alive! And Farinata’s complete self-absorption and utter disregard are amplified when he simply takes up where he left off before Cavalcante’s interruption. |
| ↑12 | When Dante first saw Farinata, he reported that “his whole body showed his disgust for Hell.” That theme continues here when he tells Dante that it pains him more than being in Hell to think that his faction may not have learned a lesson from their exile. Note how both his behavior and his words might lead one to think that he (Farinata) thinks he’s not even here! He scorns Hell and its pains as though they don’t exist, he utterly ignores the existence of Cavalcante and won’t even look at him, and he’s still concerned about the fate of his political faction. But this is exactly what he would have believed as an Epicurean when he was alive – there’s no afterlife to live in or be concerned about. Farinata’s out-of-Hell concern is so strong that he’ll ask Dante why his faction was so hard on Farinata’s. But not before he makes an important prophecy.
First, we recall that time in Hell is told in reference to the moon, not the sun. Farinata’s mention to the moon as “she [who] reigns down here” is a reference to the goddess of the moon, Hecate, also known as Proserpine. So, as a kind of tit-for-tat jibe, Farinata tells Dante that within fifty moons he – Dante – will find it hard to come back from exile. If we do the math, we recall that the fictional date of the poem is the spring of 1300. Fifty moons from this date would bring us to the early summer of 1304. Dante was exiled in 1302, and various attempts by he and other Guelfs to return to Florence failed by the summer of 1304 so Dante went his own way. But after his jibe, Farinata’s tone changes completely. In a surprising moment of gentlemanly politeness, he hopes that Dante will return to the world above. This refrain will be heard several more times during Dante’s journey. But this overt courtesy is simply an opportunity for him to slide into the real question: “Why is your party so hard on mine?” The answer lies in a previous note. In 1250, the Guelfs expelled most of the Ghibellines from Florence, including Farinata, their leader. By 1260, he had the support of Siena and a large army. He tricked the Florentines into thinking that if they attacked Siena, one of their gates would be unguarded and they could take the city. But on the way the Florentines were caught in a terrible ambush led by Farinata that resulted in a complete rout and the deaths of thousands of soldiers. The Guelfs fled Florence, but by the time they regained control, the trick of Farinata and the massacre at Montaperti were still very much in the forefront of their memories. When, after several years, the Ghibellines were allowed to return to Florence, Farinata’s clan were excluded. They were declared enemies of the state and would be killed upon capture. If this weren’t enough, several years after his death, Farinata’s body and that of his wife were exhumed, tried for heresy before the Inquisition, and executed. And their children were dispossessed of their property. |
| ↑13 | A river just below Siena near where Farinata ambushed the Florentine Guelfs. |
| ↑14 | Virtually every public document of amnesty included strict provisions against the Uberti. |
| ↑15 | Once again Farinata is focused upon himself, though for posterity’s sake, one will excuse him time. The drama of his speech to the council at Empoli is noted in Henry Edward Napier’s Florentine History (I, xi, 259). It ends with this: “Are you indeed ignorant that if I have carried arms, if I have persecuted my foes, I still have never ceased to love my country….Here then I declare, that, although I stand alone amongst the Florentines, I will never permit my native city to be destroyed, and if it be necessary for her sake to die a thousand deaths, I am ready to meet them all in her defense.” But he never takes an ounce of blame for the slaughter at Montaperti. |
| ↑16 | But how did Dante come to know all this? He’s already heard two prophecies, one from Ciacco in Canto 6, and second one just moments ago from Farinata himself. In terms of the present being unknown we need to step back to Cavalcante’s outburst after he heard Dante refer to his son, Guido, in the past tense. Cavalcante was so agitated by that that he simply presumed his son was dead and collapsed back into his tomb without waiting for Dante to answer. Then Dante tells us: “His mistake caused me to pause for a moment.” But what mistake? The “mistake” that Guido is very much alive! It’s at that moment that Dante realizes the souls in Hell know nothing of the present. |
| ↑17 | Sadly, Cavalcante didn’t wait for Dante to give him news that would have comforted him. Dante didn’t withhold this information on purpose. And one doesn’t hear of the comforts of Hell! |
| ↑18 | This entire canto has been building up to Farinata’s explanation here. Time has been a kind of energy at work under the action. The past, present, and future all have a role to play, and most often that role concerns the world above, not this one. The past is actually never dealt with specifically in this canto because it is useful only as the substance of memory – painful memories, memories more painful than Hell itself. But it can’t be changed or altered. In this place, it simply stands as a mute witness to the sins that altered these sinners’ lives eternally. The present is a dark unknown. Earlier, Cavalcante described this place as a “blind jail,” and Farinata tells Dante, “none of us see well.” There is no “news” unless some other sinner passes through and tells others what is, actually, already the useless past. As for the future, what Farinata tells Dante is perhaps one of the more frightening revelations in the Inferno. The sinners have a kind of mental far-sightedness that allows them to see into the future – thus Ciacco’s and Farinata’s prophecies (and others to come). But this is a terrible gift that surely injures the sinners every time it’s used. As time moves slowly toward the present they also realize there will be less and less to be known. Finally, there will be nothing. It’s as though time is like a cone. As one moves toward the smaller end, there is less and less to be known. And then there will be nothing. For these heretics, specifically, when the lids are placed back on their tombs at the end of time, not only will the tombs be sealed, but so will their minds. In the world they lived for the present, and by their disbelief in the immortality of the soul they also proclaimed their disbelief in the future. Now, the present is dark to them, and all that can be seen is the future, which slowly closes before them. |
| ↑19 | Given Farinata’s arrogance and earlier failure to even recognize the presence of Cavalcante, one wonders whether he will carry out Dante’s request. As to whether Guido was actually alive, from the point of view of the poem’s date, Guido would still have been alive. As for when the poem was actually written, sometime around 1314, he would be dead (he died in 1300). At the moment when Cavalcante asked about Guido, Dante did not yet realize that those in Hell could not see the present. Perhaps Dante’s request was also a way to make amends. As noted earlier, Dante was one of the Priors of Florence at the time Guido was banished. No doubt it was a great sorrow for Dante to be an official party to his best friends’s exile. How much more when Guido was called back after a few months, only to die of malaria on the way home. |
| ↑20 | Virgil urged Dante to speak with Farinata when they first encountered him. Now that it’s time to go, Dante wants to make the most of what little time is left so he squeezes in one more question. Though he obliges, Farinata is disappointingly stingy with names. He uses the formula that indicates great numbers of souls, but then names only two. Frederick II (1194-1250) was the son of Henry VI of Sicily and grandson of Frederick Barbarossa. He became emperor in 1215. A man of great intellect and talent, he also had many serious vices. And he was an Epicurian, which brought him to this particular tomb. The noted 13th century historian of Florence, Giovanni Villani, writes in his Cronica (Bk. 6, §1): “This Frederick reigned thirty years as Emperor, and was a man of great capacity and of great valour, wise in books, and of natural intelligence, universal in all things; was acquainted with the Latin tongue, and with our vernacular, with German and French, Greek and Arabic, of abounding talents, liberal and courteous in giving, courageous and prudent in arms, and was much feared. And he was dissolute and licentious after divers fashions, and had many concubines and catamites, after the manner of the Saracens, he was addicted to all sensual delights, and led an epicurean life, not taking account that there were ever another life; and this was one chief cause why he became the enemy of the clergy and of Holy Church.” Salimbene da Parma, a contemporary of Villani, wrote of him in his Cronica (I, 510): “He was an Epicurean, and therefore he and his scholars tried to find anything they could in Divine Scripture which might serve to show that there is no life after death.” Cardinal Ottaviano degli Ubaldini (1214-1273), known in his time as “the Cardinal,” was the Archbishop of Bologna and appointed Cardinal by Pope Innocent IV. As a staunch Ghibelline and a noted Epicurean, he is famous for having said: “If there be a soul, I have lost it a thousand times for the Ghibellines.” And that’s all Farinata will say. He precludes any further questions from Dante by saying: “I won’t bother with the rest of them.” And with that he simply disappears. |
| ↑21 | We have already seen the power of words in several episodes so far in his poem. Here, Farinata’s words were not only prophetic, but now they are “enemies.” |
| ↑22 | Virgil, who can read Dante’s mind, also sees the pilgrim’s heavy thoughts written on his face. He gently inquires, and Dante shares his heavy thoughts. Virgil doesn’t offer an immediate solution, though, apart from the kindness of listening. However, and note how he points upward for emphasis, he tells Dante to remember every word of Farinata’s dark prophecy so that he can repeat them to Beatrice when he meets her. With those gorgeous eyes of hers, and as a citizen of Paradise, she sees all things in the light of God. This is her symbolic role in the poem, and Virgil’s – representing reason – will bring Dante to her. And it is she who will interpret Farinata’s prophecy for him. Technically speaking, though, it will be Dante’s great ancestor, Cacciaguida, who will explain the prophecy to him with Beatrice by his side. |
| ↑23 | The two travelers now leave the fiery necropolis toward the next level of Hell. The sudden stench coming up from the depths of Hell overwhelms them carries Dante back from his brooding and alerts them of even more terrible things to come. |