Virgil and Dante leave the Wood of the Suicides and soon arrive at the burning sands where blasphemers, sodomites, and usurers are punished. They encounter Capaneus, and later Virgil tells the story of The Old Man of Crete.
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The love that poor suicide and I shared for our home town moved me to do as he had requested. I gathered up the shattered branches and torn leaves and placed them near the trunk of that soul’s bush as his sputtering voice faded away.[1]The pathos of the previous canto and its sorrowful characterizations carries over into this one momentarily as Dante performs a last act of kindness for the sinner who was so carelessly injured … Continue reading
Meanwhile, Virgil and I had reached the edge of that terrible forest that separates the second from the third level of this circle.[2]Dante reminds us that we are still in the Seventh Circle of Hell where the violent sinners are punished. On the first level we encountered those who were violent to their neighbor by acts of savage … Continue reading As we moved onward, I saw even more of the fearsome operation of God’s eternal justice. We had arrived at an open flatland where nothing at all grew out of it’s dead soil. The weird forest of souls we had just left created a circle around this place, just as the river of blood made a circle around that forest. And so we stopped right there at the border between the forest and the dry wasteland. Ahead of us was a huge expanse of sand – burning sand – the kind which Cato must have encountered crossing the Libyan Desert.[3]One wants to pay attention to the fact that Dante takes his time in describing their movements as he and Virgil leave the forest of the suicides. Before he describes who is on this third level he … Continue reading
How on earth do we understand the revenge of God! Anyone reading this should fear it as greatly as I who saw it before my eyes.[4]Introduced by an exclamation, what follows – Dante tells us – is the absolute truth. He actually saw what he is about to describe. His raw theological language here may be alarming for modern … Continue reading There before us we saw three separate herds of souls in that vast flaming desert – all naked, all wailing desperately, each herd suffering a different punishment. One group was stretched out upon that scorching sand flat on their backs; another group sat crouching and tightly hunched up; and the third group just wandered aimlessly here and there, never stopping. The wanderers were far more numerous than those flat on their backs, but those latter ones screamed the loudest because their pain was the greatest.[5]This Seventh Circle of Hell is made up of three different levels, and on this third level three different groups of sinners are punished. The number three calls to mind the Trinity as Dante subtly … Continue reading
But listen to this: over the whole place it snowed – it snowed big flakes of fire – steadily raining down from the blackness above, just like a snowstorm on a windless day. Alexander the Great saw something like this as he and his troops marched across the hot regions of India – big flames falling out of the sky. He and his soldiers scurried around stomping them out before they joined into a greater fire on the ground. And so, here it was the same thing, except forever! The flames rained down and kindled the sand so that the sinners here suffered even more. Like a macabre dance, they jumped around continually, hands flailing everywhere to brush off that endless rain of flames.[6]Unfolding even more of his general description of this section of Hell, each time adding to what has already come, Dante ends by telling us that above this scene of fiery chaos there fell a constant … Continue reading
Eyeing one great spirit, I said to Virgil: “My master, you’ve overcome every obstacle we’ve encountered (well, except for those horrid demons at the gate of Dis), but tell me, who is that great one over there who doesn’t seem to mind all this burning? He’s stretched out, arrogant, as if none of this could bother him in the least.”
Well, seeing me point him out to Virgil, that sinner shouted at me: “What I was alive, I still am dead! Jupiter may have killed me with a lightning bolt, but let him wear himself out making them. If he needs more, let him cry out to Vulcan for help, as he did at the battle of Phlegra. He can hurl all the bolts he wants, but I’ll never give him the satisfaction of thinking he can injure me here!”
Virgil shot right back at him (I never heard him raise his voice like this): “Scream and shout all you want, Capaneus! Since your bluffing pride knows no end, let your rage torment you for all eternity. That’s a fitting punishment for you!” Then, when he had calmed down, he turned to me and said: “He was one of the seven kings who besieged Thebes. He scorned the gods then and continues to blaspheme them even here. However, his biting curses are the only medals that decorate his chest now. Let’s forget him and move on.[7]We have here the blasphemers, highlighted by Capaneus. They lie on their backs screaming their curses at the heavens, as from heaven falls a continuous rain of fire – an appropriate contrapasso. … Continue reading
Pay careful attention to follow my steps and, whatever you do, don’t step on the burning sand. Stay over here toward the forest side.”
Soon enough, we came to a place where a stream gushed out from the forest – that reddish water still strikes fear into my heart! It reminded me of the one at the hot springs of Bulicame, (separated from the rest for the prostitutes downstream). Here it just meandered out across the burning sand. The bed and banks of this strange flow were made of stone, and so were their tops. Now I saw how we’d be able to get across the burning sands. And Virgil remarked: “Of all the marvelous things I’ve shown you since we came through the gate at the top (which welcomes everyone who wants to come here), this stream is the most remarkable thing. Notice how it puts out the flames above it.”[8]All the while here the two travelers have been moving across the sterile plain of burning sand. Having left Capaneus to his blasphemies, they come to a stream of boiling blood that flows out of the … Continue reading
His words made me all the more curious, so I begged him to tell me more. He began right away: “Out in the sea there’s an island known as Crete, a kind of wasteland. When the world was innocent that island was ruled by a fair and just king. Mount Ida is on that island. It was like a paradise in those days, but now it’s deserted and wasted away. Rhea went there to protect her son, Jupiter. To disguise his cries, she’d have her servants scream loudly.[9]The reference to Crete as “a kind of wasteland” was common in Dante’s day, and his early commentators validated this view, some noting how the Venetian occupation of the island, in particular, … Continue reading
“But listen to this: inside that mountain is an immense statue of an old man. Standing tall, his shoulders are turned toward Egypt, but his head is turned toward Rome, as though it were his mirror. His head is made from the finest gold, and his chest, arms, and hands are from silver. The rest of his torso to where his legs spread is made of brass. And his legs are of iron, except his right foot that is made of terra cotta. He stands more heavily on this foot than the other one. Every part of him, except his gold head, is cracked from his tears, which flow down to his feet. There they collect and seep down into the rocks below. Eventually, they drain down here into Hell, and become the three rivers you saw: the Acheron, the Styx, and the Phlegethon. Finally, the overflow pours out through this channel and it drains down to the very bottom, forming Cocytus. It goes no further. You’ll see it for yourself.”[10]Here, now, Virgil satisfies Dante’s curiosity with a wonderful story about the origin of the Four Rivers of Hell, the most elaborate symbol in all of the Inferno. It may be that Dante chooses Crete … Continue reading
I then asked him: “If this stream has its source in the world above, how come we only see it here?”
“Well,” he said, “you know that this whole place is round, and our long journey has been slowly circling toward the bottom, always moving to the left. But actually, we haven’t yet made a complete circle, so it shouldn’t surprise you if you see something you haven’t seen before.”[11]Dante anticipates the reader’s question, and Virgil obliges by giving us a few more cues about the geography of Hell. One can imagine how wide the mouth of Hell is if, after quite a bit of … Continue reading
And I asked: “Tell me, my Master, when shall we see Lethe and Phlegethon? You haven’t said anything about Lethe, but you said that Phlegethon is formed from the great statue’s tears.”
“It always makes me happy when you ask me questions,” he said. “The bloody boiling river was Phlegathon. That should answer one of your questions. As for the Lethe, you’ll see it eventually, but far beyond this place. It’s where the penitent spirits wash themselves from all their guilt.[12]The hydraulic system of Hell’s rivers is not always straightforward, as this dialogue reveals. Obviously, there are some underground connections. Here, for example, the boiling waters of the … Continue reading
“So, now, it’s time that we leave these woods. Remember to follow close in my footsteps. We’ll follow the edges of this stream. They don’t burn because all the flames above them are extinguished.”
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Notes & Commentary
| ↑1 | The pathos of the previous canto and its sorrowful characterizations carries over into this one momentarily as Dante performs a last act of kindness for the sinner who was so carelessly injured moments before. |
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| ↑2 | Dante reminds us that we are still in the Seventh Circle of Hell where the violent sinners are punished. On the first level we encountered those who were violent to their neighbor by acts of savage brutality; on the second level, which we are now leaving, are those who did violence to themselves and their goods. Moving now to the third level, we will encounter those who did violence to God and to Nature. |
| ↑3 | One wants to pay attention to the fact that Dante takes his time in describing their movements as he and Virgil leave the forest of the suicides. Before he describes who is on this third level he wants us to understand what is there – namely a terrible sandy wasteland, arid and burning like the Libyan Desert. What he sees reminds him of what he’s read in Book 9 of Lucan’s Pharsalia, where Cato marches his troops across Libya. |
| ↑4 | Introduced by an exclamation, what follows – Dante tells us – is the absolute truth. He actually saw what he is about to describe. His raw theological language here may be alarming for modern readers, but it would not have been so for his contemporaries. He writes in the Italian, O vendetta di Dio, calling down God’s revenge or vengeance upon those who sought to do violence to the Deity by their sins against Nature which, if we recall from Canto 11:105 is God’s “grandchild.” Of course, God is not injured by our sins; rather, we injure ourselves. What Dante wants us to understand here – and this will come back several times throughout the poem – is that what he/we see is the activity of Divine Justice. |
| ↑5 | This Seventh Circle of Hell is made up of three different levels, and on this third level three different groups of sinners are punished. The number three calls to mind the Trinity as Dante subtly reminds us in advance that these sinners, in violating Nature, did violence to God. As he will describe in a moment, this barren desert is literally on fire, and the symbol of barrenness clearly points to the fruitlessness of the sins punished here. As the place is naked of any vegetation or other sign of life, so are the screaming sinners all naked. Note also how Dante physically describes the positions/movements of these sinners as though to heighten the reader’s sense of participation in what is being described – flat on their backs (screaming the loudest), tightly hunched, wandering aimlessly (the most numerous). And, as we will soon come to see, each of these positions is cleverly associated with a particular sin. |
| ↑6 | Unfolding even more of his general description of this section of Hell, each time adding to what has already come, Dante ends by telling us that above this scene of fiery chaos there fell a constant rain of flames, falling silently like snow upon the barren landscape and its inhabitants. The contrasting images of flames silently falling like snow is both wonderful and terrifying! Earlier, the sight of this barren, fiery desert reminded him of Cato’s march across Libya. Here, the rain of flames reminds him of (or comes from) a story related to Alexander the Great. It seems that the amazing Medieval natural scientist, St. Albert the Great, came across an apocryphal letter from Alexander to Aristotle in which the conqueror noted a heavy snowstorm in India and also a rain of fire. His soldiers trampled on the snow and fended off the flames. Albert mentions this in his De Meteoris, but he accidentally reversed the incidents so that Alexander’s soldiers trampled on the flames. Dante, whose source here was obviously St. Albert, passes the error on in his description here. |
| ↑7 | We have here the blasphemers, highlighted by Capaneus. They lie on their backs screaming their curses at the heavens, as from heaven falls a continuous rain of fire – an appropriate contrapasso. Capaneus was one of the seven kings who besieged the ancient city of Thebes. His outrageous pride and blasphemous bravado merited this wonderful (and graphic) description of his death by Euripides in his Phoenissae, (l. 1188ff):
“While o’er the battlements sprang Capaneus, Jove struck him with his thunder, and the earth Resounded with the crack; meanwhile mankind Stood all aghast; from off the ladder’s height His limbs were far asunder hurled, his hair Flew to’ards Olympus, to the ground his blood, His hands and feet whirled like Ixion’s wheel, And to the earth his flaming body fell.” Dante’s familiarity with Capaneus from Statius’ epic, the Thebiad (Book X), gave him plenty of detail from which to fashion the scene he presents here in this canto. Although Capaneus might have been hard to miss as the two travelers moved across the burning sands, it’s Dante’s stage whisper to Virgil about his arrogance that sets him off and provides the reader with another example of the king’s notorious blasphemies. A formidable warrior he might have been in life, but as he spits out his curses toward heaven, they fall back as the only medals he can display on his chest. His scorn for everything around him is reminiscent of Farinata in Canto 10. One can hear the bite in Virgil’s advice to Dante: “Forget him!” |
| ↑8 | All the while here the two travelers have been moving across the sterile plain of burning sand. Having left Capaneus to his blasphemies, they come to a stream of boiling blood that flows out of the thick forest of the Suicides and across the plain in a kind of stone canal. Obviously, this must be some outflow from the Phlegethon where, in Canto 12, Dante saw violent sinners immersed in its waters. His horror here at the sight of it seems to have caught up with his mere curiosity in Canto 12 as he was carried across by Nessus who, instead of Virgil, provided the commentary. Once again, Dante’s memory here fills out the scene as he recalls the famous spas at Bulicame near the city of Viterbo. The hot springs there also have a reddish tinge, which adds a macabre element to the scene here. But why would he be reminded of this place, except that when he traveled to Rome as part of the Florentine delegation to Pope Boniface VIII (almost immediately after which he was exiled) he may well have followed the pilgrimage route known as the Via Francigena, first traveled by Sigeric, the Archbishop of Canterbury in 990, through France and down through western Italy. It is still traveled today. Countless pilgrims passing through Viterbo may have stopped at the nearby springs to refresh themselves with a hot bath, and Dante may have done the same. (Some less pious pilgrims might have visited the brothels which had their own tributaries to add to the comfort of their patrons!) Back at the river of boiling blood, Virgil points Dante’s attention to another marvel: the steam from the boiling blood rises above the channel and extinguishes the flames raining down above it, making it safe for the travelers to walk carefully along its bank. |
| ↑9 | The reference to Crete as “a kind of wasteland” was common in Dante’s day, and his early commentators validated this view, some noting how the Venetian occupation of the island, in particular, did little to preserve its pristine past. That it was “like a paradise” refers to legends of the Golden Age, the Age of Innocence, when Cronus/Saturn was king of the world. Mount Ida is the highest mountain on the island and was sacred to Rhea/Cybele, one of the earliest Titans, sister and wife of Saturn, and mother of the earliest of the Greek gods. It had been prophesied to Saturn that one of his children would dethrone him, so he ate each of them when they were born. Zeus/Jupiter was the sixth child of Saturn and was hidden by his mother in a cave on Mount Ida. As Virgil tells Dante, Saturn never found the child because Rhea’s servants (the Corybantes) would scream and make noise when the baby cried. In fulfillment of the prophecy, Zeus later dethroned his father. Neither Virgil nor Dante elaborate on the Age of Innocence, but the poet banks on the fact that his reader would know that it was a time of peace and morality – virtues absent both here in Hell and among its inhabitants – not to mention the inhabitants of Florence at Dante’s time. |
| ↑10 | Here, now, Virgil satisfies Dante’s curiosity with a wonderful story about the origin of the Four Rivers of Hell, the most elaborate symbol in all of the Inferno. It may be that Dante chooses Crete as his site here because it was, in ancient times, considered to be the center of the known world and, according to Anchises (father of Aeneas) in Virgil’s Aeneid (III:104ff): “Crete lies in the midst of the sea, the island of mighty Jove, where Mount Ida is, the cradle of our race,” namely the Trojans. We already know about Mt. Ida from above. It may be that the great statue of this old man was in the same cave used by Rhea to protect the child Zeus. That it stands in darkness is symbolic of sin and evil. Nevertheless, the positioning of the statue is significant in that its back is turned on the “old (pagan) world” represented by Egypt (Damietta in some translations), and it faces the center of the “new (Christian) world,” Rome – earlier seat of the Empire and now center of the Christian Church. Dante borrows this image of the statue from both Ovid’s Metamorphoses (Bk.I) and the Book of Daniel in the Old Testament (2:32-34). He generally follows the biblical narrative, but adds a few details of his own. The different metals in Dante’s interpretation (following Ovid) represent the various ages of humankind, starting with the golden age of innocence (the head). In the Bible, the metals represent the great kingdoms of the ancient East. While the biblical text represents the legs of iron and the feet partly iron and partly clay (a symbol of weakness), Dante adjusts this making the left foot iron and the right of terra cotta. These feet are two “kingdoms,” if you will – the left one the Holy Roman Empire, and the right one the Church. Interestingly, this right foot is more fragile than the left but it carries much more weight. The tears of woe are not mentioned in the biblical story, but they are added here by Dante. They mar the statue from the shoulders down suggesting the progressive degradation of humanity from the time of its original innocence. Flowing down through Mt. Ida, these symbols of woe appropriately flow through Hell where they become the Acheron, the Styx, and the Phlegethon, until they arrive at the bottom and freeze in the lake of Cocytus, the home of Lucifer. In even grander symbolic forms, this great statue represents a history of the world, and Time itself. |
| ↑11 | Dante anticipates the reader’s question, and Virgil obliges by giving us a few more cues about the geography of Hell. One can imagine how wide the mouth of Hell is if, after quite a bit of traveling, we still haven’t made a complete circuit. A fascinating point: some interpreters and mathematicians have attempted to calculate the dimensions of Dante’s Hell at its top. Galileo’s 7,000 miles seems greatly exaggerated, while others have been considerably less so. As for “moving to the left,” counterclockwise, there is symbolism to this. “Left” implies how it translates into Latin: sinister, as opposed to dexter. In Hell, the realm of evil, it’s appropriate that, with two exceptions, the travelers move to the left. |
| ↑12 | The hydraulic system of Hell’s rivers is not always straightforward, as this dialogue reveals. Obviously, there are some underground connections. Here, for example, the boiling waters of the Phlegathon surfaced earlier in this canto in the form of a boiling stream that wanders across the burning plain: it reminded Dante of the hot, reddish spring waters at the spa of Bulicame. At the same time, knowing his classical literature well, Dante correctly questions the whereabouts of the Lethe (river of forgetfulness), one of the rivers in the mythical underworld that Virgil seems to have omitted. But his mentor tells him, without any additional explanation, that it will appear in Purgatory. It should also be noted, with some fascination, that there are other “streams” of interpretation that point quite clearly to the fact that there is really only one river in Hell, the Acheron – formed by the great statue’s tears – that takes on different names as it flows down to the bottom. They all end up in the Phlegethon which ultimately creates Cocytus at the bottom. |