Dante continues his conversation with Forese as they walk along. When Dante asks who are some of the souls there among the gluttons, Forese points out several. Dante has a conversation about his poetry with Bonagiunta from Lucca. Later, Forese makes a dark prophecy about Florence and then runs on with the rest of the sinners. Soon, the travelers come upon another great tree in their path. It warns them away, saying it is an offshoot of the one from which Eve ate the forbidden fruit. The canto ends with Dante’s encounter with a flaming red angel who directs them to the stairs.
(To read a footnote, click the number in the text. To come back from a footnote, click the up arrow at the note number.)
We continued to talk and walk at a good pace, like ships driven by fair winds. At the same time, we passed throngs of corpse-looking shades who, with their deep-sunken eyes, stared at me–the living man.[1]The image here is one of quick and pleasant sailing as Dante compares his walking and talking with Forese Donati to ships at sea. At the same time, this is countered by the sight of a great many … Continue reading
Continuing to answer his question about Statius, I said to Forese: “He’s probably moving more slowly because Virgil is there with him. But let me ask you, where is Piccarda, and are there any other souls I should know among those here with you?”[2]At the end of the previous canto, Forese had asked Dante to tell him about himself and he noted that he was being led by Virgil, who had, only a few days before, saved him from the dark forest at the … Continue reading
“My lovely sister, who was so virtuous, is now crowned in triumph on High Olympus.”[3]Piccarda is now in Paradise, and we will meet her there in Canto 3. As a teenager, she entered the convent of the Sisters of St. Clare of Assisi at Monticelli near Florence. Later, her wicked older … Continue reading And then he added, “I see no reason why I should withhold the names of others here with me, especially since we’re all hardly recognizable.”[4]There is a gentle humor in these lines. One could imagine Forse looking around and telling Dante: “Well, since we’re all virtually unrecognizable, there’s probably no harm in telling you who … Continue reading Pointing, he continued: “Over there is Bonagiunta from Lucca. And that one behind him, with the face withered worse than everyone else–he was Pope Martin IV, a glutton for Bolsena eels cooked in Vernaccia wine.”
After that, he named several others there, and none of them seemed to mind being identified. Two souls, Ubaldino della Pila and Archbishop Boniface, seemed to be so hungry they were chewing the air! And there were other notorious gluttons, like Milord Marchese from Forlì, whose insatiable thirst–though less than here–led him to drink constantly, saying he was never satisfied.[5]Five gluttonous penitents are named here. The first is Bonagiunta Orbicciani degli Overardi from Lucca (25 miles west of Florence). He was a noted poet, and several of his works survive today. He … Continue reading
Once in a while, as you know, one will take note of a particular face in a crowd. I did that here, with the shade of Bonagiunta, who appeared as though he wished to talk with me.[6]This is Bonagiunta Orbicciani degli Overardi from Lucca, noted above, and the first of the souls that Forese identified for Dante. From his thin, dry lips–made so by justice–I heard him mumble a name–it sounded like “Gentucca.” So, I said to him, “O soul, please speak to me as you wish so that we can both be satisfied.”
“There is a young woman in my city,” he replied. “She is unmarried, and she will make my city pleasing to you, though most others revile it. Remember this. And if what I tell you now is unclear, my words will become clear in the future.[7]First of all, these words seem to represent a kind of veiled prophecy. And we know that Dante uses this device on occasion to indicate something that “will happen” after the year 1300, the year … Continue reading
But let me ask you: aren’t you the one who wrote the new poems, the first one beginning, ‘Ladies who have intelligence of Love?’”
I replied, smiling: “When Love inspires me, I take careful note of it, and then write down what he speaks to me in my heart.”
“Now it becomes clear to me,” he said, “what held Guittone, Lentini, and me back from writing in that sweet new style I hear. I see how the wings of your poetry follow the lead of Love, which couldn’t be said about ours. No one can see the difference between the two styles more than I.” Happy with what he said, he moved on.[8]Let us remember, first of all, that Bonagiunta already knew Dante, and his words here aren’t so much an interrogation as they are a way of expressing praise for Dante’s creation of something … Continue reading [9]Grasping the full picture of Dante’s place in Italian poetry among his contemporaries–including those who came before and after him–is a challenging undertaking. I include here C.H. … Continue reading
As birds that spend the winter in southern climes fly up together, but then form a single line, so that crowd of hungry shades lined up and sped away, light in their leanness and desire.[10]This is an interesting image to follow upon Dante’s “flying” poetry. The birds (cranes) that line up are an image of the poets who learn from and follow their leader–in this case Dante. But like an exhausted runner who will slow down and let the rest pass him until he recovers his breath, so Forese let that holy group run past him as he moved along at my pace.[11]We have spent so much time with Bonagiunta and his contemporary poets that we have nearly forgotten Dante’s close friend, Forese. Is he really winded like a long-distance runner, or does he let the … Continue reading
“When will we meet again?” he asked.
“Well,” I replied, “I don’t know how much longer I will live. But I can tell you that my heart will have reached the shore below before I do, because my Florence, stripped of every virtue, is doomed to destroy itself.”[12]Forese’s question is somewhat unexpected because it implies Dante’s death, but this is candor among close friends who haven’t seen each other in some time, and who haven’t forgotten each … Continue reading
“Yes,” he agreed. “And I see the one most to blame being dragged behind a beast and thrown down into Hell! That terrible creature runs faster and faster until it throws its rider off, mangled horribly!”[13]As a reminder here, Dante’s wife, Gemma, was a Donati, and related to Forese’s family. Forese, one of Dante’s closest friends is here in Purgatory. His lovely sister, Piccarda, is in Heaven. … Continue reading
Then, as he looked up into the sky, he added: “Those great wheels won’t turn much more before my dark words will be made plain for you. But now, I must depart. In this realm, time is precious to us, and I have spent too much of it just walking along with you.”[14]Here is a constant theme in Purgatory: Don’t waste time.
Sometimes a horseman will rush off from his troop to have the honor of attacking the enemy first. That was Forese as he raced off, leaving me with those two great poet-souls. And when he was so far away that I couldn’t see him any better than I could make sense of what he had told me, I stopped looking.[15]As though validating Forese’s need to waste no more time talking, Dante pulls this image out of his military service to emphasize Forese’s need to speed up and his own return to the progress of … Continue reading
But then–suddenly–I realized that there was another great tree in the road ahead of us, lush and filled with fruit. Beneath it, however, I saw shades with their arms outstretched toward those loaded branches, crying out like foolish greedy children. It looked as though they were begging from someone who, instead of feeding them, held what they wanted in full view but wouldn’t give it to them. Those beggars gave up and ran off.[16]As the three poets continue walking around this terrace and Dante loses sight of Forese, they come upon a second tree in the middle of their path. Unlike the first tree they had encountered, this one … Continue reading
As we approached that great tree, moved neither by prayers or tears, a stern voice came out from its branches, saying: “Move on! Do not come near. There is a tree farther up that gave its fruit to Eve. This is a shoot from its root.” We did what we were commanded, and moved away quickly, staying close to the wall of the cliff.[17]Unlike the previous tree, note that with this second one the sinners are not allowed to approach it. Here there is also a mysterious voice that shoos everyone away. Even more fascinating is that this … Continue reading
But then the voice continued: “Remember those drunken centaurs, whose mother was a cloud, and who battled against Theseus at the wedding feast. Remember those Hebrew soldiers who abandoned caution when drinking from the river. Gideon expelled them from his army.” Thus we heard examples of gluttony as we walked on, and saw how those sinners had to pay for their sin.[18]The mysterious voice in this second tree now recounts two more examples that act as “reins” against the sin of gluttony: one is from classical literature, the other is from the Hebrew Bible. … Continue reading
Having left the tree behind us, each of us walked on quietly, deep in our thoughts. But we hadn’t gone too far when, suddenly, a different voice called out to us: “You three there! What are you thinking as you walk along?”[19]As we will see in a moment, this new voice belongs to the Angel of Temperance. His question is most likely intended to bring the threesome out of their thoughts and to pay attention to their journey. … Continue reading
I was startled by this and looked around to see who had spoken. I cannot ever recall seeing molten glass or metal in a furnace so brilliantly red as the one standing there, saying: “Turn here if you seek the way up. Here is the path for those who would find peace.”
Blinded as I was by such an apparition, I turned back to my guides and walked behind them, directed by the words I had just heard. As the gentle breezes announce the dawn in May, filled with the fragrance of the grass and flowers, so I now felt that breeze against my face. And sensing the rich aroma of ambrosia, I felt myself touched by wings. Then I heard that great angel speak: “Blessed are those so filled with grace, who strive not to satisfy their appetites, but hunger instead for righteousness.”[20]The reader will want to keep Dante’s description of this angel in mind as we proceed along the next terrace. The Poet probably has in mind here the images of angels in both the Book of Daniel in … Continue reading
Notes & Commentary
| ↑1 | The image here is one of quick and pleasant sailing as Dante compares his walking and talking with Forese Donati to ships at sea. At the same time, this is countered by the sight of a great many gluttonous sinners whose punishment here has literally left them nothing but skin and bones. Appearing nearly dead, the “corpse-looking” penitents can’t help but stare from their sunken eyes at the still-living Poet who seems self-conscious in his full corporeality. |
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| ↑2 | At the end of the previous canto, Forese had asked Dante to tell him about himself and he noted that he was being led by Virgil, who had, only a few days before, saved him from the dark forest at the beginning of the Inferno. Accompanying them was Statius, whose time in Purgatory had now come to an end–marked by the great earthquake. But Dante is more interested in the whereabouts of Forese’s lovely sister, Piccarda and the identity of other souls there with him. |
| ↑3 | Piccarda is now in Paradise, and we will meet her there in Canto 3. As a teenager, she entered the convent of the Sisters of St. Clare of Assisi at Monticelli near Florence. Later, her wicked older brother, Corso, leader of the Black Guelfs, forced her out of the convent in order to marry her to his chief henchman, Rosselliono della Tosa. (According to Dorothy Sayers, she had been previously engaged to him.) She died shortly after the wedding. Robert Hollander’s commentary here notes a connection between Piccarda, Pia de’ Tolomei (Purg. 3), and Francesca da Rimini (Inf. 5)–all of whom had been forced into undesirable marriages.
Note also how Dante subtly links his epic poem with those of classical times by Forese’s telling him that Piccarda is “crowned in triumph on High Olympus.” |
| ↑4 | There is a gentle humor in these lines. One could imagine Forse looking around and telling Dante: “Well, since we’re all virtually unrecognizable, there’s probably no harm in telling you who everyone is.” |
| ↑5 | Five gluttonous penitents are named here. The first is Bonagiunta Orbicciani degli Overardi from Lucca (25 miles west of Florence). He was a noted poet, and several of his works survive today. He died in 1297. Dante may have known him personally, but he did criticize the rather formal style of his work in De Vulgari Eloquentia (I,XIII,1ff):
“After this, we come to the Tuscans, who, rendered senseless by some aberration of their own, seem to lay claim to the honour of possessing the illustrious vernacular. And it is not only the common people who lose their heads in this fashion, for we find that a number of famous men have believed as much: like Guittone d’Arezzo, who never even aimed at a vernacular worthy of the court, or Bonagiunta da Lucca, or Gallo of Pisa, or Mino Mocato of Siena, or Brunetto the Florentine, all of whose poetry, if there were space to study it closely here, we would find to be fitted not for a court but at best for a city council.” Benvenuto da Imola, in his commentary, says this of Bonagiunta: The next gluttonous penitent Forese points out is the soul of Pope Martin IV (1281-1285). He was French and most likely owed his election to the papacy to the (nefarious?) influence of Charles of Anjou. Forese’s side remark is all we need to understand why he might be here: his rich diet of eels from Lake Bolsena (110 miles north of Rome) and Vernaccia di San Gimignano (a classy and still popular Italian white wine) probably did him in. Martin IV succeeded Nicholas III (whom we find in Hell in Canto 19). Martin also made Benedetto Caetani a cardinal, who later became Pope Boniface VIII, Dante’s great nemesis. Perhaps the worst thing he did was to excommunicate the Greek emperor, Michael VIII Palaeologus during the first year of his pontificate. This destroyed the possibility of a union between the Eastern and Western Churches. In his commentary, Hollander asks the question why Dante places Martin here in Purgatory. He answers by suggesting that, following Nicholas III’s terribly nepotistic reign, Martin put an end–temporarily–to the practice of simony in the papacy. Interestingly, in the Italian Dante uses the word trapunto to describe Martin, noting his terribly withered face. The term actually has two uses. One has to do with his marked and shriveled face and the other with embroidery or needlework. The latter is a subtle reference to the elaborate robes worn by the pope compared here with this pope’s skin hanging off his bones. Dante himself names the next three souls. That none of them seem to mind is a definite contrast to souls in Hell who did not want to be identified. And, as some commentators note, seeing their names may elicit prayers from the living and expedite their sufferings. The first in this group is Ubaldino della Pila. He was a knight and a member of the Ubaldini family of Florence. His brother was Cardinal Ottaviano, placed among the Epicureans with Farinata in Canto 10 of the Inferno. He was also the father of Archbishop Ruggieri of Pisa, who betrayed Count Ugolino da Gherardesca, and whose brains Ugolino now feasts on at the bottom of Hell in Inferno Canto 33. After the famous Battle of Montaperti in 1260, it was Ubaldino who pushed for the destruction of Florence, but was stopped by Farinata degli Uberti (Inf. 10). Obviously, Ubaldino was known as a glutton, for which he had a widespread reputation. At the same time, he was also noted for his culinary acumen and inventive recipes. He died in 1291. He and the next glutton Dante mentions, are seen here in such straits of starvation that they chomp at the air–a kind of pantomime of eating. Dante takes this image from Ovid’s Metamorphoses (VIII, 824ff) and the story of the punishment of Erysichthon, noted toward the beginning of the last canto: “[He] reaches for the food as he dreams its image, moves his lips in vain and grinds tooth against tooth; his deceived throat tries to swallow the nonexistent food, and instead of a banquet he devours thin air.” Next in this group is Boniface, Archbishop of Ravenna. He was probably the very wealthy Bonifazio dei Fieschi of Genoa. One of the symbols of the bishop’s office is the large shepherd’s crook that he carries in formal settings and processions. It symbolizes the bishop’s role as a shepherd of souls. Dante, in the Italian, sarcastically plays with the words here and suggests that Boniface was more of a “shepherd to the bellies rather than the souls of his archdiocese” (Ciardi). At the same time, there appears to be no historical evidence that Boniface was glutton! He died in 1295. What was Dante up to? Finally, there is Milord Marchese degli Argugliosi from Forlì (about 20 miles southwest of Ravenna). As noted, he was reputed to be an insatiable drinker. Otherwise we have hardly any information about him, except that the was the Podestà of Faenza (just north of Forlì) in 1296, and is said to have died some time after that. |
| ↑6 | This is Bonagiunta Orbicciani degli Overardi from Lucca, noted above, and the first of the souls that Forese identified for Dante. |
| ↑7 | First of all, these words seem to represent a kind of veiled prophecy. And we know that Dante uses this device on occasion to indicate something that “will happen” after the year 1300, the year in which he sets the Poem.
Dante’s mention of Bonagiunta’s “thin, dry lips” is clever, because the lips (and mouth) would play an important role in the sin of gluttony. Thus, a much reduced mouth would be part of the contrapasso here. Lucca, it will be remembered from Canto 21 in the Inferno, was apparently noted for the crime of graft. Thus Bonagiunta remarks that some might revile the city because of its bad reputation. As for Gentucca, the identification of this person (or thing?) has plagued commentators for generations, not helped by the fact that Dante tells us that Bonagiunta murmured the word. It might be a crude play on the Italian word for people, gente, implying that they are country bumpkins. But most commentators suggest that it refers to an unidentified gentlewoman who offered Dante hospitality when he passed through Luccan territory early on in his exile. And generally discounted as specious is the hypothesis that she was a woman with whom Dante had a sexual dalliance. “The author [Dante] pretends he does not understand, because, according to the fiction he has created, the things predicted and announced here have not yet taken place, i.e., that he would be banished from Florence to Lucca and that he would fall in love there with a gentle lady called Gentucca. This had happened before the author wrote this part: the author, in Lucca because he was unable to remain in Florence, fell in love with a gentle lady called Madonna Gentucca, of the Rossimpelo family. He loved her for the great virtue and honesty that were in her, not with any other love.” |
| ↑8 | Let us remember, first of all, that Bonagiunta already knew Dante, and his words here aren’t so much an interrogation as they are a way of expressing praise for Dante’s creation of something quite new in poetic expression. “Ladies who have intelligence of Love,” is the centerpiece poem in Dante’s Vita Nuova. Ronald Martinez notes here that for Dante, this poem represented “the major turning point in his early poetry, from self-regarding poetry to the poetry of praise.” Robert Hollander notes that Dante may have included this brief encounter with Bonagiunta in order to highlight (advertise?) his own poetical work. Later, he writes: “Dante composed this poem around 1289. From this remark, we learn at least one important thing. Whatever the determining features of Dante’s new poetry, it was different–at least according to him, using Bonagiunta as his mouthpiece–from all poetry written before it, including Dante’s own….It seems clear that Dante’s absolute and precise purpose is to rewrite the history of Italian lyric, including that of his own poems, so that it fits his current program.”
In this poem, which is the subject of the conversation here, Dante had made a distinct turn from the traditional notion of love as sensual or erotic love to something definitely more spiritual–the Holy Spirit of God. This Spirit “in-spires” (breathes into) the poet with an understanding of love which is elevated and which strives, in this case with words, to reflect the highest Good, the beauty of the divine Creator who infuses all creation with love. This becomes his new way of writing poetry–his dolce stil novo. And Bonagiunta happily recognizes how profound and effective it is compared with his own style (the criticism of which I noted earlier). Bonagiunta also mentions two notable fellow poets who, along with him, failed to see the direction Dante’s poetry was taking: Giacomo da Lentini (d. 1250) and Guittone d’Arezzo (d. 1294). According to Charles Singleton, both poets belonged to what was known of the “Sicilian” school of poetry (recall Pier delle Vigne in Canto 13 of the Inferno who was also of that school). Lentini (called “the Notary”) studied in Bologna and lived in Tuscany where he was regarded as the chief of the lyric poets before Guittone. Mark Musa writes that Lentini is credited with being the probable inventor of the sonnet. As for Guittone, we know little about him except that he was born at Santa Firminia near Arezzo, lived in Florence, and was probably known by Dante. Musa again notes that “he was responsible for establishing the Sicilian mode of poetry in Tuscany, though he often outdid his predecessors in employing difficult technical devices in his poems.” Around the time Dante was born (1265), Guittone seems to have undergone a religious conversion, left the world and his family, and joined the order of the Frati Gaudenti (which accepted married men and women). He wrote religious poetry after this, and in 1293 was one of the founders of the monastery of Santa Maria degli Angioli in Florence. He died the following year. Finally, where Bonagiunta tells Dante, “I see how the wings of your poetry follow the lead of Love,” the Italian word for wings or feathers (penne) can also mean pens. The implication here is that as a poet Dante is not only Love’s scribe, but that his poetry, inspired by Love, actually “flies.” This, Bonagiunta peacefully admits, doesn’t happen with his, Lentini’s, or Guittone’s poetry. |
| ↑9 | Grasping the full picture of Dante’s place in Italian poetry among his contemporaries–including those who came before and after him–is a challenging undertaking. I include here C.H. Grandgent’s summary in his commentary on this canto because it is easy to understand and goes directly to the heart of the matter at this point in Dante’s conversation with Forese.
“When Dante wrote the first canzone of the Vita Nuova, “Ye ladies who understand what love is,” he felt that he was inaugurating a new era in poetry. The prose introduction to the verses testifies to the solemnity of the event. Following in part the indications of his master, Guido Guinizzelli of Bologna (XXVI, 91-102), and strongly influenced in style by Virgil (Inf. I, 85-87), the youthful poet was creating–or renewing–a type of composition based directly upon truth, inspired by, and faithfully recording, the author’s own emotions and the fruits of his eager study (V. N., XLII, 1-2). In Dante’s opinion, his Italian forerunners and probably (in spite of frequent protestations of sincerity) their Provençal forbears had regarded poetry as a rhetorical, metrical, and musical exercise, a working out of old themes in new keys, with fresh variations of technique; while the “sweet new style” of the young Florentine made rhetoric, meter, and music subservient to the expression of real thought and feeling. For him, amore meant not only love, but also the enthusiastic pursuit of knowledge (Conv., II, xv, 10). The phrase dolce stil nuovo is nowadays employed rather loosely to designate all the work of a little group comprising Guido Cavalcanti, Lapo Gianni, Dante Alighieri, and Cino da Pistoia, who are mentioned together in De Vulgari Eloquentia, I, xiii, 3, as experts in the vulgar tongue; but as our author uses it in Canto 24, it evidently refers only to the maturer lyric product of Dante himself and those who followed him–perhaps excluding Cavalcanti, who did not share in the cult of Virgil (Inf. X, 62-63). Italy had already seen in the 13th century more than one glorious artificer of modern speech: Giacomo da Lentini–or, as he signed himself, “the Notary”–a secretary at the court of Frederick II, a prolific and versatile composer, perhaps the inventor of the sonnet, leader of the Sicilian school (Vulg. El., I, xii, 2-4), to which Pier delle Vigne (Inf. XIII) belonged; Guittone d’Arezzo (Vulg. El.; I, xiii, i; Purg. xxvi, 124), an ingenious but uninspired and laborious love poet and a rugged satirist, the chief of the early Tuscan versifiers; and his follower, Bonagiunta Obricciani of Lucca (Vulg. El., I, xiii, i), a not altogether servile imitator of Provençal and Italian models. But they and their fellows substituted convention for introspection, and this fundamental error, from which all their faults of conception and diction derived, was the “knot” that bound them, keeping them always “on the hither side” of the heights scaled by unfettered genius. Of the comparative importance of substance and form Dante speaks in the Convivio, II, Xi, 4: “La bontade e la bellezza di ciascuno sermone sono intra loro partite e diverse; the la bontade e ne la sentenza, e la bellezza e ne l’ornamento dele parole; e l’una e 1′ altra e con diletto, avv:egna chela bontade sia massirnamente dilettosa.” (“Thus I state here that the virtue and the beauty of a discourse are separate things, and differ from one another; for virtue lies in the meaning, and beauty in the adornment of words; and both give pleasure, but virtue is especially pleasing.”)” |
| ↑10 | This is an interesting image to follow upon Dante’s “flying” poetry. The birds (cranes) that line up are an image of the poets who learn from and follow their leader–in this case Dante. |
| ↑11 | We have spent so much time with Bonagiunta and his contemporary poets that we have nearly forgotten Dante’s close friend, Forese. Is he really winded like a long-distance runner, or does he let the other souls run ahead so that he can speak a bit more with Dante? I suspect the latter motive. |
| ↑12 | Forese’s question is somewhat unexpected because it implies Dante’s death, but this is candor among close friends who haven’t seen each other in some time, and who haven’t forgotten each other. At the same time, the question gives Dante an opportunity to poke at the corruption of Florence, which he hasn’t done in quite a while. And he answers Forese’s question in a curious way: his heart will have reached the shore of Purgatory before he actually dies. Obviously, he feels a certainty that he will be saved. Not out of pride (though he said earlier that he would most likely spend time on that circle below), but because of his special journey through the afterlife. In a sense, his reply is also a dark reference to his exile, which is a kind of death. And Florence itself is dying from within. Similar to, but not exactly, Florence’s inner corruption is eating it away from within till, like the gluttons here, it is virtually a shadow of itself, and hardly recognizable compared to what it was. |
| ↑13 | As a reminder here, Dante’s wife, Gemma, was a Donati, and related to Forese’s family. Forese, one of Dante’s closest friends is here in Purgatory. His lovely sister, Piccarda, is in Heaven. And all that’s left now is to hear about his evil older brother, Corso.
Dante did not encounter Corso Donati in Hell, but Forese definitely puts him there, laying much of the evil that had befallen Florence at Corso’s feet. In the end, he got what he deserved. Here’s the background. Corso was the leader of the Black Guelfs in Florence. In 1301 he persuaded Pope Boniface VIII (some suggest that he is the “beast” Corso is dragged behind) to send Charles of Valois (brother of the King of France) into Florence under the guise of keeping the peace between the warring factions. Charles entered the city with his French troops, but only for a short time. In the mean time, Corso, with a vicious band of Black party thugs, came into Florence shortly after Charles and set out on a five-day rampage, opening the prisons, murdering members of the White Guelf party, burning and sacking their property, and sending them into exile. Charles did nothing to stop this and left the city. Dante, in fact, was in Rome at this time and was subsequently exiled in absentia. In the next several years, Corso attempted to bribe and corrupt his way to supreme leadership of the Black Guelfs and lord of Florence. But his arrogance caught up with him. He never achieved the supreme leadership, but was, instead, condemned to death for treason by his own party in 1308. They had had enough of him. At this point, there are different accounts of how Corso met his terrible end, some more delicious than others. Following his condemnation, Corso seems to have escaped, but was then chased and caught up with. The famed chronicler, Giovanni Villani, has several entries in his Cronica about these events. His account is probably the most accurate. He writes: “Messer Corso, who had fled alone, was overtaken and captured at Rovezzano [a suburb southeast of Florence] by certain Catalan horsemen. They were taking him prisoner to Florence and were near San Salvi, when he begged them to let him go, promising large sums of money in return. But those men were determined to take him back to Florence, as they had been ordered to do by the priors. Because he was so afraid of falling into the hands of his enemies and being executed by the people, Messer Corso, being badly afflicted with gout in his hands and feet, let himself fall from his horse. Seeing him on the ground, one of the Catalans thrust a lance through his throat, dealing him a mortal blow; and they left him for dead.” Another account has Corso falling from his horse while he was being pursued and stabbed in the throat by his pursuers. Yet another one has it that he fell from his horse, but his foot caught in a stirrup and he was dragged, mangled, and kicked to death by the horse. In some places, as a matter of fact, being dragged to death by a horse was the punishment of traitors. Then there are also legends of evil people being dragged down into Hell by wild horses. Regardless, the evil Corso met his death on October 6, 1308. And remembering that Dante sets his Poem in the Spring of 1301, Forese’s narrative is a kind of “prophecy” that avenges Dante for what happened to him at the hands of his brother. |
| ↑14 | Here is a constant theme in Purgatory: Don’t waste time. |
| ↑15 | As though validating Forese’s need to waste no more time talking, Dante pulls this image out of his military service to emphasize Forese’s need to speed up and his own return to the progress of his journey. Dante has in mind a passage from St. Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians (9:24f): “Do you not know that the runners in the stadium all run in the race, but only one wins the prize? Run so as to win. Every athlete exercises discipline in every way. They do it to win a perishable crown, but we an imperishable one.” Then, With Virgil and Statius–those great poet-souls–in the lead again, Dante seems happy to follow along behind them.
At the same time, he/we have to deal with Forese’s prophecy. Dante seems to be saying that as long as he could see Forese in the distance, he could grasp something of the meaning of his prophecy. But when he lost sight of his friend, he became clueless as to Forese’s meaning. This makes sense, of course, because Dante could not have known about the circumstances of Corso’s death eight years hence. It is quite probable that the Poet does this to subtly reinforce the fact that he has set the Comedy several years before he’s actually writing it. |
| ↑16 | As the three poets continue walking around this terrace and Dante loses sight of Forese, they come upon a second tree in the middle of their path. Unlike the first tree they had encountered, this one doesn’t seem to be “upside down” and splashed with water from above (though there are a few commentators who argue that this tree is identical to the earlier one). At the same time, like the first tree it is laden with delicious-looking fruit which amplifies the gluttons’ hunger. Dante sees them standing by the tree with arms outstretched as though they were begging–from someone who wouldn’t give them anything. The hungry sinners give up and run away. Note, by the way, that Forese is not among these sinners. He’s most likely making up for lost time.
Painful as it may be, being sent away from the tree strengthens the sinners’ resolve to “grow up” and continue their penance. The reference to “foolish greedy children” harkens back to Dante’s Convivio (IV.xii.16) where he writes: “”Thus we see little children setting their desire first of all on a fruit, and then, growing older, desiring to possess a little bird, and then still later desiring to possess fine clothes, then a horse, and then a woman, and then modest wealth, then greater riches, and then still more.” Since this terrace is closer to the top of the Mountain of Purgatory, it is smaller than all those below it. This being the case, though it seems obvious, part of the gluttons’ contrapasso is to repeat this ritual at the forbidden trees again and again. One might imagine a newly-arrived soul who is quite fat starting their rounds and, being refused food and drink at every turn, they quickly become thinner and thinner until, as Dante describes them, they’re nothing but skin and bones. |
| ↑17 | Unlike the previous tree, note that with this second one the sinners are not allowed to approach it. Here there is also a mysterious voice that shoos everyone away. Even more fascinating is that this tree identifies itself as an offshoot of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil in the Garden of Eden from which Eve ate the forbidden fruit. We can safely assume that the first tree we encountered was an offshoot of the Tree of Life–the other tree in the Garden. (Note that in Dante’s construction of the Mountain of Purgatory the Garden of Eden is at the top.)
It might also be noted here that there are some commentators who suggest that the entire Terrace of the Gluttons is populated with trees that both entice the sinners and send them away unfulfilled, not just the two that Dante mentions specifically. Nevertheless, the fact that Dante mentions only two suggests strongly that he wants to maintain the symbolic connection between Eden and this particular terrace. John Ciardi makes this clear in his commentary here: “The first admonition cites the downfall of Eve (aptly cited from an offshoot of the original tree). Gluttony, in Dante’s view, is sinful because it rejects God in favor of appetite: the Glutton thinks of his belly rather than of his soul. Eve’s act is, therefore, the supreme Gluttony in that it lost God to all mankind until the coming of Christ.” Further admonitions (“reins”) against gluttony follow. |
| ↑18 | The mysterious voice in this second tree now recounts two more examples that act as “reins” against the sin of gluttony: one is from classical literature, the other is from the Hebrew Bible.
The first example is from Ovid’s Metamorphoses (XII:210-535), a scene of chaos, blood and guts 300 lines long that erupts at a wedding party. (And we moderns think complaints about wedding guests’ misbehavior are shocking!) This admonition from the tree basically centers around the marriage of Pirithous, King of the Lapiths, and Hippodamia, daughter of the King of the Grecian city of Pisa. Pirithous invited his best friend, the famous Theseus (who captured the Minotaur). Unfortunately, he also invited his cousins, the centaurs: half-men, half horses, who were descended from Ixion, Pirithous’s father, and Nephele, a cloud-goddess. They were noted for being crude and barbaric. The wedding feast descended into chaos when the centaurs became wildly drunk. Eurytus, half-brother of Pirithous, and wildest of the centaurs, attempted to carry off Hippodamia to rape her. His brother centaurs attempted the same with the other women present. The women were rescued, but a fight of epic proportions ensued and the centaurs were defeated. (Interestingly, some scholars suggest that this story is Ovid’s “spoof” on the Trojan War as nothing but a big wedding fight! One can hear the purists moaning.) On the surface, this story is a spur to greater temperance. But, as Ronald Martinez notes in his commentary, “The myth was a major example for the Greeks of the victory of reason over brute fury and violence; it was also represented in the pediment of the temple of Zeus at Olympia and elsewhere.” And recalling that centaurs are half human and half horse, their use in this story also amplifies the struggle between reason and the desires of the flesh. Of course, not all centaurs were bad. Chiron (see Inf.12) was noted as the wisest and most famous of the centaurs. He was the teacher of Achilles. The last admonition comes from the Hebrew Bible in Chapter 7 of the Book of Judges. In summary, Gideon was told by God to lead the Hebrew soldiers to drink from the River Jordan where he would decide which ones he would keep and which he would send home. Some soldiers kept their guard up and scooped the water into their hands and drank that way. The others abandoned their caution, immersed themselves in the river and drank that way. Gideon kept those who remained on guard. Mark Musa makes Dante’s point clear here: “Thus it is not only how much a person eats or drinks but also the manner in which God’s gifts are approached that determines the sin of gluttony. These soldiers who were chosen to go on possessed the virtue of restraint.” |
| ↑19 | As we will see in a moment, this new voice belongs to the Angel of Temperance. His question is most likely intended to bring the threesome out of their thoughts and to pay attention to their journey. Virgil and Statius have been silent throughout this entire canto, while Dante and Forese have done all the talking. And all that talking has left Dante with much to think about. |
| ↑20 | The reader will want to keep Dante’s description of this angel in mind as we proceed along the next terrace. The Poet probably has in mind here the images of angels in both the Book of Daniel in the Hebrew Bible and the Book of Revelation at the end of the New Testament. As on all the previous terraces, the angel shows the pilgrims the stairs upward and erases another (the sixth) P on Dante’s forehead as he passes. The search for peace noted by the angel highlights both the purpose of Purgatory (to rid the soul of sin, which leaves one without peace) and the purpose of the journey (to reach the blessed peace of Paradise). This encounter is also accompanied by a refreshing and fragrant springtime breeze which the reader will want to keep in mind as we move toward the top of the Mountain. The ambrosia, food of the gods, hints at the Bread of Angels (the Eucharist), the food of Paradise.
The final Beatitude, appropriate for the Terrace of Gluttony, echoes a similar passage at the beginning of Canto 22, and both are based on one of Jesus’s Beatitudes (verse 6) in Chapter 5 of St. Matthew’s Gospel. |