Purgatorio (109 page)

10–15.
   The woman, we learn from the preceding tercet, stammers, is crooked in her glance as well as in her extremities, and sickly in her complexion. That is her natural condition. Dante, in the logic of the dream, redresses each of these sets of flaws, making her speech fluent, straightening her limbs, and making her facial complexion the color that love desires to find in a woman (commentators debate whether this is red or white, but only since the time of Tommaseo [the early commentators do not treat the question]); Tommaseo (1837) opts for the darker hue (purple, red); Bianchi, citing
Vita nuova
XXXVI.1, where the “color of love” is the pallor Dante finds in the
donna gentile
, the woman who replaces dead Beatrice in his affections, chooses the lighter: white. While the commentators remain divided, opting for a shade of red, a whiteness, or a combination of the two (all of which may be found in the lengthy tradition of the “colors of love,” at least from Ovid onward), the context of
Vita nuova
, which sponsors pallor as the “color of love,” supports only the second possibility.
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16–18.
   That Dante’s glance has transformed her may further suggest that the song she sings is, in some sense, of his composition also, as was the tempting song sung by Casella (
Purg
. II.112), the second
canzone
included in Dante’s
Convivio
, addressed to the
donna gentile
(and not to Beatrice).

For the view that the
femmina balba
reflects not only the potentially various flesh-and-blood ladies of Dante’s sexual transgressions but also the
donna gentile
of
Convivio
, see Hollander (Holl.1969.1), pp. 136–44, 162–63. It seems more likely that Dante here means to refer to the first and carnal lady for whom he betrayed Beatrice, the lady of the last section of
Vita nuova
, the lady who, he later claimed, was only an allegory for the unchallengeably virtuous Lady Philosophy. Thus the main thrust of his self-correction is aimed at the straying recorded in the earlier work; but, naturally enough, it would also hold in contempt that later allegorized lady as well, also presented as an “enemy” of Beatrice in the first three treatises of
Convivio
. Both move the lover from affection for his true beloved in service of one far less worthy.
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20–21.
   The phrasing that expresses the Siren’s power over men may put us in mind of the condition of Dante in the opening verses of the poem, when he,
nel mezzo del cammin
, was off his course and resembled a sailor who had nearly drowned. Does he now see himself as having been seduced by a “siren”? Insofar as the she-wolf represents the sins of Incontinence, and thus, for Dante, lust (see note to
Inf
. I.32–54), the essential reason for his having lost the true way would now seem to be predominantly related to his sexual affections.
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22–24.
   A tormented tercet: what does
vago
mean? to whom or what does it refer? who is the
serena
who claims so to have held Ulysses’ attention? As Barbi (Barb.1934.1), p. 228, maintained, in this poem the adjective
vago
always (it is used thirteen other times) means
bramoso
(desirous of) and is, as here, used with the genitive (cf.
Purg
. XXVIII.1). Thus, while the commentators are divided roughly evenly, with more early ones opting for
vago
as modifying
cammin
(and meaning “wandering, indirect”), and more modern ones, beginning with Torraca (1905), believing that it modifies Ulysses (and means “eager”), one is more likely to be convinced, as was Mezzadroli (Mezz.1990.1), p. 29, that the context and Dante’s general practice allow us to resolve the first two questions as did Barbi (this woman drew Ulysses from the journey he was so eager to pursue). But what of this “Siren” who so beguiled Ulysses? Commentators have at times forgotten that Dante did not know Homer’s account (
Odyssey
XII.39–200) of Ulysses’ escape from the Sirens’ seductive wiles. We should probably understand, following Moore (Moor.1896.1) that, from Cicero’s
De finibus
V.xviii.48–49, Dante decided that Ulysses had indeed been tempted by the Sirens. In any case, that is how he has the Siren portray Ulysses, and he offers no textual support for any other view. For that matter, in Beatrice’s later opinion, Dante himself is seen in exactly the same light, as yielding to the temptation of the Sirens when he withdrew his attention from her in order to fall under the spell of another lady or ladies (
Purg
. XXXI.43–48).
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26–27.
   Attempting to identify this lady, Fedele Romani (Roma.1902.1), pp. 15–18, one hundred years ago opted for Beatrice, but has had few followers.

Among more recent proponents of Beatrice’s candidacy see Poletto (1894), who clearly prefers her as best fitting what happens in the poem, while ultimately not being quite certain, and Giacalone (1968), who offers the fullest and best defense of Beatrice as being the lady in question.
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28–30.
   If this is Beatrice, then it is hardly surprising that she would recognize Virgil, in the dreamer’s estimation, since he knows from what he was told in
Inferno
II.53 that Beatrice came to Virgil in Limbo. And as for the identity of the lady here, characterized as being “onesta” (virtuous), it is probably worth remembering that Beatrice is later compared to a “donna onesta” (chaste lady) in
Paradiso
XXVII.31.
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31–33.
   What is the subject of the verb
prendea
(seized)? Some have argued that it is the holy lady. A sense of grammatical structure indicates, instead, that it is Virgil, subject of the previous verb (
venìa
[came forward]) that is in parallel with it. Further, if the lady indeed represents Beatrice, it would be highly unlikely that she would do the dirty work herself. Just as she, in
Inferno
II, called on Virgil to make Dante aware of the foulness of the sins punished in hell, so now she stands to one side while Virgil reveals the noxious nature of her rival, the
femmina balba
.

The stench that arises from the naked belly of the
femmina
has, according to Hollander (Holl.1983.3), pp. 84–86, a familiar source, not one that must be sought in out-of-the-way medieval treatises, but in Virgil’s description of the Harpies in
Aeneid
III.216–218: “virginei volucrum vultus, foedissima ventris / proluvies, uncaeque manus, et pallida semper / ora fame” (maidenly of countenance, yet winged; most foul the discharge of their bellies; their hands taloned; their faces always pale with hunger). The particular similarity of the stinking bellies of Dante’s Siren and Virgil’s Harpies is surely striking. A further similarity lies in the purpose both creatures have in the works that contain them, which is to draw the hero away from his task, whether from proceeding to Italy or from pursuing Beatrice to a destination in Christ. In this sense both are counselors of despair. In Dante’s case, it is his duty to confess that he himself had created, out of what should have been repulsive, what he came to worship; out of a Harpy he had formed a Siren. Unlike Ulysses’ Siren, Dante’s
femme fatale
is not even beautiful to begin with. It is no wonder that she will be brought back into play in his worst moment of guilt in the entire poem when he is censured by Beatrice in
Purgatorio
XXXI.43–48, warning him not to be lured by the “Sirens” ever again.
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34–35.
   In Dante’s “Surgi e vieni” (Arise and come), Mattalia (1960) seems to have been the first commentator (and few have subsequently joined him) to hear what is clearly a biblical echo, even if his hearing is a little dull. He cites Matthew 9:5–6, where Jesus urges the paralyzed man to walk; perhaps more applicable is Matthew 26:36–46, where Jesus three times leaves his disciples in Gethsemane in order to pray in a place apart and three times comes back to find them sleeping, finally arousing them with “Surgite, eamus” (Rise, let us be going), for His betrayal (by Judas) is at hand. The rhythm of those three disheartening visits to those who should have been awake is preserved in Dante’s “Three times at least I’ve called you,” as was suggested in 1969 by two undergraduate students at Princeton, John Adams and Christopher McElroy. Lost in his dream, Dante is like the disciples who sleep while their Lord suffers alone.
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37–42.
   Dante has slept late, unsurprisingly, given his late-night activities on the terrace of Sloth (
Purg
. XVIII.76–78), and now finds the sun, at his back, risen above the horizon.
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43–45.
   The Angel of Zeal’s words (“Come, here is the passage”) may not be like any heard here on earth, but they do resemble those spoken by Beatrice when she was described by Virgil as being “soave e piana” (gentle and clear) in her speech (
Inf
. II.56), as Poletto (1894) suggested.
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49–51.
   The nine verses devoted to the presence of the angel here represent the briefest scene yet devoted to the interplay between angel and mortal (but see note to
Purg
. XXII.1–6). The Beatitude referred to, Matthew 5:4 (5:5 in the Vulgate), “Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted,” has caused some to wonder what specific relevance these words have to those formerly guilty of Sloth. Federigo Tollemache, “beatitudini evangeliche,”
ED
I (1970), p. 540b, explains that, given Thomas Aquinas’s definition (
ST
II.ii.35.2) of
accidia
as
tristitia de spirituali bono
(dejection over one’s spiritual health), the phrase “qui lugent” (those who mourn) is relevant. For the program of the Beatitudes in this
cantica
see the note to
Purgatorio
XII.110.
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52–60.
   The exchange clearly reflects that between Virgil and Dante in
Purgatorio
XV.120–126. Once again Virgil begins by asking Dante “che hai?” (what’s wrong?), not at first understanding his charge’s removal from present reality. Once again Dante insists on his other-mindedness. In the first instance Virgil quickly understood that Dante was having a visionary experience; now he becomes aware that Dante has been having a dream of what his guide’s words had prepared him for, coming to grips with the “good that fails to make men happy” (
Purg
. XVII.133).

Virgil’s formulation causes a problem for those who would argue that the holy lady is Beatrice, since it generalizes the nature of the lady who opposes the
femmina balba
and makes Dante’s dream applicable to all sinners, no others of whom, we may assume, are lovers of Beatrice. For this reason Parenti’s understanding (Pare.1996.1), pp. 62–63 (resuscitating Torraca’s opinion [1905]), that the holy lady equates with Charity, seems the most adequate solution, good love that operates against the forces of “the good that fails to make men happy” (
Purg
. XVII.133). Charity may well be the general meaning of the lady in the dream; for Dante, however, that theological virtue is the core of the meaning of Beatrice.
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63–69.
   Virgil’s metaphoric expression and the poet’s following simile return to falconry (see note to
Inf
. XVII.127–136), now in as central an image of the basic movement of the entire poem as may be found. Mortals look down, consumed by their own concerns, while God, the falconer, wheels his lure (the celestial heavens) around his “head,” thus drawing us back to Him. Dante had been looking at the earth (verse 52) and Virgil urges him to push off against it in order to move on (verse 61); in the simile the falcon, too, looks down, perhaps to see if he is still bound to the falconer’s wrist now that his hood has been removed (or merely in his habitual attitude, his head inclined downward, resting on his breast). Both bird and Dante, urged on, look up and travel upward, in Dante’s case by climbing through the passageway in the rock so that he may resume his circling of the mountain on his approach to God.

The image of the star-filled heavens as God’s lures for us, his falcons, is central to the progress of the poem that concludes each of its
cantiche
with the word
stelle
(stars).
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70–72.
   Dante’s arrival on the fifth terrace, that of Avarice and Prodigality, is immediately greeted by the sight of those who are purging themselves there, prostrate on the earth. This terrace is unique in that it is a stage for three increasingly lengthy conversations, first with a pope (Adrian V) in this canto, with a kingly figure (Hugh Capet) in the next, and finally with a poet (Statius) in XXI and XXII, a sample of callings that reflects Dante’s most pressing concerns: Church, empire, and letters.
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73–75.
   The penitents’ cries, muffled because they lie facedown on the floor of the terrace and are uttering them through painful sighs, are “my soul cleaves to the earth” (Psalm 118 [119]:25). The Ottimo (1333) connects this confessional outpouring with Virgil’s earlier remark to Dante (“Press your heels / into the ground” [verse 61]), thus suggesting that the avaricious repent their longing for the things of the earth, exactly what Virgil is urging Dante to do.
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