Dante's Divine Comedy: Purgatorio
Canto XXI
Dante and Virgil are walking along the Fifth Cornice when the spirit of the Latin poet Publius Papinius Statius catches up with them. He explains that Mount Purgatory shakes with joy every time a soul is released into Paradise. The latest trembling was for himself, risen after 500 years of lying prostrate among the Covetous. He only regrets not having met the author of the Aeneid to whom much of his work owes a debt. When Dante reveals his companion's identity, Statius bends down to embrace the feet of Virgil who protests by reminding him that both are mere shadows.
The natural thirst, that ne'er is satisfied
Excepting with the water for whose grace
The woman of Samaria besought,[1]
Put me in travail, and haste goaded me
Along the encumbered path behind my Leader
And I was pitying that righteous vengeance;
And lo! in the same manner as Luke writeth
That Christ appeared to two upon the way
From the sepulchral cave already risen,[2]
A shade appeared to us, and came behind us,
Down gazing on the prostrate multitude,
Nor were we ware of it, until it spake,
Saying, "My brothers, may God give you peace!"
We turned us suddenly, and Virgilius rendered
To him the countersign thereto conforming.
Thereon began he: "In the blessed council,
Thee may the court veracious place in peace,
That me doth banish in eternal exile!"
"How," said he, and the while we went with speed,
"If ye are shades whom God deigns not on high,
Who up his stairs so far has guided you?"
And said my Teacher: "If thou note the marks
Which this one bears, and which the Angel traces
Well shalt thou see he with the good must reign.
But because she who spinneth day and night
For him had not yet drawn the distaff off,
Which Clotho lays for each one and compacts,[3]
His soul, which is thy sister and my own,
In coming upwards could not come alone,
By reason that it sees not in our fashion.
Whence I was drawn from out the ample throat
Of Hell to be his guide, and I shall guide him
As far on as my school has power to lead.
But tell us, if thou knowest, why such a shudder
Erewhile the mountain gave, and why together
All seemed to cry, as far as its moist feet?"
In asking he so hit the very eye
Of my desire, that merely with the hope
My thirst became the less unsatisfied.
"Naught is there," he began, "that without order
May the religion of the mountain feel,
Nor aught that may be foreign to its custom.
Free is it here from every permutation;
What from itself heaven in itself receiveth
Can be of this the cause, and naught beside;
Because that neither rain, nor hail, nor snow,
Nor dew, nor hoar-frost any higher falls
Than the short, little stairway of three steps.[4]
Dense clouds do not appear, nor rarefied,
Nor coruscation, nor the daughter of Thaumas,
That often upon Earth her region shifts;[5]
No arid vapor any farther rises
Than to the top of the three steps I spake of,
Whereon the Vicar of Peter has his feet.
Lower down perchance it trembles less or more,
But, for the wind that in the earth is hidden
I know not how, up here it never trembled.
It trembles here, whenever any soul
Feels itself pure, so that it soars, or moves
To mount aloft, and such a cry attends it.
Of purity the will alone gives proof,
Which, being wholly free to change its convent,
Takes by surprise the soul, and helps it fly.
First it wills well; but the desire permits not,
Which divine justice with the self-same will
There was to sin, upon the torment sets.
And I, who have been lying in this pain
Five hundred years and more, but just now felt
A free volition for a better seat.
Therefore thou heardst the earthquake, and the pious
Spirits along the mountain rendering praise
Unto the Lord, that soon he speed them upwards."
So said he to him; and since we enjoy
As much in drinking as the thirst is great,
I could not say how much it did me good.
And the wise Leader: "Now I see the net
That snares you here, and how ye are set free,
Why the Earth quakes, and wherefore ye rejoice.
Now who thou wast be pleased that I may know;
And why so many centuries thou hast here
Been lying, let me gather from thy words."
"In days when the good Titus, with the aid
Of the supremest King, avenged the wounds
Whence issued forth the blood by Judas sold,[6]
Under the name that most endures and honors,
Was I on Earth," that spirit made reply,
"Greatly renowned, but not with faith as yet.
My vocal spirit was so sweet, that Rome
Me, a Thoulousian, drew unto herself,
Where I deserved to deck my brows with myrtle.
Statius the people name me still on Earth;
I sang of Thebes, and then of great Achilles;
But on the way fell with my second burden.
The seeds unto my ardor were the sparks
Of that celestial flame which heated me,
Whereby more than a thousand have been fired;
Of the _Aeneid_ speak I, which to me
A mother was, and was my nurse in song,
Without this weighed I not a drachma's weight.[7]
And to have lived upon the Earth what time
Virgilius lived, I would accept one sun
More than I must ere issuing from my ban."
These words towards me made Virgilius turn
With looks that in their silence said, "Be silent!"
But yet the power that wills cannot do all things;
For tears and laughter are such pursuivants
Unto the passion from which each springs forth,
In the most truthful least the will they follow.
I only smiled, as one who gives the wink;
Whereat the shade was silent, and it gazed
Into mine eyes, where most expression dwells;
And, "As thou well mayst consummate a labor
So great," it said, "why did thy face just now
Display to me the lightning of a smile?"
Now am I caught on this side and on that;
One keeps me silent, one to speak conjures me,
Wherefore I sigh, and I am understood.
"Speak," said my Master, "and be not afraid
Of speaking, but speak out, and say to him
What he demands with such solicitude."
Whence I: "Thou peradventure marvellest,
O antique spirit, at the smile I gave;
But I will have more wonder seize upon thee.
This one, who guides on high these eyes of mine,
Is that Virgilius, from whom thou didst learn
To sing aloud of men and of the Gods.
If other cause thou to my smile imputedst,
Abandon it as false, and trust it was
Those words which thou hast spoken concerning him."
Already he was stooping to embrace
My Teacher's feet; but he said to him: "Brother,
Do not; for shade thou art, and shade beholdest."
And he uprising: "Now canst thou the sum
Of love which warms me to thee comprehend,
When this our vanity I disremember,
Treating a shadow as substantial thing."
Illustrations of Purgatorio
Malebolge
Footnotes
1. With Aristotle’s Metaphysics in mind (1:1), his thirst for knowledge here is “natural,” he tells us, but his immediate allusion to the story of Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman in St. John’s Gospel (4:4-26) is far from obvious, and Dante draw s this “natural desire to know” into the realm of faith. In that story, Jesus and his disciples were traveling in the territory of the Samaritans, whom the Jews despised. Left alone at the famed Jacob’s Well while his disciples go for food, Jesus has a long conversation with a Samaritan woman who comes to draw water and is surprised that he, a Jew, should ask her for a drink. He tells her that if she really knew who he was she would have asked for “living water,” suggesting eternal salvation. As it turns out, he stays for several days among this “heathen” people and many come to believe in him. The point of the story leads to a common theme in the Gospels: Jesus’ message is for everyone, not just the “chosen” people. Commentators note that in the Gospel, St. John uses the word mulier (woman) for the Samaritan, whereas Dante uses the word feminetta, a diminutive form of the word to indicate that she is ordinary—like us—in her desire for hope and salvation.
2. Here again, referring to a famous Gospel story from St. Luke (24:13-35), Dante tells us that a soul was following him and Virgil as they carefully made their way among the prostrate souls there on the Terrace of Avarice.
As it happened, in the Gospel story, it was the day of Jesus’ Resurrection, and two of his disciples were on their way to a town called Emmaus, not far from Jerusalem. They had been discussing the events of the previous days, during which Jesus had been arrested, crucified, and apparently arisen from the dead. Jesus came along and joined them, but they didn’t recognize him. Feeling their grief, he began to explain to them the deeper significance of what had happened. When they reached Emmaus, Jesus made as though he would be traveling on, but the disciples prevailed on him to stay with them. While they were at dinner, Jesus broke the bread and gave it to them, and with that they recognized him and he disappeared.
The stranger from behind them greets the travelers with a blessing of peace, not unlike Jesus’ words, “Peace be with you (Lk 24:36),” when he appeared to his apostles in the upper room later that same evening. Like the Gospel story, neither Dante nor Virgil recognize the mysterious traveler, and he doesn’t immediately identify himself. The appearance of this unknown soul, attached, in Dante’s mind, to the Gospel story of the post-Resurrection appearance of Jesus, along with the recent earthquake and shout, al l add to the building tension that energizes the first part of this canto. All the while, we can see Dante and Virgil stepping carefully among the crowds of prostrate sinners as they make their way toward an exit from this terrace.
3. Clotho or Klotho, is a mythological figure. She was one of the Three Fates or Moirai. In ancient Greek mythology, she spins the thread of human life while her sisters draw out (Lachesis) and cut (Atropos) the thread. She also made major decisions, such as w hen a person was born, thus in effect controlling people's lives. This power enabled her not only to choose who was born, but also to decide when deities or mortals were to be saved or put to death.
4. Before answering Virgil’s questions–answers for which Dante has been “thirsting,” the stranger-soul provides the two travelers with a goodly amount of meteorological information about the Mountain of Purgatory above the Gate at Canto 9. Quite a list of no’s : rain, hail, show, frost, clouds, lightning, rainbows, dry vapors, and tremors (earthquakes). In other words, once we pass through the Gate of Purgatory, we leave the material world of “things” like weather, and enter the realm of heavenly influences where nothing happens by chance. That Gate is more significant than we might have realized earlier. We know that all souls in Purgatory are guaranteed entrance into Heaven. It seems that the higher part of the Mountain beyond the Gate is already a part of Paradise. This may be why the soul tells Dante and Virgil that earthquakes—which, he admits, he doesn’t understand, do not happen above the Gate. All of which may sound confusing at this point because we have just experienced a significant quake. But an explanation will be forthcoming.
Now, a weather report is not really what they were interested in, but it provides the reader–and the travelers–with useful information. And all of this is preliminary to the “real” answers that will come soon. In other words, in order to understand the earthquake and the shout, the soul tells Dante and Virgil that it’s necessary to understand certain principles of the Mountain first. In the Italian, when the stranger-soul refers to “the sacred laws which govern this place,” Dante writes “la religïone de la montagna,” the “religion” of the mountain. Charles Singleton notes in his commentary here: “Religione, in early Italian, can mean “convent” or “monastery,” but it can also mean legge, “law.”
A note about earthquakes: First, there are several quakes or mention of them in the Poem so far. The first was at the end of Canto 3 in the Inferno, accompanied by a great flash of light. At which point Dante fainted. The second was at the great landslide i n Inferno 12, caused by the earthquake at Jesus’ death and his harrowing of Hell. Another is related to the same event, this time noted with the fallen bridge over the circle of the hypocrites in Inferno 23.
As for earthquakes themselves, Dante follows the Medieval view that earthquakes were caused by wind trapped within the earth. I refer here to John Ciardi’s commentary for an excellent explanation of all this meteorology:
“The theory of wet and dry vapors is from Aristotle. Wet vapors cause rain, hail, dew, and hoarfrost. Dry vapors, if they are free, produce lightning and thunder. If, however, they enter the earth as winds and are locked inside, they cause earthquakes. B ut such terrestrial earthquakes cannot be felt above the three steps at the Gate.”
And Ristoro d’Arezzo, a 13th century monk and natural scientist wrote this about earthquakes:
“When the heat of the sun enters into the body of the earth, which has to resolve the humidity into vapor, it dries the humidity of the earth, which then becomes a windy vapor … and the windy vapor can also be moved by virtue of the heavens; whereupon, since it cannot remain still, it fights with the earth, to get out. If it finds the earth hard and solid, it moves it up and down and makes it tremble” (Della composizione VII, IV, 6).
5. In Greek mythology, Thaumas or Thaumant was a sea god, son of Pontus and Gaia, and the full brother of Nereus, Phorcys, Ceto and Eurybia.
6. The mystery-soul nearly identifies himself, but not before a bit more history. He begins with a mention of the Emperor Titus who, when he was a general, destroyed the city of Jerusalem in 70 AD. This disastrous event was seen as a punishment for the killing of Jesus some 40 years earlier (Jesus having been betrayed into the hands of his enemies by Judas Iscariot, one of his disciples). Dante will take this theme up in great detail in Canto 6 in the Paradiso. For now, the soul merely uses Titus as a marker for something more important to him personally: being one of the more famed Roman poets of his time. Only later, he tells Virgil, did he become a Christian. And here, Dante the Poet makes a minor error that others also made: he identifies this poet-soul as coming to Rome from Toulouse. As a matter of historical fact, he came from Naples. Dante confuses him with a noted rhetorician from Toulouse, Lucius Statius Ursulus. Some commentators suggest that our poet-soul received the golden crown for poetry from the Emperor Domitian (younger brother of Titus) in the early 90s AD. And Mark Musa notes here that “the epithet ‘poet,’ in Roman times, inspired almost religious admiration—the kind of immortality Statius had.”
Publius Papinius Statius lived from 45-96 AD. He is both a fascinating and important character in the Purgatorio, and will travel along with Dante and Virgil to the end of this Canticle. As we had several great poets walking and talking together in Limbo (Inf. 4), we have a kind of reprise here with these three great poets. And remember that Dante had been made one of that classical group, so he is a kind of “honorary” poetic contemporary of Virgil and Statius.
Apart from his poetry, Statius is mainly remembered for his two epics: the Thebaid about the Trojan War, and the Achilleid, which he never finished, about the life and exploits of Achilles. Mark Musa calls him “the major poet of the Silver Age of Latin literature.” Since he didn’t read Greek, Dante seems to have known Homer’s work and characters from Statius.
In his commentary here, John Ciardi gives us a broad perspective from which to view this significant character. He writes:
“Why Dante should have chosen Statius to represent the triumph of the purified soul is a matter open to any careful reader’s speculation. The very fact that so little is known of Statius’ life may be a point in favor, for it leaves Dante free to attribute qualities to Statius without embarrassment from history.
(There is, for example, no slightest historical evidence that Statius became a Christian.)
If, as seems likely, Dante himself invented this legend, its own elements best explain it, for so interpreted, Statius becomes a symbolic figure joining the Roman and the Christian past, a theme always dear to Dante. Thus Statius may be seen as a lesser Virgil and a greater; a less perfect writer, but a greater soul in the gift of Christ’s redemption. Thus he may be taken as springing from that cardinal point in Church history at which the greatness of the Roman past and the glory of the Christian present are joined. So Dante may now climb guided not only by Virgil (as Human Reason, Philosophy, and the Classic Virtues of Ancient Rome) but by Statius (those same qualities transformed by Faith and thus nearer to God). Between Virgil and Statius, that is, Dante no w climbs in the company of the total Roman tradition.”
Statius’s praise of Virgil’s Aeneid is one of the most beautiful tributes to be found in the Commedia. He writes at the end of his Thebaid: “Live on, I pray; but do not try to compete with the divine Aeneid, rather follow always in its steps and adore it from afar. Soon every envy spreading mist before you will vanish and, when I am gone, you’ll receive such honor as is deserved.”
Furthermore, Dante the Poet is almost over the top with affection when he has Statius say: “That grand epic was the very mother of my verse,” for in the Italian, Dante uses the word mamma. For Statius, Virgil’s Aeneid is the “mama” who suckled him at it s beasts. He has such humble admiration for Virgil that without his great epic, his own writings would be worthless. And to raise his praise even higher, Statius makes daring claim: he would gladly spend another year in Purgatory if only he could have met Virgil!
7. Drachma, an ancient Greek coin.
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