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DISCUSSION SUBJECT: Why does Dante use the symbolism of three for each of the important beings he meets at the end of each section of the Divine Comedy (Satan at the end of Inferno, Beatrice at the end of Purgatorio, and God at the end of Paradiso)? What is he saying about Satan, Beatrice, and God that they are all represented by the number three (the three faces of Satan, one yellow, one black and one red; the three colors of the garb of Beatrice, red for love, green for faith, and white for hope; and the three aspects of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit)? Why do you think he does this?

Why do you think Dante focuses on the things he does in the poem? What does this say about his society?

THE POEM:

Divine Comedy, written by Dante Alighieri

Translated by Allen Mandelbaum, Latin translation by Jonathan Martin

Provided by https://digitaldante.columbia.edu/ (Links to an external site.)

INFERNO

Canto XII 46-61

“But fix your eyes below, upon the valley,

for now we near the stream of blood, where those

who injure others violently, boil.”

O blind cupidity and insane anger,

which goad us on so much in our short life,

then steep us in such grief eternally!

I saw a broad ditch bent into an arc

so that it could embrace all of that plain,

precisely as my guide had said before;

between it and the base of the embankment

raced files of Centaurs who were armed with arrows,

as, in the world above, they used to hunt.

On seeing us descend, they all reined in;

and, after they had chosen bows and shafts,

three of their number moved out from their ranks;

and still far off, one cried: “What punishment

do you approach as you descend the slope?

But speak from there; if not, I draw my bow.”

Canto XII 100-112

Now, with our faithful escort, we advanced

along the bloodred, boiling ditch’s banks,

beside the piercing cries of those who boiled.

I saw some who were sunk up to their brows,

and that huge Centaur said: “These are the tyrants

who plunged their hands in blood and plundering.

Here they lament their ruthless crimes; here are

both Alexander and the fierce Dionysius,

who brought such years of grief to Sicily.

That brow with hair so black is Ezzelino;

that other there, the blonde one, is Obizzo

of Este, he who was indeed undone,

within the world above, by his fierce son.”

Canto XXXIV 1-69

“Vexilla regis prodeunt inferni [The banners of the King of Hell advance]

toward us; and therefore keep your eyes ahead,”

my master said, “to see if you can spy him.”

Just as, when night falls on our hemisphere

or when a heavy fog is blowing thick,

a windmill seems to wheel when seen far off,

so then I seemed to see that sort of structure.

And next, because the wind was strong, I shrank

behind my guide; there was no other shelter.

And now—with fear I set it down in meter—

I was where all the shades were fully covered

but visible as wisps of straw in glass.

There some lie flat and others stand erect,

one on his head, and one upon his soles;

and some bend face to feet, just like a bow.

But after we had made our way ahead,

my master felt he now should have me see

that creature who was once a handsome presence;

he stepped aside and made me stop, and said:

“Look! Here is Dis, and this the place where you

will have to arm yourself with fortitude.”

O reader, do not ask of me how I

grew faint and frozen then—I cannot write it:

all words would fall far short of what it was.

I did not die, and I was not alive;

think for yourself, if you have any wit,

what I became, deprived of life and death.

The emperor of the despondent kingdom

so towered from the ice, up from midchest,

that I match better with a giant’s breadth

than giants match the measure of his arms;

now you can gauge the size of all of him

if it is in proportion to such parts.

If he was once as handsome as he now

is ugly and, despite that, raised his brows

against his Maker, one can understand

how every sorrow has its source in him!

I marveled when I saw that, on his head,

he had three faces: one—in front-bloodred;

and then another two that, just above

the midpoint of each shoulder, joined the first;

and at the crown, all three were reattached;

the right looked somewhat yellow, somewhat white;

the left in its appearance was like those

who come from where the Nile, descending, flows.

Beneath each face of his, two wings spread out,

as broad as suited so immense a bird:

I’ve never seen a ship with sails so wide.

They had no feathers, but were fashioned like

a bat’s; and he was agitating them,

so that three winds made their way out from him—

and all Cocytus froze before those winds.

He wept out of six eyes; and down three chins,

tears gushed together with a bloody froth.

Within each mouth—he used it like a grinder—

with gnashing teeth he tore to bits a sinner,

so that he brought much pain to three at once.

The forward sinner found that biting nothing

when matched against the clawing, for at times

his back was stripped completely of its hide.

“That soul up there who has to suffer most,”

my master said: “Judas Iscariot—

his head inside, he jerks his legs without.

Of those two others, with their heads beneath,

the one who hangs from that black snout is Brutus—

see how he writhes and does not say a word!

That other, who seems so robust, is Cassius.

But night is come again, and it is time

for us to leave; we have seen everything.”

PURGATORIO

Canto XII 52-84

I think no man now walks upon the earth

who is so hard that he would not have been

pierced by compassion for what I saw next;

for when I had drawn close enough to see

clearly the way they paid their penalty,

the force of grief pressed tears out of my eyes.

Those souls—it seemed—were cloaked in coarse haircloth;

another’s shoulder served each shade as prop,

and all of them were bolstered by the rocks:

so do the blind who have to beg appear

on pardon days to plead for what they need,

each bending his head back and toward the other,

that all who watch feel—quickly—pity’s touch

not only through the words that would entreat

but through the sight, which can—no less—beseech.

And just as, to the blind, no sun appears,

so to the shades—of whom I now speak—here,

the light of heaven would not give itself;

for iron wire pierces and sews up

the lids of all those shades, as untamed hawks

are handled, lest, too restless, they fly off.

It seemed to me a gross discourtesy

for me, going, to see and not be seen;

therefore, I turned to my wise counselor.

He knew quite well what I, though mute, had meant;

and thus he did not wait for my request,

but said: “Speak, and be brief and to the point.”

Virgil was to my right, along the outside,

nearer the terrace—edge—no parapet

was there to keep a man from falling off;

and to my other side were the devout

shades; through their eyes, sewn so atrociously,

those spirits forced the tears that bathed their cheeks.

Canto XXIX 121-132

Three circling women, then advancing, danced:

at the right wheel; the first of them, so red

that even in a flame she’d not be noted;

the second seemed as if her flesh and bone

were fashioned out of emerald; the third

seemed to be newly fallen snow. And now

the white one seemed to lead them, now the red;

and from the way in which the leader chanted,

the others took their pace, now slow, now rapid.

Upon the left, four other women, dressed

in crimson, danced, depending on the cadence

of one of them, with three eyes in her head.

Canto XXX 22-57

I have at times seen all the eastern sky

becoming rose as day began and seen,

adorned in lovely blue, the rest of heaven;

and seen the sun’s face rise so veiled that it

was tempered by the mist and could permit

the eye to look at length upon it; so,

within a cloud of flowers that were cast

by the angelic hands and then rose up

and then fell back, outside and in the chariot,

a woman showed herself to me; above

a white veil, she was crowned with olive boughs;

her cape was green; her dress beneath, flame—red.

Within her presence, I had once been used

to feeling—trembling—wonder, dissolution;

but that was long ago. Still, though my soul,

now she was veiled, could not see her directly,

by way of hidden force that she could move,

I felt the mighty power of old love.

As soon as that deep force had struck my vision

(the power that, when I had not yet left

my boyhood, had already transfixed me),

I turned around and to my left—just as

a little child, afraid or in distress,

will hurry to his mother—anxiously,

to say to Virgil: “I am left with less

than one drop of my blood that does not tremble:

I recognize the signs of the old flame.”

But Virgil had deprived us of himself,

Virgil, the gentlest father, Virgil, he

to whom I gave my self for my salvation;

and even all our ancient mother lost

was not enough to keep my cheeks, though washed

with dew, from darkening again with tears.

“Dante, though Virgil’s leaving you, do not

yet weep, do not weep yet; you’ll need your tears

for what another sword must yet inflict.”

PARADISO

Canto XXXIII 91-145

I think I saw the universal shape

which that knot takes; for, speaking this, I feel

a joy that is more ample. That one moment

brings more forgetfulness to me than twenty—

five centuries have brought to the endeavor

that startled Neptune with the Argo’s shadow!

So was my mind—completely rapt, intent,

steadfast, and motionless—gazing; and it

grew ever more enkindled as it watched.

Whoever sees that Light is soon made such

that it would be impossible for him

to set that Light aside for other sight;

because the good, the object of the will,

is fully gathered in that Light; outside

that Light, what there is perfect is defective.

What little I recall is to be told,

from this point on, in words more weak than those

of one whose infant tongue still bathes at the breast.

And not because more than one simple semblance

was in the Living Light at which I gazed—

for It is always what It was before—

but through my sight, which as I gazed grew stronger,

that sole appearance, even as I altered,

seemed to be changing. In the deep and bright

essence of that exalted Light, three circles

appeared to me; they had three different colors,

but all of them were of the same dimension;

one circle seemed reflected by the second,

as rainbow is by rainbow, and the third

seemed fire breathed equally by those two circles.

How incomplete is speech, how weak, when set

against my thought! And this, to what I saw.

is such—to call it little is too much.

Eternal Light, You only dwell within

Yourself, and only You know You; Self-knowing,

Self-known, You love and smile upon Yourself!

That circle—which, begotten so, appeared

in You as light reflected—when my eyes

had watched it with attention for some time,

within itself and colored like itself,

to me seemed painted with our effigy,

so that my sight was set on it completely.

As the geometer intently seeks

to square the circle, but he cannot reach,

through thought on thought, the principle he needs,

so I searched that strange sight: I wished to see

the way in which our human effigy

suited the circle and found place in it—

and my own wings were far too weak for that.

But then my mind was struck by light that flashed

and, with this light, received what it had asked.

Here force failed my high fantasy; but my

desire and will were moved already—like

a wheel revolving uniformly—by

the Love that moves the sun and the other stars