Dante's Inferno

Dante's Inferno

It was sometime in the middle of the 17th century that British cleric Thomas Fuller wrote, "He that falls into sin is a man; that grieves at it, is a saint; that boasteth of it, is a devil." If Fuller was right, where does one place Dante, the pilgrim who bravely wandered where no man had wandered before? Certainly, the sojourner precisely written by the poet of the same name was a man. Certainly, also, he repented his sinful ways (how could one not after braving not only the depths of Hell but later the stretches of Purgatory and the "many waters" of Heaven?), but he was no saint. Indeed, Inferno itself can be easily construed as a boast of sorts—made it through hell, met Lucifer, bought the t-shirt. But in reality, the book is much more subtle, and the journey much more enlightening to readers as one watches Dante, an Everyman if ever there was one, change his thought processes even as foot passes foot on his journey downward.

When examining just what type of man Dante the poet was, it's important to note the society of the times. To be from Italy…or, even more specifically, from Florence…was an important distinction. Even today, Italy is a center of religion. In 1330, Italy was not only a Catholic Mecca but a republican haven. Dante the poet was not the only citizen of the city to gain distinction—Michelangelo, Raphael, and da Vinci all proudly added "Florentine" under their signatures. Additionally, Pope Gregory XI would find the city sinful enough to excommunicate the entire place forty-six short years later. Living in such a tumultuous and dynamic atmosphere, it was no wonder that Dante the poet, already in exile, would place his literary counterpart (for clearly the pilgrim is ss otherwise specified...

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...e progress of the pilgrim from a sinner, sympathetic even to those condemned by God, to that of a saint of sorts, vindictive and scornful of the enemies of the church. The presence of the two further episodes of Dante the poet's Divine Comedy (Purgatorio and Paradiso) indicates that the pilgrim's spiritual education is not complete, but he has learned a great deal throughout his journey throughout hell—arising from the subterranean with less moral confusion and a greater sense of God-fearing reverence. For 14th century Italy, the alternative was more than a personality flaw…it was a stigma. The poet, alone and in exile, had taken truly to heart and to paper the words that his Romantic counterpart Percy Shelley (a man who would be called to Italy himself time and time again) would write nearly 500 years later: "The great instrument of moral good is the imagination."