Great Books #11: Dante's Revolution

The Divine Comedy is the most influential work of literature in European history. Why? Because Dante's Comedy will give rise to the Protestant Reformation, as well as the Scientific Revolution, the Enlightenment, the Renaissance — basically modernity itself.

The question is, how did Dante accomplish this?

He accomplished this basically by responding to Virgil.

The World Before Dante: Virgil, Augustine, and Original Sin

For about a thousand years, Virgil was the most dominant thinker in European history. Virgil's Aeneid, which we read, becomes the basis for Augustine. He wrote two major books — Confessions and City of God — and this will become the basis of the Catholic Church.

How did Virgil come to become the soul of the Catholic Church? He came up with the idea of human nature.

Augustine emphasizes the idea of original sin. The original sin was an act of disobedience when Adam and Eve ate the fruit from the tree of knowledge. That's an act of disobedience because God explicitly said, "You can do whatever you want in this Garden of Eden, but don't eat that fruit." And they disobeyed God.

Augustine points out that what compelled this original sin is pride. We humans cannot bear to serve God, to be humble before God. We seek to overthrow God. And so God had no choice but to punish us.

What drives this original sin? Yes, it is true that God breathed life into us, so that our soul is the divine spark. That is true. The problem, though, is that our bodies are made from dust. And as a result, because we are dust, we strive for dirty things — lust, pride, gluttony, sloth: the seven deadly sins. And we can't help ourselves.

The only way to repair the world, the only way for us to seek salvation and redemption, the only path to heaven is obedience — what Virgil will call piety. As long as we are loyal to the Catholic Church, we'll be fine. The Catholic Church will guide us like a shepherd guides his flock to heaven.

What's really important to understand is that our nature is dirty. We are sinful by nature, and therefore we can't trust our own intuition. This becomes a framework for medieval Europe, which lasts about 1,000 years, and this is what led to something called the Dark Ages, when basically the entire world surpassed Europe in terms of innovation, wealth, and intellectual creativity.

Dante's Counter-Argument: The Primacy of Individual Intuition

What Dante's going to do is assert the power and the truth of individual intuition.

The major argument Dante is going to make is that, yes, it is true that we are made of dust. It is true that we have bodies. We seek pleasures. But that divine spark in us — it never went away. And much more importantly, that divine spark still connects us to God.

As long as we're able to activate this divine spark, we can be imaginative. We can seek truth for ourselves. We don't need the Catholic Church.

What Dante is doing is asserting the primacy of love. We don't need to obey others. We don't need the church, because love — if we just activate the love within us — will connect us back to God. And this connection will drive our imagination, which will make us creative. And creativity is the ultimate purpose of the universe.

Is Human Nature Fundamentally Good or Bad?

The argument — the debate — is very simple: is human nature fundamentally good or bad?

If you think it's bad, then you need to create a hierarchy to control human behavior. But if, like Dante, you're optimistic, then you don't need to control human behavior. In fact, you want to encourage individual intuition as much as possible. That's the fundamental debate.

The Structure of the Divine Comedy: A Tour Through Purgatory

The Divine Comedy is structured as follows: from Inferno, Virgil and Dante go to Purgatory, where souls will cleanse themselves of sins so that they are ready to go to Paradise.

Purgatory is modeled in a very similar way to the Inferno. It's structured. It's very visual. When you enter Purgatory, an angel who guards the gate stamps seven P's onto you. Each P represents a sin. You then climb each terrace of this mountain, and each terrace has a particular sin:

It's almost like the inverse of Inferno. Each time you clear a terrace — by absolving yourself, by cleansing yourself of a particular sin — a P is removed from your forehead. Once you remove all P's, you climb up to essentially the Garden of Eden at the top. There, Beatrice descends from heaven and picks Dante up so that they can ascend to heaven together.

Virgil guides Dante through Purgatory and then leaves Dante to Beatrice. That's the basic structure of Purgatory.

The Terrace of Envy: Sharing, Scarcity, and the Spiritual World

Remember that the fundamental difference between Dante and Virgil is that Virgil is ultimately skeptical about human nature, whereas Dante is optimistic. We're first going to figure out what Virgil's argument is.

As Dante and Virgil climb through the terrace of envy, Dante asks about something a spirit in the previous terrace had said — that sharing cannot have a part in earthly things. Virgil explains (Purgatorio, Canto XV):

"And even as I turned toward him, I asked: 'What did the spirit of Romagna mean when he said, "Sharing cannot have a part"?' And his reply: 'He knows the harm that lies in his worst vice. If he chastises it to ease its expiation, do not wonder. For when your longings center on things such that sharing them apportions less to each, then envy stirs the bellows of your sighs. But if the love within the highest sphere should turn your longings heavenward, the fear inhabiting your breast would disappear. For there, the more there are who would say "ours," so much the greater is the good possessed by each — so much more love burns in that cloister.'"

They are in the terrace of envy. Here people must expiate themselves of their envy of others. Envy comes from misguidance — people are focused on the material world. In the material world, things are finite. We struggle over food, over water, over wealth. But if we focus on the spiritual world, on God, then resources are infinite. In the spiritual world, the more you share with others, the more wealth is created, because you're uplifting each other's spirit.

That's the difference between the material world and the spiritual world. In the material world, sharing can be punished because it's a zero-sum game — if someone has an apple, you don't have it. But in the spiritual world, we're focused on love, generosity, forgiveness. The more you love, the more generous you are, the more generosity creates in the world. If you smile at someone, that other person smiles back at you. You're kind to that person, that person is kind to others.

So that is the misconception. That's why people have envy — because they are ignorant of the nature of the universe. Envy is too much of a focus on the material world, and to expiate yourself of envy, you must focus on the spiritual world. Here Virgil and Dante do not disagree.

Dante is not satisfied and presses further (Purgatorio, Canto XV):

"I am more hungry now for satisfaction," I said, "I host a deeper doubt within my mind. How can a good that's shared by more possessors enable each to be more rich in it than if that good had been possessed by few?" And he to me: "But if you still persist in letting your mind fix on earthly things, then even from true light you gather darkness. That good, ineffable and infinite, which is above, directs itself towards love as light directs itself to polished bodies. Where ardor is, that good gives of itself, and where more love is, there that good confers a greater measure of eternal worth. And when there are more souls above who love, there's more to love well there, and they love more, and mirror-like each soul reflects the other. And if my speech does not appease your hunger, you will see Beatrice. She will fulfill this and all other longings that you feel. Now only strive so that the other five wounds may be canceled quickly, as the two are healed already. The wounds contrition heals."

The Concept of Indra's Net

What Virgil is saying here is that the spiritual world is the good — God, basically. The more kindness, the more love you generate to other people, they reflect that, and that spreads love and kindness all around the universe. When we need to visualize this, it's with something called Indra's Net — a concept from Hinduism and Buddhism.

What is a soul? Who are we? We are a pearl in a universe of pearls. It's a net. And the thing about a pearl is that it reflects everything. So within us, we reflect the universe. Our souls are a fractal of the universe. Therefore, whatever we do is reflected throughout the entire universe. If this pearl chooses to smile, every other pearl reflects that smile. If this pearl chooses to be angry, the other pearls become angry as well. That's why being sinful or being good is so important — because literally we have the entire fate of the universe in our hearts.

Again, Dante and Virgil do not disagree here. This is very important for Dante, and it's a concept that we expand on when we get to Paradise: that we are just a reflection of the entire universe.

The Terrace of Sloth: Love as the Root of All Virtue and Sin

Dante asks Virgil to explain what the terrace of sloth is purging, and Virgil launches into the theological heart of the Purgatorio (Canto XVII):

"Tell me, my gentle father, what offense is purged within the circle we have reached? Although our feet must stop, your words need not." And he to me: "Precisely here, the love of good that is too tepidly pursued is mended. Here the lazy oar applies harder. But so that you may understand more clearly, now turn your mind to me, and you will gather some useful fruit from our delaying here. My son, there is no creator and no creature who ever was without love, natural or mental, and you know that."

The idea of love here is just a reflection of God. God breathed his life into Adam, so we have the aspect of God in us. Everything has love in it. The question is the degree of love, and the question is how much impact love has in our lives.

"Natural is always without error, but mental love may choose an evil object or errs through too much or too little vigor. As long as it's directed towards the first good and tends towards secondary goods with measure, it cannot be the cause of evil pleasure. But when it twists towards evil or attends to good with more or less care than it should, those whom He made have worked against their maker."

This is the idea of a duality: the soul is pure love, comes from the divine, and is eternal — therefore always good. The problem is that the soul is inside a body. The body is made of dust, and as a result, it's constantly striving towards evil. So within us is this constant conflict between the soul and the body, which seeks material pleasures, which basically seeks sin. And what Virgil will say is that honestly, most of us basically cannot withstand the temptation, and that's why we need the church, an authority, and obedience.

The passage continues (Canto XVII):

"From this you see that, of necessity, love is a seed in you of every virtue and of all acts deserving punishment. Now, since love never turns aside its eyes from the well-being of its subject, things are surely free from hatred of themselves. And since no being can be seen as self-existing and divorced from the first being, each creature is cut off from hating Him. Thus, if I have distinguished properly, ill love must mean to wish one's neighbor ill, and this love's foreign in three ways in your clay. There is he who, through abasement of another, hopes for supremacy — he only longs to see his neighbor's excellence cast down. Then there is one who, when he's outdone, fears his own loss of fame, power, honor, favor, whose sadness loves misfortune for his neighbor. And there is he who, over injury received, resentful, for revenge grows greedy and angrily seeks out another's harm."

The original sin is a sin of pride. What Virgil is saying here is: it's impossible for you to hate God because God is the ultimate good. It's impossible for you to hate yourself. So the hate comes from your envy of others, your pride, the fact that you want to stand above other people. And if other people are above you, then you conspire against them, and that's the source of all sin.

The passage continues (Canto XVII):

"This threefold love is expiated here below. Now, I would have you understand the love that seeks the good distortedly. Each apprehends confusedly a good in which the mind may rest and longs for it, and thus all strive to reach that good. But if the love that urges you to know it or to reach that good is lax, this terrace after just repentance punishes for that. There is a different good, which does not make men glad. It is not happiness, is not true essence, fruit and root of every good. The love that profligately yields to that is whipped on the three terraces above us, but I'll not say what three shapes that love takes. May you seek those distinctions for yourself."

The purpose of Purgatory is for us to cleanse ourselves of our material wants and desires — to focus on the spiritual, to remember where we came from, and to remember our connection with the good that will allow us to access heaven at the end.

The discourse closes as Dante gathers his courage to ask the million-dollar question (Canto XVII–XVIII):

The subtle teacher had completed his discourse to me. Attentively, he watched my eyes to see if I seemed satisfied. And I, still goaded by new thirst, was silent without, although within I said: "Perhaps I have displeased him with too many questions." But that true father, who had recognized a timid want that I would not tell aloud, by speaking, gave me courage to speak out. At which I said: "Master, my sight is still illumined by your light. I recognize all that your words have clarified. Therefore, I pray you, gentle father dear, to teach me what love is. You have reduced to love both each good and its opposite."

Basically, what Virgil is saying is that love is the fundamental force of the universe. If we move away from love, we do bad things. If we move towards love, we do good things. So now Dante is saying: "Then tell me exactly what love is. Be specific about love."

What Is Love? Virgil's Theory

Virgil answers (Purgatorio, Canto XVIII*):

"Direct," he said, "towards me the keen eyes of intellect, and clear will be to thee the error of the blind, who would be leaders. The soul, which is created apt to love, is mobile unto everything that pleases, soon as by pleasure she is waked to action. Your apprehension from some real thing an image draws, and in yourselves displays it so that it makes the soul turn unto it. And if, when turned, towards it she incline, love is that inclination; it is nature, which is by pleasure bound in you anew. Then even as the fire doth upward move by its own form, which to ascend is born, where longest in its matter it endures, so comes the captive soul into desire, which is a motion spiritual, and ne'er rests until she doth enjoy the thing beloved."

The soul comes from the divine. It is a memory of God. It is inside a body — a body that allows it to experience the world. This body confuses the soul, and the soul is lost. The soul believes that whatever is beautiful, it must seek. The soul, if you leave it alone, is going to want to return to God. But if it sees something beautiful, it doesn't know if it's good or bad. All it knows is: I want to go to it. So what happens is the soul expands outwards and tries to encompass it. And then what it does is it moves towards it and tries to swallow it whole. It consumes it.

Think of Dido and Aeneas in the Aeneid: Dido sees Aeneas, falls in love with him, and must have him. She moves towards him and tries to consume him. It drives her insane. And the moment he leaves her, she has to kill herself.

That's the issue with the soul. The soul moves towards what's beautiful, and it doesn't even know why it's doing so. And when it moves, it tries to absorb and consume it — because that's what it was trained to do. God created it so that the soul would one day return to God. But because it's inside a body, the soul becomes confused. And if it sees a beautiful woman, the soul thinks, I must have her. I must control her. I must consume her.

The passage continues (Canto XVIII):

"Now may apparent be to thee how hidden the truth is from those people, who aver all love is in itself a laudable thing; because its matter may perchance appear aye to be good, but yet not each impression is good, albeit good may be the wax."

Dante is confused by this formulation:

"Thy words, and my sequacious intellect," I answered him, "have love revealed to me; but that has made me more impregned with doubt; for if love from without be offered us, and with another foot the soul go not, if right or wrong she go, 'tis not her merit." And he to me: "What reason seeth here I can impart to thee for truth of faith. It's spiritual truth alone thou must await. Every substantial form at once distinct from matter and conjoint to it gathers a force that is distinct to be its own. The force unknown to us until it acts is never shown except in its effects, just as green boughs display the life in plants."

If we are trying to consume something that we love, then how can we know what's good and what's evil? What is the mechanism that tells us? The soul is doing what it must do — it must seek out what's beautiful and consume it. The soul thinks that whatever is beautiful must be God. But if it gets confused and thinks that a woman is beautiful and the soul tries to control that woman, then that's a bad thing. So why would God create a system in which you are naturally compelled to do evil?

The passage continues (Canto XVIII):

"And thus, man does not know the source of his intelligence, the primal notions, and his tending towards the primal objects. Both are in you just as in bees there is the honey-making urge. Such primal will deserves no praise and it deserves no blame. Now, though all other longings may conform to this first will, there is in you, inborn, the power that counsels, keeper of the threshold of your consent. This is the principle on which your merit may be judged, for it garners and winnows good and evil longings. Those reasoners who reached the roots of things learned of this inborn freedom, and so they left ethics as a legacy to the world. Even if we allow necessity as source of every love that flames in you, the power to curb that love is still your own. This noble power is what Beatrice means by free will — therefore remember it if she should ever speak of it to you."

Free Will According to Virgil: Obedience as Reason

The power to curb that love is still your own. This is what free will is.

Here's the logic: love is not good or bad. It's a natural part of you — like an animal desires food. Is that good or bad? It's just who we are. So in this circumstance, what is good? What is good is our capacity to control our emotions. In other words, obedience is good. Obedience is what free will is.

If we're able to shift from emotions to reason, that is good. What is reason? Reason is the capacity to restrain our emotions by obeying authority. It's only authority that allows us to control ourselves, to know what's right and wrong.

This was the main message of the Aeneid. Aeneas is on a mission to found Empire. He goes from Troy to Carthage to the Italian Peninsula. But it's actually a spiritual journey. When he starts his journey, he's very emotional. He sees Helen and wants to kill her because he thinks that Helen is the person who caused the destruction of Troy. Troy's being destroyed and Aeneas wants to fight the Greeks and die in the process because he wants to save his homeland. He goes to Carthage — he's not supposed to be in Carthage. He falls in love with Dido and wants to stay there. Each time the gods have to come and say, "Listen, you have a mission. You have to go to Italy in order to found Rome."

Then, towards the end of the Aeneid, Aeneas recognizes his mission is to obey the gods. He can no longer obey his emotions. When he's fighting Turnus and Turnus is defeated, he wants to show mercy to Turnus because Turnus has become very pitiful. But he recognizes: "No, I cannot allow my emotions to sway me. I cannot trust my intuition. I must obey the gods. I must obey my mission. I must be reasonable." And so he kills Turnus, and that's how the Aeneid ends.

That is the main argument that Virgil is making: it is not love that defines who we are, it's reason that defines who we are — reason as defined by obedience. If we are able to obey, that demonstrates our free will.

The Will as the Engine of Purgation: Meeting Statius

As Dante and Virgil make their way up the mountain, a soul has just cleared all seven terraces and the entire mountain has shaken. He is in a rush to ascend to heaven after 500 years. The encounter begins (Purgatorio, Canto XXI):

Natural thirst that could never be quenched except by water that the woman of Samaria sought tormented me. He spurred me on the path crowded with souls behind my guide, and I felt pity, though their pain was justified. And here, even as Luke records for us that Christ, risen from his burial cave, appeared to two along his way — a shade appeared, and he advanced behind our backs while we were careful not to trample on the outstretched crowd. We did not notice him until he had addressed us with: "God give you, oh my brothers, peace." We turned at once, then after offering suitable response, Virgil began: "May that just tribunal which has consigned me to eternal exile place you in peace within the blessed assembly."

What's happening here is that Virgil and Dante are making their way up the mountain, and there are seven terraces. A soul has to clear all seven terraces before it can enter Paradise. When a soul is able to complete the mission, the entire mountain shakes — it is an earthquake to signal that a soul has been cleansed of all sins and is now about to ascend. So there's a shade who is in a rush to ascend to heaven because he's cleared all seven terraces. It's been 500 years, and he meets Virgil and Dante. They're in his way, and he's like, "Excuse me, please — I'm on my way."

The shade is confused (Canto XXI):

"What?" he exclaimed as we moved forward quickly. "If God's not deemed you worthy of ascent, who's guided you so far along the stairs?" "If you observe the signs the angel traced upon this man," my teacher said, "you'll see plainly he's meant to reign with all the righteous. But since she who spins day and night had not yet spun the spool that Clotho sets upon the distaff for everyone, his soul, which is your soul's and mine in kind, could not have climbed here on its own, for it does not see the way we see. Therefore, I was brought forth from hell's broad jaws to guide him in his going. I shall lead him just as far as where I teach can reach. But tell me, if you can, why just before the mountain shook and shouted all of it — for so it seemed — down to the sea-bathed shore?"

The soul is confused because if you have reached this point in the mountain, you're going to heaven — so you should be going as fast as possible. And Virgil is trying to explain that they are not part of Purgatory. The shade answers (Canto XXI):

His question threaded so the needle's eye of my desire that just the hope alone of knowing left my thirst more satisfied. The other shade began: "The sanctity of these slopes does not suffer anything that's without order or uncustomary. This place is free from every perturbation. What heaven from itself and in itself receives may serve as cause here, nothing else. Therefore, no rain, no hail, no snow, no dew, no hoarfrost falls here any higher than the stairs of entry with their three brief steps. Neither thick cloud nor thin appear, nor flash of lightning. Thamus' daughter, who so often shifts place in your world, is absent here. Dry vapor cannot climb any higher than to the top of the three steps of which I spoke, where Peter's vicar plants his feet. Below that point, there may be small or ample tremors, but here above, I know not why, no wind concealed in earth has ever caused a tremor, for only it trembles here when some soul feels it's cleansed, so that it rises or stirs to climb on high, and that soul follows."

The mountain only moves if a soul has been cleansed. The passage continues (Canto XXI):

"The will alone is proof of purity and fully frees the soul into a change of dwelling place, effective in its aid."

This is a really important idea. What's driving this cleansing is just the will. If you have the will, you can always achieve heaven. People in Inferno are there because they choose to be. People in Purgatory are there because they choose to be as well. It may take you a long time, but if you have the will, you can always cleanse yourself of all your sins. God is all-forgiving.

"Soul had the will to climb before, but that will was opposed by longing to do penance — as once to sin — instilled by divine justice."

This is very important: the issue is not that God has not forgiven us. The issue is that we have not forgiven ourselves. We want to do penance in order to make ourselves worthy of God.

"And I who have lain in this suffering five hundred years and more just now have felt my free will for a better threshold. Thus, you heard the earthquake and the pious spirits throughout the mountain as they praised the Lord, and may he send them speedily upward." So did he speak to us, and just as joy is greater when we quench a greater thirst, the joy he brought cannot be told in words. And my wise guide: "Now I can see the net that holds you here and how it slips its mesh, and why the mountain quakes and why you all rejoice. And now may it please you to tell me who you were, and in your words may I find why you've lain here for so many centuries."

A Correction to Virgil's Understanding

This is a really important correction to Virgil's understanding. Virgil believes that a soul moves to whatever is beautiful, so obviously if you're close to God, you want to go to God as soon as possible. But what this person here is saying is: "No, that's not true. The soul, yes, wants to move to God — but the soul is love. If you truly love God, you must first love yourself. That means cleansing yourself of all sins so that you are worthy to be with God."

So love seems to be also restraint and judgment. This is very different from Virgil, who believes that love is incapable of restraint and judgment. It's love that tells you: "No, I must first forgive myself — because if I don't forgive myself, then I bring any doubt, any hatred, any sin to heaven, and this would be unworthy of God. I must be the pearl that reflects the universe, and therefore I must be a perfect pearl."

The Paradox of Statius: A Student Who Surpassed His Master

The shade reveals himself (Purgatorio, Canto XXI*):

"In that age when the worthy Titus, with help from the highest king, avenged the wounds from which the blood that Judas sold had flowed, I had sufficient fame beyond." That spirit replied: "I bore the name that lasts the longest and honors most, but faith was not yet mine. So gentle was the spirit of my verse that Rome drew me, son of Tolosa, to her, and there my brow deserved a crown of myrtle. On earth my name is still remembered — Statius. I sang of Thebes and then of great Achilles, but I fell along the way of that last labor. The sparks that warmed me, the seeds of my ardor, were from the divine fire, the same that gave more than a thousand poets light and flame. I speak of the Aeneid. When I wrote verse, it was mother to me, it was nurse. My work without it would not weigh an ounce. And to have lived on earth when Virgil lived — for that I would extend by one more year the time I owe before my exile's end."

Virgil is very impressed by this man and asks: "Who are you?" The person says his name is Statius. When Titus was alive — Titus was a Roman emperor who lived around 70 CE, and was the one who destroyed the Second Temple of the Jews, making him a very important figure in Christian mythology — during this time, only about 40 years after the death of Jesus, when Jesus was not very well known, Statius was a poet. A Latin poet. And who was his hero? Virgil. Not only was the Aeneid his model — it was his mother. She nursed him, she fed him. He aspired to be Virgil.

So now what happens is you have a paradox created. We just said that Virgil is in hell because he wrote the Aeneid and proposed a theory of love that's not consistent with God. How is it possible that a student of his — Statius — is able to ascend to heaven? This is really weird. It's a paradox. And we'll see a lot of paradoxes in the Divine Comedy.

Virgil's Silent Command

Dante finds himself in an impossible position when he realizes Statius does not know who is walking beside him (Canto XXI):

These words made Virgil turn to me, and as he turned, his face, through silence, said: "Be still. And yet the power of will cannot do all, for tears and smiles are both so faithful to the feelings that have prompted them that true feeling escapes the will that would subdue."

You have this scene where Virgil and Dante are talking to Statius, and Statius doesn't know who they are. They're having this conversation, and Virgil's saying to Statius, "Who are you?" And Statius is saying, "I admire Virgil the most." And Dante is thinking: "Oh my god! Virgil!" Dante feels tremendous happiness — for Virgil, because he's found a fan, and for Statius, because he's found his mentor.

What is strange, though, is Virgil's reaction. Virgil is saying to Dante: "Shut up, man. I know what you want to do. I know you want to tell him, but don't do it. Keep quiet. I don't want him to know who I am." This is a paradox. Why would you do that? Virgil has shown tremendous respect and admiration to Statius for being able to cleanse himself of all his sins and ascend to heaven.

Dante is so confused by this that he doesn't actually respond to Virgil's command. He ends up telling Statius the truth (Canto XXI):

But I smiled like a man whose eyes would signal. At this, the shade was silent, and he stared with sentiment in the clearest of my eyes and said: "So may your trial labor end successfully. Do you tell me why just now your face showed me the flashing of a smile?" Now I am held by one side and the other. One keeps me still, the other conjures me to speak. But my master knows why and tells me: "Do not be afraid to speak, but speak in answer what he has asked you with such earnestness." At this I answered: "Ancient spirit, you perhaps are wondering at the smile I smiled. But I would have you feel still more surprised. He who is guide, who leads my eye on high, is that same Virgil from whom you derived the power to sing of men and of the gods. Do not suppose my smile had any source beyond the speech you spoke. Be sure, it was those words you said of him that were the cause." Now he had bent to kiss my teacher's feet, but Virgil told him: "Brother, there is no need. You are a shade. A shade is what you see." And rising he: "Now you can understand how much love burns in me for you when I forget our insubstantiality, treating the shades as one treats solid things."

Dante is sort of stuck because he knows he wants to tell Statius, but Virgil doesn't want him to. And then Dante looks at Virgil, and Virgil says: "Fine, man, go tell him." And as you can see, Statius is ecstatic — he's so excited that he forgets he's actually just a shade. He has no body. He goes down and kisses Virgil's feet. And Virgil says: "Stop this, man. You're just a shade. You're just a shadow. You can't actually kiss my feet."

This shows both Statius's excitement, but it also shows Virgil's embarrassment. He's mortified. And it's very confusing. You've got this huge fan, Statius, and he's a great person — so why is Virgil so mortified?

The logic is this: imagine you take a class with me, then go on to America where you go to Harvard and become a professor of Dante. Then you come back after 20 years — I'm still here, unfortunately — and you say to me: "Professor, I want to take you out to lunch, because you're such an inspiration." And I'm like: "Sure, I'm very happy about this." And then I ask you: "Hey, where are you teaching now?" And you say: "Harvard." And I'm like: "Okay, I need to go now. See you later."

That's what's happening here. Statius is supposed to be lower than Virgil — he's supposed to be Virgil's student. But how is it that Statius is able to transcend Virgil? Virgil is still stuck in limbo, but Statius is going to heaven. What happened?

How Is Statius Going to Heaven?

Virgil asks Statius directly how he ended up in Purgatory rather than limbo (Purgatorio, Canto XXII*):

Virgil began: "Love that is kindled by virtue will in another find reply, as long as that love's flame appears without. So, from the time when Juvenal, descending among us in hell's limbo, had made plain the fondness that you felt for me, my own benevolence towards you has been much richer than any ever given to a person one has not seen. Thus, now these years have seemed short. But tell me, and as friend, forgive me if excessive candor lets my reins relax — how was it that you found within your breast a place for avarice when you possessed the wisdom you had nurtured with such care?"

Juvenal is another poet, a contemporary of Statius. And this is really where the question lies: Statius is able to ascend to heaven, but Juvenal goes to limbo. Limbo is not a place for bad people — it's for people who were born before Christ or who never really acknowledged Christ. So most people end up in limbo. Virgil is basically asking Statius: "How did you end up here in Purgatory when you should be in limbo? This makes no sense to me." This is destroying Virgil's framework for the universe, where you have to believe in God and swear allegiance to Christ in order to ascend to heaven.

Statius answers (Canto XXII):

These words at first brought something of a smile to Statius. Then he answered: "Every word you speak to me is a dear sign of love. Indeed, because true causes are concealed, we often face deceptive reasoning and things provoke perplexity in us. Your question makes me sure that you're convinced — perhaps because my circle was the fifth — that in the life I once lived, avarice had been my sin. Know then that I was far from avarice. It was my lack of measure — thousands of months have punished this. And if I had not corrected my assessment by my understanding of what your verses meant when you, as if enraged by human nature, exclaimed: 'Why cannot you, O sacred hunger for gold, restrain the appetite of mortals?' — I now, while rolling weights, would know those sorry ghosts. Then I became aware that hands might open too wide like wings in spending. And of this, as of my other sin, I did repent."

He's saying: yes, he should be here because of his sin — but the issue is not avarice. The issue is he didn't really understand the universe. It took him 500 years to truly understand the universe and his place in it.

The passage continues (Canto XXII):

"How many are to rise again with heads cropped close, whom ignorance prevents from reaching repentance at the end of life? And know that when a sin is countered by another fault directly opposite to it, then here both sins see their green wither. Thus, I join those who pay for avarice in my purgation, though what brought me here was prodigality, its opposite. Now, when you sang the savage words of those twin sorrows of Jocasta," said the singer of the bucolic poems, "it does not seem from those notes struck by you and Clio there, that you would yet turn faithful to the faith without which righteous works do not suffice. If that is so, then what sun or what candles drew you from darkness so that in their wake you set your sails behind the fisherman?"

Virgil is confused by all of this: "You're not a Christian. Why are you here?" Statius answers (Canto XXII):

And he said to him: "You were the first to send me to drink within Parnassus' caves, and you the first who, after God, enlightened me. You did as he who goes by night and carries lamp behind him — he is of no help to his own self, but teaches those who follow. When you declared: 'The ages are renewed, justice returns to man's first time on Earth, from heaven a new progeny descends' — through you I was a poet and through you a Christian. But that you may see more plainly, I'll set my hand to color what I sketch. Disseminated by the messengers of the eternal kingdom, the new faith by then had penetrated all the world, and the new preachers preached in such accord with what you'd said and I have just repeated, that I was drawn into frequenting them. Then they appeared to me to be so saintly that when Domitian persecuted them, my own laments accompanied their grief, and while I could, as long as I had life, I helped them. And their honest practices made me disdain all other sects."

The passage continues (Canto XXII):

"Before within my poem I led the Greeks onto the streams of Thebes, I was baptized. But out of fear, I was a secret Christian, and for a long time showed myself as pagan. For this half-heartedness, for more than four centuries I circled the fourth circle. And now may you, who lifted up the lid that hid from you the good of which I speak, while time is left us as we climb, tell me where is our ancient Terence and Caecilius and Plautus? Where is Varius, if you know? Tell me if they are damned and in what quarter." "All these and Persius," I and many others, my guide replied, "are with that Greek to whom the Muses gave their gifts in greatest measure. Our place is the blind prison, its first circle, and there we often talk about the mountain where those who nursed us always dwell."

Statius is saying he was a secret Christian — he was secretly baptized and became a secret Christian. But if you're a secret Christian, are you really a Christian? There are many ways you can interpret this, but obviously this is a paradox, and it's confusing Virgil. It's telling us that maybe everything that Virgil says is not correct. This is actually subtly, and with nuance, undermining the argument of Virgil.

What Statius is saying is: yes, it's true he never publicly converted to Christianity, but he was always sympathetic towards it — and it was the Aeneid itself that convinced him Christianity was a good religion. "For you, I was a poet, and for you, a Christian."

But Virgil's Aeneid goes against the teachings of the universe. So what this is telling us is that Statius purposely misread Virgil. He loved Virgil for his poetry, but instead of believing Virgil, he in his heart chose to believe in himself. He chose his own intuition. And that's what saved him.

The Disappearance of Virgil: Love as Giving vs. Love as Consuming

Now we are moving towards the final part of our tour, when Dante is able to ascend to the mountaintop where Beatrice will come and meet him.

The arrival of Beatrice (Purgatorio, Canto XXX*):

"I have at times seen all the eastern sky becoming rose as day began, seen its adornment — ruby blue — the rest of heaven adorned with fair serene, and 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."

Dante hasn't seen Beatrice in a long time — in decades. His heart has loved Beatrice all his life. He's really excited that Beatrice is before him. His entire body shakes. And his first response is he wants Virgil to share in his happiness, because he owes everything to Virgil. It's Virgil that brought him through Inferno and Purgatory so that he may finish his journey with Beatrice. That's what Dante wants — he wants to share his happiness with his teacher.

He turns to find Virgil (Canto XXX):

"As soon as that deep forest struck my vision — the power of it, when I had not yet left my boyhood, had already transfixed me — I turned around into 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 myself 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."

He is extremely happy — ecstatic to see Beatrice. He turns to Virgil, assuming Virgil was beside him. He wants to tell him how happy he is. And then when he sees that Virgil is not there, Virgil has disappeared, he becomes despondent. His ecstasy becomes a depression. That's how high he's got, and that's how low he's fallen — because all he wants is to share his happiness with Virgil. But Virgil has run away.

This is a paradox again. The Divine Comedy is nothing but paradoxes. Why did Virgil run away?

Beatrice appears and speaks (Canto XXX):

"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." Just like an admiral who goes stern and proud to see the officers who guide the other ships encouraging their tasks, so on the left side of the chariot, I turned around when I heard my name, which of necessity I transcribe here. I saw the lady who at first appeared to me beneath the veils of the angelic flowers look at me across the stream.

What is interesting is that Beatrice is saying to Dante: Virgil's gone. Forget him. He's not important. What's important is your mission in Paradise. Focus on that, Dante. Let's forget Virgil. And this creates a huge paradox in our minds. What is going on here? Why did Virgil run away?

Why Did Virgil Run Away?

This makes absolutely no sense. First of all, Virgil should be proud and happy for Dante — he loves Dante, Dante wants to be with Beatrice again, and Virgil made it happen. You would think he would want to see Dante and Beatrice together again. Another problem is that Beatrice was the one who asked Virgil to take Dante on this journey, so Beatrice owes him a favor. You would think Virgil can say: "Hey, Beatrice — I did you this favor, so maybe you can do me a favor and get me to heaven." This is really strange. And the third problem is that this is really awkward — the least you can do is say to Beatrice: "Listen, I brought Dante here, and now he's yours." This is not typical of Virgil, and it raises a huge question as to why he did this.

You can interpret this in many ways — there's no right or wrong answer — but one interpretation is this: Virgil first and foremost believes he is right. He is in hell because he believes he should be there. No one put him there — he put himself there. He believes he should be there because God can only let in those who are Christians. But along the way, we discover that's not actually true. Cato, who is not a Christian, is a guardian of Purgatory. Statius, who is a secret Christian, is able to ascend to heaven. Virgil's framework is wrong.

Virgil does not want to see Dante and Beatrice together again. Because the relationship between Dante and Beatrice is the opposite of the relationship between Virgil and Dido. Both are literary creations. The difference is that Dante put Beatrice into Paradise, whereas Virgil put Dido into hell. These are two major dichotomies.

Dante believes that love is fundamentally about giving. Whereas Virgil believes that love is fundamentally about receiving and conquering. Virgil does not want to see the power of Dante's love for Beatrice — where Beatrice rejected him, Beatrice was never with him, but Dante kept on loving her. Dante was willing to give. He understood that true love is about sharing, about bestowing, about giving yourself. Whereas Virgil has always claimed that love is about taking, about consuming, about controlling.

That's why Virgil had to leave — because he did not want to be wrong. He did not want his worldview to be destroyed. So he'd rather burn in hell for all of eternity than to say, "I am wrong."