DIVINE COMEDY SERIES
Dante’s Inferno: Canto VI
What happens when insatiable greed and overconsumption meet? Mud, big dogs and weird gods await you!
The love between Paolo and Francesca was so intense that Dante could not help himself but faint again (I know, you better get used to it).
I only ever fainted in the strong Italian heat, but Alighieri does so because of passion, what a sensible man!
Virgil and the Italian poet now guide us to the third circle, reserved for the Gluttonous.
One of the seven deadly sins, gluttony is defined as an overzealous or greedy appetite for something.
Referred not just to food but to any type of consumption.
Cave Canem
(confused about cave canem? read here)
The description given to us in this circle cancels any type of feeling, piety or pathos towards the souls stuck in here.
This is clearly in contrast with what happened in the previous chapters, from now on Dante starts putting in Hell the people he doesn’t like!
Here the souls of the greedy lie on the ground, with their faces in the mud, and are tortured by an incessant rain and by the harassment of the guardian of the circle, the evil Cerberus (picture above).
Over the souls of those submerged beneath
that mess, is an outlandish, vicious beast,
his three throats barking, doglike: Cerberus.
Line 13–15, Canto VI (tr. Barolini Teodolinda, Columbia University)
Since ancient Greek mythology, it is represented as a dog with 3 heads, and this one makes no exception, freaking the poor Alighieri out.
Like Charon, from Canto III, the guarding dog is a modification and intensification of Virgil’s original.
This one is indeed to be found in the Aeneid 6: 417–22.
The gluttons are lying in the mud and Cerberus barks horribly above them with his three jaws. It has red eyes, a dirty muzzle, a swollen belly and clawed paws; he scratches souls, tearing them to shreds and thundering them with his barks
Virgil manages to keep Cerberus at bay by throwing mud into his three jaws (really? I thought meat was good for that!), and so Dante and his master can pass freely among the suffering souls.
I wish my sausage dog named Morgan (bless his soul) was as easy as Cerberus!
Ciacco, the glutton
A soul rises from the shapeless and muddy mass and turns to Dante; asking to be recognized, sounding pitiful and full of sadness.
“O you who are conducted through this Hell,”
he said to me, “recall me, if you can;
for you, before I was unmade, were made.”
Line 40–42, Canto VI (tr. Barolini Teodolinda, Columbia University)
He is Ciacco, a fellow citizen of the poet, probably so-called because of his greed.
Unusual name
We can surely agree that this is a rather unusual name by both English and Italian standards.
He is a historical figure who is the subject of a lively anecdote by Giovanni Boccaccio in the Decameron 9:8 — is allowed no name save a nickname which means “porker” or “hog”.
Such schadenfreude extends even to his attitude to Dante.
Political Turmoil
Through Ciacco’s mouth, Dante alludes for the first time to his own political exile.
Dante questions him about the fate of their city, continually divided in the struggle between the Guelphs and the Ghibellines, and Ciacco prophesies the clash between the two Guelph factions of the Whites and the Blacks, and the final prevalence of the latter (which will then be the cause of his exile).
Ciacco then adds that in the city there is almost no presence of deserving people or those who can change the sad fate of internal struggle, due to the “three sparks” (v. 75) of pride, envy and avarice.
Alighieri asks him where some illustrious Florentine characters are, and Ciacco replies that these (including Farinata and Iacopo Rusticucci), guilty of the most horrible sins, are found in the deepest circles of Hell. Ciacco returns with his face in the mud, after asking Dante to remember him once he returns to the living.
Pluto the great enemy
Virgil explains to the poet that Ciacco will no longer lift his face from the mush, in which he will lie until the Day of Judgment (ouch!).
While the two poets cross the mud between souls, Dante asks Virgil if the torments of the damned will increase after the Judgement, or will be attenuated or will remain the same.
Virgil responds to Dante by inviting him to think about Aristotle’s Physics, according to which the more perfect something is, the more it is able to perceive pain and pleasure.
The damned will never be perfect, however it is logical to assume that after the final sentence, they will reach the fullness of their being (having reclaimed their body), therefore it implicitly states that their punishments will increase.
The two protagonists walk over the souls — as a sign of contempt towards them — and continue their journey into the afterlife, arriving at the gates of the fourth circle, where they encounter Plutus, “the great enemy”, the demon of wealth.
Plutus, god of wealth, son of Jason and Demeter (greek Ploutos), has been confused with the more well-known Pluto god of afterlife, son of Chronus and Rea.
Such confusion appears also in ancient commentaries, and some critics tend to make Dante fall into this group but from reading this canto is evident that Alighieri is aware of the difference.
The poet puts Plutus at guarding the 4th circle of hell, of those who made bad use of richness.
Thoughts and comments
This canto ends with the figure of Plutus, in quite abrupt way.
There is to say that this is the shortest canto in the whole comedy, almost a thing on its own but obviously, within the great context of the poem.
The pathos present in the previous chapters almost disappears and what we see now is only pain, desperation and misery.
Also is interesting how Dante’s attention is not caught by looking at the souls (see canto V and IV), but the damned ask and shout to be recognized, only to be able to talk.
I’ll be quite frank, Alighieri seems not capable of being objective with what happened to him during the civil war in Florence, and all the people he opposed we find them in Hell (how weird?).
Quite convenient I must say, but had a profound impact on his and the next generation of artists.
This is visible in the first works of Botticelli on paper and many frescoes present in Pisa, Italy (see Yuri Minamide’s article here).
Hope you enjoyed this Canto VI analysis, I’ve restarted reading after a long summer break. Opening the book during a cold, but sunny October day in the countryside of Canterbury.
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Unlucky with lottery, love rock bands with unusual names? Read canto 7 here to find out more!
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