Dante’s Purgatorio, in contrast with the fire and fury of Inferno and Roman splendor of Paradiso, is the canticle of hope. It is the most human of the three canticles because the tormented souls know there is an end to their torment—which makes the fate of Virgil in this canticle all the more terrible.
Dante ascends Mount Purgatory in the company of Virgil, who guided him from the “dark wood” through the depths of Hell. Together, they climb terraces where the souls purge themselves of sin in anticipation of paradise. The climb is steady, less terrifying than Hell, less ecstatic than Heaven, full of longing, humility, and hope. The heart of the poem is not just Dante’s journey toward God but his relationship with his guide—a relationship that ends in silence, with Virgil dismissed back to Hell without acknowledgment.
The Human Shape of Purgatory
Mark Musa’s translation emphasizes the beauty and clarity of Dante’s verse. Musa avoids archaic heaviness, letting Dante’s voice speak in measured English in blank verse. (Of the seven translations I have read, I prefer Musa’s translation for the entire Commedia, but slightly prefer Robert Pinsky’s Inferno. Rhymed translations like those of Dorothy Sayers and John Ciardi distract me from the flow of the narrative.)
Souls on the mountain describe their sufferings with startling candor, often asking Dante to carry news of them back to the living world. Unlike in Hell, there is no pride in sin here. As Dante says, “Here let death’s sting be turned to joyful laughter” (Purgatorio II.75). Musa captures this tone of penitential optimism: the souls are burdened, but they know their suffering has an end.
The mountain’s structure reinforces the idea of progress. Whereas Hell spirals down into eternal stasis, Purgatory rises toward transformation. The climb itself is strenuous; Dante frequently struggles, needing Virgil’s guidance. Yet with each terrace, the air grows lighter. Musa’s English renders Dante’s sense of relief as he nears the summit, reminding us that this is a place of preparation, not damnation.
Virgil the Guide
From the beginning of Inferno, Virgil represents reason, human wisdom, and the legacy of classical civilization. Dante reveres him as “my master and my author” (Inferno I.85). In Musa’s translation, Dante’s words retain both awe and filial devotion. Virgil leads Dante with patience and authority, even when Dante falters in fear or fatigue. By the time they reach the top of Mount Purgatory, Virgil is more than a guide—he is a companion, almost a father figure. Their bond is the emotional thread of the first two canticles.
That makes Virgil’s fate all the more cruel. He has shepherded Dante from the bottomless pit of Hell to the threshold of Paradise, only to be dismissed at the decisive moment. As a virtuous pagan, Virgil is barred from Heaven; his lot is Limbo, where “there was no weeping here, except for sighs” (Inferno IV.25). He cannot share in the beatific vision. His role is to lead Dante to Beatrice, and once that role is complete, he vanishes.
The Silent Dismissal in Canto 30
The climax of this dismissal comes in Purgatorio XXX, when Beatrice appears in a procession of dazzling radiance. Dante, overcome, instinctively turns to Virgil for reassurance:
“I turned to the left with the confidence
of a little child running to his mama
when he is frightened or distressed,
to say to Virgil: ‘Not a single drop
of blood remains in me that does not tremble;
I recognize the signs of the old flame.’
But Virgil had left us deprived of himself,
Virgil, sweetest father, Virgil, to whom
I gave myself for my salvation.
And not all that our ancient mother lost
could keep my cheeks, though washed by dew,
from darkening again with tears.” (Purgatorio XXX.43–51, Musa)
This is one of the most devastating moments in Dante’s entire poem. After more than sixty cantos together, Virgil disappears “without a word,” sent back to his eternal confinement. Dante is left weeping, not only because Beatrice overwhelms him but because the companion he relied upon is gone forever. Musa’s phrasing—“Virgil, sweetest father”—emphasizes the intimacy of their bond, even as it underscores the finality of the loss.
What is striking is the lack of comment from Dante himself. The poet offers no reflection, no complaint against God’s justice. Virgil simply vanishes. This silence is its own commentary. Dante’s grief is immediate and human, but the narrative moves on. In the divine order, reason must yield to grace, and Virgil must yield to Beatrice. Yet for the reader, the abrupt dismissal of so faithful a guide feels both heartbreaking and unjust.
Musa’s translation avoids ornate flourishes that might soften the blow. He lets the loss to strike the reader with the same suddenness it strikes Dante. Musa also provides helpful notes that clarify Virgil’s status—honored, indispensable, but excluded from salvation. For modern readers, who sympathize with Virgil as the great poet of Rome, this exclusion is a profound tragedy. (I read Dante with a group of young soldiers at Camp Adder in Iraq. They were angry at Dante for betraying his “Battle Buddy” just as they reached the peak of Mount Purgatory.)
In the world Dante created, human reason, represented by Virgil, can guide us far, but it cannot bring us to God. Only divine grace, embodied by Beatrice, can do that. This moment lingers long after Dante moves on into Paradise. Virgil is the shadow haunting the poem’s final third, a reminder of what even the noblest human achievement cannot attain in the world of Medieval Catholic belief. The Divine Comedy is the theology of Aquinas in verse.
As Dante steps into eternity, Virgil returns to his sighs in Limbo. The hope of all the penitents in Purgatorio is inseparable from the bitterness which is Virgil’s fate.
Eternal Hell is deeply embedded in western culture seeming to be the mirror of eternal Heaven. Two years ago I read and re-read That All Shall Be Saved: Heaven, Hell and Eternal Salvation, in which the Eastern Orthodox theologian David Bentley Hart asserts that there is no eternal Hell. He overturns the theology of Aquinas and shows the mistakes that led Augustine to put eternal Hell in Christian doctrine and through his influence into western thought.
