Humanism In Dantes Inferno

Considering Dante’s Humanist Perspective in Commedia

To many historians Dante Alighieri lies firmly beyond the reach of early Renaissance Florence, on the cusp yet still belonging to the late Middle Ages. Few concede that the famous poet belonged to the former, but here proposed is an alternative: approaching history as it truly played out, as a continuum. Early humanist thought did not suddenly appear in Florence shortly after Dante’s death, but rather the ideas and attitudes of the city and its people began to change quite slowly, gaining momentum in the latter half of the fourteenth century. Though Francesco Petrarca may be considered the father of humanism, it is seen in Alighieri's most famous work, La Divina Commedia, that Dante demonstrated

many important aspects of early Renaissance humanism and that the contributions of the exiled poet to the school of thought are not to be overlooked.
In several cantos of the Inferno, tendencies toward humanist thought can be easily discerned.

In the third canto, the guide of Dante’s altar ego, Virgil, leads the duo through the vestibule just before entering the gates guarding Hell. The poet places those who are acceptable neither to Hell nor to Paradise here, emphasizing the choices these individuals made to endure eternal torture, “... Hateful to God and his enemies. // These miscreants, who never were alive, / Were naked, and were stung exceedingly / By gadflies and by hornets that were there.” (Alighieri, Inferno 3.64-66, Longfellow). It is here that Alighieri reinforces his belief than man should be God-fearing above all else, a pillar of both the time and humanist thought, but it is most notable that emphasis is placed on the lack of action taken by these individuals who lived their lives on the fence, neither worthy of “infamy [n]or praise” (Alighieri, Inferno 3.36, Longfellow). Renaissance humanism celebrates those in antiquity who have lived the best lives they possibly could, created the most beauty and spread the most knowledge, a trait that the sufferers in the vestibule are decidedly lacking, and in Dante’s eyes, this earns them perhaps the worst punishment in the first cantica. Dante’s creation of the realm of the vestibule also clearly demonstrates the work’s first major deviation from Latin theological teachings, as he felt it was entirely necessary to create a special eternal horror for the contemptible

who refused choice (Scott).
Soon after passing over the Acheron, Virgil and his charge find themselves in Limbo, the eternal resting place of those noble of heart who were born before Christ and therefore cannot enter Paradise, “True it is, that upon the verge I found me / Of the abysmal valley dolorous, / That gathers thunder of infinite ululations.” (Alighieri, Inferno, 4.07-09, Longfellow). This circle evokes perhaps the most sympathy in the reader, and the undeserved nature of this sorrowful place and the people therein is highlighted by Dante, who does his best in this canto to reconcile his values and personal ideals with his devout faith. Instead of focusing on the unbaptized infants, whose souls the Latin teachings of his time would insist Limo comprises, the poet chooses to devote all of his verse in Limbo to the adult spirits. Bound to this hopeless place for eternity are the poets of antiquity admired by the author, including Virgil, Homer, Horace, and so many others who inspired Dante’s respect, as well as innocents like unbaptized children and other ancient figures: “And this arose from sorrow without torment, … Of infants and of women and of men.” (Alighieri, Inferno 4.28-30, Mandelbaum). Though Dante’s Christianity requires him to place the people he looked up to within the gates of Hell, he displays a clear interest in removing them from those who have committed true sin, geographically and emotionally. He feels like a part of him belongs among the great poets of antiquity resting there, and, upon being included within their fold, effectively sympathizes with the only souls in Hell that are religiously acceptable for him to relate to. Alighieri, in demonstrating this deep and sincere esteem for the inhabitants of Limbo, shows himself to cherish human dignity and reason in addition to classical figures, scholars, and leaders, primary principles of later humanist values (Thompson). In addition, one cannot omit the fact that here Dante is in complete violation of the orthodox, allowing light and a glimmer of comfort to enter Hell, which is entirely forbidden in Latin theology and remained a point of controversy for early readers of the epic poem (Scott).
Not long after leaving the first circle and encountering the Greek beast Minos, the poet and his guide find themselves amongst those whose sins were of the flesh. Here shades, or souls, of people are tossed about violently in a hurricane symbolizing the chaos and abandonment of reason in succumbing to lust. This circle elicits a great deal of sympathy from Dante, as he sees so many shades suffering there for, of all things, an excess of love, “No sooner had I heard my teacher name / the ancient ladies and knights, than pity / seized me, and I was like a man astray.” (Alighieri, Inferno 5.70, Mandelbaum). Confused and, as a man so swayed by love for a woman himself, compassionate towards the plight of these sinners, Dante cannot just pass by the shades without a second glance. He calls out to them, and they then commune. Alighieri does not portray the shades here, especially that of Francesca da Rimini and her equally damned lover Paolo, as truly hell-deserving, somewhat odd for a pious Christian of the time. Francesca’s story, as related by Dante, does nothing to convince the reader that she deserves eternal damnation, but instead makes both the main character and the reader consider how there seems to be an unjust quality to her fate (Alighieri, Inferno, Mandelbaum). Morality here, for Dante at least, is leaning away from the traditional teaching of the church and taking on a more humanist light that seeks to understand the perspective of these people and, with reason as well as emotion, object to the injustice of the entwined lovers’ predestined fate. It is evident here that true virtue is defined differently for Alighieri than the dogma that the Catholic church would dictate. The beginning of cantica is littered with such moments, where Dante and occasionally his shepherd stop and witness how the seemingly virtuous, though flawed have fallen, especially historic figures. Independent thought leads the poet to portray this quest in an manner not commonly seen by religious text: inundated with the worship of classical intellectuals, leaders, and artists like Homer and Caesar in addition to biblical heroes and traditional Judeo-Christian figures like Rachel and Moses. History and classical scholarship, it seems, has had as much of an influence on Dante as his firm religious background has.
On the opposite side of the earth, after Dante has emerged from the underside of Cocytus, the poet and his guide are greeted by the sight of the great Mount of Purgatory. In this cantica Alighieri describes how individual spirits become, through efforts of their own and a history of sins none too great, worthy of God’s love and everlasting paradise. This is made evident by Dante purifying his soul, though not having to endure the true punishments of all seven deadly sins before being able to ascend beyond purgatory. For example in the eleventh canto of Purgatorio his back bends as if he, too, is a penitent burdened with rock and the weight of prideful sin: “My face was lowered as I listened; … I, completely hunched, walked on with them.” (Alighieri, Purgatorio 11.73-11.78, Mandelbaum). As the poet travels further up the mountain, the reader inevitably notes that, had Dante not been rescued from the dark wood of error by divine intervention, this is where he would belong, among the astray Christians, a member of the impure repentant. Placed in contrast with the shades surrounding him being truly punished, one difference is most sharply discerned between the protagonist and the punished: Dante is more worthy of a hasty ascent and salvation. But how can this be, if the poet is guilty of losing the straight path in life like his brethren beside him? The answer lies in Alighieri's beliefs about worldly virtue, as he has earned his fate by creating poetry that celebrates both God and man as well as from leading a life of purpose, virtue, and enjoyment, rather than uselessness and self-deprecating piety. This truly shows divergence from the traditional thought of Dante’s orthodox education, distinctly demonstrating elements of humanist philosophical undertones in Purgatorio.
The strong theme of respect and reverence for figures and ideas from classical antiquity is present throughout the epic poem, especially in the choices the poet makes for the important shades and beasts he meets and the way he lays out the geography of the afterlife. His own dear and trustworthy guide is his personal hero from antiquity. Virgil may not have been born in the right century to enjoy paradise, but that does not stop Alighieri from tasking the famed ancient Roman poet with being the divinely appointed shepherd to his salvation. He chooses a man who is by all Christian counts an infidel for this high office, in spite of all the possible Abrahamic figures and saints that one might find more qualified to guide him down the pit of Hell. Virgil symbolizes reason to Dante, the most valued virtue to both the poet and the Florentine humanists that succeeded him. There are numerous other examples of Alighieri featuring figures with roots in his study of classical antiquity. Cocytus, the final and most blood-curdling level of hell, is named after one of the rivers encircling the underworld in ancient Greek mythology. The characters of Minos and Charon are brought directly from this same mythos, as are Achilles and Apollo. The City of Dis, the epicenter of Hell and home to Satan himself, is named after the Roman Dis, god of the underworld. Mentioned in a favorable light include Plato, Aristotle, and Socrates as well as the great Caesar. These are just a few of the examples of cultural references in the Divine comedy that tie in directly with Dante’s study and respect for the ancient societies before him.
Even later Renaissance humanists like Francesco Filelfo lauded Dante in essays and correspondence for recognizing true virtue and with the “...melodious harmony of his divine poem...” communicating a set of teachings engraved in religious allegory that aids the reader in directing his thoughts and actions “...

just as Aristotle describes with his lofty erudition and gravity” (Thompson). Leonardo Bruni himself wrote of Dante’s life, and contemporaries like Cristoforo Landino spoke of the Commedia as a prime example of “the divinity of Dante’s genius” that, when faced with the poet and scholar’s sheer depth and volume of knowledge and thought, inspired great awe in them likened to being a “blind rat in such brightness” (Thompson). It must be concluded that, if Renaissance humanists so epitomizing of the spirit of that intellectual movement held Dante in such esteem, agreeing with and extolling most of what he put forth in his Commedia, the values he expresses in the epic poem must be aligned with the values of

humanism.