NOTE ON THE TRANSLATION
----
Since our goals in translating the second
cantica
of Dante’s poem are not in substance different from those that animated our translation of the first, the reader is asked to consult the similar notice that precedes our translation of
Inferno
(Doubleday 2000; Anchor 2002).
Purgatorio
presents some challenges different from those encountered in
Inferno
, but we have again attempted to give as accurate a sense of the poetry and meaning of the Italian text as English allows. The language and style of this part of the poem is, in many respects, different from that to which we have become accustomed in the previous
cantica
. The “harsh and rasping” verse (
Inf
. XXXII.1) used to describe in particular the bottom reaches of hell is mainly lacking here, for the most part replaced by a more harmonious tone and diction. And the themes we encounter now are by and large quite different, as, entering the realm of the saved, we might expect. We need but think of the opening images of sunlight (unseen in
Inferno
), of the sense of divine grace operating before our eyes, of the fraternal love that replaces the hatred found in hell, of the light of the stars, of the singing so often heard and the smiling so often seen in this place, and, in general, of the theological virtue of hope (and its color, green), missing in even the best part of hell, Limbo (where, in Virgil’s words, “without hope we live in longing” [
Inf
. IV.42]).
At the same time, things are not entirely different. The pain undergone by the penitents, it is true, is suffered to a joyous purpose, as Forese Donati makes plain: “I speak of pain but should say solace” (
Purg
. XXIII.72). Nonetheless, in form it is much as that suffered by the damned; all of these souls, too, have their
contrapasso
(
Inf
. XXVIII.142), the punishment that fits their crime, and it functions just as it did in hell, either by mirroring the sin it punishes (as in the choking smoke of wrath) or by being its opposite (as in upward-surging pride being crushed beneath a heavy burden). Also similar to those we found in
Inferno
are the narratives told by former sinners. The attitudes of these speakers and the resolutions of their lives are vastly different (we might compare Francesca [
Inf
. V] and Pia de’ Tolomei [
Purg
. V], as many in fact do); however, the way in which their stories are presented is essentially the same, brief narratives, perhaps best considered Ovidian in origin, of the defining moment in a person’s life. Perhaps no other feature of the
Comedy
is as reflective of the poetic essence of Dantean art as this one, as Robert Browning realized when he wrote his series of Dantesque monologues.
While surely we must acknowledge that
Inferno
and
Purgatorio
are very different poetic places, they nonetheless maintain some arrestingly similar elements. From the vantage point of
Paradiso
the second canticle looks much more like its predecessor than like its successor. But that is another story.
We are grateful to two friends born in Italy and born to Dante for their willingness to sample our translations and my comments with a knowing eye. Margherita Frankel, formerly a professor of Italian at New York University, was her usual careful and exacting self as she examined our materials. The same must be said of Simone Marchesi, who has studied with me as a graduate student at Princeton and now is about to begin teaching Dante in his own courses to fortunate students. We are pleased to be able here to express our gratitude to them both.
Gerald Howard, in addition to his more significant titles and duties at Random House, has been our editor for some years now. His support made publication of our work possible, and his continuing clearheaded and keen-eyed editorial supervision has helped keep the project on an even keel. And we are grateful as well to all at Random House and Anchor Books (including three former students of mine at Princeton) who have
----
Since our goals in translating the second
cantica
of Dante’s poem are not in substance different from those that animated our translation of the first, the reader is asked to consult the similar notice that precedes our translation of
Inferno
(Doubleday 2000; Anchor 2002).
Purgatorio
presents some challenges different from those encountered in
Inferno
, but we have again attempted to give as accurate a sense of the poetry and meaning of the Italian text as English allows. The language and style of this part of the poem is, in many respects, different from that to which we have become accustomed in the previous
cantica
. The “harsh and rasping” verse (
Inf
. XXXII.1) used to describe in particular the bottom reaches of hell is mainly lacking here, for the most part replaced by a more harmonious tone and diction. And the themes we encounter now are by and large quite different, as, entering the realm of the saved, we might expect. We need but think of the opening images of sunlight (unseen in
Inferno
), of the sense of divine grace operating before our eyes, of the fraternal love that replaces the hatred found in hell, of the light of the stars, of the singing so often heard and the smiling so often seen in this place, and, in general, of the theological virtue of hope (and its color, green), missing in even the best part of hell, Limbo (where, in Virgil’s words, “without hope we live in longing” [
Inf
. IV.42]).
At the same time, things are not entirely different. The pain undergone by the penitents, it is true, is suffered to a joyous purpose, as Forese Donati makes plain: “I speak of pain but should say solace” (
Purg
. XXIII.72). Nonetheless, in form it is much as that suffered by the damned; all of these souls, too, have their
contrapasso
(
Inf
. XXVIII.142), the punishment that fits their crime, and it functions just as it did in hell, either by mirroring the sin it punishes (as in the choking smoke of wrath) or by being its opposite (as in upward-surging pride being crushed beneath a heavy burden). Also similar to those we found in
Inferno
are the narratives told by former sinners. The attitudes of these speakers and the resolutions of their lives are vastly different (we might compare Francesca [
Inf
. V] and Pia de’ Tolomei [
Purg
. V], as many in fact do); however, the way in which their stories are presented is essentially the same, brief narratives, perhaps best considered Ovidian in origin, of the defining moment in a person’s life. Perhaps no other feature of the
Comedy
is as reflective of the poetic essence of Dantean art as this one, as Robert Browning realized when he wrote his series of Dantesque monologues.
While surely we must acknowledge that
Inferno
and
Purgatorio
are very different poetic places, they nonetheless maintain some arrestingly similar elements. From the vantage point of
Paradiso
the second canticle looks much more like its predecessor than like its successor. But that is another story.
We are grateful to two friends born in Italy and born to Dante for their willingness to sample our translations and my comments with a knowing eye. Margherita Frankel, formerly a professor of Italian at New York University, was her usual careful and exacting self as she examined our materials. The same must be said of Simone Marchesi, who has studied with me as a graduate student at Princeton and now is about to begin teaching Dante in his own courses to fortunate students. We are pleased to be able here to express our gratitude to them both.
Gerald Howard, in addition to his more significant titles and duties at Random House, has been our editor for some years now. His support made publication of our work possible, and his continuing clearheaded and keen-eyed editorial supervision has helped keep the project on an even keel. And we are grateful as well to all at Random House and Anchor Books (including three former students of mine at Princeton) who have
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