Two years ago, in an apostolic letter released on the feast of the Annunciation, Pope Francis called the Italian poet Dante Alighieri “a prophet of hope and a witness to the innate yearning for the infinite present in the human heart.” Dante’s crowning work was the “Divine Comedy,” completed shortly before his death on the feast of the Exultation of the Cross in 1321.
Briefly, the “Divine Comedy” recounts a visionary journey through the afterlife in 100 rhymed “chapters” known as cantos, divided into three main “books” of equal length, or canticles. These are Inferno (hell), Paradise (heaven) and Purgatory. Dante was the first writer to expand on the Catholic doctrine of purgatory as a place in which persons who had died repentant could atone for their sins on their way to a place in heaven.
The Divine Comedy is a daunting read, even if you know Italian, and the plethora of English translations in poetry and prose to choose from can prove daunting for many a reader. Now there are two opportunities close at hand to make this more accessible. One is a new self-published book by a local author, “Let’s Get Out of Hell: Loving the Divine Comedy,” by Frances DeChantal, the pen name of Jane Meyerhofer, who taught middle school science and math in a Catholic school in Northern Virginia.
The other is an installation of works illustrating the “Divine Comedy” at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, including seldom-seen sculptures, paintings, books and prints, all part of the gallery’s permanent collection.
In “Loving the Divine Comedy,” the author, a trained geologist puts, her 12-year teaching experience at Our Lady of Hope School in Potomac Falls to good use. Her method is to capture, using the most widely available English versions, the literal meaning of the “Divine Comedy.” Dante himself advised that this should be the starting level for understanding the poem, in which he appears both as author and protagonist.
She summarizes the plot, uses translated quotes (often more than one version, which is very helpful), annotates where needed to explain things that might have been common knowledge in 1300 but are mysterious to the modern reader, and adds a few apt comments of her own. Her explicit goal is to make sure that the grim allure of the Inferno, which begins in a “gloomy wood” that strikes terror into the poet’s heart, does not prevent readers from traversing the sunlit sea that leads to the island of purgatory, and ultimately contemplating “The Love which moves the Sun and the other stars” in heaven. Dante sets forth this purpose in Canto 1, which is a preamble to the entire poem. Having described his plight as deathly bitter, he avers: “But since my theme will be the good I found there, I mean to speak of other things I saw.”
An appendix at the back of the slim volume points to ideas for deeper study, not only as an individual but potentially in a classroom. Inspiration for artists, the Dante installation in Washington illustrates many of the poem’s hundreds of stories, some from famous artists (e.g., the English poet/printmaker William Blake, the French sculptor Rodin) and others not well known at all. The overwhelming majority depict scenes from Inferno. This is not surprising, not only because that canticle seems more accessible and contains the most visual content, but also because it was more popular in the last 200 years. One exception is the “Allegorical Portrait of Dante” that is the center of the show. The long excerpt from Paradiso Canto XXV inscribed on the book the poet holds not only expresses his anger at his unjust exile from his native Florence (yes, saints are allowed to be angry when they look down and see what we mortals are up to). It also expresses his hope of returning to Florence. In this canto, Dante takes an exam on the theological virtue of hope by St. James, and he passes it with flying colors.
Hamerman writes from Reston.
