At the opening of the fourth circle of hell, we come upon Plutus, the great enemy. Or is he? And is he even Plutus? And while we’re at it, how’s he the great enemy when he can’t even talk good Florentine? And when he’s so easily vanquished?

By Virgil. Who suddenly has a very sure grip on Christian theology.

Dante-the-poet isn’t making it easy on us. The terms of the game seem to be changing around us. What’s going on?

Before we can catch our breath, we’ll descend to the level itself—or rather, we’ll ascend above it for the first-ever, bird’s-eye view of a circle of hell. Here, a bunch of guys push rocks at each other, while redefining the very nature of sin.

See? The poet’s not making it easy on us.

There’s a new feature in the player for these episodes. You can check the “notes” and see the time marks for individual segments of each episode. I hope this proves useful to some.

Drop a comment. Let’s chat about the opening to this most curious canto.

Here’s my rough English translation of INFERNO, Canto VII, lines 1 - 35:

 

“Pape Satàn, pape Satàn aleppe!”

Plutus started in with a clucking voice.

And my well-heeled sage, who knew all things,

 

Said this to fortify me: “Don’t let your fear

Hurt you. No matter his power,

He won’t impede our way down this rock slab.”

 

He then turned to confront the puffy face,

And said, “Shut up, cursed wolf!

Let the rage inside you devour you!

 

“This trip to the depths is not without

A cause. It’s willed on high, where Michael

Made his vendetta against the prideful blitz.”

 

As sails, billowed in the wind, fall

Into a knotty mess when the mainmast gives way,

So that cruel beast fell to the ground.

 

In this way, we descended into the fourth pit,

Observing more of the sorrowful rim

That puts all the evil of the universe in a sack.

 

Ah, God’s justice! Who could stock

All this new torment and pain that I saw?

And why does our guilt so ruin us?

 

As a wave spilling over Charybdis

Crashes against another that it meets,

So these souls did in their frantic dance.

 

I saw more people here than at any point above,

On one side and another, with great screams,

Shoving heavy weights with their chests.

 

They smashed together, and as soon as that,

They turned around, pushing their loads and hollering,

“Why do you hold onto stuff?” and “Why do you throw it out?”

 

In this way, each one traverses the miserable circle

On either hand to the opposite point,

Hollering their shameful meter at each other,

 

Only to turn around when reaching that point

And follow the half-circle back around to the other jousting list.