115-126. THE REIN OF GLUTTONY. (115-117) The first admonition cites the downfall of Eve (aptly cited from an offshoot of the original tree). Gluttony, in Dante’s view, is sinful because it rejects God in favor of appetite: the Glutton thinks of his belly rather than of his soul. Eve’s act is, therefore, the supreme Gluttony in that it lost God to all mankind until the coming of Christ. In Dante’s geography, the Garden of Eden stands at the top of the Mount of Purgatory. Thus the tree from which Eve ate, and from whose roots this tree springs, must stand above it.
   (121-123) The second admonition cites the drunkenness of the Centaurs and the grief to which it brought them. Invited to a wedding feast by the neighboring Lapithae, the Centaurs became so drunk they tried to make off with the bride, whereupon Theseus and the Lapithae seized arms and killed great numbers of the Centaurs. The Centaurs are spoken of as “born of a cloud” (line 122) because they were supposed to have been sired by Ixion upon the cloud Nephele whom Jupiter had formed into the likeness of Juno, beloved of Ixion. They are said to have double breasts (line 123) because of their two natures, half-horse and half-human.
   (124-126) The third admonition is based on Judges, vii, 5-6. When Gideon was leading the army of the Jews against Midian, he was instructed by the Lord to lead his men to the river and to watch how they drank. Those who threw aside all caution at the sight of water and plunged their faces into the river, were to be set aside. Those who stayed alert despite their thirst, drinking cautiously by scooping the water up in their hands and remaining watchful, were to be chosen. Three hundred were so chosen, and with them alone Gideon moved down to victory.
   127. the inner way: Along the cliff-face. 130-131. the road cleared, and with more room . . . : One must remember that the tree grows in the middle of the ledge. The Voice had warned the Poets not to draw near. Since the ledge is narrow and the tree spreads wide, the Poets had to draw far to one side along the inner cliff-face, naturally drawing close together. Now, with the road cleared, they once more draw apart for better walking.
   135. alone: As Dante has made clear, the souls in Purgatory go normally in great bands. Three alone is an exception the Angel could not fail to note.
   135-155. THE ANGEL OF ABSTINENCE. The combined fieriness and softness of the Angel of Abstinence makes him an especially memorable figure, and an especially appropriate one, his office considered. The fieriness of his aura may be taken to symbolize raging appetite, perhaps prefiguring the Fire of Luxuria (lust) of the next Canto; his softness to symbolize the sweetness of abstinence in its conquest of such fire.
   His blessing to the Poets is based on the second half of the Fifth Beatitude, the first half of which was recited by the Angel of Moderation on the ledge just below. (See opening lines of XXII.) That Angel had left out “who hunger” in his version of the Beatitude. This Angel leaves out “who thirst” but puts in “who hunger.”
   Canto XXV
   DEPARTURE FROM THE SIXTH CORNICE
   The Ascent
   The Discourse of Statius
   THE SEVENTH CORNICE
   The Whip of Lust
   The Lustful
   It is 2:00 P.M. as the Three Poets leave the Cornice of the Gluttonous and begin their hurried ASCENT TO THE SEVENTH CORNICE.
   Dante, burning with eagerness to ask how the Gluttons could give the appearance of advanced starvation despite the fact that they are airy bodies and do not need food, fears to speak but is finally encouraged to do so by Virgil. Dante immediately offers his question, and Virgil, as an act of courtesy, invites Statius to answer it. The rest of the rapid ascent is then occupied by THE DISCOURSE OF STATIUS ON
   THE NATURE OF THE GENERATIVE PRINCIPLE, THE BIRTH OF THE HUMAN SOUL, and THE NATURE OF AERIAL BODIES.
   By the time Statius is finished, the Poets have reached the Seventh Cornice. There, enwrapped in sheets of flame, the souls of THE LUSTFUL sing over and over the hymn Summae Deus Clementiae. At each conclusion of the hymn, they cry out in praise of an example of High Chastity. These examples form THE WHIP OF LUST. It is in this way, singing and praising as they move through the flames, that the Lustful perform their purification.
   It was an hour to climb without delay.
   Taurus succeeded to the Sun’s meridian,
   and Scorpio to Night’s—a world away;
   thus, as a man spurred on by urgent cause will push ahead, no matter what appears along the way inviting him to pause—
   just so we filed, one of us at a time,
   into the gap, and started up those stairs
   whose narrowness divides all those who climb.
   And as a little stork, eager to fly
   but afraid to leave the nest, will raise a wing
   then let it fall again—just such was I,
   the will within me now strong and now weak,
   eager to ask, but going only so far
   as to make me clear my throat, and then not speak.
   The pace was swift; nor did my Sweet Lord slow
   his stride, but said: “I see the bow of speech
   drawn back to the very iron. Let it go.”
   My doubts resolved, I did not hesitate
   to use my mouth. “How can they grow so thin,”
   I said, “who need no food in their new state?”
   “Recall Meleager wasting as the brand
   wasted in fire,” he said, “and you will find
   the matter not so hard to understand.
   Or think how your least move before a glass
   is answered by your image, and what seemed hard
   is bound to grow much clearer than it was.
   But this wish burns you, I know, and to put out
   all of its flames, I shall beg Statius now
   to be the one to heal the wounds of doubt.”
   “If, in your presence,” Statius first replied,
   “I explain eternal things, let my excuse
   be only that your wish be not denied.”
   And then to me: “Son, let it be your task
   to hear and heed my words, and they will be
   a light upon the ‘how’ of what you ask.
   Perfect blood—that pure blood that remains
   as one might say, like food upon the table,
   and never goes to slake the thirsty veins—
   acquires, within the heart, formative power
   over all human organs; as that which flows
   into the veins forms them. It is once more
   changed in the heart, then flows down to that place
   the better left unmentioned. Thence, it drips
   over another blood in its natural vase.
   There, the two commingle; and one blood shows
   a passive bent, while the other blood is active,
   due to the perfect place from which it flows.
   So joined, the active force within the latter
   first clots, then quickens what it has made firm
   of the former blood to serve as working matter.
   The active force has now become a soul
   like that of a plant, but with the difference
   that this begins where that achieves its goal.
   Soon, like some sea-thing, half-beast and half-weed,
   it moves and feels. It then begins to form
   those powers of sense of which it is the seed.
   Now, my son, the formative power expands
   and elongates within, till every member
   takes form and place as nature’s plan commands.
   But how this animal-thing grows human powers
   you do not yet see; and this very point
   has led astray a wiser head than yours.
   By him, the possible intellect was thought
   (since it occupied no organ) to be disjoined
   from the vegetative soul—and so he taught.
   Open your heart to the truth I shall explain,
   and know that at the instant articulation
   has been perfected in the foetal brain,
   tha 
					     					 			t instant the First Mover turns to it.
   And there, rejoicing at such art in nature,
   breathes into it a new and powerful spirit.
   All that is active there, this spirit draws
   into itself, forming a single soul
   that lives, and feels, and measures its own cause.
   (Consider, if you find these words of mine
   too strange to understand, how the Sun’s heat
   joined to the sap of the vine turns into wine.)
   Then when Lachesis’ flax is drawn, it frees
   itself from flesh, but takes with it the essence
   of its divine and human faculties—
   its lower powers grown passive now and mute;
   but memory, intelligence, and will
   more active than they were, and more acute.
   Miraculously then, by its own will,
   it falls at once to one or the other shore.
   There it first learns its way, for good or ill.
   And once inclosed in that new atmosphere,
   the formative power rays out, as it did first
   in shaping the bodily parts it left back there.
   Then, as the air after a rain will glow
   inside itself, reflecting an outer ray,
   and clothe itself in many colors—so
   wherever the soul may stop in its new hour,
   the air about it takes on that soul’s image.
   Such is the virtue of the formative power.
   Thereafter, in the same way one may see
   flame follow fire wherever it may shift,
   the new form follows the soul eternally.
   From air it draws its visibility. Hence,
   it is called a shade. And out of air it forms
   the organs of sight, speech, and every sense.
   Thus are we able to speak and laugh. And thus
   are we able to weep such tears and breathe such sighs
   as you have seen and heard, passing among us.
   As desire, or other feelings move us, so
   our shades change their appearances. And that
   is that cause of what amazed you just below.”
   —We had come, by then, to the last turn of the stairs
   from which we bore to the right along the cornice,
   and our minds were drawn already to other cares.
   Here, from the inner wall, flames blast the ledge,
   while from the floor an air-blast bends them back,
   leaving one narrow path along the edge.
   This path we were forced to take as best we might,
   in single file. And there I was—the flames
   to the left of me, and the abyss to the right.
   My Leader said: “In this place, it is clear,
   we all must keep a tight rein on our eyes.
   To take a false step would be easy here.”
   “Summae Deus clementiae,” sang a choir
   inside that furnace, and despite my road
   I could not help but look into the fire.
   Then I saw spirits moving through the flames,
   and my eyes turned now to them, now to my feet,
   as if divided between equal claims.
   When they had sung the hymn, those souls in pain
   cried out in full voice: “Virum non cognosco.”
   Then, softly, they began the hymn again.
   That done, they cried: “Diana kept to the wood,
   and drove Helicé from her when that nymph
   had felt Venus’s poison in her blood.”
   Then, once again, the hymn swelled from their choir;
   and after it they praised husbands and wives
   who were chaste as virtue and marriage vows require.
   And in this way, I think, they sing their prayer
   and cry their praise for as long as they must stay
   within the holy fire that burns them there.
   Such physic and such diet has been thought fit
   before the last wound of them all may knit.
   NOTES
   1. It was an hour to climb without delay: Afternoon. Hence there was no time to waste, for darkness will come soon.
   2-3. Taurus succeeded to the Sun’s meridian: The sun is in the sign of Aries, which is succeeded by the sign of Taurus. If Taurus has replaced the sun at the meridian, the sun must have moved lower toward the west. And since the signs of the Zodiac each represent two hours (twelve of them for twenty-four hours), it must be two hours past noon. and Scorpio to Night’s—a world away: Night is personified here. A world away (above Jerusalem), Night would have reached its meridian point (midnight) in the sign of Libra, but has now passed on and Scorpio is the ruling sign. It is, therefore, 2:00 A.M. in Jerusalem.
   7. one of us at a time: The probable order is: Virgil, Statius, Dante. (Cf. XXVI, 1.)
   9. whose narrowness divides all those who climb: A clear allegorical meaning not to be overlooked here, is that each soul must ultimately climb to salvation alone, inside itself, no matter how much assistance it may receive from others. Another would be the soul’s loneliness in meeting sexual temptation.
   10-15. eager . . . afraid: Dante is burning to ask how such insubstantial entities as shades, who need no physical nourishment, could have every appearance of advanced starvation, as is the case with the souls of the Gluttonous. This eagerness to ask, along with the need to hurry on, is implicit in all of Dante’s phrasing in lines 1-6.
   17-18. the bow of speech . . . : Dante’s speech is conceived to be a bow that he has bent back to the very iron (the head) of the arrow, in his eagerness to let fly, but which he has been afraid to release.
   22. Meleager: Son of Oeneus, King of Calydon, and of Althaea. When he was born, the Fates threw a branch into the fire and decreed that he should live until fire had consumed it. Althaea pulled it out of the fire and hid it.
   When he had grown, Meleager fell in love with Atalanta, famous for the story of the golden apples. He slew a great bear for her and gave her the skin. His own brothers stole the skin from Atalanta and Meleager, in his rage, killed them. Althaea thereupon brought the fatal branch out of hiding and threw it into the fire. As the flames consumed it, Meleager’s life was consumed.
   29. I shall beg Statius now: Some commentators see Virgil’s action in calling upon Statius as signifying that Human Reason has begun to surrender its function to the redeemed soul. Certainly, however, there is nothing in what Statius goes on to say, that lies beyond the province of Virgil as Human Reason. Statius’s long reply, in fact, would have been taken as a scientific disquisition in Dante’s time.
   Virgil’s action is better taken, I believe, as a courtesy to Statius. Rather than have Statius stand by while Virgil lectures on matters that Statius knows perfectly well, Virgil invites Statius to take over the lecture—a courtesy to a visiting professor. Statius returns the courtesy by pointing out that he can say nothing not known to Virgil, but undertakes the lecture because Virgil has been so gracious in requesting that he do so.
   36. the ‘how’: Dante had asked (line 20): “How can they grow so thin?”
   34-108. THE DISCOURSE OF STATIUS. The long discourse into which Statius launches cannot fail to present unusual difficulties to modern readers, yet it is worth special attention as an illustration of what Dante meant by “Science,” as a series of outdated but interesting theories, and especially as an example of how carefully Dante led up to and then introduced his inquiries into the nature of things as an important part of the total scheme of the Commedia.
   The discourse may be divided into three parts: I. The Nature of the Generative Principle; II. The Birth of the Human Soul; and III. The Nature of Aerial Bodies. An extended paraphrase is perhaps the best way to deal with the complexities of the discourse.
   I. The Nature of the Generative Principle:
   31-39. Dante’s concept of blood includes not only blood as we understand it, but a pre-substance (perfect blood) some of which flows into the veins (i.e., the arteries), but some 
					     					 			 of which remains apart (like food left untouched and in its original state).
   40-42. This perfect blood enters the heart (without entering into the general circulation of the bloodstream) and acquires the power (which we now associate with the genes) to determine the development of the bodily organs and members. Similarly, the blood that flows into the “veins” has the power to determine their form and function. formative power: a technical term from Scholastic philosophy. It may be thought of as “the generative principle.” It is derived entirely from the male parent.