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Dante’s Inferno Canto 8-9 The Gates of Dis. A lesson in Divine Timing, Hope vs. Misery, and Inevitable Promises coming through!

I read the chapter so you can hear it if you want, (and so I could practice reading) but I’ll probably post the text as well along side all my thoughts about this chapter. It’s one of many very good parts of the story with a Very Good Message about hope and stuff. I’m too tired to write now but I plan to return

Video Transcript:
Hello camera. I have returned for video diary number two. We’re going to try something a little different. I mean, not that different because last time I read stuff, but this time I’m just going to read stuff. And the reason I’m reading stuff is because I want it as two things. I want this as a reference for later when I talk about this particular chapter in Dante. people can listen to it and hear the words as they are rather than reading through it. Some people are better with audio and stuff.

Second is so that I can practice talking on camera and practice reading slower. So if I start reading really fast, I’m going to try to stop doing that. And I have a phone call.[Music]Sorry. I have to have like an internal battle giant struggle when when somebody calls me whether or not I’m going to pick up because when I pick up the phone, I know that that’s probably going to be me dedicating the next like hour and a half of my life to that phone call. So, I sometimes have to make crazy eyes at the phone.

This won’t take very long. I’m just reading chapter eight and chapter nine of Dante’s Inferno. It’s a really good chunk. I will- I suppose it could help if I read the summary of the chapter before. I almost want you guys to be surprised about what happens, but I don’t know. It’s kind of complicated. I’m just going to read it. It’s just for reference and then I’m going to stop for reference and… it’s for me not for you, this is for me. Okay.

Uh I suppose I should give a little bit of a backdrop. Um, so far Dante has found a maybe I should I’ll do the backdrop in text form. 222 on the clock. A weird magic number dork right now. Uh, okay. Two chapters. Easy peasy. It’s like seven pages.


Returning to my theme, I say we came to the foot of a great tower, but long before we reached it through the marsh, two horns of flame flared from the summit, one from either side and then far off, so far we could scare see it across the mist.

Another flame replied, I turned to the sea of that of all intelligence(Virgil), saying, “What is the signal and counter signal? And who is its peaks with fire across this distance?” and he then look across the filthy slew. “You may already see the one they summon if the swamp vapors do not hide him from you.”

No twinging bow spring ever shot an arrow that boarded the air it rode dead to the mark more swiftly than the flying skip whose prow shot towards us over the polluted channel with a single steers man at the helm who called. So do I have you at last you welp of hell. “Phlegyus, Phlegyus” my lord and guide this time “you waste your breath. You have us only for the time it takes to cross to the other side.”

Phlegyus the madman blew his rage among those muddy marshes like a cheek deceived or like a fool at some imagined wrong. My guide whom all the f my guide whom all the fiends noise could not meddle boarded the skip motioning me to follow and not till I stepped aboard did it seem to settle.

At once we left the shore, the ancient that ancient hull riding more heavily than it had ridden in all of time before. And as we ran on that dead swamp, the slime rose before me, and from it a voice cried, “Who are you that come here before your time?” And I replied, “If I come, I do not remain, but you, who are you, so fallen and so foul?”

And he, “I am one who weeps.” And I then “May you weep and whail to all eternity. For I know you, hell dog, filthy as you are!” Then he stretched out both hands forth to the boat. But wearily the master shoved him back, crying, “down with the other dogs.” Then he embraced me, saying, “indignant spirit, I kiss you as you frown. Blessed be the she who bore you. In a world in time, this was this one was haughtier yet not one unbending graces his memory. Here is his shadow in slime. And how many living now chancellors of wrath shall come to lie here yet in this cursed to be their aftermath.

And I, “master, it would suit my whim to see the rich scrub down into this will before we leave this stinking sink and him.” And he to me “before the otherside shows through the mist. You shall have all you ask. This is a wish that should be gratified.” And shortly after I saw the loathsome spirit so mangled by a swarm of muddy wraiths to this day I praise and thank God for it.

“After Philippo Argenti!” all cried together the mad dog Florentine wielded their cry and bit himself for rage. I saw them gather and there we left him and I say no more but such a wailing beat upon my ears I strained my eyes ahead to the far shore.

“My son, the master said, the city called Dis lies just ahead. The heavy citizens, the warming, the swarming crowds of hell’s metropolis. And I, then, master, I already see the glow of its red mosques as if they come hot from the forge to smolder in this valley. And my all- knowing guide, they are eternal, blues to eternal fire that rages in them and makes them glow across this lower hell.

And as he spoke, we entered the vast moat of the supplecher. Its wall seemed made of iron and towered above us in our little boat. We circled through what seemed an endless distance before the boatman ran his prow ashore, crying, “Out! Out! Get out! This is the entrance.” Above the gates, more than a thousand shades of spirits purged from heaven for its glory, cried angrily, “Who is it that invades death’s kingdom in this life?”

My lord and guide advanced a step before me with a sign that he wished to speak to some of them aside. They quieted somewhat, and one called, “Come, but come alone and tell that other one who thought to walk so blindly through death’s kingdom, he may go back along the same fool’s way he came by. Let him try his living luck. You who are dead can come only to stay.”

Reader, judge for yourself how each black word fell upon my ears to sink into my heart. I lost hope of returning to the world. “Oh my beloved master, my guide in peril, who time and time again have seen me safely along this way and return the power and turn the power of evil. Stand by me now,” I cried in myheart’s fright. “And if the dead forbid our journey to them, let us go back together towards the light.”

My guide then in the greatness of his spirit. “Take heart. Nothing can take our passage from us when such a power has given warrant for it. Wait here and feed your soul while I’m gone. on comfort and good hope. I will not leave you to wander in this underworld alone.”

So the sweet guide and father leaves me here, and I stay on in doubt with yes and no, dividing all my heart to hope and fear.

I could not hear my lord’s words, but the pack that gathered around him suddenly broke away, howling and jostling, and went pouring back, slamming the tower gate hard in his face. That great soul stood alone outside the outside the wall. Then he came back, his pain showed in his pace.

His eyes were fixed upon the ground. His brow had sagged from its assurance. He sighed aloud. Who has forbidden me the halls of sorrow. And to me he said, “You need not be cast down by my vexation. For whatever plot these beings may lay against us, we will go on. This insolence of theirs is nothing new. They showed it once at a less secret gate that still stands open for all that they could do. The same gate where you read the dead inscription and through it at this moment a great one comes, already he has passed it and moves down ledge by dark ledge he is one who needs no guide and at his touch all gates must spring aside”

My face had paled to a mask of cowardice when I saw my guide turned back, the side of it the sooner brought the color back to his. He stood apart like one who strains to hear what he cannot see for the eye could not reach far across the vapors of that midnight air. “Yet surely we were meant to pass through these tombs..” he said aloud. “If not… so much was promised. Oh, how time hangs and it drags till our aid comes.”

I saw too well how the words with which he ended covered his start, and even perhaps I drew a worse conclusion from that than he intended. “Tell me, master, does anyone ever come from the first ledge whose only punishment is hope cutoff into the dreary bottom?” I put this question to him still in fear of what this broken spirit speech might mean and he “Rarely do any of us enter here. Once before it’s true I crossed through hell conjured by cruel Erictho who called the spirits to their bodies her dark spell forced me newly stripped of my mortal part to enter through this gate and summon out a spirit from Judikica. Take heart that is the last step and the darkest lair and the farthest from heaven which encircles all-and at that time I came back even from there.”

“The marsh from which the stinking gasses bubble lies all about the capital of sorrow whose gates we may not pass now without trouble. All this and more he expounded, but the rest was lost on me, for suddenly my attention was drawn to the turret with the fiery crest, where all at once three hellish and inhuman furies sprang to view, bloodstained and wild, their limbs and gestures hinted that they were women. Belts of greenest hydras wound about their waists and snakes and horned serpents grew from their heads like matted hair and bound their horrid brows.

My master who well knew the hand maids of the queen of woe cried “look- the terrible Arinius of Hecate’s crew. That is Mega to the left of the tower and Alto is the one who raves on the right. Tiffany stands between” and he said no more.

With their palms they beat their brows and with their nails they clawed their bleeding breasts and such mad whales broke from them that I drew close to the poet over odd and altogether screamed looking down at me saying “Call Medusa that we may change him to stone. Too lightly we let Theseus go free!”

“Turn your back and keep your eyes shut tight. For should the Gorgon come and you look at her, never again would you return to the light.” This was my guide’s command, and he turned me about himself, and would not trust my hands alone, but with his placed on mine, held my eyes shut.

Men of sound intellect and probety, weigh with good understanding what lies hidden behind the veil of my strange allegory.

Suddenly there broke on the dirty swell of the dark marsh a swale a squall of terrible sound that sent a tremor through both shores of hell a sound as if two continents of air one frigid and one scorching clashed head on in a war of winds that stripped the forest bare ripped off whole boughs and blew them helter skelter along the range of dust. it raised before it making the beasts and shepherds run for shelter.

The master freed my eyes. “Now turn,” he said, “and fix your nerve of vision on the foam.” There where the smoke is thickest and most echured. As frogs before the snake that hunts them down turn up their pond in flight until the last squats on the bottom as if turned to stone. So I saw more than a thousand ruined souls scatter away from one who crossed dry shod the stygian marsh into hell’s burning bowels.

With his left hand he fanned away the dreary vapors of that sink as he approached. And only of that annoyance did he seem weary. Clearly he was a messenger from God’s throne. And I turned to my guide, but he made me a sign that I should keep my silence and bow down. Ah, what scorn breathed from that angel presence. He reached the gate of Dis, and with a wand he waved it open, for there was no resistance.

“Outcasts of heaven, you twice loathsome crew,” he cried upon that horrible sill of hell. “How does this insolence still live in you? Why do you set yourselves against the throne who’s will none can deny and which times past has added to your pain for each rebellion? Why do you butt against fate’s ordinance? Your Cerberus, if you recall, still wears his throat and chin peeled for such an arrogance.”

Then he turned back through the same filthy tide by which he had come. He did not speak to us, but went his way like one preoccupied by other presences than those before him. And we moved towards the city, fearing nothing after his holy words.

Chapter Summary: TL;DR

In chapter 8, the poets (Dante and Virgil) stand at the edge of a swamp and a mysterious signal flames from the great tower. It is answered from the darkness of the other side, and almost immediately the poets see Plagius, the boatman of sticks, racing towards them across the water, fast as a flying arrow. He comes avidly, thinking to find new souls for torment, and he howls with rage when he discovers the poets. Once again, however, Virgil conquers wrath with a word, and Flagius reluctantly gives them passage. As they’re crossing, a muddy soul rises before them. It’s Philippo Argentine, one of the wrathful. Dante recognizes him despite the filth which he’s covered in, and he berates him soundly, even wishing to see him tormented further. Virgil approves Dante’s disdain, and as if in answer to Dante’s wrath, Argent Argenti is suddenly set upon by all other sinners present who fall upon him and rip him to pieces.

The boat, meanwhile, has sped on, and before Argenti screams have died away, Dante sees the flaming red towers of Dis, the capital of hell. The great walls of theiron city block the way to the lowerhell. Properly speaking, all the rest ofhell lies within the city walls, whichseparate the upper and lower hell.Plagius deposits them at a great irongate, which they find to be guarded bythe rebellious angels. These creaturesof ultimate evil, re rebels against Godhimself, refused to let the poet’s past.Um, even Virgil is powerless againstthem. For human reason by itself cannotcope with the essence of evil. Onlydivine aid can bring hope. Virgilaccordingly sends up a prayer forassistance and waits anxiously for aheavenly messenger messenger to appear.And then what happens in chapter nine isat the gates of disc. The poets wait indread. Virgil tries to hide his anxietyfrom Dante but both realize that withoutdivine aid they will surely be lost. Andto add to their terrors, three infernalfuries or symbols of eternal remorseappear on a nearby tower from which theythreaten the poets and call for Medusato come and change them to stone. Virgilat once commands Dante to turn and shuthis eyes to make doubly sure Virgilhimself places his hands over Dante’seyes, for there is an evil upon whichman must not look if he is going to besaved. But at the moment of greatestanxiety, a storm shakes the dirty air ofhell, and the sinners in the marsh beginto scatter like frightened frogs. Theheavenly messenger is approaching. Heappears walking majestically throughhell, looking neither to the right orleft. With a touch, he throws open thegate of disc while his words scatter therebellious angels. And then he returnsas he came. The poets now enter the gateunopposed and find themselves in thesixth circle where they find acountryside like a vast cemetery andtombs stretched out before them whichare filled with flames. And these arethe heretics. That’s that chapterending. Um, okay. So now now you have apoint of reference for what’s actuallygoing on.Um, and then I’m going to writesomething about what it all means andshare that in a post.The end.