The story opens with Dante experiencing a mid-life

crisis. Kind of. When describing his mid-life crisis, he

uses ambiguous pronouns, saying "our life’s way."
More on that later. Basically, he has strayed from his
path and finds himself lost in a dark wood. Creepy.

Yeah, it’s so creepy that "death could hardly be more

severe!" (Yes, exclamation point included.)
Foreshadowing, anyone?

Dante is confused about how he got into such a no-

man’s land. He was "full of sleep" when he strayed
from the true path. Now he’s at the bottom of some hill.

Dante’s gaze wanders up the hill and he finds the

summit all beautifully lit up like Christmas lights by the
sun, a real contrast to the dark wood he’s stuck in.
Predictably, his heart lifts at this sight.

We learn he’s just endured a "night of sorrow." In an

elaborate metaphor, Dante compares himself to a
shipwrecked swimmer who has just found land and,
safe on the beach, turns back to look at the frightening
waves. In Dante’s fancy language, he’s just endured
"the pass / that never has let any man survive."

Wearily, our hero starts climbing the hill (towards the

light), but lo and behold suddenly a sinister beast
appears to block his way. Actually, it’s just a leopard.

Dante backs away from the big, bad leopard. He notices

that day has dawned and that lifts his spirits a little.

Until he’s faced with a ferocious lion. And then a

hungry she-wolf.
Dante screams and runs back down the hill.

At the bottom of the hill, Dante runs into a ghost. He

promptly crumples into a fetal position and begs for
mercy.

But this is a gabby ghost. The ghost starts talking about

where he’s from (Mantua), when he was born (during
Emperor Augustus’ reign), and what he was (a poet).

Dante suddenly isn't so scared anymore. In fact, he

recognizes the ghost.

It’s the famous Roman poet Virgil, who is Dante’s

inspiration and all-time favorite idol.

Dante says something like: "I’ve totally read everything

you wrote and when I write I try to be just like you. So
could you please make that scary wolf-thingy go
away?" (But in more formal epic-like speak.)

Virgil is all stern and says, in his wise listen-to-me-or-

else way, that Dante must take another path because the
she-wolf is always hungry (she’ll eat you) and always
interested in sex (she’ll fornicate with you). But never
fear, in the end the good Greyhound will come and kill
her and send her back to Hell and restore Italy to its
rightful glory.

Translation: the she-wolf is a symbol of greed, the

defining quality of Florence, at least to Dante. The
Greyhound symbolizes Italy’s redeemer, though
scholars can’t decide exactly whom it represents. So,
basically, the Greyhound will come and kill the greed
of Florence and everything will be good again.
Virgil’s point? Hey, Dante, you should entrust your life
to me while I take you on a journey through Hell and
Purgatory and maybe even Heaven (if you’re worthy).

Predictably, Dante agrees.

And so the adventure begins.

Like all good conversations, the one between Dante and

Virgil has apparently lasted all day. Seriously. The sun
is setting and Dante mentally fortifies himself for the
upcoming night. (Picture an internal pep talk, complete
with the you-can-do-it coaching.)

To give him courage and virtue and whatnot, Dante

invokes the Muses.

But he’s still afraid and doubtful of his own abilities. So

he asks Virgil in a long, convoluted way why he was
chosen for this journey. This includes comparing
himself to "he who fathered Sylvius" (meaning Aeneas,
from Virgil’s Aeneid) and the "Chosen Vessel"
(meaning St. Peter), both of whom traveled in a divine
realm (Underworld and Heaven).Dante claims that he’s
not nearly as great or heroic as these figures. So, "why
me?" he asks.

Virgil understands that Dante’s "soul has been assailed

by cowardice" and so explains why he (Virgil) was
chosen for this task in order to calm Dante’s fears.

Virgil’s tells the story of how he came to be here with

Dane. Let's jump back into that story:

Virgil's soul is hanging out in Limbo (more on this

later) when a lady with really pretty eyes appears and
asks him to help out her lost "friend." (She overheard
news of her "friend’s" trouble in Heaven.) She says she
wants Virgil's help because he has a silver tongue or
"persuasive word".

This lady calls herself Beatrice, and Virgil learns that

she’s doing this out of "Love" (yes, with a capital "L")
for Dante.

Virgil is curious as to why Beatrice came all the way

down to Hell (from her boudoir in Heaven) just to tell
him this. Beatrice responds that God has arranged it so
that the misery of Hell cannot affect her.

And the orders for Virgil don't come from just Beatrice.
The Virgin Mary herself is so upset by Dante’s
predicament that she cried buckets for him and then
sent for her very best friend, St. Lucia, to carry her
message. Beatrice, even though she loves Dante, cannot
possibly do anything for him since she’s a woman, so
she brings the message down to the decidedly male
Virgil.

She makes a big deal about Virgil’s wonderful way

with words and cries.

Smitten, Virgil rushes off and finds Dante just in time

to rescue him from the big, bad wolf.

Virgil's story ends.

Dante’s chest swells with gratitude and he

demonstrates his own way with words by comparing
himself to drooping flowers that straighten out once
touched by sunlight.
In fact, he’s so pumped up now that he has a mind-
melding moment with Virgil. Observe: "A single will
fills both of us."

And with that, our emboldened heroes strike out to

conquer the world. Or Hell.

Dante and Virgil stop to look in awe at the Hellgate, on

which encouraging words like "ABANDON EVERY
HOPE, [YOU] WHO ENTER HERE" appear.

There is more to the inscription, which describes the

origins of Hell – how it was made by "Justice," "the
Highest Wisdom," and "Primal Love."

Dante tells Virgil he doesn’t understand the inscription.

Virgil, in his sage way, doesn’t really answer Dante’s

question, but tells him to be brave. He also describes
Hell’s sinners as people who have "lost the good of the
intellect." (This is a good place to stick a big bright
sticky note because this is an Important Concept.)

Dante’s first impression of Hell: it’s noisy. It’s full of

"strange utterances, horrible pronouncements, / accents
of anger, words of suffering, / and voices shrill and
faint, and beating hands…"

Horrified, Dante asks Virgil who these people are that

scream so loudly.

Virgil explains that they’re neutrals, people who failed

to choose either good or evil in their lifetimes and so
are condemned to exist in a place that is neither really
Heaven nor Hell. It’s called Limbo. The "coward
angels" are here too – those that sided with neither God
nor Lucifer in the great battle that created the Devil.

When Dante repeats his question, Virgil (slightly

peeved) answers shortly:

These sinners have "no hope in death" and their entire

existence is driven by envy for any other kind of
existence…even one in the true circles of Hell. Virgil
says this so quickly and tersely that he implies that
these sinners aren’t even worth wasting many words
over.

While sightseeing, Dante notices the neutrals’

punishment: various insects sting their naked bodies,
irritating them and making them run around in big
circles under a long banner.</LI<

Dante is blown away by the sheer number of them; in

other words, there are a LOT of neutrals.

Among the horde, Dante recognizes the one "who made

[…] the great refusal." Scholars have interpreted this
sinner as Pope Celestine V, who abdicated his papal
seat just five months after taking office. This paved the
way for the election of Pope Boniface VIII, whom
Dante hates with a passion. (

Dante observes a big crowd of people gathering on the

banks of a big river and asks Virgil why they seem so
eager to cross the river.

Our wise man tells Dante to quiet down; he’ll find out
why when they actually get there. "There" being the
banks of the river Acheron, one of the five rivers of the
Greek Underworld.
When they do get there, Virgil doesn’t even get the
chance to explain before an old man with a long white
beard comes up to them and basically says, "No chance
the two of you are getting on my boat. Only dead
people allowed." This guy is Charon, the ferryman that
takes people across the river.

Then Virgil gets all up in Charon’s face and one-ups

him with "God sent us, so let us through." Or something
like that.

So Charon is forced to ferry them across, but he’s pouty

and sullen about it.

Dante, in poet mode, compares all the dead souls

gathering on the riverbanks to falling leaves in autumn
and later to hunting falcons returning to their masters
when called. Dante is big on metaphors.

Virgil explains that only sinners ever have to undertake

this crossing.

All of a sudden, an earthquake hits, complete with a

tornado and a "blood-red light."

Dante loses consciousness.

Dante wakes up to find himself at the edge of a great

dark valley, in which he cannot see anything. (Yes, they
crossed the Acheron while Dante was unconscious.)

Virgil says "Let’s go." But he’s really pale.

Dante mistakes Virgil's paleness for fear and balks. But

Virgil explains that his alabaster complexion does not
indicate fear, but rather sympathy for his neighbors.
Because this is his home in Hell – Limbo.

Here, the sinners sigh as well, but not nearly as loudly

or painfully as the neutrals.

The inhabitants of this circle of Hell are those who had

no control over their salvation: they were either not
baptized at birth or born before the coming of Christ.
Thus, they don’t suffer as much as other sinners; they
only feel the absence of God’s love as a constant ache.
Otherwise, they frolic in their pretty fields.

(We know what you’re thinking: this is Hell? But trust

us, it gets much worse.)

Saddened by these sinners’ plight, Dante earnestly asks

Virgil whether or not anyone is allowed to leave this
place (and presumably enter Heaven) if they are good
people.

Kindly Virgil answers yes; in fact, he saw it happen.

With his own eyes, he saw Christ enter Limbo and take
Old Testament worthies like Noah, Moses, Abraham,
David, and Rachel into his all-forgiving arms and
transport them up to Heaven. (Trivial Pursuit tidbit: this
was called the Harrowing of Hell.)

Suddenly, Dante sees a fire break up the darkness. The

fire is the glow of a luminous castle and men are there.

To answer Dante’s inevitable question, Virgil

introduces the men as his best buddies, fellow poets like
Homer, Horace, Ovid, and Lucan.
Virgil chats with his friends for a little while before
they notice Dante and invite him in. Dante is ecstatic at
being "sixth among such intellects."

This circle enters the shining palace and its countless

flowering courtyards and gardens. Inside, they
encounter a bunch of Greek and Roman heroes like
Hector, Aeneas, Caesar, Socrates, Plato, and many
more.

When they’ve had their fill of reciting poems, Dante

and Virgil take their leave.

Every step forward brings them into darker and darker

territory.

As they descend into the second circle of Hell, Dante

notes that it’s a little smaller than the first circle. (This
is because Hell is shaped like a funnel, with each
successive circle shrinking a little.)

There, the huge bull-like judge Minos appears, looming

over a great crowd, out of which each individual steps
forward to have his say.

Dante explains that Minos judges where all sinners go

by twining his tail into coils. The number of coils
determines which circle the sinner goes into.

The very ugly Minos pauses his perpetual dissing of

sinners long enough to warn Dante and Virgil to be
careful whom they trust.

Virgil shoots back with a "God protects us" line, but we

can see right through him. He’s as scared as Dante.
On that note, they come to the edge of a cliff and see a
hurricane-strength whirlwind buffeting the souls of the
Lustful (promiscuous, impulsive).

Dante compares them to birds like starlings, cranes, and

doves because of their helplessness against the wind
and because of the cacophonous cries they emit.

Virgil, trying to show off, names a bunch of the souls

trapped there: Semiramis, Dido, Cleopatra, Helen of
Troy, Paris, Tristan…

Star-struck by such names, Dante feels sorry for them

and calls out to a couple, wanting to talk to them.

They approach and the female soul speaks. She’s really

polite and talks in a highfalutin’ style, as if she’s stuck
in the rhetoric of courtly love. She thanks Dante for
being so kind as to speak nicely to her, then tells her
story.

She’s Francesca da Rimini, an Italian (from Ravenna)

and, in terms of blood, something like a princess.
During her life, she was forced into a loveless political
marriage with a guy called Gianciotto Malatesta.
However, she fell in love with her husband’s younger
brother Paolo and had an affair with him. When
Gianciotto discovered their adultery, he killed them
both. (Yes, he’s in a deeper level of Hell, Francesca
tells us.)

Dante is so moved by the unfairness of it all that he

starts crying. He tends to do this a lot. And he asks how
exactly she fell in love.
Francesca says that one sunny day, she and Paolo were
innocently reading a book. But not just any book. This
one portrayed the knight Lancelot being hopelessly
smitten by Queen Guinevere. When they get to the part
where Lancelot kisses Arthur’s queen, Paolo and
Francesca followed suit and shared a passionate kiss.
We know it’s passionate because "all his body
trembled" and on that day they "read no more."

Francesca blames the book for her sin, calling it a

Gallehault (the character in Arthurian legend who
encourages Lancelot in his forbidden affair with
Guinevere).

As Francesca concludes her story, her soul mate Paolo

bawls his eyes out.

Dante, the deepest fibers of his soul stirred to the

extreme by their tragic story, passes out, as if dead.

Dante awakens and finds himself surrounded by new

sufferers. Thus, he concludes he’s in a new circle of
Hell.

Now for a weather report: it’s raining. Correction: it

always rains in the third circle, where the Gluttonous
dwell. Not pure water, either, but filthy polluted stinky
rain and hailstones. The earth itself reeks.

The sinners here are so traumatized by this rain that

they turn back and forth, trying unsuccessfully to keep
some part of their body clean and dry.

Above these writhing sinners looms Cerberus, the

gigantic three-headed guard dog of the Underworld. He
snarls at the pilgrims as they approach.
Unfazed, Virgil picks up handfuls of stinking mud and
hurls them straight into Cerberus’s jaws. The dog
actually eats it and, in the meantime, grows quiet. Get
it? Cerberus is a glutton too.

As Dante and Virgil tour this circle of gluttons, none of

the sinners pay attention to them, except one who sits
up and demands that Dante recognize him. The sinner
knows that Dante is a Florentine (someone from
Florence).

Dante, being a poet, gracefully asks the glutton to

remind him of his name.

The sinner suddenly isn’t so free with his words. He

introduces himself as Ciacco (also a Florentine), names
his sin as gluttony, and then clams up.

Dante doesn’t seem at all interested in Ciacco’s life,

saying only that Ciacco’s suffering moves him to tears.
Then he changes the subject to the future of Florence.

So Ciacco goes into prophet mode. (Of course, what he

"foresees" is history by the time Dante writes the
Inferno.)

In very cryptic language, Ciacco presages political

strife between the Blacks and Whites (see "In A
Nutshell" for more on this). First the Whites will win a
battle and drive the Blacks out. But then the Blacks will
return with the help of the hated Pope Boniface VIII
and crush the Whites, eventually driving many of them
into exile, including Dante. Ciacco sees the two parties
ignoring reason in favor of "envy, pride, and
avariciousness."
On that note, Dante continues interrogating Ciacco,
naming a bunch of famous Florentines and asking
where he can find them now. Ciacco answers that
they’re all in Hell, so Dante will see them later.

To top off his speech, Ciacco requests that Dante make

his name famous in the living world. Then he falls
silent. With that, Ciacco lowers himself into obscurity.

Virgil interjects with some prophesying of his own. He

states that Ciacco will not rise again until Judgment
Day.

Dante inquires if these sinners’ punishments will get

better or worse after Judgment Day.

In his convoluted way, Virgil answers with "worse,"

because then the sinners’ bodies will be reunited with
their souls and it won’t be just their souls that are
suffering.

Our two heroes ponder this sad fact as they walk

towards the next circle. Along the way, they meet
Plutus, whom we’ll learn more about in the next canto.

This canto opens with Plutus crying out unintelligibly

to Satan as Dante and Virgil sally by. Although Dante
shows signs of fear, Virgil reassures him that the demon
has no power to stop them.

When our pilgrims pass Plutus, he falls to the ground

like sails that suddenly lack wind to propel them
forward.
Then he does it again, comparing the sinners’
movements to the waves breaking around the mouth of
Charybdis, a famous mythological whirlpool.

So what are the sinners actually doing? Pushing heavy

wheels of weights around in a big endless circle.

The Avaricious (greedy people) and Prodigal (reckless

spenders) are punished together, divided up into two
groups, one for each half of the circle. When they meet
at the midpoint pushing their weights, they cry insults
to each other: "’Why do you hoard?’ ‘Why do you
squander?’" Imagine a square dance where every time
you pass your partner, you shout, "Why are you so
uncoordinated?"

Dante, with his eagle eyes, notices that some of the

sinners are tonsured (have shaven heads) and wonders
if they were clergy while alive. He asks Virgil, who
confirms his suspicions. Another strike against the
Church.

Dante hopes to recognize some faces amongst these

sinners, but Virgil undercuts this wish because "the
undiscerning life that made them filthy / now renders
them unrecognizable." In other words, they’re dirty. So
dirty that filth has crusted over their true identities.

Virgil, fully atop his soapbox now, sermonizes that this

punishment is no more than what these sinners deserve
for squandering and hoarding what Fortune gave them.
Now, all the gold in the world cannot save them.

Dante interrupts the story to go on a totally unrelated

tangent. He asks Virgil to expound on what Fortune is.
Now Virgil is in his element and gives a long speech,
explaining that Fortune is God’s manager of all material
goods and that She shifts these assets between nations
and peoples in ways that man can neither understand
nor predict. Even though people curse her, She is deaf
to their insults and goes about her work blissfully.

When Virgil has talked himself out, they move on since

it’s getting late.

Our two heroes find a stream of black water, which

leads down through ever drearier fields and finally
drains into the nasty swamp of the Styx. (Which means
that black stream was the river Styx – Underworld river
#2, if you’ve been counting.)

Now in the fifth circle, Dante witnesses muddy figures

of sinners getting sincerely down and dirty. These mud-
fighters are earnestly trying to rip each other’s throats
out. So it should come as no surprise that these sinners
are the Wrathful.

Virgil, just as mesmerized as Dante, adds a helpful

tidbit of information: beneath this lovely sludge is
another group of sinners, the Sullen.

Resentfully silent in life, the Sullen now are forced to

recite hymns while submerged in this mud, so that their
words come out only as gurgles.

Thoroughly disgusted by these "swallowers of slime,"

Dante and Virgil trudge onwards until they come to the
base of a tower.
Belatedly, Dante tells us that this tower – something
like a lighthouse – has been guiding them towards itself
for a while.

As they approach it, Dante notices another flame

flickering in the distance. He asks Virgil why.

Trying to cultivate his air of mystery, Virgil tells Dante

to look harder. Dante does and goes "I see it! It’s a
boat!"

The boatman gruffly stops them. He, like Charon, has

issues with Dante's alive-ness. By the way, his name is
Phlegyas. Try to say that five times fast.

Virgil puts him in his place, Phlegyas pouts, and they

board the boat, which promptly sinks a little under
Dante's weight. (Live people are heavier than dead
ones.) Thankfully, it doesn’t stop them from crossing
the Styx.

While on the boat, Dante leans down towards the river

and asks one of the mud-encrusted sinners: "Who are
you, who have become so ugly?" Seriously.

When the sinner gives an ambiguous answer, Dante

becomes infuriated and curses him. Which is…well…
different from his usual responses to sinners, like crying
or fainting.

When the sinner reaches out towards the boat

(presumably in a gesture of longing), Virgil pushes him
back into the river.

Then in another switch of personality, Virgil joyously

hugs and kisses Dante.
Why? Dante is making Virgil proud by feeling
righteously indignant enough to not sympathize with
sinners and instead to rage at them.

He continues, using his prophesying skills to predict

that before reaching the far shore, Dante will see a sight
that justifies his insult to the sinner.

A bunch of muddy sinners attack the same guy Dante

did, crying, "At Filippo Argenti!" At which point
Filippo goes crazy and starts biting himself.

Having filled his meanness quota for the day, Virgil

turns into Mr. Explain-Everything again, telling Dante
they are approaching the city of Dis.

Dante catches sight of it on the horizon and is struck by

how red everything is.

Yes, red. Apparently, this comes from the eternal flame

that burns within the city, signaling that it is within
lower (worse) Hell. So says Virgil. In other words, you
ain’t seen nothin’ yet.

When they arrive at the gates of the city, they find a

thousand enraged sinners trying to bar Dante from
getting through. Because of his alive-ness.

To recap, we’ve got a thousand angry sinners waving

their pitchforks around and spitting at Dante. So Virgil
"makes a sign" to fend them off and has a private chat
with them.

Dante can’t hear what they’re saying. Probably because

he’s freaked out by the mad sinners and wants to go
home.
The citizens of Dis agree to open their gates, but only
for Virgil. The live guy has to go back.

Dante freaks out at the thought of having to go back on

his own, so much so that he tells the reader directly
about his fears.

Then he begs Virgil to come back with him if these

sinners are so intent on blocking their way.

Virgil, his ego puffed up now, scoffs at Dante’s words

and says he’ll take care of it.

So while he does the fast talking, Dante wrings his

hands with indecision.

And then the crucial moment: the gates slam shut in

Virgil’s face and he’s forced to make the slow shameful
walk back to Dante. Virgil failed? (Hmm, Important
Passage!)

Virgil rants at the sinners, but reassures Dante that he

will win against them.

He tells Dante that this has happened before at the

entrance of Hell (when Christ harrowed Hell) and that
an angel is now descending to help them. Thank
goodness.