Dante the pilgrim seems flattered when some of the negligent souls notice that he’s still in his own body. Virgil offers a stern reprimand, one of the most strident in COMEDY. But Virgil may be onto something greater: how to write PURGATORIO. It can’t just be idiosyncratic to the pilgrim’s reactions. Otherwise, the poem won’t accomplish what Dante the poet wants.

We’ve come to the end of the first narrative arc of Dante’s PURGATORIO: Canto V. The narrative seems to get more and more frenetic until suddenly it does this amazing decrescendo to a very quiet voice, a woman’s voice, seemingly stripped bare of almost all of its details. It’s a haunting conclusion to the first major section of the second canticle of Dante’s COMEDY.

Certainly since Samuel Beckett, indeed even before him, Belacqua has been interpreted as a parodic, comedic, or ironic figure, sprawled out on the first minor ledge of Mount Purgatory. But what if Dante the poet intends him otherwise? What if his speeches are indeed a warning about negligence? Must we interpret Belacqua through the lens of “Waiting For Godot”?

Belacqua has invoked perhaps more interpretive issues for readers of PURGATORIO than any other character in the second canticle of Dante’s COMEDY. Let’s talk about the various ways he can be interpreted and see how both Beatrice and Ulysses sit uneasily behind his words as he confronts the pilgrim Dante and his guide, Virgil, on their climb up the mountain.

After much high-level scholastic reasoning on the soul’s unity and much discussion of medieval astronomy and geography, Dante the pilgrim and Virgil encounter a soul who simply doesn’t want to move out of the shade in the noontime heat. He’s a warning, perhaps. To Dante? To us readers? What’s ahead is hard! Be ready.

Stopped on the first ledge of Mount Purgatory because the pilgrim Dante is so out of breath, he and Virgil, his guide, discuss the astronomical position of the sun, then the geography of the mountain, and finally the morality of the climb. How does astronomy get to morality? By Dante’s poetics, the grand art of misdirection as the ultimate directionality.

Dante the pilgrim and Virgil come to a breather on the first ledge around Mount Purgatory. But it’s hardly a rest. Dante, in shock, notices the sun’s rays on his “wrong” side. Virgil then explains the workings of this geocentric system, an explanation guaranteed to leave a modern reader baffled.

Dante and Virgil begin their climb up Mount Purgatory. It proves exhausting! The pilgrim Dante has to climb on his hands and knees. He’s gasping for breath. Why then do we always assume that the good is hard and the bad is easy? And if this climb is so rough, what’s in it for Virgil?

Manfred has finished his grand monologue and reached a series of conclusions, including those about the ultimate fate of even the excommunicated and the ways the living can aid the souls of the dead in the “good” part of the afterlife. These are shocking bits in a shocking passage—except Dante’s not done. The poet is about to show us that the ultimate conclusions from the passage aren’t those we suspected.

Manfred continues his tale—this time, about what happened to his body after his death at the hands of the French forces at Benevento in 1266. He also asks Dante the pilgrim to go back to his daughter, Constance, to pray to elevate his lowly position in Purgatory. Why does Dante the poet make up the story of Manfred’s lost body? Why do the prayers of the living aid the dead? And why is PURGATORIO, Canto III, so tightly structured?

Dante the pilgrim and his guide, Virgil, take up with a flock of sheeplike souls at the bottom of Mount Purgatory. Dante and Virgil are in fact in the lead when one of these humbled souls steps out to identify himself as Manfred, self-proclaimed King of Sicily and the illegitimate son of Emperor Frederick II. What follows is the second (after Cato) of the many surprises of the poet Dante’s PURGATORIO.

Dante and Virgil come across a shepherd-less flock of souls on the bottom rung of Mount Purgatory. They’re hesitant, many of them moving without knowing why. They’re living in the “quia,” the “what is,” the very thing Virgil encouraged humans to be content with, the very thing that brought him so much despair earlier in PURGATORIO, Canto III.

Virgil seems way out of his league. And we’re only at the bottom of Mount Purgatory. He (and Dante) seem to scare some of the penitent souls at the very bottom of the mountain. Virgil resorts of an excess of flattery that may miss the mark. And he ends his speech with a strange, almost incomprehensible aphorism. Dante is up to strange games in his masterwork, COMEDY.

Virgil seems to have lost the way. He’s even a little snarky about it. But Dante has a revelation. Souls ahead. Behold. And Dante’s revelation puts Virgil back on the right path as guide up Purgatory. Can PURGATORIO get any more ironic? You bet!

Dante has been shocked at his solitary shadow on Mount Purgatory. He turns to find Virgil still there—and seems to want comfort. Does Virgil give it? Virgil seems to launch into an answer about bodies and light, but then gets diverted into a digression that reveals his bitterness and regret. This passage is the essence of the tragedy of Virgil in Dante’s COMEDY.

Virgil is running at a frenzied pace, but as he slows down, Dante the pilgrim can finally notice the giant mountain beside them. And Dante can also realize something dramatic: he casts a shadow. He’s in his body. And his corporeality leads him to a moment of profound alienation.

Purgatorio, Canto III opens with Virgil on the run. He’s clearly ashamed. But why? What has he done? What would it matter if Virgil ever does anything wrong, since he’s already damned? To answer these questions, Dante the poet offers a moment of emotional consolation, a plea for compassion. Does that answer work? In COMEDY, the resounding reply is “yes!”