Dante & Change

Dante's Divine Comedy is truly remarkable. It backs up the belief that people in history were not all that different from us.  

The Divine Comedy in many ways is a medieval piece. Yet at the same time, it is utterly modern. The poetry is a bit daunting. But Dante's approach to characterization feels like something out of Joseph Conrad. 

For one, the story is told almost ruthlessly through a single perspective. That observation may seem obvious since Dante uses first-person. But in truth, ancient writers weren't averse to the royal "we" as well as the omniscient "we." For that matter, "I" in ancient verse is often relating a story that gives way to another person's story. People speak. They don't necessarily relate. 

And yet Dante the narrator not only controls the narration but what readers see is only ever within his knowledge and experience. He rarely breaks the fourth wall to instruct the reader or to leap ahead in time. He is limited. 

And, amazingly enough, he undergoes change. 

Heroes and heroines from ancient epics do undergo change. But in truth, most of that change is external. Homer's Ulysses never fundamentally alters. He is always the same guy, no matter what occurs. Medieval heroes are not quite as unaltering--self-enlightenment or self-knowledge has entered folktales--but they often change quite abruptly from one emotional state to another. 

Yet here is Dante the narrator subtly changing over the course of the Comedy from a scared guy who faints a lot and gets somewhat querulous and clings to his guide to bit by bit, a courageous fellow who asks courteous questions and is able to see his guide, Virgil, as a whole person with his own idiosyncrasies. 

Granted, part of Dante's change is that Virgil represents in his entire being the power of rationality. Dante the writer will ultimately argue that rationality and humanism are not enough to get a person into direct contact with God. They can get a person very far. They are necessary, even. But they can't bring that gap of faith. 

Paul's magnanimity. Christ's bread of life. Grace. Not all the "I know"s in the universe can leap the highest point of Purgatory into Paradise. The foolish virgins can't collect enough oil, especially since they set aside meeting the Bridegroom, however ill-prepared they were, for the equivalent of collecting points. The Bridegroom doesn't say, "You don't have enough." He states, "I don't recognize you." 

So Dante is making a point. Remarkably, he does it in a non-allegorical way. Virgil isn't a symbol or even, as in many allegories, the holder of a single trait. He's a guy. He gets exasperated with Dante, protective, pleased. He chides him, lectures him (not as the Man Who Should Lecture but from within his personality). He shows great courage as he attempts to resolve issues, despite being occasionally rebuffed. Dante the narrator goes from nearly worshiping him to treating him like a favorite if odd yet still respected and deserving of respect uncle. 

Dante the narrator grows and changes in his behavior and in his understanding. He is relatable to us moderns.