Aristotle said Oedipus the King was the best tragedy. Today, Dcn. Harrison Garlick is joined by Mr. Eli Stone and our friend Josiah to discuss Oedipus the King (Oedipus Rex) by Sophocles - the second play in the Oedipus cycle or Theban plays.

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Here is a letter Dcn. Garlick wrote to our supporters about Oedipus the King:

Oedipus the King is, according to Aristotle, the best of the Greek tragedies. Through Oedipus’ own investigation, he comes to understand the horrific truth of his identity—and this leads the reader into marvelous reflection on fate, freedom, self-knowledge, and the cosmic order.

Oedipus the King is a play I had to come to appreciate. Unlike Antigone, it is not one I loved at first. In fact, my lackluster appreciation for the play is why I scheduled only one episode discussing it. Over time, however, I matured in my own understanding and see it as an antecedent to the philosophical principle of know thyself. I would suggest one could glean much from comparing Oedipus the King and First Alcibiades by Plato.

The drama does have layers for the attentive reader. It presents clearly a question on the interplay of freedom and fate, which is reminiscent of our discussions on the Iliad. Moreover, there is much to consider on the theme of suffering, and how that theme is presented in the Odyssey, the Oresteia, and Oedipus the King. Note that these two concepts are tethered—as the journey to self-knowledge is often an arduous one of suffering and great difficulty. Lastly, the work shines further light onto the mystery that is Antigone.

Oedipus the King is without question a tragedy—and one without much hope. The reader must hold for the marvelous redemptive arc of Oedipus at Colonus, which runs parallel to the story of Job yet with its own unique and fascinating character.

May Oedipus serve as an icon for what it means to suffer into self-knowledge and the role of such suffering in the pursuit of wisdom and virtue.

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Does Antigone hold strong until the end? Is Antigone the hero? Today, Dcn. Garlick is joined again by David Niles and Dr. Frank Grabowski to discuss the second part of Sophocles' Antigone.

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From our guide:

15.      How does Haemon’s interaction with Creon highlight his character and challenge Creon’s perspective?

Haemon, Creon’s son and Antigone’s betrothed, enters around line 700 and is described by David as “one of my favorite characters” for his wisdom and patience, contrasting with Creon’s “chaotic” and “irrational” behavior. Haemon employs “masterful rhetoric,” as Dcn. Garlick contends, that balances filial piety with a Socratic challenge to Creon’s stubbornness, urging him to reconsider his decree to execute Antigone. He suggests the polis mourns for Antigone, saying, “It’s for me to catch the murmurs in the dark, the way the city mourns for this young girl” (ln. 775), undermining Creon’s belief that the polis supports him. Dr. Grabowski notes Haemon’s “epistemological challenge,” raising “human fallibility” and the “voice of the people” to suggest Creon may have erred. However, Creon’s ironic responses, like “Are you coming now raving against your father or do you love me no matter what I do?” (ln. 707), reveal his fixation on his own political authority and the familial piety Haemon owes him. Sophocles makes Creon an incredibly ironic character, who will often advise to others exactly what he himself should be doing.

16.      How does Creon’s character evolve in the latter half of the drama?

Creon (arguably) begins the play prioritizing the polis’ common good, but in the second half, there is a “shift” toward tyranny as his view becomes myopically focused on his own authority. Initially, he justifies leaving Polyneices unburied as justice for being a traitor, but by line 748, he declares, “The man the city places in authority, his orders must be obeyed, large and small, right and wrong,” signaling a move from considerations of justice to his own authority. The standard by which he makes his decision seems to shift. His question, “Am I to rule this land for others or myself?” (ln. 823), elicits Haemon’s rebuke, “It’s no city at all owned by one man alone” (ln. 824). Creon’s claim, “Show me the man who rules his household well. I’ll show you someone fit to rule the state” (ln. 739), is deeply ironic, as he fails to rule his household, foreshadowing his spiral into tragedy. His fixation on anarchy as “a greater crime in all the earth” (ln. 752) over blasphemy further reveals his “blindness” to the divine, cementing his “de-evolution” into tyranny, as Dcn. Garlick notes. Under Creon, the cosmos whole that was first interpreted through the political now seems to simply be reducible to Creon’s will. He becomes the tyrant.

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Antigone is the "dark sign from the gods." Today, Dcn. Harrison Garlick is joined by Mr. David Niles of the Catholic Man Show and Dr. Frank Grabowski to discuss the Greek tragedy "Antigone" by Sophocles.

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Check out our Patreon for our guide on Antigone!

From the guide:

This guide, like the podcast conversation, explores Antigone as a profound meditation on piety, justice, and the cosmic order. This guide addresses critical aspects of arguably Sophocles’ greatest work, such as: the moral conflict over burying the dead, the contrasting perspectives of Antigone, Ismene, and Creon, and the play’s potential as an early articulation of natural law—all while highlighting Sophocles’ role as a teacher shaping Greek thought.

The guide also moves from Greek notion of piety and justice to comparative Christian ethics. The goal is to help the reader love Antigone and see the cosmic order it reveals through one of the greatest female characters in Western literature.

What has occurred just prior to the start of Antigone?

Just before the events of Sophocles’ Antigone, the city of Thebes has been ravaged by a civil war between Antigone’s two brothers, Eteocles and Polyneices, who are sons of the late Oedipus, the former king. After Oedipus’ tragic downfall and death, the brothers were meant to share the throne, but a dispute led to conflict. Eteocles held power in Thebes, while Polyneices, exiled, rallied an army to attack the city and reclaim his right to rule. The brothers met on the battlefield and killed each other in combat, leaving Thebes without a clear ruler. Their uncle, Creon, assumes the throne and declares Eteocles a patriot, granting him a proper burial, while branding Polyneices a traitor, forbidding his burial under penalty of death. This decree sets the stage for the moral and familial conflict at the heart of Antigone, as Antigone and her sister Ismene grapple with the consequences of their brothers’ deaths and Creon’s edict.

What is the central moral conflict introduced at the beginning of Antigone?

The central moral conflict revolves around the duty to bury the dead, specifically Antigone’s desire to bury her brother, Polyneices, who has been declared a traitor by their uncle, King Creon. Creon decrees that Polyneices’ body must remain unburied, to be “torn apart by the dogs, by the birds,” as punishment for his betrayal of Thebes. Antigone, however, sees the burial as a moral obligation, rooted in familial piety and divine law. The burial of the brother, however, is a catalyst to deeper moral concerns, as how to resolve this moral conflict invites the reader to contemplate how the family, polis, and divine all align with one another within the cosmos. It is a question of law, piety, and justice.

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How would you respond to the will of a tyrant? Today, Dcn. Harrison Garlick is joined by Dr. Jared Zimmerer of Benedictine College to discuss Aeschylus' Prometheus Bound - the first play in an otherwise lost triad.

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WHY SHOULD YOU READ PROMETHEUS BOUND?

From the guide:

Prometheus Bound is the story of man and civilization. Within the contrast of Prometheus’ rebellion and Zeus’ tyranny, Aeschylus provides a narrative that explores the concepts of liberty and purpose. It is a story of human nature—of the identity of man and the role of technology in shaping that identity.

As the conversation with Dr. Zimmerer and Dcn. Garlick highlights, the play “tells us about human nature” by exploring Prometheus as “an anti-hero” who defies Zeus’ tyranny and embodies our natural desire to rebel against oppressive authority. The lines of the good and evil, however, are not straightforward in Prometheus Bound—and many characters must make difficult decisions and compromises.

Though not in the play itself, the chief act of rebellion is Prometheus stealing fire from Mount Olympus. It is, in many ways, an analogue of technological progress. Technology is the creation of man but often makes claims upon the nature of its creator. Prometheus Bound invites the reader to reflect upon how technology can bring civilizational ascension or collapse (think atomic power and Oppenheimer).

As Dr. Zimmerer observes, in an age where culture is often flattened into “pop cultural” shallowness, the play challenges us to engage with the beauty and depth of human civilization—urging us to resist the trivialization of our divine gifts. By wrestling with these themes, Prometheus Bound not only illuminates the struggles of its characters but also compels us to examine our own drives, freedoms, and responsibilities in shaping the cultural legacy of mankind.

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"Ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Christ." Today, Dcn. Harrison Garlick is joined by Mr. Thomas Lackey and Mr. Adam Minihan to discuss how to read the Bible like Jesus, St. Paul, the Early Church Fathers, St. Thomas Aquinas, and Dante!

There are four senses: literal, allegorical, moral, and anagogical. The guys explain Divine Authorship, Dante's thesis that you read his Comedy like you Scripture, and then explain each sense and give examples.

Check our thegreatbookspodcast.com for resources on the Iliad, Odyssey, Dante's Inferno, and more!

Summary:

St. Jerome states, “Ignorance of the Scriptures is ignorance of Christ” (CCC 112). In other words, we come to know the reality of Jesus Christ by reading Holy Scripture. Yet, what if we read the Bible incorrectly? If the Scriptures are a source of knowledge about our Lord, would not a wrong reading of the text twist our understanding of Christ? We, especially as moderns, are always in danger of distorting the Gospel to meet our own ideological standards. As Bishop Konderla teaches, “We are called to measure ourselves against the teaching of Christ and His Church, not our own imaginations or standards.” He continues, “We must receive the Jesus Christ who came two-thousand years ago, not create a ‘Jesus’ who meets the fashions and fads of this age” (God Builds a House, 6). If we are to discipline ourselves to receive Jesus—and not manufacture a “Jesus”—then a vital part of that reception is a proper understanding of how to know Christ in Holy Scripture. How then does the Church teach us to read Holy Scripture?

In the 1300s, the Italian poet Dante Alighieri wrote a letter to his patron, Lord Cangrande della Scala, regarding how one should read the Divine Comedy. His answer was simple: you read the Comedy the same way you read the Bible. In summary of Sacred Tradition, Dante explains that there are four senses or ways to read Holy Scripture: literal and three spiritual ways, i.e., allegorical, moral, and anagogical. These four senses were also taught by St. Thomas Aquinas (STI.1.10) and are contained in the modern Catechism of the Catholic Church (“CCC” 115-19). They represent the time-tested wisdom of the Church on how to come to know and love Jesus Christ through the Holy Scriptures.

Let us examine each “sense” of biblical interpretation, how it relates to the others, and how they all draw us into a deeper relationship with our Lord.

The literal sense of Scripture is also known as the “historical sense.” St. Thomas notes the literal sense is the meaning the author intended. For example, Dante gives the simple illustration of the passage: “When Israel went out of Egypt.” He observes, “If we look at it from the letter alone it means to us the exit of the Children of Israel from Egypt at the time of Moses.” The literal is simply the intended, historical meaning of a text. It is important, however, to interpret the literal correctly, because “all other senses of Sacred Scripture are based on the literal” (CCC 116). Similarly, Aquinas states that the spiritual sense of Scripture—allegorical, moral, and anagogical—is “based on the literal and presupposes it.” The importance of the literal sense of Scripture as foundational to all other senses emphasizes how vital it is that Catholics read commentaries that are faithful to the magisterium. Like a broken foundation of a home, a slanted literal sense can distort the greater spiritual senses built upon it.

The allegorical sense is the first of the three types of the “spiritual sense.” In the allegorical sense, Dante teaches that the aforementioned verse about Israel exiting Egypt “means for us our redemption done by Christ.” But what does the exodus of Israel have to do with Christ? A lot. In the allegorical sense, the reader is always looking for types or signs of how one thing in Scripture signifies another. For example, Israel in bondage to Egypt is similar to us in bondage to sin. Here, Moses would be a type of Christ. He leads the People of God out of Egypt to the Promise Land, as Christ leads us out from sin and into grace and salvation. Moses serves as a sign pointing forward to the reality of Christ. Moreover, both Israel and the Christian faithful find the portal of their salvation through water: the Red Sea and Holy Baptism (CCC 117). In their journey to the Promised Land, the Israelites are given bread from heaven, mana; and in our earthly journey toward our Promised Land, heaven, we are given the Bread of Angels, the Holy Eucharist. Christ himself makes this allegorical comparison in the Eucharist Discourse (John 6). The relationship between the allegorical and the literal gives rise to a fundamental principle of reading the Bible: the Old Testament foreshadows the New, and the New Testament perfects the Old. This dynamic between the Old and New Testament, as expressed in signs, serves as an allegorical foundation to both the moral sense and the anagogical sense.

The moral sense answers the question: how should I act? It is arguably the spiritual sense with which we are most familiar when trying to read Scripture. The Church teaches, “The events reported in Scripture ought to lead us to act justly” (CCC 117). What moral lesson does Dante draw from Israel leaving Egypt? As noted, the moral sense is informed by the allegorical. For example, Dante presents Israel leaving Egypt as “the conversion of the soul from the struggle and misery of sin to the status of grace.” We take the comparisons drawn from the allegorical sense and apply them to our own pursuit of holiness. If Israel leaving the bondage of Egypt is like humanity being delivered by Christ, then how can I apply this lesson to my own moral life? How can I leave behind sin and pursue holiness? St. Thomas says the moral sense focuses on “things done in Christ,” and “what we ought to do.” The allegorical can help the moral dimension of Scripture unfold into a beautiful guide to our earthly pilgrimage.

The anagogical sense is arguably the most foreign to modern readers of Scripture. The Catechism expresses that the term anagogical comes from the Greek term anagoge which means “leading” (CCC 117). What is the Scripture ultimately leading us toward? The Church teaches that in the anagogical sense: “We can view realities and events in terms of their eternal significance, leading us toward our true homeland” (CCC 117). If the moral is how should I act? then the anagogical is what does this teach me about my final end, i.e., eternal happiness with God in heaven? Like the moral, the anagogical draws from the allegorical to find types and signs.

As St. Thomas observes, the anagogical looks for signs that “signify what relates to eternal glory.” For example, Dante notes that the anagogical lesson of Israel leaving Egypt is the final salvation of “the blessed soul from the slavery of this corruption to the freedom of eternal glory.” The anagogical sense always points us toward our heavenly home.

“Ignorance of the Scriptures is ignorance of Christ.” The four senses of Holy Scripture are a gift from our Sacred Tradition to delve deeper into the mystery of the Bible and thus, in turn, into the mystery of Jesus Christ. Interpreting Scripture aright allows us, as Bishop Konderla instructed, to receive the Jesus Christ that entered into history and not manufacture a “Jesus” out of the fads and fashions of our age. The literal, moral, allegorical, and anagogical senses are an invitation to configure ourselves to Jesus Christ and inoculate us against the errors of the present. May we, like Aquinas and Dante, come to love Jesus Christ in the Holy Bible.

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Lying is a sterile act that impedes the purpose of the intellect. Today, Dcn. Harrison Garlick is joined by Sean Berube and Shannon of Catholic Frequency to discuss "Lying as Contraceptive Speech." Dcn. Garlick gives several short talks pulling from Dante's Inferno, the Gospel of St. John, and liberalism with responses from Sean and Shannon from a live recording on X (Twitter).

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Master Adamo lies a bloated mass of “watery rot.” His amorphous frame bears his diseased paunch and distended limbs, as his lips curl and crack under his parching fever—despite being a waterlogged waste. He lies before Dante the Pilgrim and Virgil and explains how King Minos poured him into the last ditch of the eighth circle of hell. He was a counterfeiter of Florentine florins. He blurred the lines of reality in life and now he lays blurred—a poor counterfeit of his former self.

In Dante’s Inferno, the eighth circle of hell is composed of ten ditches populated by flatterers, fortune tellers, deceivers, alchemists, and other fraudulent souls. It is not surprising such souls suffer eternal torment, but it is surprising that Dante the Poet has them suffer with greater severity than murderers or the lustful. Why, for example, would a flatterer suffer a worse fate in hell than Attila the Hun? Why would an alchemist merit greater suffering than Cleopatra or Achilles? The structure of hell, as presented by Dante the Poet, moves from the lesser sins of incontinence—lust, greed, prodigality, etc.—to the greater sins of malice: violence and fraud. For Dante, fraud is more perverse than violence, because it represents an abuse of that which is highest in man: the intellect.

The suffering of Master Adamo invites us to three considerations: first, how acting contrary to reason creates a counterfeit anthropology; second, how the intellect suffers when it satiates on untruth; and third, how lying is an act of sterility that leads to a superficial embrace of reality.

It will remain, however, to question who is to blame for these unrealities becoming culturally normative, and the steps we must take to purge our imaginations of these counterfeits of Creation...

Check out the article that inspired this podcast on the Josias: Our Contraceptive Speech.

The frozen heart of hell. Today, Dcn. Harrison Garlick is joined by Mr. Evan Amato to discuss the frozen wastes of the 9th Circle of Hell - the damned guilty of treachery (or complex fraud).

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A few questions from our guide to Dante's Inferno:

78.     What happens in the ninth circle of hell: Treachery (Complex Fraud) (Canto 34)?

Pressing onward, Virgil leads the Pilgrim to “Judecca”—named after Judas Iscariot—in which those souls that have betrayed their benefactors or their lords are frozen completely in the ice.[1] The Pilgrim notes the distorted figures, saying: “To me they looked like straws worked into glass.”[2] Finally, the Pilgrim sees the gigantic figure of Satan. The figure of Lucifer, the arch-traitor against his Benefactor and Lord, God, is frozen in the ice to the waist as his six bat-like wings eternally beating—thus, causing the wind that freezes all in the pit of hell.[3] The Pilgrim observes, Satan, who has three faces on his head, “wept from his six eyes, and down three chins were dripping tears mixed with bloody slaver.”[4] Each one of Satan’s faces bears a distinct color—red, yellow, and black—and in each mouth Lucifer “crunched a sinner.”[5] In the mouth of the central red face, Judas, who “suffers most of all,” and is inserted headfirst.[6] The other two souls are inserted legs first and they are Brutus in the black face—“see how he squirms in silent desperation”—and Cassius in the yellow face."[7] Bringing their journey to an end, Virgil, with the Pilgrim on his back, first climbs down the hairy shanks of Satan, and second, after passing the center of the earth, climbs up the legs of Satan.[8] Heading out toward the Mount of Purgatory, the Pilgrim and Virgil exit the earth and behold the stars in the sky.[9]

 79.      Why does Dante the Poet use ice to describe the bottom of hell?

In Aristotle’s Metaphysics, when he must answer how does the Unmoved Mover move all things if the Unmoved Mover does not move, he answers: love (eros). God is Pure Act, and all things are drawn to him by love—in other words, though unmoved himself, he is the source of all movement in the cosmos. As such, the pit of hell would be the furthest from God; thus, evil, as a type of anti-movement and anti-love finds a poetic home in the imagery of ice. Furthermore, evil is a privation of the good. Evil is not something real but rather something unreal, a lack. Evil is like a hole in the ground or like darkness is to light. Similarly, evil is like cold is the heat. Coldness is not necessarily real per se but is rather the absence of heat. Evil is the absence of good. As such, ice again makes a good image of evil and a fitting pit to a hell structured according to love.

80.      Why is the betrayal of family a lesser sin than that of country or political party?

In the ninth circle, we see betrayal of family come before betrayal of a political body or party. Again, one turns to Dante the Poet’s understanding of the common good to order these sins. Things can be ordered according to execution or being. In the order of execution, a chair, for example, would have its parts come first. The leg is made prior to the chair. Here, the family comes before the polis or political body (“state” in modern terms), and would thus seem more important. However, in the order of being, the leg only comes into existence for the sake of the chair—the part for the sake of the whole. Similarly, the family comes into existence for the sake of the polis, and the polis is the common good in which all the parts participate. Without a chair, there is no purpose for the leg. Similarly, no family is autonomous and must participate in the community.

81.      How is hell an act of mercy?

No matter how horrific the contrapasso is for a sinner, even Judas, it is a mercy. The finite creature can never truly bear the punishment for its sin against the infinite God. How can the finite make amends for an injustice against an infinite good? The just punishment for rejecting God is not bearable by man. All of hell is tempered by mercy and less than what man deserves for his sin.

[...]

Congrats! You have finished the Inferno.

 Check out thegreatbookspodcast.com for more great books to read! You can read the Iliad, the Odyssey, Hesiod’s Theogony, and Aeschylus’ Oresteia with Ascend. Podcasts are all posted and written guides are available on our Patreon page.

If you formed a small group for Lent to read Dante’s Inferno, keep meeting together. Pick a new text, maybe the Iliad, and read it together. Ascend will continue with the Greek plays in first half of 2025 with studies into Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, and Aristophanes, and we will start to study Plato in the early fall of 2025. We plan to read Dante’s Purgatorio for Lent in 2026. You can read the great books with Ascend!

[1] Musa, 384; the contrapasso of the Ninth Circle of Hell may be, as Musa states, “the gelid abode of those souls in whom all warmth of love for God and for their fellow man has been extinguished.” Musa, 384. It is worth noting that in each region of Cocytus, the sinners are frozen deeper into the ice: in Caina, they are frozen to their waists; in Antenora, they are frozen to the chin; in Tolomea, they are frozen with their faces upward; and in Judecca, they are completely frozen. Also note that Lucifer, the arch-traitor, is the cause of everything being frozen.

[2] XXXIV, 12.

[3] Musa, 384;

[4] XXXIV, 53-4; Musa notes that the three faces are first and foremost another tripart and hellish distortion of the Holy Trinity, see Musa, 384.

[5] XXXIV, 55; for colors, XXXIV, 37-45; Musa adds, “Highest Wisdom would be opposed to ignorance (black), Divine Omnipotence by impotence (yellow), Primal Love by hared or envy (red).” Musa, 385.

[6] XXXIV, 61, cf. 62-3.

[7] XXXIV, 66, cf. 64-9; while Judas betrayed Christ, Brutus and Cassius betrayed Julius Caesar, representing treason against the Church and the State (Empire). See, Musa, 385.

[8] See XXXIV, 79-81; Musa, 385-87.

[9] See Musa, 387.

We finish the 8th Circle of hell! Dcn. Harrison Garlick and Dr. Donald Prudlo of the University of Tulsa discuss pits 8-10 of the 8th Circle of Dante's Inferno (Cantos 26-31). Dr. Prudlo is an incredibly talented Catholic scholar! You'll want to hear what he has to say - especially about Odysseus, Troy, and the Garden of Eden.

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From our guide:

64.      What happens in the eighth ditch (Cantos 26-27)?

Overlooking the eighth ditch, the Pilgrim and Virgil view the punishment of those souls King Minos found guilty of deception or evil counsel.[1] The Pilgrim sees columns of flames, and Virgil explains, “there are souls concealed within these moving fires, each one swathed in his burning punishment.”[2] Dante the Pilgrim observes a “flame with its tip split in two,” to which Virgil explains the flame contains the souls of both Ulysses and Diomedes.[3] The contrapasso of the eighth bolgia is that these deceivers burn as tongues of flame just as their tongues in life brought forth pain and destruction.[4] Moving on, the Pilgrim and Virgil meet another soul, Guido da Montefeltro, “a soldier who became a friar in his old age; but he was untrue to his vows when, at the urging of Pope Boniface VIII, he counseled the use of fraud in the pope’s campaign against the Colonna family. He was damned to hell because he failed to repent of his sins, trusting instead in the pope’s fraudulent absolution.”[5] Virgil and the Pilgrim press on, where, coming to the ninth ditch, they see “those who, sowing discord, earned Hell’s wages.”[6]

65.      Does fire have a special role in the Inferno?

Given its name, most expect fire to be the normative punishment of the Inferno—but it is not. The question is whether the role fire does play has a special pedagogical purpose. Dr. Prudlo sets forth that fire, especially as seen here as “tongues of fire,” represents an “anti-Pentecostal sin.” Fire plays a role in the punishment of the blasphemers, sodomites, usurers, simonists, and false counselors. Fire, as Dr. Prudlo notes, is the “most noble element in Dante’s world,” and it plays a certain “refined punishment” in the Inferno. It seems to signify a certain “unnatural abuse” within the sin, an “abuse of some special gift that God has given us.” The role of fire in the Inferno merits further consideration.

66.      Is there a special relation between Ulysses (Odysseus) and Dante?

Dante the Poet arguably has a certain fondness for Ulysses. As Dr. Prudlo observes: “genius untethered to virtue is one of the most dangerous things that can possibly exist.” Dante the Poet and Ulysses are both geniuses. Yet, Ulysses cannot find rest upon returning to Ithaca—the question for knowledge calls him away from his wife, son, and kingdom to journey out into unknown Ocean. He sails passed the Pillars of Heracles, which mark the boundaries of mortal men, and, upon seeing Mount Purgatory, God strikes his ship and all lives are lost. Dr. Prudlo remarks that where Ulysses attempted to make it to Mount Purgatory despite God, Dante the Pilgrim will make it to Mount Purgatory with God. Ulysses appears as a warning to Dante the Pilgrim—the dangers of genius without virtue.

67.      How is the fall of a Troy a secular original sin?

 The fall of Troy is the original sin within the Roman mind. As Dr. Prudlo sets forth, for the Romans, the Trojan horse was the deception, the original sin, that led to the fall of Troy. Ulysses, the deceiver, is, as Dr. Prudlo notes, a type of anti-Aeneas. Whereas Aeneas tries to save his family in the fall of Troy, Ulysses abandons his. The escape of Aenaes from Troy to eventually found Rome, as described by Virgil in his Aeneid, is a type of felix culpa or “happy fault” that came about from the fall of Troy. From the fall of Troy, Rome is allowed to rise.

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[1] The sin punished in the eighth bolgia has been traditional thought to be “evil counsel,” but, as the notes below explain, it is probably more likely for the sin to be deception or evil rhetoric. Most notably the souls in the eighth and ninth bolgia are referred to as “like filth,” denoting a special disgust against these sins by Dante the Poet. See Musa, 313-14.

[2] XXVI, 47-8.

[3] XXVI, 52, 55.

[4] cf. Musa, 313-14.

[5] Musa, 315; the fraudulent absolution here is that it was offered before the friar committed the sin. The friar, a victim of fraud, then engages in fraud via deception or evil rhetoric.

[6] XXVII, 136.

Seducers, Flatterers, Sorcerers, and more! Dcn. Harrison Garlick is joined by Noah Tyler, CFO of the Classic Learning Test, and Gabriel Blanchard, a staff writer for CLT, to discuss the first part of the 8th Circle: Simple Fraud (Cantos 18-25).

Check out thegreatbookspodcast.com for more information.

Check out our written GUIDE to Dante's Inferno: 80+ Questions and Answer.

FROM THE GUIDE:

53.      What happens in the Eighth Circle of Hell: Simple Fraud (Canto 18)

The Eighth Circle of Hell holds the souls of those King Minos found guilty of simple fraud and is composed of “ten stone ravines called Malebolge (Evil Pockets), and across each bolgia is an arching bridge.”[1] Each of the ten bolgias (pits, ditches, pockets, etc.) is filled with souls guilty of a different species of simple fraud: (1) panders and seducers (2) flatters (3) simoniacs (4) sorcerers (5) barrators (6) hypocrites (7) thieves (8) deceivers (9) sowers of discord and (10) falsifiers. Each bolgia in Malebolgia exhibits a different contrapasso.

54.      What happens in the first ditch (Canto 18)?

After leaving Geryon, the Pilgrim observes the souls in the first ditch. Here, “two files of naked souls walked on the bottom” with each line walking a different direction.[2] The Pilgrim also notes, “I saw horned devils with enormous whips lashing the backs of shades with cruel delight.”[3] The souls here are pimps or panders in one line and seducers in the other. Notably, Dante the Pilgrim sees Jason the Argonaut suffering amongst the seducers.[4] Notice, however, that these seducers are not those who fell into passion, like Francisca, but rather those who act with malice to deceive others. It is the malice of malevolent nature of these sins that distinguish them from the incontinent sins.

55.      What happens in the second ditch (Canto 18)?

Leaving the first bolgia (ditch), the Pilgrim and Virgil come upon the souls of the flatters suffering in the second ditch. The Pilgrim observes, “Now we could hear the shades in the next pouch whimpering, making snorting grunting souls… from a steaming stench below, the banks were coated with a slimy mold that suck to them like glue, disgusting to behold and worse to smell.”[5] Here, grunting in a ditch of excrement, are the flatterers. The contrapasso of the second ditch invites a stark juxtaposition between the honeyed words of flattery and the sordid reality of their deception. The Pilgrim makes this quite evident in his observation of Thais: “that repulsive and disheveled tramp scratching herself with shitty fingernails, spreading her legs while squatting up and down.”[6] Repulsed by Thais, Virgil and the Pilgrim move on. It should be noted, however, that this flattery is a malicious flattery intended to deceive.

56.      How is flattery a worst sin than lust, murder, or suicide?

Recall that hell is structured according to three general areas: incontinence, violence, and fraud. Though violence and fraud are malevolent, fraud is worse because it is a greater corruption of the intellect. In general, the corruption of the best is the worst. The higher the angel, the greater the demon it becomes. As such, fraud, for Dante, is the greater than incontinence or violence, because fraud is the corruption of what makes us uniquely human: reason. Truth is the conformity of the mind to reality, and our intellect is an appetite that seeks truth. A person who uses his or her intellect to deceive others uses it for an unnatural purpose. It is a disorder of what is most divine in us. As such, the category of fraud is the worst sin, and within fraud, those who betray natural bonds of love are the worst; therefore, in the ninth circle, we will see fraud against those people held natural bonds of love, e.g., family, country, guests, and benefactors.

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We enter the circle of violence. This week Dcn. Harrison Garlick is joined by Fr. Thomas Esposito, O. Cist., a Cistercian priest who teaches at the University of Dallas, to discuss the seventh circle of Dante's Inferno: (1) violence against neighbor (2) violence against self and (3) violence against God & nature.

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Check out our 80+ Question and Answer Guide to the Inferno.

From the guide:

43.      What happens in the Seventh Circle of Hell: Violence Toward Neighbor (Canto 12)?

As Virgil and the Pilgrim press on toward the Seventh Circle of Hell, Virgil explains the topography of hell. The City of Dis marks the transition from upper hell to lower hell, while the Seventh Circle of Hell marks the beginning of the sins of violence (represented by the lion in the dark woods in Canto 1). Virgil explains, “violence can be done to God, to self, or to one’s neighbor.”[1] Next, Virgil explains there are two types of fraud. First, there is the “simple fraud” of the second circle of lower hell, the Eight Circle of Hell overall, in which “hypocrites, flatters, dabblers in sorcery, falsifiers, thieves, and simonists, pander, seducers, grafters, and like filth” are punished.”[2] Second, there is “complex fraud" of the final circle of hell, the Ninth Circle, in which are punished traitors who betrayed the “love Nature enjoys and that extra bond between men which creates a special trust.”[3]

Virgil and the Pilgrim enter into the Seventh Circle of Hell, which is guarded by the Minotaur—a half-man and half-bull creature from classical mythology known for its undying rage.[4] With the Minotaur consumed by its own anger, Virgil and the Pilgrim continue on and come upon a great “river of blood that boils souls of those who through their violence injured others”—known as the Phlegethon.[5] The contrapasso is made more severe by herds of centaurs galloping along the bloody riverbanks and shooting with arrows at “any daring soul emerging above the bloody level of his guilt.”[6]

As the Pilgrim observes, the souls are sunk in a river of blood to a depth commensurate with their violence: the tyrants, such as Alexander, Dionysius, and Attila, who “dealt in bloodshed and plundered wealth” are sunken to their eyelids; the murders who dealt in bloodshed are sunk up to their throats; and the rest of the violent are sunk to various lesser degrees.[7] Musa notes, “the sins of violence are also the Sins of Bestiality,” and the bestial and violent nature of these sins are seen in the theme of half-animal and half-human creatures: the furies on the walls of the City of Dis, the Minotaur whose very enraged existence spawned from an act of bestiality, and the centaurs who were known in classical mythology for violence and rape.[8]

44.      What else should be noted about the first area of the seventh circle?

Lower hell is characterized by sins of malice, and Fr. Thomas offered malevolent as another good descriptor of these sins: an evil willing. Fr. Thomas suggested that the Minotaur and the centaurs serve as bridges between incontinence and violence, as, for example, the centaurs are usually violent to satiate an incontinent desire, i.e., lust. Again, what is the distinction between the sin of violence and the sin of wrath? The latter is one of incontinence, while the former is one of malice—and the former is one that has an external action, i.e., harm. Fr. Thomas posits it may also be possible to be violent without being wrathful, i.e., some cold and calculated act of violence not committed out of passion.

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