Inferno III: The Gates of Hell
- Ayda Duru Demirtaş
- Jun 21
- 5 min read
Canto III depicts a liminal space between the entrance of Hell and the first circle, which we only reach in Inferno IV. This space, in a way, represents the binary destinies in the Christian universe: you can either be damned or be saved. Though not named by Dante himself, this space is frequently referred to by scholars as Ante-Hell or the vestibule of Hell.
The canto begins with the beautiful tercets that introduce us to Hell. At this point, Dante stands at its gateway. Inscribed on the gate are words that he reads aloud, though he struggles to understand them:
“Through me the way is to the city dolent;
Through me the way is to eternal dole;
Through me the way among the people lost.
Justice incited my sublime Creator;
Created me divine Omnipotence,
The highest Wisdom and the primal Love.
Before me there were no created things,
Only eterne, and I eternal last.
All hope abandon, ye who enter in!”
These lines express Dante’s conception of Hell and his philosophy regarding Christian theology and moral values. If we look closely, especially at the second tercet, we realize that in Dante’s belief, God is moved by Justice, Wisdom, and Love. For there to be just punishment—punishment that fits the crime—there must be free will. Without it, Dante’s Inferno would be a pandemonium rather than a place where justice is rightly served. Hell, therefore, is not deterministic but a consequence of one's own choices. Justice, not the sadistic desires of God, is the cause of damnation.
After reading the inscription, Dante, confused, asks Virgilio what it means. Virgilio replies: “Here all suspicion needs must be abandoned, / All cowardice must needs be here extinct.” While Virgilio doesn’t offer a detailed explanation of the inscription's meaning, he emphasizes the importance of resolve. Dante must be sure of himself and his purpose to survive Hell. This confirms that Dante’s earlier hesitation in the first and second cantos was appropriate—if there were ever a time to back out, it would be now. Once they pass the gate, there is no return—only the journey forward, toward Paradise.
Virgilio then says: “Thou shalt behold the people dolorous / Who have foregone the good of intellect.” Once again, we see the importance Dante places on reason and intellect. Reason, logic, and sound judgment are, for Dante, essential to reaching Heaven. To lose or ignore reason is to risk damnation.
Virgilio then comforts Dante by placing his hand in his. But this comfort is short-lived. As soon as they enter, Dante is confronted with intense anguish:
“There sighs, complaints, and ululations loud
Resounded through the air without a star,
Whence I, at the beginning, wept thereat.”
Upon witnessing this suffering, Dante responds with deep empathy and pity. Yet this reaction creates an inner tension, between his belief in divine love and justice, and the human suffering laid bare before him. This tension will remain with him throughout his journey in Hell. On multiple occasions, he pities the damned, and must be reminded that their fate was chosen, not arbitrarily imposed. In Inferno XX, seeing Dante’s continued pity, Virgilio says: “Here pity lives when it is wholly dead” (line 28).
But isn’t Dante’s entire journey through Hell designed to provoke pity in the reader? We hear the stories of souls, like the tragic lovers Paolo and Francesca, or Brunetto Latini, Dante’s beloved teacher, condemned for sodomy in Canto XV. Despite their sins, Dante never expresses contempt, only sorrow. His empathy draws us closer to these characters, allowing us to see them in their full humanity.
Dante’s Hell is often seen as symmetrical to Paradise, yet they are distinguished by one subtle but crucial idea: the eternity of Hell signifies duration, while that of Paradise signifies an eternal present. In line 29, Hell’s eternity is described as “Forever in that air forever black,” while Paradise exists “outside of time” (Paradiso 29.16).
Dante then notices a group of souls who are neither in Hell nor outside of it. Virgilio explains:
“This miserable mode
Maintain the melancholy souls of those
Who lived withouten infamy or praise.
Commingled are they with that caitiff choir
Of Angels, who have not rebellious been,
Nor faithful were to God, but were for self.
The heavens expelled them, not to be less fair;
Nor them the nethermore abyss receives,
For glory none the damned would have from them.”
These souls were so indecisive in life, so paralyzed by inaction, that they avoided choosing any moral path. To me, they resemble J. Alfred Prufrock more than Guido da Montefeltro. Because they served only themselves, neither Heaven nor Hell accepts them. Their individualism and moral cowardice condemned them to ambiguity.
The angels who govern these souls are also neutral: neither good nor evil. Dante observes that although these souls are not physically punished, they seem to suffer deeply. He asks why, and Virgilio answers:
“These have no longer any hope of death;
And this blind life of theirs is so debased,
They envious are of every other fate.
No fame of them the world permits to be;
Misericord and Justice both disdain them.
Let us not speak of them, but look, and pass.”
These are the forgotten ones, erased from memory. Even Virgilio’s refusal to speak about them reflects their punishment: anonymity. Throughout Inferno, souls strive to be remembered. They speak to Dante, share their stories, and beg for remembrance. But these souls, who did neither good nor evil, receive a fate worse than damnation: silence. They are “those who were never alive” (line 65), and they are treated accordingly.
As they move on, Dante recognizes one figure, possibly Pope Celestine V (line 58), but does not name him. The punishment here is the deprivation of identity. Their moral indecision results in erasure. While every other soul wants their name spoken and their story remembered, these souls are denied even that.
“These miscreants, who never were alive,
Were naked, and were stung exceedingly
By gadflies and by hornets that were there.”
Their punishment is fitting. They are now compelled to follow a meaningless banner: committed to something, finally, but only through coercion. And that commitment leads nowhere.
Then, they approach the riverbank. Dante wonders aloud about “what law / Makes them appear so ready to pass over” (lines 73–74). These souls long to cross the river, not out of hope, but out of desire for any destination, even Hell.
And then Charon appears:
“Woe unto you, ye souls depraved!
Hope nevermore to look upon the heavens;
I come to lead you to the other shore,
To the eternal shades in heat and frost.”
Dante’s Hell, unlike traditional Christian iconography, includes not just fire but also cold. Charon tells Dante to step back—he is still alive. Virgilio intervenes, saying that the journey is divinely willed: “It is so willed there where is power to do / That which is willed.” At these words, the souls change color and become more frenzied:
“God they blasphemed and their progenitors,
The human race, the place, the time, the seed
Of their engendering and of their birth!”
These souls desire Hell because they chose it. Their fear is transformed into yearning: “Because celestial Justice spurs them on, / So that their fear is turned into desire.”
Finally, it’s worth noting Virgilio’s presence in this landscape. Many elements of Dante’s early Hell—the river, Charon, the waiting souls—are drawn directly from The Aeneid. This suggests that the very topography of Hell is, in part, inherited from Virgil’s imagination (and therefore the classical iconography). Dante’s Hell is, thus, both a personal and literary construction where theology, morality, and classical poetry converge.
Ayda Duru Demirtaş
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