Damnation once again – An Irishman’s Diary about Dante’s Inferno

I was reading Dante's Inferno one night recently, while eating cheese. And it must have been this combination that, later, gave me an appalling nightmare.

In the nightmare, the Italian poet led me on a tour of hell, just as Virgil had led him. We met under the sign – “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here”. And after congratulating him on his major birthday (he’ll be 750 in May), I asked about the people moping around outside the gates, in Limbo.

“Ah yes,” Dante said. “Those were the types who, in life, were always telling others, ‘Cheer up, it might never happen’. Their punishment is to be stuck out there, indefinitely.”

This was when I remembered that, in Dante’s vision, the damned were given tortures to match their sins – so that fortune tellers, for example, guilty of trying to see the future, spent eternity with their heads on backwards.

We were now inside hell proper, and I was immediately aware of a sulphurous smell and terrible noises. The smell was the river Acheron. And as we boarded a boat to cross, I realised that the terrible noises were from a man playing guitar nearby.

“Don’t pay the ferryman,” he sang, and with a shock I recognised him. “Is he in hell?” I whispered. “Ah no – not permanently”, Dante laughed. “He just has to entertain the ferry passengers during summer months, for all eternity.”

The crossing itself seemed to take forever. But when we finally disembarked, I noticed that the passengers, who were now covering their ears in a vain attempt to block out Lady in Red, had to stay on board.

“Yes,” confirmed Dante. “In life, they all used to have loud phone conversations on public transport. They’re on that ferry permanently. Their mobiles have been confiscated.”

We had reached the first circle of hell – a strange place, with various tortures that, although mild, caused the residents great distress. In one area, for example, there was a cinema, where reclining viewers, guilty of the same habit in life, had the backs of their seats kicked constantly by devils.

Elsewhere was a self-service restaurant, where diners writhed in pain. Dante explained that their sin had been to claim cafe tables with coats or bags before joining the queue. And on closer inspection, I now saw that the eternal “seats” of these wretches were hot plates, with candles underneath.

The second circle of hell was full of people talking loudly. Many sounded happy or excited. Yet they too were clearly suffering, by just having to listen to each other.

Dante explained that they had spent their earth-bound existences making annoying radio ads. And indeed, such was the cacophony, I too had to cover my ears, although not before hearing the wheezy chuckle of “Old Mister Brennan” again and learning that Harvey Bloody Norman was having yet another sale.

Hell’s third circle was an old-fashioned lake of fire in which sinners boiled horribly while, between screams, trying to talk into mobile phones, or pressing the buttons.

I was told that, in life, they had commissioned automated phone systems. To illustrate, Dante took a mobile from the nearest sinner and we listened. The voice said: “If you want to escape eternal damnation and go to paradise instead, please press 1...”

So we pressed 1, but got another menu: “If you know your 47-digit reference number, please enter it followed by the hache sign. If you do not know your reference number and would like to speak to a customer service representative, just say ‘Help’.”

Of course, when we said “Help!”, the voice replied: “I’m sorry – I didn’t catch that”. And so on, forever.

Dante now brought me to the fourth circle, where men in suits were being toasted over an open fire. I didn’t recognise them at first. Then the penny dropped. “Are they...” I began to ask, “bondholders?” “Yes, they’re finally burning them.”

The fifth circle, I remember, was for journalists. But before we reached it, I fainted with terror. Then I woke up. So I never did find out who was there, nor who was in circles six to nine.

The last thing I remember was Dante warning that if, I didn’t want to find out, I’d better mention two talks about him to be given in Ireland next week by an expert called Alessandro Scafi.

The first is at the Italian Institute of Culture in Dublin on Monday. The second is on Tuesday in University College Cork. Both events are free.

You can find out more at iicdublino.esteri.it or by (non-automated) telephone at 01-6621507.

@FrankmcnallyIT