A recurrent subject in Purgatorio is the role of the human will in sin. Dante doesn’t assume that his readers will understand this notion: by including a discussion of the subject between himself and Virgil, he suggests that attributing human sin to “the stars,” or to nature, was not uncommon in his day. Early in the poem, however, Virgil rejects the idea that nature, or any form of abstract determinism (the idea that human actions are determined by something outside of the human will), can be blamed for sin. While natural inclination can certainly be a factor, human beings are endowed with a rational will and therefore with the ability to fight against their inclinations and to pursue holiness instead of sin. Not only can people choose to reject sin—proper spiritual alignment can also train a person to actively desire goodness. By showing how human beings can be trained not only to reject sin and desire Heaven but to choose Heaven for themselves, Dante argues that human will is a gift that operates most freely when it is closely aligned with God’s will.
Dante characterizes sin as a matter of free will rather than something predetermined. Early in their journey, Dante asks Virgil to explain how human sin came about—because of nature or because of human will? It’s a debated subject, after all: “Some place the cause in stars, some here below.” Virgil quickly dismisses the idea that the problem of sin can simply be assigned to nature, saying, “You, living there, derive the cause of all / straight from the stars alone, as if, alone, / these made all move in mere necessity.” It’s worth noting that in referring to the “necessity” of the “stars,” Virgil isn’t speaking simply of astrology or superstition but of the idea that human beings are naturally disposed to behave in certain ways. “Yet were that so,” Virgil goes on, “in you would be destroyed / the freedom of your will—and justice fail / in giving good its joy and grief its ill.” In other words, if people just behaved as nature predisposed them to do, then it wouldn’t be just for people to be either rewarded or punished for their behaviors. Virgil doesn’t deny that “the stars initiate” human behaviors, but he believes that God gives human beings the rational ability to distinguish between right and wrong and to choose to act accordingly: “and free will, too, which if it can endure / beyond its early battles with the stars, / and if it’s nourished well, will conquer all.” From this, Virgil concludes, “So if the present world has gone astray, / the reason lies in you[.]” A soul that’s received proper spiritual “nourishment” is equipped to fight against their sinful nature and toward a fully purified will—which, after all, is the goal of Purgatory (the place where human sin is purged before souls proceed to Heaven).
The entire point of Purgatory is the transformation of human will that’s been corrupted by sin. That way, unfettered by its formerly corrupt desires, the soul freely desires God’s presence in Heaven. As a newly-cleansed soul explains it to Dante, when a soul is fully purged, it isn’t granted release from Purgatory, it chooses it: “The will alone gives proof of purity / when, wholly free to change its sacred place, / it aids and sweeps the soul up, willing well […] And I, who’ve lain five hundred years and more / in that same pain, have only felt just now / the freedom of the better way ahead.” By the time a soul finishes its time in Purgatory, the will is so transformed that it’s able to fully and freely desire Heaven instead of its once-cherished sin. Dante experiences this himself when, just before ascending the summit of Mount Purgatory and encountering his beloved Beatrice, he is exhorted by Virgil: “Now take what pleases you to be your guide […] No longer look to me for signs or word. / Your will is healthy, upright, free and whole. / And not to heed that sense would be a fault. / Lord of yourself, I crown and mitre you.” Dante, in other words, no longer needs Virgil’s guidance because his own free will is now sufficiently purified to serve as his guide. In fact, Virgil can even say that “what pleases you” is now Dante’s guide, because Dante’s desires are transformed such that he wants exactly what he should want: Heaven. Virgil can grant Dante the symbolic “mitre” and “crown,” suggesting that now, he needs to rely neither on churchly nor civil leaders to restrain and guide his will. His fully matured, free, and cleansed will is now capable of leading him heavenward.
Related Themes from Other Texts
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Free Will Quotes in Purgatorio
We were, by now, ascending that great stair.
And I, it seemed, was lighter now by far
than I had seemed while still on level ground.
So, ‘Tell me, sir,’ I said, ‘what weight has now
been lifted from me, so I almost feel
no strain at all in walking on my way?’
He answered: ‘When the “P”s that mark your brow,
remaining still, though growing now more faint,
have all (as is the first) been sheared away,
your steps will then be conquered by good will
and, being thus impelled towards the heights,
will feel no strain but only sheer delight.’
Because your human longings point to where
portions grow smaller in shared fellowship,
meanness of mind must make the bellows sigh.
If love, though, seeking for the utmost sphere,
should ever wrench your longings to the skies,
such fears would have no place within your breast.
For, there, the more that we can speak of “ours”,
the more each one possesses of the good
and, in that cloister, caritas burns brighter.
You, living there, derive the cause of all
straight from the stars alone, as if, alone,
these made all move in mere necessity.
Yet were that so, in you would be destroyed
the freedom of your will – and justice fail
in giving good its joy and grief its ill.
The stars initiate your vital moves.
I don’t say all. And yet suppose I did,
you’re given light to know what’s good and bad,
and free will, too, which if it can endure
beyond its early battles with the stars,
and if it’s nourished well, will conquer all.
So law is needed to apply this brake.
A king is needed, with the skill to see
the towers of that true city, at the least.
The laws are there. Who sets his hand to these?
There’s no one. For the shepherd out ahead,
though he can chew the cud, has not split hooves.
Tremors strike here when any soul feels pure
and rises, newly cleansed, to start its climb.
And that cry follows as the soul ascends.
The will alone gives proof of purity
when, wholly free to change its sacred place,
it aids and sweeps the soul up, willing well.
Then, firmly, Virgil fixed his eyes on me,
saying: ‘The temporal and eternal fires
you’ve seen, my son, and now you’re in a place
where I, through my own powers, can tell no more.
I’ve drawn you here by skill and searching mind.
Now take what pleases you to be your guide.
You’re now beyond the steeps, beyond all straits. […]
No longer look to me for signs or word.
Your will is healthy, upright, free and whole.
And not to heed that sense would be a fault.
Lord of yourself, I crown and mitre you.’
