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Dante Alighieri


Andrea del Castagno
Mural of Dante in the Uffizi Gallery
 c. 1450.
 

 

see also:

Dante Alighieri "The Divine Comedy"
      
(Illustrations by G. Dore, W. Blake, S. Dali)

Dante (Illustrations by Botticelli)


 

Dante

Italian poet
in full Dante Alighieri

born c. May 21–June 20, 1265, Florence, Italy
died Sept. 13/14, 1321, Ravenna

Overview
Italian poet.

Dante was of noble ancestry, and his life was shaped by the conflict between papal and imperial partisans (the Guelfs and Ghibellines). When an opposing political faction within the Guelfs (Dante’s party) gained ascendancy, he was exiled (1302) from Florence, to which he never returned. His life was given direction by his spiritual love for Beatrice Portinari (d. 1290), to whom he dedicated most of his poetry. His great friendship with Guido Cavalcanti shaped his later career as well. La Vita Nuova (1293?) celebrates Beatrice in verse. In his difficult years of exile, he wrote the verse collection The Banquet (c. 1304–07); De vulgari eloquentia (1304–07; “Concerning Vernacular Eloquence”), the first theoretical discussion of the Italian literary language; and On Monarchy (1313?), a major Latin treatise on medieval political philosophy. He is best known for the monumental epic poem The Divine Comedy (written c. 1308–21; originally titled simply Commedia), a profoundly Christian vision of human temporal and eternal destiny. It is an allegory of universal human destiny in the form of a pilgrim’s journey through hell and purgatory, guided by the Roman poet Virgil, and then to Paradise, guided by Beatrice. By writing it in Italian rather than Latin, Dante almost singlehandedly made Italian a literary language, and he stands as one of the towering figures of European literature.

Main
Italian poet, prose writer, literary theorist, moral philosopher, and political thinker. He is best known for the monumental epic poem La commedia, later named La divina commedia (The Divine Comedy).

Dante’s Divine Comedy, a great work of medieval literature, is a profound Christian vision of man’s temporal and eternal destiny. On its most personal level, it draws on the poet’s own experience of exile from his native city of Florence; on its most comprehensive level, it may be read as an allegory, taking the form of a journey through hell, purgatory, and paradise. The poem amazes by its array of learning, its penetrating and comprehensive analysis of contemporary problems, and its inventiveness of language and imagery. By choosing to write his poem in Italian rather than in Latin, Dante decisively influenced the course of literary development. Not only did he lend a voice to the emerging lay culture of his own country, but Italian became the literary language in western Europe for several centuries.

In addition to poetry Dante wrote important theoretical works ranging from discussions of rhetoric to moral philosophy and political thought. He was fully conversant with the classical tradition, drawing for his own purposes on such writers as Virgil, Cicero, and Boethius. But, most unusual for a layman, he also had an impressive command of the most recent scholastic philosophy and of theology. His learning and his personal involvement in the heated political controversies of his age led him to the composition of De monarchia, one of the major tracts of medieval political philosophy.

Early life and the Vita nuova
Most of what is known about Dante’s life he has told himself. He was born in Florence in 1265 under the sign of Gemini (between May 21 and June 20) and remained devoted to his native city all his life. Dante describes how he fought as a cavalryman against the Ghibellines, a banished Florentine party supporting the imperial cause. He also speaks of his great teacher Brunetto Latini and his gifted friend Guido Cavalcanti, of the poetic culture in which he made his first artistic ventures, his poetic indebtedness to Guido Guinizelli, the origins of his family in his great-great-grandfather, Cacciaguida, whom the reader meets in the central cantos of the Paradiso (and from whose wife the family name, Alighieri, derived), and, going back even further, of the pride that he felt in the fact that his distant ancestors were descendants of the Roman soldiers who settled along the banks of the Arno.

Yet Dante has little to say about his more immediate family. There is no mention of his father or mother, brother or sister in The Divine Comedy. A sister is possibly referred to in the Vita nuova, and his father is the subject of insulting sonnets exchanged in jest between Dante and his friend Forese Donati. Because Dante was born in 1265 and the exiled Guelfs, to whose party Dante’s family adhered, did not return until 1266, Dante’s father apparently was not a figure considerable enough to warrant exile. Dante’s mother died when he was young, certainly before he was 14. Her name was Bella, but of which family is unknown. Dante’s father then married Lapa di Chiarissimo Cialuffi and they produced a son, Francesco, and a daughter, Gaetana. Dante’s father died prior to 1283, since at that time Dante, having come into his majority, was able as an orphan to sell a credit owned by his father. The elder Alighieri left his children a modest yet comfortable patrimony of property in Florence and in the country. About this time Dante married Gemma Donati, to whom he had been betrothed since 1277.

Dante’s life was shaped by the long history of conflict between the imperial and papal partisans called, respectively, Ghibellines and Guelfs. Following the middle of the 13th century the antagonisms were brutal and deadly, with each side alternately gaining the upper hand and inflicting gruesome penalties and exile upon the other. In 1260 the Guelfs, after a period of ascendancy, were defeated in the battle of Montaperti (Inferno X, XXXII), but in 1266 a force of Guelfs, supported by papal and French armies, was able to defeat the Ghibellines at Benevento, expelling them forever from Florence. This meant that Dante grew up in a city brimming with postwar pride and expansionism, eager to extend its political control throughout Tuscany. Florentines compared themselves with Rome and the civilization of the ancient city-states.

Not only did Florence extend its political power, but it was ready to exercise intellectual dominance as well. The leading figure in Florence’s intellectual ascendancy was a returning exile, Brunetto Latini. When in the Inferno Dante describes his encounter with his great teacher, this is not to be regarded as simply a meeting of one pupil with his master but rather as an encounter of an entire generation with its intellectual mentor. Latini had awakened a new public consciousness in the prominent figures of a younger generation, including Guido Cavalcanti, Forese Donati, and Dante himself, encouraging them to put their knowledge and skill as writers to the service of their city or country. Dante readily accepted the Aristotelian assumption that man is a social (political) being. Even in the Paradiso (VIII.117) Dante allows as being beyond any possible dispute the notion that things would be far worse for man were he not a member of a city-state.

A contemporary historian, Giovanni Villani, characterized Latini as the “initiator and master in refining the Florentines and in teaching them how to speak well, and how to guide our republic according to political philosophy [la politica].” Despite the fact that Latini’s most important book, Li Livres dou Trésor (1262–66; The Tresor), was written in French (Latini had passed his years of exile in France), its culture is Dante’s culture; it is a repository of classical citation. The first part of Book II contains one of the early translations in a modern European vernacular of Aristotle’s Ethics. On almost every question or topic of philosophy, ethics, and politics Latini freely quotes from Cicero and Seneca. And, almost as frequently, when treating questions of government, he quotes from the book of Proverbs, as Dante was to do. The Bible, as well as the writings of Aristotle, Cicero, and Seneca, as represented in Latini’s work, were the mainstays of Dante’s early culture.

Of these Rome presents the most inspiring source of identification. The cult of Cicero began to develop alongside that of Aristotle; Cicero was perceived as not only preaching but as fully exemplifying the intellectual as citizen. A second Roman element in Latini’s legacy to become an important part of Dante’s culture was the love of glory, the quest for fame through a wholehearted devotion to excelling. For this reason, in the Inferno (XV) Latini is praised for instructing Dante in the means by which man makes himself immortal, and in his farewell words Latini commits to Dante’s care his Tresor, through which he trusts his memory will survive.

Dante was endowed with remarkable intellectual and aesthetic self-confidence. By the time he was 18, as he himself says in the Vita nuova, he had already taught himself the art of making verse (chapter III). He sent an early sonnet, which was to become the first poem in the Vita nuova, to the most famous poets of his day. He received several responses, but the most important one came from Cavalcanti, and this was the beginning of their great friendship.

As in all meetings of great minds the relationship between Dante and Cavalcanti was a complicated one. In chapter XXX of the Vita nuova Dante states that it was through Cavalcanti’s exhortations that he wrote his first book in Italian rather than in Latin. Later, in the Convivio, written in Italian, and in De vulgari eloquentia, written in Latin, Dante was to make one of the first great Renaissance defenses of the vernacular. His later thinking on these matters grew out of his discussions with Cavalcanti, who prevailed upon him to write only in the vernacular. Because of this intellectual indebtedness, Dante dedicated his Vita nuova to Cavalcanti—to his best friend (primo amico).

Later, however, when Dante became one of the priors of Florence, he was obliged to concur with the decision to exile Cavalcanti, who contracted malaria during the banishment and died in August 1300. In the Inferno (X) Dante composed a monument to his great friend, and it is as heartrending a tribute as his memorial to Latini. In both cases Dante records his indebtedness, his fondness, and his appreciation of their great merits, but in each he is equally obliged to record the facts of separation. In order to save himself, he must find (or has found) other, more powerful aesthetic, intellectual, and spiritual sponsorship than that offered by his old friends and teachers.

One of these spiritual guides, for whom Cavalcanti evidently did not have the same appreciation, was Beatrice, a figure in whom Dante created one of the most celebrated fictionalized women in all of literature. In keeping with the changing directions of Dante’s thought and the vicissitudes of his career, she, too, underwent enormous changes in his hands—sanctified in the Vita nuova, demoted in the canzoni (poems) presented in the Convivio, only to be returned with more profound comprehension in The Divine Comedy as the woman credited with having led Dante away from the “vulgar herd.”

La vita nuova (c. 1293; The New Life) is the first of two collections of verse that Dante made in his lifetime, the other being the Convivio. Each is a prosimetrum, that is, a work composed of verse and prose. In each case the prose is a device for binding together poems composed over about a 10-year period. The Vita nuova brought together Dante’s poetic efforts from before 1283 to roughly 1292–93; the Convivio, a bulkier and more ambitious work, contains Dante’s most important poetic compositions from just prior to 1294 to the time of The Divine Comedy.

The Vita nuova, which Dante called his libello, or small book, is a remarkable work. It contains 42 brief chapters with commentaries on 25 sonnets, one ballata, and four canzoni; a fifth canzone is left dramatically interrupted by Beatrice’s death. The prose commentary provides the frame story, which does not emerge from the poems themselves (it is, of course, conceivable that some were actually written for other occasions than those alleged). The story is simple enough, telling of Dante’s first sight of Beatrice when both are nine years of age, her salutation when they are 18, Dante’s expedients to conceal his love for her, the crisis experienced when Beatrice withholds her greeting, Dante’s anguish that she is making light of him, his determination to rise above anguish and sing only of his lady’s virtues, anticipations of her death (that of a young friend, the death of her father, and Dante’s own premonitory dream), and finally the death of Beatrice, Dante’s mourning, the temptation of the sympathetic donna gentile (a young woman who temporarily replaces Beatrice), Beatrice’s final triumph and apotheosis, and, in the last chapter, Dante’s determination to write at some later time about her “that which has never been written of any woman.”

Yet with all of this apparently autobiographical purpose the Vita nuova is strangely impersonal. The circumstances it sets down are markedly devoid of any historical facts or descriptive detail (thus making it pointless to engage in too much debate as to the exact historical identity of Beatrice). The language of the commentary also adheres to a high level of generality. Names are rarely used—Cavalcanti is referred to three times as Dante’s “best friend”; Dante’s sister is referred to as “she who was joined to me by the closest proximity of blood.” On the one hand Dante suggests the most significant stages of emotional experience, but on the other he seems to distance his descriptions from strong emotional reactions. The larger structure in which Dante arranged poems written over a 10-year period and the generality of his poetic language are indications of his early and abiding ambition to go beyond the practices of local poets.


Dante’s intellectual development and public career
A second contemporary poetic figure behind Dante was Guido Guinizelli, the poet most responsible for altering the prevailing local, or “municipal,” kind of poetry. Guinizelli’s verse provided what Cavalcanti and Dante were looking for—a remarkable sense of joy contained in a refined and lucid aesthetic. What increased the appeal of his poetry was its intellectual, even philosophical, content. His poems were written in praise of the lady and of gentilezza, the virtue that she brought out in her admirer. The conception of love that he extolled was part of a refined and noble sense of life. It was Guinizelli’s influence that was responsible for the poetic and spiritual turning point of the Vita nuova. As reported in chapters XVII to XXI, Dante experienced a change of heart, and rather than write poems of anguish, he determined to write poems in praise of his lady, especially the canzone Donne ch’avete intelletto d’amore (“Ladies Who Have Understanding of Love”). This canzone is followed immediately by the sonnet Amore e ’l cor gentil sono una cosa (“Love and the Noble Heart Are the Same Thing”), the first line of which is clearly an adaptation of Guinizelli’s Al cor gentil ripara sempre amore (“In Every Noble Heart Love Finds Its Home”). This was the beginning of Dante’s association with a new poetic style, the dolce stil nuovo (“the sweet new style”), the significance of which—the simple means by which it transcended the narrow range of the more regional poetry—he dramatically explains in the Purgatorio (XXIV).

This interest in philosophical poetry led Dante into another great change in his life, which he describes in the Convivio. Looking for consolation following the death of Beatrice, Dante reports that he turned to philosophy, particularly to the writings of Boethius and Cicero. But what was intended as a temporary reprieve from sorrow became a lifelong avocation and one of the most crucial intellectual events in Dante’s career. The donna gentile of the Vita nuova was transformed into Lady Philosophy, who soon occupied all of Dante’s thoughts. He began attending the religious schools of Florence in order to hear disputations on philosophy, and within a period of only 30 months “the love of her [philosophy] banished and destroyed every other thought.” In his poem Voi che ’ntendendo il terzo ciel movete (“You Who Through Intelligence Move the Third Sphere”) he dramatizes this conversion from the sweet old style, associated with Beatrice and the Vita nuova, to the rigorous, even severe, new style associated with philosophy. This period of study gave expression to a series of canzoni that were eventually to form the poetic basis for the philosophic commentary of the Convivio.

Another great change was Dante’s more active political involvement in the affairs of the commune. In 1295 he became a member of the guild of physicians and apothecaries (to which philosophers could belong), which opened his way to public office. But he entered the public arena at a most perilous time in the city’s politics. As it had been during the time of the Guelf and Ghibelline civil strife, in the 1290s Florence once again became a divided city. The ruling Guelf class of Florence became divided into a party of “Blacks,” led by Corso Donati, and a party of “Whites,” to which Dante belonged. The Whites gained the upper hand and exiled the Blacks.

There is ample information concerning Dante’s activities following 1295. In May 1300 he was part of an important embassy to San Gimignano, a neighbouring town, whose purpose it was to solidify the Guelf league of Tuscan cities against the mounting ambitions of the new and embattled pope Boniface VIII. When Dante was elected to the priorate in 1300, he presumably was already recognized as a spokesman for those in the commune determined to resist the Pontiff’s policies. Dante thus experienced a complete turnabout in his attitudes concerning the extent of papal power. The hegemony of the Guelfs—the party supporting the Pope—had been restored in Florence in 1266 by an alliance forged between the forces of France and the papacy. By 1300, however, Dante had come to oppose the territorial ambitions of the Pope, and this in turn provided the intellectual motivation for another, even greater change: Dante, the Guelf moderate, would in time, through his firsthand experience of the ill effects of papal involvement in political matters, become in the Convivio, in the later polemical work the Monarchia, and most importantly throughout The Divine Comedy, one of the most fervently outspoken defenders of the position that the empire does not derive its political authority from the pope.

Events, moreover, propelled Dante into further opposition to papal policies. A new alliance was formed between the papacy, the French (the brother of King Philip IV, Charles of Valois, was acting in concert with Boniface), and the exiled Black Guelfs. When Charles of Valois wished permission to enter Florence, the city itself was thrown into political indecision. In order to ascertain the nature of the Pope’s intentions, an embassy was sent to Rome to discuss these matters with him. Dante was one of the emissaries, but his quandary was expressed in the legendary phrase “If I go, who remains; if I remain, who goes?” Dante was outmaneuvered. The Pope dismissed the other two legates and detained Dante. In early November 1301 the forces of Charles of Valois were permitted entry to Florence. That very night the exiled Blacks surreptitiously reentered Florence and for six days terrorized the city. Dante learned of the deception at first in Rome and then more fully in Siena. In January 1302 he was called to appear before the new Florentine government and, failing to do so, was condemned, along with three other former priors, for crimes he had not committed. Again failing to appear, on March 10, 1302, Dante and 14 other Whites were condemned to be burned to death. Thus Dante suffered the most decisive crisis of his life. In The Divine Comedy he frequently and powerfully speaks of this rupture; indeed, he makes it the central dramatic act toward which a long string of prophecies points. But it is also Dante’s purpose to show the means by which he triumphed over his personal disaster, thus making his poem into a true “divine comedy.”


Exile, the Convivio, and the De monarchia
Information about Dante’s early years in exile is scanty; nevertheless, enough is known to provide a broad picture. It seems that Dante at first was active among the exiled White Guelfs in their attempts to seek a military return. These efforts proved fruitless. Evidently Dante grew disillusioned with the other Florentine outcasts, the Ghibellines, and was determined to prove his worthiness by means of his writings and thus secure his return. These are the circumstances that led him to compose Il convivio (c. 1304–07; The Banquet).

Dante projected a work of 15 books, 14 of which would be commentaries on different canzoni. He completed only four of the books. The finished commentaries in many ways go beyond the scope of the poems, becoming a compendium of instruction with much of the random display of an amateur in philosophy. Dante’s intention in the Convivio, as in The Divine Comedy, was to place the challenging moral and political issues of his day into a suitable ethical and metaphysical framework.

Book I of the Convivio is in large part a stirring and systematic defense of the vernacular. (The unfinished De vulgari eloquentia [c. 1304–07; Concerning Vernacular Eloquence], a companion piece, presumably written in coordination with Book I, is primarily a practical treatise in the art of poetry based upon an elevated poetic language.) Dante became the great advocate of its use and in the final sentence of Book I he accurately predicts its glorious future:

This shall be the new light, the new sun, which shall rise when the worn-out one shall set, and shall give light to them who are in shadow and in darkness because of the old sun, which does not enlighten them.

The revolution Dante described was nothing less than the twilight of the predominantly clerical Latin culture and the emergence of a lay, vernacular urban literacy. Dante saw himself as the philosopher-mediator between the two, helping to educate a newly enfranchised public readership. The Italian literature that Dante heralded was soon to become the leading literature and Italian the leading literary language of Europe, and they would continue to be that for more than three centuries.

In the Convivio Dante’s mature political and philosophical system is nearly complete. In this work Dante makes his first stirring defense of the imperial tradition and, more specifically, of the Roman Empire. He introduces the crucial concept of horme, that is, of an innate desire that prompts the soul to return to God. But it requires proper education through examples and doctrine. Otherwise it can become misdirected toward worldly aims and society torn apart by its destructive power. In the Convivio Dante establishes the link between his political thought and his understanding of human appetite: given the pope’s craving for worldly power, at the time there existed no proper spiritual models to direct the appetite toward God; and given the weakness of the empire, there existed no law sufficient to exercise a physical restraint on the will. For Dante this explains the chaos into which Italy had been plunged, and it moved him, in hopes of remedying these conditions, to take up the epic task of The Divine Comedy.

But a political event occurred that at first raised tremendous hope but then plunged Dante into still greater disillusionment. In November 1308 Henry, the count of Luxembourg, was elected king of Germany, and in July 1309 the French pope, Clement V, who had succeeded Boniface, declared Henry to be king of the Romans and invited him to Rome, where in time he would be crowned Holy Roman emperor in St. Peter’s Basilica. The possibility of once again having an emperor electrified Italy; and among the imperial proponents was Dante, who saw approaching the realization of an ideal that he had long held: the coming of an emperor pledged to restore peace while also declaring his spiritual subordination to religious authority. Within a short time after his arrival in Italy in 1310 Henry VII’s great appeal began to fade. He lingered too long in the north, allowing his enemies to gather strength. Foremost among the opposition to this divinely ordained moment, as Dante regarded it, was the commune of Florence.

During these years Dante wrote important political epistles—evidence of the great esteem in which he was held throughout Italy, of his personal authority, as it were—in which he exalted Henry, urging him to be diligent, and condemned Florence. In subsequent action, however, which was to remind Dante of Boniface’s duplicity, Clement himself turned against Henry. This action prompted one of Dante’s greatest polemical treatises, his De monarchia (c. 1313; On Monarchy) in which he expands the political arguments of the Convivio. In the embittered atmosphere caused by Clement’s deceit Dante turned his argumentative powers against papal insistence on its superiority over the political ruler, that is, against the argument that the empire derived its political authority from the pope. In the final passages of the Monarchia Dante writes that the ends designed by Providence for man are twofold: one end is the bliss of this life, which is conveyed in the figure of the earthly paradise; the other is the bliss of eternal life, which is embodied in the image of a heavenly paradise. Yet despite their different ends, these two purposes are not unconnected. Dante concludes his Monarchia by assuring his reader that he does not mean to imply “that the Roman government is in no way subject to the Roman pontificate, for in some ways our mortal happiness is ordered for the sake of immortal happiness.” Dante’s problem was that he had to express in theoretical language a subtle relationship that might be better conveyed by metaphoric language and historical example. Surveying the history of the relationship between papacy and empire, Dante pointed with approval to specific historical examples, such as Constantine’s good will toward the church. Dante’s disappointment in the failed mission of Henry VII derived from the fact that Henry’s original sponsor was apparently Pope Clement and that conditions seemed to be ideal for reestablishing the right relationship between the supreme powers.


The Divine Comedy
Dante’s years of exile were years of difficult peregrinations from one place to another—as he himself repeatedly says, most effectively in Paradiso [XVII], in Cacciaguida’s moving lamentation that “bitter is the taste of another man’s bread and . . . heavy the way up and down another man’s stair.” Throughout his exile Dante nevertheless was sustained by work on his great poem. The Divine Comedy was possibly begun prior to 1308 and completed just before his death in 1321, but the exact dates are uncertain. In addition, in his final years Dante was received honourably in many noble houses in the north of Italy, most notably by Guido Novello da Polenta, the nephew of the remarkable Francesca, in Ravenna. There at his death Dante was given an honourable burial attended by the leading men of letters of the time, and the funeral oration was delivered by Guido himself.

The plot of The Divine Comedy is simple: a man, generally assumed to be Dante himself, is miraculously enabled to undertake an ultramundane journey, which leads him to visit the souls in Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise. He has two guides: Virgil, who leads him through the Inferno and Purgatorio, and Beatrice, who introduces him to Paradiso. Through these fictional encounters taking place from Good Friday evening in 1300 through Easter Sunday and slightly beyond, Dante learns of the exile that is awaiting him (which had, of course, already occurred at the time of the writing). This device allowed Dante not only to create a story out of his pending exile but also to explain the means by which he came to cope with his personal calamity and to offer suggestions for the resolution of Italy’s troubles as well. Thus, the exile of an individual becomes a microcosm of the problems of a country, and it also becomes representative of the fall of man. Dante’s story is thus historically specific as well as paradigmatic.

The basic structural component of The Divine Comedy is the canto. The poem consists of 100 cantos, which are grouped together into three sections, or canticles, Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso. Technically there are 33 cantos in each canticle and one additional canto, contained in the Inferno, which serves as an introduction to the entire poem. For the most part the cantos range from about 136 to about 151 lines. The poem’s rhyme scheme is the terza rima (aba, bcb, cdc, etc.) Thus, the divine number of three is present in every part of the work.

Dante’s Inferno differs from its great classical predecessors in both position and purpose. In Homer’s Odyssey (Book XII) and Virgil’s Aeneid (Book VI) the visit to the land of the dead occurs in the middle of the poem because in these centrally placed books the essential values of life are revealed. Dante, while adopting the convention, transforms the practice by beginning his journey with the visit to the land of the dead. He does this because his poem’s spiritual pattern is not classical but Christian: Dante’s journey to Hell represents the spiritual act of dying to the world, and hence it coincides with the season of Christ’s own death. (In this way, Dante’s method is similar to that of Milton in Paradise Lost, where the flamboyant but defective Lucifer and his fallen angels are presented first.) The Inferno represents a false start during which Dante, the character, must be disabused of harmful values that somehow prevent him from rising above his fallen world. Despite the regressive nature of the Inferno, Dante’s meetings with the roster of the damned are among the most memorable moments of the poem: the Neutrals, the virtuous pagans, Francesca da Rimini, Filipo Argenti, Farinata degli Uberti, Piero delle Vigne, Brunetto Latini, the simoniacal popes, Ulysses, and Ugolino impose themselves upon the reader’s imagination with tremendous force.

The visit to Hell is, as Virgil and later Beatrice explain, an extreme measure, a painful but necessary act before real recovery can begin. This explains why the Inferno is both aesthetically and theologically incomplete. For instance, readers frequently express disappointment at the lack of dramatic or emotional power in the final encounter with Satan in canto XXXIV. But because the journey through the Inferno primarily signifies a process of separation and thus is only the initial step in a fuller development, it must end with a distinct anticlimax. In a way this is inevitable because the final revelation of Satan can have nothing new to offer: the sad effects of his presence in human history have already become apparent throughout the Inferno.

In the Purgatorio the protagonist’s painful process of spiritual rehabilitation commences; in fact, this part of the journey may be considered the poem’s true moral starting point. Here the pilgrim Dante subdues his own personality in order that he may ascend. In fact, in contrast to the Inferno, where Dante is confronted with a system of models that needs to be discarded, in the Purgatorio few characters present themselves as models; all of the penitents are pilgrims along the road of life. Dante, rather than being an awed if alienated observer, is an active participant. If the Inferno is a canticle of enforced and involuntary alienation, in which Dante learns how harmful were his former allegiances, in the Purgatorio he comes to accept as most fitting the essential Christian image of life as a pilgrimage. As Beatrice in her magisterial return in the earthly paradise reminds Dante, he must learn to reject the deceptive promises of the temporal world.

Despite its harsh regime, the Purgatorio is the realm of spiritual dawn, where larger visions are entertained. Whereas in only one canto of the Inferno (VII), in which Fortuna is discussed, is there any suggestion of philosophy, in the Purgatorio, historical, political, and moral vistas are opened up. It is, moreover, the great canticle of poetry and the arts. Dante meant it literally when he proclaimed, after the dreary dimensions of Hell: “But here let poetry rise again from the dead.” There is only one poet in Hell proper and not more than two in the Paradiso, but in the Purgatorio the reader encounters the musicians Casella and Belacqua and the poet Sordello and hears of the fortunes of the two Guidos, Guinizelli and Cavalcanti, the painters Cimabue and Giotto, and the miniaturists. In the upper reaches of Purgatory, the reader observes Dante reconstructing his classical tradition and then comes even closer to Dante’s own great native tradition (placed higher than the classical tradition) when he meets Forese Donati, hears explained—in an encounter with Bonagiunta da Lucca—the true resources of the dolce stil nuovo, and meets with Guido Guinizelli and hears how he surpassed in skill and poetic mastery the reigning regional poet, Guittone d’Arezzo. These cantos resume the line of thought presented in the Inferno (IV), where among the virtuous pagans Dante announces his own program for an epic and takes his place, “sixth among that number,” alongside the classical writers. In the Purgatorio he extends that tradition to include Statius (whose Thebaid did in fact provide the matter for the more grisly features of the lower inferno), but he also shows his more modern tradition originating in Guinizelli. Shortly after his encounter with Guinizelli comes the long-awaited reunion with Beatrice in the earthly paradise. Thus, from the classics Dante seems to have derived his moral and political understanding as well as his conception of the epic poem, that is, a framing story large enough to encompass the most important issues of his day, but it was from his native tradition that he acquired the philosophy of love that forms the Christian matter of his poem.

This means of course that Virgil, Dante’s guide, must give way to other leaders, and in a canticle generally devoid of drama the rejection of Virgil becomes the single dramatic event. Dante’s use of Virgil is one of the richest cultural appropriations in literature. To begin, in Dante’s poem he is an exponent of classical reason. He is also a historical figure and is presented as such in the Inferno (I): “. . . once I was a man, and my parents were Lombards, both Mantuan by birth. I was born sub Julio, though late in his time, and I lived in Rome under the good Augustus, in the time of the false and lying gods.” Virgil, moreover, is associated with Dante’s homeland (his references are to contemporary Italian places), and his background is entirely imperial. (Born under Julius Caesar, he extolled Augustus Caesar.) He is presented as a poet, the theme of whose great epic sounds remarkably similar to that of Dante’s poem: “I was a poet and sang of that just son of Anchises who came from Troy after proud Ilium was burned.” So, too, Dante sings of the just son of a city, Florence, who was unjustly expelled, and forced to search, as Aeneas had done, for a better city, in his case the heavenly city.

Virgil is a poet whom Dante had studied carefully and from whom he had acquired his poetic style, the beauty of which has brought him much honour. But Dante had lost touch with Virgil in the intervening years, and when the spirit of Virgil returns it is one that seems weak from long silence. But the Virgil that returns is more than a stylist; he is the poet of the Roman Empire, a subject of great importance to Dante, and he is a poet who has become a saggio, a sage, or moral teacher.

Though an exponent of reason, Virgil has become an emissary of divine grace, and his return is part of the revival of those simpler faiths associated with Dante’s earlier trust in Beatrice. And yet, of course, Virgil by himself is insufficient. It cannot be said that Dante rejects Virgil; rather he sadly found that nowhere in Virgil’s work, that is, in his consciousness, was there any sense of personal liberation from the enthrallment of history and its processes. Virgil had provided Dante with moral instruction in survival as an exile, which is the theme of his own poem as well as Dante’s, but he clung to his faith in the processes of history, which, given their culmination in the Roman Empire, were deeply consoling. Dante, on the other hand, was determined to go beyond history because it had become for him a nightmare.

In the Paradiso true heroic fulfillment is achieved. Dante’s poem gives expression to those figures from the past who seem to defy death. Their historical impact continues and the totality of their commitment inspires in their followers a feeling of exaltation and a desire for identification. In his encounters with such characters as his great-great-grandfather Cacciaguida and SS. Francis, Dominic, and Bernard, Dante is carried beyond himself. The Paradiso is consequently a poem of fulfillment and of completion. It is the fulfillment of what is prefigured in the earlier canticles. Aesthetically it completes the poem’s elaborate system of anticipation and retrospection.


Assessment and influence
The recognition and the honour that were the due of Dante’s Divine Comedy did not have to await the long passage of time: by the year 1400 no fewer than 12 commentaries devoted to detailed expositions of its meaning had appeared. Giovanni Boccaccio wrote a life of the poet and then in 1373–74 delivered the first public lectures on The Divine Comedy (which means that Dante was the first of the moderns whose work found its place with the ancient classics in a university course). Dante became known as the divino poeta, and in a splendid edition of his great poem published in Venice in 1555 the adjective was applied to the poem’s title; thus, the simple Commedia became La divina commedia, or The Divine Comedy.

Even when the epic lost its appeal and was replaced by other art forms (the novel, primarily, and the drama) Dante’s own fame continued. In fact, his great poem enjoys the kind of power peculiar to a classic: successive epochs have been able to find reflected in it their own intellectual concerns. In the post-Napoleonic 19th century, readers identified with the powerful, sympathetic, and doomed personalities of the Inferno. In the early 20th century they found the poem to possess an aesthetic power of verbal realization independent of and at times in contradiction to its structure and argument. Later readers have been eager to show the poem to be a polyphonic masterpiece, as integrated as a mighty work of architecture, whose different sections reflect and, in a way, respond to one another. Dante created a remarkable repertoire of types in a work of vivid mimetic presentations, as well as a poem of great stylistic artistry in its prefigurations and correspondences. Moreover, he incorporated in all of this important political, philosophical, and theological themes and did so in a way that shows moral wisdom and lofty ethical vision.

Dante’s Divine Comedy is a poem that has flourished for more than 650 years: in the simple power of its striking imaginative conceptions it has continued to astonish generations of readers; for more than a hundred years it has been a staple in all higher educational programs in the Western world; and it has continued to provide guidance and nourishment to the major poets of our own times. William Butler Yeats called Dante “the chief imagination of Christendom”; and T.S. Eliot elevated Dante to a preeminence shared by only one other poet in the modern world, William Shakespeare: “[They] divide the modern world between them. There is no third.” In fact, they rival one another in their creation of types that have entered into the world of reference and association of modern thought. Like Shakespeare, Dante created universal types from historical figures, and in so doing he considerably enhanced the treasury of modern myth.

Ricardo J. Quinones

 

 

 

 


THE DIVINE COMEDY
 

Type of work: Poem
Author: Dante Alighieri (1265-1321)
Type of plot: Christian allegory
Time of plot: The Friday before Easter, 1300
Locale: Hell, Purgatory, Paradise
First transcribed: ñ 1320
 

 

Dante's greatest work, an epic poem in one hundred cantos, is divided equally after an introductory canto into sections, each thirty-three cantos in length, which see Dante and a guide respectively through Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise. The cosmology, angelology, and theology of the poem are based on St. Thomas Aquinas. Dante's literal journey is also an allegory of the progress of the human soul toward God and the progress of political and social mankind toward peace on earth. Characterization is drawn from ancient Roman history and from Dante's contemporary Italy, making the work a realistic picture and an intensely involved analysis of human affairs and life, even though in structure it appears to be a description of the beyond. It is, in essence, a compassionate, oral evaluation of human nature and a mystic vision of the Absolute toward which mankind strives, and it endures more through the universality of the drama and the lyric quality of the poetry than through specific doctrinal content.

 

Principal Characters

Dante (dan'ta), the exile Florentine poet, who is halted in his path of error through the grace of the Virgin, St. Lucy, and Beatrice, and is redeemed by his journey through Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise. He learns to submerge his instinctive pity for some sinners in his recognition of the justice of God, and he frees himself of the faults of wrath and misdirected love by participating in the penance for these sins in Purgatory. He is then ready to grow in understanding and love as he moves with Beatrice nearer and nearer the presence of God.
Beatrice (ܸ'ý-tre'cha), his beloved, who is transformed into an angel, one of Mary's handmaids. Through her intercession, her compassion, and her teaching, Dante's passion is transmuted into divine love, which brings him to a state of indescribable blessedness.
Virgil, Dante's master, the great Roman poet who guides him through Hell and Purgatory. The most favored of the noble pagans who dwells in Limbo without hope of heavenly bliss, he represents the highest achievements of human reason and classical learning.
St. Lucy, Dante's patron saint. She sends him aid and conveys him through a part of Purgatory.
Charon, traditionally the ferryman of damned souls.
Minos, the monstrous judge who dooms sinners to their allotted torments.
Paolo and Francesca, devoted lovers, murdered by Paolo's brother, who was Francesca's husband. Together even in hell, they arouse Dante's pity by their tale of growing affection.
Ciacco, a Florentine damned for gluttony, who prophesies the civil disputes which engulfed his native city after his death.
Plutus, the bloated, clucking creature who guards the entrance of the fourth circle of Hell.
Phlegyas, the boatman of the wrathful.
Filippo Argenti, another Florentine noble, damned to welter in mud for his uncontrollable temper.
Megaera, Alecto, and Tisiphone, the Furies, tower warders of the City of Dis.
Farinata Degli Uberti, leader of the Ghibelline party of Florence, condemned to rest in an indestructible sepulcher for his heresy. He remains concerned primarily for the fate of his city.
Cavalcante, a Guelph leader, the father of Dante's friend Guido. He rises from his tomb to ask about his son.
Nessus, Chiron, and Pholus, the courteous archer centaurs who guard the river of boiling blood which holds the violent against men.
Piero Delle Vigne, the loyal adviser to the Emperor Frederick, imprisoned, with others who committed suicide, in a thornbush.
Capaneus, a proud, blasphemous tyrant, one of the Seven against Thebes.
Brunetto Latini, Dante's old teacher, whom the poet treats with great respect; he laments the sin of sodomy which placed him deep in Hell.
Guido Guerra, Tegghiaio Aldobrandi, Jacopo Rusticucci, and Guglielmo Borsiere, Florentine citizens who gave in to unnatural lust.
Geryon, a beast with human face and scorpion's tail, symbolic of fraud.
Venedico Caccianemico, a Bolognese panderer.
Jason, a classical hero, damned as a seducer.
Alessio Interminei, a flatterer.
Nicholas III, one of the popes, damned to burn in a rocky cave for using the resources of the Church for worldly advancement.
Amphiaraus, Tiresias, Aruns, Manto, Eurypylus, Michael Scot, and Guido Bonatti, astrologers and diviners whose grotesquely twisted shapes reflect their distortion of divine counsel.
Malacoda, chief of the devils who torments corrupt political officials.
Ciampolo, one of his charges, who converses with Dante and Virgil while he plans to outwit the devils.
Catalano and Loderingo, jovial Bolognese friars, who wear the gilded leaden mantles decreed eternally for hypocrites.
Caiphas, the high priest who had Christ condemned. He lies naked in the path of the heavily laden hypocrites.
Vanni Fucci, a bestial, wrathful thief, the damned spirit most arrogant against God.
Agnello, Francisco, Cianfa, Buoso, and Puccio, malicious thieves and oppressors, who are metamorphosed from men to serpents, then from serpents to men, before the eyes of the poet.
Ulysses and Diomed, Greek heroes transformed into tongues of flame as types of the evil counselor. Ulysses retains the splendid passion for knowledge which led him beyond the limits set for men.
Guido de Montefeltro, another of the evil counselors, who became involved in the fraud and sacrilege of Pope Boniface.
Mahomet, Piero da Medicina, and Bertran de Born, sowers of schism and discord, whose bodies are cleft and mutilated.
Capocchio and Griffolino, alchemists afflicted with leprosy.
Gianni Schicchi and Myrrha, sinners who disguised themselves because of lust and greed, fittingly transformed into swine.
Master Adam, a counterfeiter.
Sinon and Potiphar's Wife, damned for malicious lying and treachery.
Nimrod, Antaeus, and Briareus, giants who rebelled against God.
Camincion de' Pazzi, Count Ugolino, Fra Alberigo, Judas Iscariot, Brutus, and Cassius, traitors to family, country, and their masters. They dwell forever in ice, hard and cold as their own hearts.
Cato, the aged Roman sage who was, for the Middle Ages, a symbol of pagan virtue. He meets Dante and Virgil at the base of Mount Purgatory and sends them on their way upward.
Casella, a Florentine composer who charms his hearers with a song as they enter Purgatory.
Manfred, a Ghibelline leader, Belacqua, La Pia, Cassero, and Buonconte da Montefeltro, souls who must wait many years at the foot of Mount Purgatory because they delayed their repentance until the time of their death.
Sordello, the Mantuan poet, who reverently greets Virgil and accompanies him and his companion for part of their journey.
Nino Visconti and Conrad Malaspina, men too preoccupied with their political life to repent early.
Omberto Aldobrandesco, Oderisi, and Provenzan Salvani, sinners who walk twisted and bent over in penance for their pride in ancestry, artistry, and power.
Sapia, one of the envious, a woman who rejoiced at the defeat of her townspeople.
Guido del Duca, another doing penance for envy. He laments the dissensions which tear apart the Italian states.
Marco Lombardo, Dante's companion through the smoky way trodden by the wrathful.
Pope Adrian, one of those being purged of avarice.
Hugh Capet, the founder of the French ruling dynasty, which he castigates for its crimes and brutality. He atones for his own ambition and greed.
Statius, the author of the "Thebaid." One of Virgil's disciples, he has just completed his penance for prodigality. He tells Dante and Virgil of the liberation of the truly repentant soul.
Forese Donati, Dante's friend, and Bonagiunta, Florentines guilty of gluttony.
Guido Guinicelli and Arnaut, love poets who submit to the flames which purify them of lust.
Matilda, a heavenly lady who meets Dante in the earthly paradise at the top of Mount Purgatory and takes him to Beatrice.
Piccarda, a Florentine nun, a fragile, almost transparent spirit who dwells in the moon's sphere, the outermost circle of heaven, since her faith wavered, making her incapable of receiving greater bliss than this.
Justinian, the great Roman Emperor and law-giver, one of the champions of the Christian faith.
Charles Martel, the heir to Charles II, King of Naples, whose early death precipitated strife and injustice.
Cunizza, Sordello's mistress, the sister of an Italian tyrant.
Falco, a troubadour who was, after his conversion, made a bishop.
Rahab, the harlot who aided Joshua to enter Jerusalem, another of the many whose human passions were transformed into love of God.
Thomas Aquinas, the Scholastic philosopher. He tells Dante of St. Francis when he comes to the sphere of the sun, the home of those who have reached heaven through their knowledge of God.
St. Bonaventura, his companion, who praises St. Dominic.
Cacciagiuda, Dante's great-great-grandfather, placed in the sphere of Mars as a warrior for the Church.
Peter Damian, a hermit, an inhabitant of the sphere of Saturn, the place allotted to spirits blessed for their temperance and contemplative life.
St. Peter, St. James, and St. John, representatives, for Dante, of the virtues of Faith, Hope, and Love. The three great disciples examine the poet to assure his understanding of these three qualities.
Adam, the prototype of fallen man, who is, through Christ, given the greatest redemption; he is the companion of the three apostles and sits enthroned at the left hand of the Virgin.
St. Bernard, Dante's guide during the last stage of his journey, when he comes before the throne of the Queen of Heaven.

 

The Story

Dante found himself lost in a dark and frightening wood, and as he was trying to regain his path, he came to a mountain which he decided to climb in order to get his bearings. Strange beasts blocked his way. however, and he was forced back to the plain. As he was bemoaning his fate, the poet Virgil approached Dante and offered to conduct him through Hell, Purgatory, and blissful Paradise.
When they arrived at the gates of Hell, Virgil explained that here were confined those who had lived their lives without regard for good or evil. At the River Acheron, where they found Charon, the ferryman. Dante was seized with terror and fell into a trance. Aroused by a loud clap of thunder, he followed his guide through Limbo, the first circle of Hell. The spirits confined there, he learned, were those who, although they had lived a virtuous life, had not been baptized.
At the entrance to the second circle of Hell, Dante met Minos, the Infernal Judge, who warned him to take heed how he entered the lower regions. Dante was overcome by pity as he witnessed the terrible punishment which the spirits were undergoing. They had been guilty of carnal sin, and for punishment they were whirled around without cessation in the air. The third circle housed those who had been guilty of the sin of gluttony. They were forced to lie deep in the mud, under a constant fall of snow and hail and stagnant water. Above them stood Cerberus, a cruel monster, barking at the helpless creatures and tearing at their flesh. In the next circle, Dante witnesses the punishment of the prodigal and the avaricious, and realized the vanity of fortune.
He and Virgil continued on their journey until they reached the Stygian Lake, in which the wrathful and gloomy were suffering. At Virgil's signal, a ferryman transported them across the lake to the city of Dis. They were denied admittance, however, and the gates were closed against them by the fallen angels who guard the city. Dante and Virgil gained admittance into the city only after an angel had interceded for them. There Dante discovered that tombs burning with a blistering heat housed the souls of heretics. Dante spoke to two of these tormented spirits and learned that all the souls in Hell, who knew nothing of the present, can remember the past, and dimly foresee the future.
The entrance to the seventh circle was guarded by the Minotaur, and only after Virgil had pacified him could the two travelers pass down the steep crags to the base of the mountain. There they discerned a river of blood in which those who had committed violence in their lifetimes were confined. On the other side of the river they learned that those who had committed suicide were doomed to inhabit the trunks of trees. Beyond the river they came to a desert in which were confined those who had sinned against God, or Art, or Nature. A stream flowed near the desert and the two poets followed it until the water plunged into an abyss. In order that they might descend to the eighth circle, Virgil summoned Geryon, a frightful monster, who conducted them below. There they saw the tortured souls of seducers, flatters, diviners, and barter-ers. Continuing along their way, they witnessed the punishment accorded hypocrites and robbers. In the ninth gulf were confined scandalmongers and spreaders of false doctrine. Among the writhing figures they saw Mahomet. Still farther along, the two discovered the horrible disease-ridden bodies of forgers, counterfeiters, alchemists, and all those who deceived under false pretenses.
They were summoned to the next circle by the soul of a trumpet. In it were confined all traitors. A ring of giants surrounded the circle, one of whom lifted both Dante and Virgil and deposited them in the bottom of the circle. There Dante conversed with many of the spirits and learned the nature of their particular crimes.
After this visit to the lowest depths of Hell. Dante and Virgil emerged from the foul air to the pure atmosphere which surrounded the island of Purgatory. In a little while, they saw a boat conducted by an angel, in which were souls being brought to Purgatory. Dante recognized a friend among them. The two poets reached the foot of a mountain, where passing spirits showed them the easiest path to climb its slope. On their way up the path they encountered many spirits who explained that they were kept in Ante-Purgatory because they had delayed their repentance too long. They pleaded with Dante to ask their families to pray for their souls when he once again returned to earth. Soon Dante and Virgil came to the gate of Purgatory, which was guarded by an angel. The two poets ascended a winding path and saw men, bent under the weight of heavy stones, who were expiating the sin of pride. They examined the heavily carved cornices, which they passed, and found them covered with inscriptions urging humility and righteousness. At the second cornice were the souls of those who had been guilty of envy.
They wore sackcloth and their eyelids were sewed with iron thread. Around them were the voices of angels singing of great examples of humility and the futility of envy. An angel invited the poets to visit the third cornice, where those who had been guilty of anger underwent repentance. Dante was astonished at the examples of patience which he witnessed there. At the fourth cornice he witnessed the purging of the sin of indifference or gloominess. He discussed with Virgil the nature of love. The Latin poet stated that there were two kinds of love, natural love, which was always right, and love of the soul, which might be misdirected. At the fifth cornice, avarice was purged. On their way to the next cornice, the two were overtaken by Statius, whose spirit had been cleansed and who was on his way to Paradise. He accompanied them to the next place of purging, where the sin of gluttony was repented, while voices sang of the glory of temperance. The last cornice was the place for purging by fire of the sin of incontinence. Here the sinners were heard to recite innumerable examples of praiseworthy chastity.
An angel now directed the two poets and Statius to a path which would lead them to Paradise. Virgil told Dante that he might wander through Paradise at his will until he found his love, Beatrice. As he was strolling through a forest, Dante came to a stream; on the other bank stood a beautiful woman. She explained to him that the stream was called Lethe and helped him to cross it. Then Beatrice descended from heaven and reproached him for his unfaithfulness to her during her life, but the virgins in the heavenly fields interceded with her on his behalf. Convinced of his sincere repentance and remorse, she agreed to accompany him through the heavens.
On the moon Dante found those who had made vows of chastity and determined to follow the religious life, but who were forced to break their vows. Beatrice led him to the planet Mercury, the second heaven, and from there to Venus, the third heaven, where Dante conversed with many spirits and learned of their virtues. On the sun, the fourth heaven, they were surrounded by a group of spirits, among them Thomas Aquinas. He named each of the spirits in turn and discussed their individual virtues. A second circle of blessed spirits surrounded the first, and Dante learned from each how he had achieved blessedness.
Then Beatrice and Dante came to Mars, the fifth heaven, where he saw the cherished souls of those who had been martyred. Dante recognized many renowned warriors and crusaders among them.
On Jupiter, the sixth heaven, Dante saw the souls of those who had administered justice faithfully in the world. The seventh heaven was on Saturn, where Dante found the souls of those who had spent their lives in meditation and religious retirement. From there Beatrice and her lover passed to the eighth heaven, the region of the fixed stars. Dante looked back over all the distance which extended between the earth and this apex of Paradise and was dazzled and awed by what he saw. As they stood there, they saw the triumphal hosts approaching, with Christ leading, followed by Mary.
Dante was questioned by the saints. Saint Peter examined his opinions concerning faith; Saint James, concerning hope, and Saint John, concerning charity. Adam then approached and told the poet of the first man's creation, of his life in Paradise, and of his fall and what had caused it. Saint Peter bitterly lamented the avarice which his apostolic successors displayed, and all the sainted host agreed with him.
Beatrice then conducted Dante to the ninth heaven, where he was permitted to view the divine essence and to listen to the chorus of angels. She then led him to the Empyrean, from the heights of which, and with the aid of her vision, he was able to witness the triumphs of the angels and of the souls of the blessed. So dazzled and overcome was he by this vision that it was some time before he realized Beatrice had left him. At his side stood an old man whom he recognized as Saint Bernard, who told him Beatrice had returned to her throne. He then told Dante that if he wished to discover still more of the heavenly vision, he must join with him in a prayer to Mary. Dante received the grace to contemplate the glory of God, and to glimpse, for a moment, the greatest of mysteries, the Trinity and man's union with the divine.

 

Critical Evaluation

Dante was born into an aristocratic Florentine family. Unusually well educated even for his time and place, he was knowledgeable in science and philosophy and was an active man of letters as well as an artist. He lived in politically tumultuous times and was active in politics and government. All of his knowledge, his experience, and his skill were brought to bear in his writings. During an absence from Florence in 1302, he was sentenced to exile for opposing the government then in power; he was never allowed to return to his beloved Florence. In exile, Dante wrote The Divine Comedy. He died in Ravenna.
This masterpiece was written in Italian, but Dante also wrote in Latin, the language of scholarship at that time. His Latin treatise De Vulgari Eloquentia (On the Vulgar Tongue)—a compelling defense of the use of the written vernacular, instead of Latin—argued in conventional Latin the superiority of unconventional written Italian as a medium of expression. His other major Latin treatise was De Monarchia (About Monarchy), a political essay. He also used Latin for some very important letters and for
a few poems. But Dante's choice was his native Italian. His earliest major work—La Vita Nuova (The New Life), a mystical-spiritual autobiography, combining prose and poetry—was written in Italian. So, too, was // Convivio (The Banquet), a scholarly and philosophical treatise. And he wrote a number of lyric poems in Italian as well. Standing above all as a tribute to the eloquence of written Italian is The Divine Comedy.
La Commedia—as it was first titled; Divina was added later—is an incredibly complex work. It is divided into three sections, or canticles, the Inferno (Hell), the Pur-gatorio (Purgatory), and the Paradiso (Heaven). The entire work is composed of 100 cantos, apportioned into segments of 34 (Inferno), 33 (Purgatorio), and 33 (Paradiso). The rhyme scheme is called terza rima—aba bab cbc dcd—an interlocking pattern which produces a very closely knit poem. This structure is neither arbitrary nor a mere intellectual exercise.
Number symbolism plays an important part in The Divine Comedy. As an essentially Christian poem, it relies heavily on mystical associations with numbers. Inasmuch as the poem deals with Christian religious concepts, it is not difficult to discern the relationship between one poem in three canticles and one God in Three Persons. So, too, terza rima becomes significant. But then more complex intricacies come into play. The unity or oneness of God is diffused on a metric basis: one is divided into one hundred cantos, for example. And two becomes the duality of nature: corporeal and spiritual, active and contemplative, Church and State, Old Testament and New, and so on. Three signifies Father, Son, Holy Ghost; Power, Wisdom, Love; Faith, Hope, Charity; and other combinations. Four—as in seasons, elements, humors, directions, cardinal virtues—combines with three to make a mystical seven: days of creation, days of the week (length of Dante's journey), seven virtues and seven vices (reflected in the seven levels of Purgatory), planets, and many more. Moreover, multiples of three—three times three equals nine—create further permutations: choirs of angels, circles of Hell, and the like. And adding the mystical unity of one to the product nine makes ten, the metric permutation of one discussed above.
These complex relationships of number symbolism were deliberately contrived by Dante and other medieval writers. Dante himself explained, in// Convivio, his view of the four levels of interpretation of a literary work and by doing so legitimized such explanations of number symbolism. He proposed that a text be read literally, alle-gorically, morally, and anagogically. The literal reading attended to the story itself. The allegorical reading uncovered hidden meanings in the story. The moral reading related to matters of human behavior. And the ana-gogical reading, accessible to only the most sophisticated, pertained to the absolute and universal truths contained in a work. Hence, The Divine Comedy can be appreciated on each of these four levels of interpretation.
As a literal story, it has the fascination of autobiographical elements as well as the features of high adventure. The protagonist Dante, led by Vergil, undertakes a journey to learn about himself, the world, and the relations between the two. In the course of his journey, he explores other worlds in order to place his own world in proper perspective. As his journey progresses, he learns.
As an allegorical story, The Divine Comedy traces the enlightenment of Dante's soul. It also delineates social, political, cultural, and scientific parables. By integrating all of these aspects into an intricately interwoven pattern, the poem becomes an allegory for the real and spiritual world order.
As a moral story, the work has perhaps its greatest impact as a cautionary tale to warn the reader about the consequences of various categories of behavior. In the process, it helps the reader to understand sin (Hell), penance (Purgatory), and salvation (Heaven). Thus. The Divine Comedy becomes a vehicle for teaching moral behavior.
As an anagogical story, the poem offers a mystical vision of God's grand design for the entire universe. The complex interdependency of all things—including the web of interrelationships stemming from number symbolism—is, in this view, all part of the Divine Plan, which humankind can grasp only partially and dimly. For God remains ineffable to the finite capacities of human beings, and His will can never be fully apprehended by humans, whose vision has been impaired by sin. The anagogical aspects of The Divine Comedy are therefore aids for the most spiritually enlightened to approach Eternal Truth.
To be sure, no brief explanation can do justice to the majesty of this monumental achievement in the history of Western poetry. The very encyclopedic nature of its scope makes The Divine Comedy a key to the study of medieval civilization. As such, it cannot be easily or properly fragmented into neat categories for discussion, and the reader must advance on tiptoe, as it were. Background in history and theology are strongly recommended. But, above all, the reader must recognize that no sweeping generalization will adequately account for the complexity of ideas or the intricacy of structure in The Divine Comedy.

 


The Divine Comedy

Translated by
James Finn Cotter
 

 

 

 

 


INFERNO


Illustrations by Gustave Dore

 

 

 

Canto I

 

          Halfway through the journey we are living
          I found myself deep in a darkened forest,
          For I had lost all trace of the straight path.
 
          Ah how hard it is to tell what it was like,
5         How wild the forest was, how dense and rugged!
          To think of it still fills my mind with panic.
 
          So bitter it is that death is hardly worse!
          But to describe the good discovered there
          I here will tell the other things I saw.
 
10       I cannot say clearly how I entered there,
          So drowsy with sleep had I grown at that hour
          When first I wandered off from the true way.
 
          But when I had reached the base of a hill,
          There at the border where the valley ended
15       That had cut my heart to the quick with panic,
 
          I looked up at the hill and saw its shoulder
          Mantled already with the planet's light
          That leads all people straight by every road.
 
          With that my panic quieted a little
20       After lingering on in the lake of my heart
          Through the night I had so grievously passed.
 
          And like a person who with panting breath
          Struggles ashore out of the wide ocean
          Only to glance back at the treacherous surf,
 
25       Just so my mind, racing on ahead,
          Turned back to marvel at the pass no one
          Ever before had issued from alive.
 
          After resting awhile my worn-out body,
          I pressed on up the wasted slope so that
30       I always had one firm foot on the ground.
 
          But look! right near the upgrade of the climb
          Loomed a fleet and nimble-footed leopard
          With coat completely covered by dark spots!
 
          He did not flinch or back off from my gaze,
35       But blocking the path that lay before me,
          Time and again he forced me to turn around.
 
          The hour was the beginning of the morning,
          And the sun was rising with those stars
          That first attended it when divine Love
 
40       Set these lovely creations round in motion,
          So that the early hour and the pleasant season
          Gave me good reason to keep up my hopes
 
          Of that fierce beast there with his gaudy pelt.
          But not so when — to add now to my fears —
45       In front of me I caught sight of a lion!
 
          He appeared to be coming straight at me
          With head held high and furious for hunger,
          So that the air itself seemed to be shaking.
 
          And then a wolf stalked, ravenously lean,
50       Seemingly laden with such endless cravings
          That she had made many live in misery!
 
          She caused my spirits to sink down so low,
          From the dread I felt in seeing her there,
          I lost all hope of climbing to the summit.
 
55       And just as a man, anxious for big winnings,
          But the time comes instead for him to lose,
          Cries and grieves the more he thinks about it,
 
          So did the restless she-beast make me feel
          When, edging closer toward me, step by step,
60       She drove me back to where the sun is silent.
 
          While I was falling back to lower ground,
          Before my eyes now came a figure forward
          Of one grown feeble from long being mute.
 
          When I saw him in that deserted spot,
65       "Pity me!" I shouted out to him,
          "Whoever you are, a shade or living man."
 
          "Not a man," he answered. "Once a man,
          Of parents who had come from Lombardy;
          Both of them were Mantuans by birth.
 
70       "I was born late in Julius's reign
          And dwelt at Rome under the good Augustus
          In the period of false and lying gods.
 
          "A poet I was, and I sang of the just
          Son of Anchises who embarked from Troy
75       After proud Ilium was burned to ashes.
 
          "But why do you turn back to so much grief?
          Why not bound up the delightful mountain
          Which is the source and font of every joy?"
 
          "Are you then Virgil and that wellspring
80       That pours forth so lush a stream of speech?"
          Shamefacedly I responded to him.
 
          "O glory and light of all other poets,
          May the long study and the profound love
          That made me search your work come to my aid!
 
85       "You are my mentor and my chosen author:
          Alone you are the one from whom I have taken
          The beautiful style that has brought me honor.
 
          "Look at the beast that drove me to turn back!
          Rescue me from her, celebrated sage,
90       For she causes my veins and pulse to tremble."
 
          "You are destined to take another route,"
          He answered, seeing me reduced to tears,
          "If you want to be clear of this wilderness,
 
          "Because this beast that forces you to cry out
95       Will not let anyone pass by her way
          But harries him until she finally kills him.
 
          "By nature she is so depraved and vicious
          That her greedy appetite is never filled:
          The more she feeds, the hungrier she grows.
 
100     "Many the animal she has mated with,
          And will with more to come, until the Greyhound
          That shall painfully slaughter her arrives.
 
          "He shall not feast on property or pelf
          But on wisdom, love, and manliness,
105      And he shall be born between Feltro and Feltro.
 
          "He shall save low prostrated Italy
          For which Nisus, Turnus, and Euryalus,
          And the virgin Camilla died of wounds.
 
          "He shall hunt the beast through every town
110      Until he chases her back down to hell
          From which envy first had thrust her forth.
 
          "I think and judge it best for you, then,
          To follow me, for I will be your guide,
          Directing you to an eternal place
 
115      "Where you shall listen to the desperate screams
          And see the spirits of the past in torment,
          As at his second death each one cries out;
 
          "And you shall also see those who are happy
          Even in flames, since they hope to come,
120      Whenever that may be, among the blessed.
 
          "If you still wish to ascend to the blessed,
          A soul worthier than I shall guide you:
          On my departure I will leave you with her.
 
          "For the Emperor who rules there above,
125      Since I lived in rebellion to his law,
          Will not permit me to enter his city.
 
          "Everywhere his kingdom comes: there he reigns,
          There his heavenly city and high throne.
          Oh happy the one elected to go there!"
 
130      And I said to him, "Poet, I entreat you,
          By the God whom you have never known,
          So may I flee from this and from worse evil,
 
          "Lead me to the place you just described
          That I may come to see Saint Peter's gate
135      And those you say are deeply sorrowful."
 
          Then he moved on and I walked straight behind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Canto II

 

          Day was now fading, and the dusky air
          Released the creatures dwelling here on earth
          From tiring tasks, while I, the only one,
 
          Readied myself to endure the battle
5        Both of the journey and the pathos,
          Which flawless memory shall here record.
 
          O Muses, O high genius, aid me now!
          O memory that noted what I saw,
          Now shall your true nobility be seen!
 
10       I then began, "Poet, you guide me here:
          Be on your guard lest my power fail me
          Before you make me face that plunging pass.
 
          "You tell us how the father of Silvius,
          While in the flesh, to the eternal world
15       Journeyed, with all his senses still alert.
 
          "But if the Enemy of every evil
          Was kind to him, considering the high purpose
          He performed, and who and what he was,
 
          "This is not hard for us to understand,
20       Since in the highest heaven he was chosen
          Father of honored Rome and of her empire.
 
          "The two — city and empire — to tell the truth,
          Were destined to become the holy place
          Where the successor of mighty Peter sits.
 
25       "By this journey which you praise him for
          He came to comprehend what was to bring
          Triumph to him and mantle to the pope.
 
          "Later the Chosen Vessel journeyed beyond
          To bring back reassurance in the faith
30       Which is the source of the way to salvation.

          "But I, why should I go? Who gives permission?
          I am not Aeneas, nor am I Paul!
          Not I nor anyone else would judge me worthy.
 
          "So, if I surrender myself to going there,
35       I fear the undertaking shall prove folly.
          You are wise, you see more than I say."

          Just as the man who, unwilling what he wills,
          Thinks back over each thing he proposes
          And ends by giving up all he has started,

40       So I acted in that darkened place
          As I undid, by thinking, the same task
          I had so readily right away accepted.
 
          "If I have grasped the meaning of your words,"
          That soul of generosity responded,
45       "Your heart has been beset by cowardice
 
          "Which often places burdens on a man
          To turn him back from honorable deeds
          Like some animal frightened by its shadow.
 
          "Once and for all to rid you of that fear
50       I will tell you why I came and what I heard
          From the first moment I felt sorry for you.
 
          "I was among those spirits in suspense:
          A lady called me, so beautiful and blessed
          That I at once implored her to command me.
 
55       "Her eyes outshone the light of any star.
          Sweetly and softly she began to speak
          With the voice of an angel, in her own words:
 
          " 'O courteous spirit from Mantua
          Whose fame has lasted in the world till now
60       And shall endure as long as does the world,
 
         " 'My friend, who is no longer fortune's friend,
          On a wasted slope has been so thwarted
          Along his path that he turns back in panic.
 
          " 'I fear that he already is so lost
65       I have arisen too late to bring him aid —
          At least from what I hear of him in heaven.
 
          " 'Hasten now, and with your polished words
          And all that is required for his rescue,
          Help him, so that I can be consoled.
 
70       " 'I am Beatrice who urges you to journey,
          Come from a place to which I long to return.
          Love moved me to speak my heart to you.
 
          " ' When I stand once more before my Lord,
          I shall often sing your praises to him.'
75       With that she fell silent, and I ventured:
 
         "O lady of virtue, through whom alone
         The human race surpasses all contained
          Within the heavens to the smallest sphere,
 
          "Your command pleases me so thoroughly
80       That already to have done it would seem tardy:
          Only let me know what it is you want.
 
          "Tell me, however, why you are so bold
          To descend as far as to this center
          Out of the wide sky to which you would return?"

85       " 'Since you wish to know the inmost reason,
          I will tell you directly,' she answered me,
          ' Why I do not dread to come down here.
 
          " 'The only things we really need to fear
          Are those that have the power to do harm:
90       Nothing else should cause us to be fearful.
 
          " 'God in his mercy has so fashioned me
          That I am not affected by your pain;
          The fires burning here do me no hurt.
 
          " 'There is a noble Lady who weeps in heaven
95       For this thwarted man to whom I send you,
          So that heaven's strict decree is broken.
 
          " 'That Lady called on Lucia with her request
          And said: "Your faithful follower has now
          Such need of you that I commend him to you."
 
100      " 'Lucia, the foe of every cruelty,
          Started up and came to where I was,
          Sitting at the side of the aged Rachel.
 
          " 'She said, "Beatrice, true credit to our God,
          Will you not help the man who so loves you
105      That for your sake he left the common crowd?
 
          " ' "Do you not hear his pathetic grieving?
          Do you not see the death besieging him
          On the river which the ocean cannot sway?"
 
          " 'No one in this whole world was ever quicker
110      To take advantage or escape from harm
          Than I — when such words as these were spoken —
 
          " 'To come below here from my blessed seat,
          Putting my trust in your honest speech
          Which honors you and those who listen to it.'
 
115      "After she had discussed these matters with me,
          She turned her eyes, glittering with tears,
          And so made me more diligent to come.
 
          "And I did come to you, just as she wished:
          I saved you from the fierce beast barring you
120      From the short route up the lovely mountain.
 
          "So — what is this? Why? why do you stay?
          Why entertain such cowardice of heart?
          Why not be courageous and straightforward
 
          "When there are three such blessed ladies
125      Caring for you in the court of heaven
          And my words guarantee you so much good?"
 
          As little flowers in the chill of night
          Drooping and shriveled, when the sun lights them,
          Straighten up all open on their stalks,
 
130      So I, with my limp stamina, now bloomed.
          And such good warmth coursed boldly to my heart
          That like a free man I once more began:
 
          "O tender-hearted lady who came to aid me,
          And you, too, so kind to obey swiftly
135      The words of truth that she proposed to you!
 
          "You, by your words, have so filled my heart
          With fervor to go with you on this journey
          That I am turned again to my first purpose.
 
          "Now go — one will within the both of us —
140     You the leader, you the lord and master!"
          These things I said to him. When he moved on,
 
          I entered on the rank and plunging path.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Canto III

 

          Through Me Pass into the Painful City,
          Through Me Pass into Eternal Grief,
          Through Me Pass among the Lost People.
 
          Justice Moved My Master-Builder:
5         Heavenly Power First Fashioned Me
          With Highest Wisdom and with Primal Love.
 
          Before Me Nothing Was Created That 
          Was Not Eternal, and I Last Eternally.
          All Hope Abandon, You Who Enter Here.
10       These words in dim color I beheld
          Inscribed on the lintel of an archway.
          "Master," I said, "this saying's hard for me."
 
          And he — as someone who understands — told me:
          "Here you must give up all irresolution;
15       All cowardice must here be put to death.
 
          "We are come to the place I spoke to you about
          Where you shall see the sorrow-laden people,
          Those who have lost the Good of the intellect."
 
          And with that, putting his own hand on mine,
20       With smiling face, just to encourage me,
          He led me to things hidden from the world.
 
          Here heartsick sighs and groanings and shrill cries
          Re-echoed through the air devoid of stars,
          So that, but started, I broke down in tears.
 
25       Babbling tongues, terrible palaver,
          Words of grief, inflections of deep anger,
          Strident and muffled speech, and clapping hands,
 
          All made a tumult that whipped round and round
          Forever in that colorless and timeless air,
30       Like clouds of sand caught up in a whirlwind.
 
          And I, my head enwreathed with wayward doubts,
          Asked, "Master, what is this that I am hearing?
          Who are these people overwhelmed by pain?"
 
          And he told me: "This way of wretchedness
35       Belongs to the unhappy souls of those
          Who lived without being blamed or applauded.
 
          "They are now scrambled with that craven crew
          Of angels who elected neither rebellion
          Nor loyalty to God, but kept apart.
 
40       "Not to mar its beauty, heaven expelled them,
          Nor will the depths of hell take them in there,
          Lest the damned have any glory over them."
 
          And I: "Master, what is so burdensome
          To them that they should wail so dismally?"
45       He answered, "Very briefly, I will tell you.
 
          "These people have no hope of again dying,
          And so deformed has their blind life become
          That they must envy every other fate.
 
50       "The world will not allow a word about them;
          Mercy and justice hold them in disdain.
          Let us not discuss them. Look and pass on."
 
          And I, looking again, observed a banner
          Which, as it circled, raced on with such speed
          It did not seem ever to want to stop.
 
55       And there, behind it, marched so long a file
          Of people, I would never have believed
          That death could have undone so many souls.
 
          After I had recognized some there,
          I saw and then identified the shade
60       Of that coward who made the great refusal.
 
          Immediately I understood for certain
          That this troop was the sect of evil souls
          Displeasing both to God and to his enemy.
 
          These wretches, who had never been alive,
65       Went naked and repeatedly were bitten
          By wasps and hornets swarming everywhere.
 
          The bites made blood streak down upon their faces;
          Blood mixed with tears ran coursing to their feet,
          And there repulsive worms sucked the blood back.
 
70       Then, looking again a little farther on,
          I saw people at the shore of a vast river.
          At that I said, "Master, permit me now
 
          "To know who these souls are and what law
          Makes them appear so eager to cross over,
75       As, even in this weak light, I can discern."
 
          And he: "These things will become clear to you
          After the two of us come to a halt
          Upon the gloomy banks of the Acheron."
 
          Then, with eyes downcast, deeply abashed,
80       In fear that what I said offended him,
          I spoke no more until we reached the river.
 
          And look! coming toward us in a boat,
          An old man, his hair hoary with age, rose
          Yelling, "Woe to you, you wicked souls!
 
85       "Have no hope of ever seeing heaven!
          I come to take you to the other shore,
          To endless darkness, to fire, and to ice.
 
          "And you over there, the living soul,
          Get away from those who are already dead!"
90       But when he saw that I had not moved off,
 
          He said, "By other routes, by other harbors,
          Not here -- you shall cross over to this shore.
          A lighter skiff will have to transport you!"
 
          And my guide: "Charon, do not rack yourself!
95       This deed has so been willed where One can do
          Whatever He wills — and ask no more questions."
 
          With these words he silenced the wooly cheeks
          Of the old ferryman of the livid marshes
          Who had two rings of flame around his eyes.
 
100      Those souls, however, who were weak and naked
          Began to lose color and grind their teeth
          When they heard the ferryman's cruel words.
 
          They called down curses on God and their parents,
          The human race, the place, the time, the seed
105      Of their conception and of their birth.
 
          At that they massed all the closer together,
          Weeping loudly on the malicious strand
          Which waits for those who have no fear of God.
 
          The demon Charon, with burning-ember eyes,
110      Gave a signal and gathered all on board,
          Smacking lagging stragglers with his oar.
 
          As in the autumn the leaves peel away,
          One following another, until the bough
          Sees all its treasures spread upon the ground,
 
115      In the same manner that evil seed of Adam
          Drifted from that shoreline one by one
          To a signal — like a falcon to its call.
 
          So they departed over the dark water,
          And even before they landed on that side
120      Already over here a new crowd mustered.
 
          "My son," my kindly master said to me,
          "Those who have perished by the wrath of God
          Are all assembled here from every land,
 
          "And they are quick to pass across the river
125      Because divine justice goads them on,
          Turning their timidity to zeal.
 
          "No good soul ever crossed by this way.
          If Charon, therefore, has complained about you,
          You now know clearly what he meant to say."
 
130      Just as he finished, the blackened landscape
          Violently shuddered — with the fright of it
          My memory once more bathes me in sweat.
 
          The harsh tear-laden earth exhaled a wind
          That hurtled forth a bright-red flash of light
135      That knocked me right out of all my senses,
 
          And I fell as a man drops off to sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Canto IV

 

         A loud thunderclap shattered the deep
         Sleep in my head, so that I started up
         Like someone shaken forcibly awake.
 
         Then, looking all around with rested eyes,
5        I stood straight up with a steady stare,
         Attempting to discover where I was.
 
         The truth is I found myself upon the edge
         Of the chasm of the valley of salt tears
         Which stores the clamor of unending crying.
 
10       Dark and deep and foggy was the valley:
         So, when I strained my eyes to see the bottom,
         I was not able to discern a thing.
 
         "Now let us descend to the blind world
         Below," the poet, pale as death, began:
15      "I will be first, and you shall follow me."
 
         And I, observing the change in his color,
         Asked, "How can I come if you are frightened,
         You who strengthen me when I have doubts?"
 
         And he told me, "The anguish of the people
20      Who are down here blanches my complexion
         With the pity that you mistake for fear.
 
         "Let us go on: the long road makes it urgent."
         So he went down, and so he had me enter
         The first circle ringing the abyss.
 
25      Here, as far as listening could tell,
         The only lamentations were the sighs
         That caused the everlasting air to tremble.
 
         Suffering without torments drew these sighs
         From crowds, multitudinous and vast,
30      Of babies and of women and of men.
 
         My gracious teacher said, "Do you not question
         Who these spirits are whom you observe?
         Before you go on, I would have you know
 
         "They did not sin: yet even their just merits
35       Were not enough, for they lacked baptism,
         The gateway of the faith that you profess.
 
         "And, if they lived before the Christian era,
         They did not worship God in the right way:
         And I myself am one of those poor souls.
 
40      "For this failure and for no other fault
         Here we are lost, and our sole punishment
         Is without hope to live on in desire."
 
         Deep sorrow crushed my heart when I heard him,
         Because both men and women of great worth
45      I knew to be suspended here in limbo.
 
         "Tell me, my master, tell me, my good lord,"
         I then began, wishing to be assured
         Of that belief which conquers every error,
 
         "Have any left here, either through their merits
50      Or someone else's, to be blessed later on?"
         And he, grasping my unexpressed appeal,
 
         Responded, "I was newly in this place
         When I saw come down here a mighty One
         Crowned with the symbol of his victory.
 
55      "He snatched away the shade of our first parent,
         Of his son Abel, and the shade of Noah,
         Of Moses, the obedient lawgiver,
 
         "Of Abraham the patriarch, King David,
         Israel with his father, with his children,
60      And with Rachel for whom he worked so hard,
 
         "And many others, and he made them blessed.
         But I would have you know, before these souls
         No human being ever had been saved."
 
         We did not keep from walking while he talked,
65      But all along we journeyed through the forest —
         I mean the forest that was dense with spirits.
 
         Our path had not yet led us far away
         From where I'd slept, when I descried a fire
         That overcame a hemisphere of shadows.
 
70      We were still a little distance from it
         But close enough for me to dimly see
         That honored people tenanted that place.
 
          "O you, glory of the arts and sciences,
         Who are these souls who here have the high honor
75      Of being kept distinct from all the rest?"
 
         And he told me, "Their distinguished names
         Which yet re-echo in your world above
         Win for them heaven's grace which furthers them."
 
          Meanwhile I could hear a voice that called,
80       "Honor to the most illustrious poet!
          His shade that had departed now returns."
 
         After the voice had ceased and all was still,
          I saw four lofty shades approaching us,
          In their appearance neither sad nor joyful.
 
85      My worthy teacher now began by saying,
         "Notice there the one with sword in hand,
         Coming before the three others like a lord:
 
          "That is Homer, the majestic poet.
          The next who comes is Horace, the satirist;
90       Ovid is third, and Lucan last of all.
 
         "Since each one shares with me the name of poet,
         The name you heard the single voice call out,
         They honor me, and they do well to do so."
 
         So I saw that brilliant schola meeting
95      Under the master of sublimest song
         Who above all others soars like an eagle.
 
         After conversing for some time together,
         They turned to me with a cordial greeting:
         With that, my master broke into a smile.
 
100     And then they showed me a still greater honor,
          For they included me within their group,
          So that I was the sixth among those minds.
 
          This way we walked together toward the light,
          Speaking of things as well unmentioned here
105     As there it was as well to speak of them.
 
          We came up to the base of a royal castle,
          Seven times encircled by high walls,
          Moated all about by a beautiful stream.
 
          This we crossed as if it were firm ground;
110      Through seven gates I entered with these sages
          Until we reached a meadow of fresh grass.
 
          People were here with slow and serious eyes,
          Of great authority by their appearance.
          They hardly spoke, with their gentle voices.
 
115     We moved along then over to one side,
          Into an open clearing, bright and high up,
          In order to view all the persons there.
 
          Straight before me on the enameled green
          Such eminent spirits were presented to me
120      That I exult in having witnessed them.
 
         I saw Electra, with many companions,
         Among whom I noted Hector and Aeneas,
         And Caesar, in armor, with his falcon eyes.
 
         I saw Camilla and Penthesilea,
125    And on the other side I saw King Latinus
         Who sat with his daughter Lavinia.
 
          I saw that Brutus who banished the Tarquin,
          Lucretia, Julia, Marcia, and Cornelia,
          And by himself, I noticed Saladin.
 
130    When I lifted up my eyes a little higher,
         I saw Aristotle, the master-knower,
         Seated with the family of philosophers.
 
         All look up to him, all do him honor;
         There also I saw Socrates and Plato,
         Nearest to him, in front of all the rest;
 
135     Democritus, who ascribes the world to chance,
         Diogenes, Thales, Anaxagoras,
         Empedocles, Zeno, and Heraclitus.
 
         I saw the worthy categorizer of herbs,
140     Dioscorides, I mean; and I saw Orpheus,
         Tully, Linus, Seneca the moralist,
 
         Euclid the geometer, Ptolemy,
         Hippocrates, Galen, Avicenna,
         And Averroes, who wrote the Commentary.
 
145     I cannot here describe them all in full,
         For my lengthy theme so presses me forward
         That often words fall short of the occasion.
 
         The company of six drops down to two.
         My knowing guide leads me another way,
150     Out of the quiet, into the quavering air,
 
         And I come to a scene where nothing shines.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Canto V

 

          So I descended from the first circle
          Into the second, encompassing less space
          But sharper pain which spurs the wailing on.
 
          There Minos stands, hideous and growling,
5         Examining the sins of each newcomer:
          With coiling tail he judges and dispatches.
 
          I mean that, when the ill-begotten spirit
          Comes before him, that soul confesses all
And then this master-mind of sinfulness
 
10       Sees what place in hell has been assigned:
          The times he winds his tail around himself
          Reveal the level to which the soul is sent.
 
          Always in front of him a new mob stands.
          Each, taking a turn, proceeds to judgment:
15       Each owns up, listens, and is pitched below.
 
          "You who approach this dwelling-place of pain,"
          Cried Minos when he laid his eyes on me —
          Forsaking the performance of his office —
 
          "Watch out how you enter and whom you trust!
20       Do not let the wide-open gateway fool you!"
          My guide said to him, "Why do you cry out?
 
          "Do not obstruct his own predestined way:
          This deed has so been willed where One can do
          Whatever He wills — and ask no more questions."
 
25       Now the notes of suffering begin
          To reach my hearing; now I am arrived
          At where the widespread wailing hammers me.
 
          I come to a place where all light is muted,
          Which rumbles like the sea beneath a storm
30       When waves are buffeted by warring squalls.
 
          The windblast out of hell, forever restless,
          Thrusts the spirits onward with its force,
          Swirling and mauling and harassing them.
 
          When they alight upon this scene of wreckage,
35       Screams, reproaches, and bemoanings rise
          As souls call down their curses on God's power.
 
          I learned that to this unending torment
          Have been condemned the sinners of the flesh,
          Those who surrender reason to self-will.
 
40       And as the starlings are lifted on their wings
          In icy weather to wide and serried flocks,
          So does the gale lift up the wicked spirits,
 
          Flinging them here and there and down and up:
          No hope whatever can ever comfort them,
45       Neither of rest nor of less punishment.
 
          And as the cranes fly over, chanting lays,
          Forming one long line across the sky,
          So I saw come, uttering their cries,
 
          Shades wafted onward by these winds of strife,
50       To make me ask him, "Master, who are those
          People whom the blackened air so punishes?"
 
          "The first among those souls whose chronicle
          You want to know," he then replied to me,
          "Was empress over lands of many tongues.
 
55       "Her appetite for lust became so flagrant
          That she made lewdness licit with her laws
          To free her from the blame her vice incurred.
 
          "She is Semiramis, whose story reads
          That, as his wife, she succeeded Ninus,
60       Controlling the country now ruled by the sultan.
 
          "The other, Dido, killed herself for love
          And broke faith with the ashes of Sychaeus;
          Next comes the lust-enamored Cleopatra.
 
          "See Helen, for whom many years of woe
65       Rolled on, and see the great Achilles
          Who in his final battle came to love.
 
          "See Paris, Tristan" — and then of a thousand
          Shades, he pointed out and named for me
          All those whom love had cut off from our life.
 
70       After I had listened to my instructor
          Name the knights and ladies of the past,
          Pity gripped me, and I lost my bearing.
 
          I began, "Poet, I would most willingly
          Address those two who pass together there
75       And appear to be so light upon the wind,"
 
          And he told me, "You will see when they draw
          Closer to us that, if you petition them
          By the love that propels them, they will come."
 
          As soon as the gust curved them near to us,
80       I raised my voice to them, "O wind-worn souls,
          Come speak to us if it is not forbidden."
 
          Just as the doves when homing instinct calls them
          To their sweet nest, on steadily lifted wings
          Glide through the air, guided by their longing,
 
85       So those souls left the covey where Dido lies,
          Moving toward us through the malignant air,
          So strong was the loving-kindness in my cry.
 
          "O mortal man, gracious and tenderhearted,
          Who through the somber air come to visit
90       The two of us who stained the earth with blood,
 
          "If the King of the universe were our friend,
          We would then pray to him to bring you peace,
          Since you show pity for our wretched plight.
 
          "Whatever you please to hear and speak about
95       We will hear and speak about with you
          While the wind, as it is now, is silent.
 
          "The country of my birth lies on that coast
          Where the river Po with its tributaries
          Flows downhill to its place of final rest.
 
100      "Love which takes quick hold in a gentle heart
          Seized this man for the beauty of the body
          Snatched from me — how it happened galls me!
 
          "Love which pardons no one loved from loving
          Seized me so strongly with my pleasure in him
105      That, as you see, it still does not leave me.
 
          "Love led the two of us to a single death:
          Caina awaits him who snuffed out our lives."
          These were the words conveyed from them to us.
 
          When I had heard those grief-stricken souls,
110      I bowed my head and held it bowed down low
          Until the poet asked, "What are you thinking?"
 
          When I replied, I ventured, "O misery,
          How many the sweet thoughts, how much yearning
          Has led these two to this heartbroken pass!"
 
115     Then I turned round again to speak to them,
          And I began, "Francesca, your sufferings
          Move my heart to tears of grief and pity.
 
          "But tell me, in the season of sweet sighs,
          By what signs did love grant to you the favor
120      Of recognizing your mistrustful longings?"
 
          And she told me, "Nothing is more painful
          Than to recall the time of happiness
          In wretchedness: this truth your teacher knows.
 
          "If, however, to learn the initial root
125      Of our own love is now your deep desire,
          I will speak here as one who weeps in speaking.
 
          "One day for our own pleasure we were reading
          Of Lancelot and how love pinioned him.
          We were alone and innocent of suspicion.
 
130      "Several times that reading forced our eyes
          To meet and took the color from our faces.
          But one solitary moment conquered us.
 
          "When we read there of how the longed-for smile
          Was being kissed by that heroic lover,
135      This man, who never shall be severed from me,
 
          "Trembling all over, kissed me on the mouth.
          That book — and its author — was a pander!
          In it that day we did no further reading."
 
          While the one spirit spoke these words, the other
140      Wept so sadly that pity swept over me
          And I fainted as if face to face with death,
 
          And I fell just as a dead body falls.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Canto VI

 

          Returning to the consciousness I'd lost
          In the pathos of those kindred lovers
          Whose plight completely baffled me with grief,
 
          I see new sufferings and new suffering souls
5         Surrounding me no matter where I walk,
          No matter where I turn or where I look.
 
          I am in the third circle, a place of rain
          Accursed, freezing, heavy, and unending:
          Its density and direction never change.
 
10       Huge hailstones, mucky sleet and snow
          Keep pouring down through the gloom-filled air
          So that the soil that sucks it in is putrid.
 
          Cerberus, that weird and vicious beast,
15       Howls like a mad-dog out of all three throats,
          Baying above the people wallowing here.
 
          His eyes are red, his beard is greasy black,
          His belly bloated and talon-sharp his hands:
          He claws the spirits, skins and splits them up.
 
          The downpour forces them to howl like hounds.
20       Making a shield of one flank, then the other,
          The impious wretches flip and flop about.
 
          When the fat worm Cerberus had seen us,
          He opened up his mouths and showed his fangs.
          He stood there quivering in every muscle.
 
25       Then my guide, reaching down his hands,
          Scooped up the earth and hurtled two fistfuls
          Straight into those three rapacious jaws.
 
          Just as a dog that barks when he is hungry,
          Then quiets down while gnawing on his food,
30       Struggling and straining just to swallow it,
 
          Such was the change in the filth-spattered faces
          Of the demon Cerberus thundering loudly
          Against the souls who wish that they were deaf.
 
          We tread upon the shadows beaten down
35       By the heavy rain, and we set our feet
          On emptiness that seems like solid bodies.
 
          All of them were stretched out on the ground
          Except for one who sat up straight as soon
          As he perceived us passing on before him.
 
40       "Oh you who are led onward through this hell,"
          He said to me, "see if you can place me:
          For you were made before I was unmade."
 
          And I told him, "The distress that you endure
          Perhaps has wiped you from my memory
45       So it appears that I have never seen you.
 
          "But tell me who you are who in so sad
          A place are plunged to suffer such a torture
          That, though worse exists, none's more repulsive."
 
          And he told me, "Your city, so crammed full
50       Of envy that already the sack spills over,
          Held me in its walls in the tranquil life.
 
          "You citizens had nicknamed me Ciacco.
          For the damnable sin of gluttony,
          As you can see, I am drubbed by this rain.
 
55       "And I, unhappy soul, am not alone,
          For all these souls bear the same punishment
          For the same sin." With that he said no more.
 
          I answered him, "Ciacco, this anguish of yours
          So weighs on me it summons me to tears.
60       But tell me, if you know, what shall become
 
          "Of the citizens of that divided city?
          Is anyone there just? Tell me too the reason
          Why so much discord has assaulted it?"
 
          And he replied, "After long contention
65       They shall come to blood, and the rural party
          Shall push the other out with strong offense.
 
          "Then that party itself is doomed to fall
          Within three years: the other will prevail
          By the might of one now straddling the middle.
 
70       "This party shall hold its head up high
          While keeping the other under heavy burdens,
          However much it moans and feels ashamed.
 
          "Two men are just, but no one minds them there:
          Pride, spitefulness, and avarice
75       Are three sparks that have fired up their hearts."
        
          Here his mournful words came to a close.
          I said to him, "More I would have you tell me
          And make me a present of still further speech.
 
          "Farinata and Tegghiaio, once so worthy,
80       Jacopo Rusticucci, Arrigo, Mosca,
          And others who put their talents to good use,
 
          "Tell me where they are and how to know them,
          For keen desire drives me on to learn
          Whether heaven heals or hell poisons them."
 
85       And he: "They are among the blackest souls:
          Different sins sink them to different pits.
          If you go down that far, there you will see them.
 
          "But when you have returned to the sweet world,
          I pray you to recall me to men's minds.
90       No more I say here and no more I answer."
 
          His straight eyes then he twisted to a squint;
          He studied me a moment, bent his head,
          And sank down with the others who are blind.
 
          And my guide said to me, "He wakens no more
95       Until resounds the trumpet of the angel
          When the hostile power of their Judge shall come.
 
          "Each one shall see again his woeful tomb,
          Shall once again don his own flesh and frame,
          Shall hear what blasts out to eternity."
 
100      So we passed on through that polluted mess
          Of shades and rainfall, our steps pacing slow,
          And touched a moment on the future life.
         
          At that I asked, "Master, these tormentings,
          Will they increase after the final judgment
105      Or lessen or be just as burning hot?"
 
          And he said to me, "Go back to your learning
          Which holds that when a thing is the more perfect
          The more it feels the grief as well as good.
 
          "Although these same detestable people
110      Never can arrive at true perfection,
          They can look to get closer then than now."
 
          The two of us walked on around that road,
          Talking about much more than I repeat.
          We came to the spot where the grade falls off.
 
115      There we found Plutus, the great enemy.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Canto VII

 

          "Pape Satan, pape Satan, aleppe!"
          Plutus started up with clacking voice,
          And that kind sage, who comprehended all,
 
          Spoke for my comfort, "Do not let your fear
5         Harm you: whatever power he possesses,
          He cannot keep us from climbing down this crag."
 
          Then he turned back to that puffed-up face
          And said, "Plutus, be still, wretched wolf!
          Feed on yourself with your own rabid rage.
 
10       "Not without cause we journey to the abyss.
          It is so willed on high, there where Michael
          Wreaked vengeance on that arrogant rebellion."
 
          As sails billowed by the wind collapse
          Into a tangled heap when the mainmast cracks,
15       So the ruthless beast fell to the ground.
 
          At that we moved on down to the fourth crater,
          Taking in more of that grief-stricken slope
          Which stacks all the evil of the universe.
 
          Ah, justice of God! Who has heaped up so many
20       Of the fresh trials and tortures that I saw?
          Why does our guilt devour us like this?
 
          Just like the wave, there over Charybdis,
          Breaking itself against the wave it strikes,
          So must the people here reel out their dance.
 
25       Here I saw more shades than I saw above,
          On one side and the other, with piercing howls,
          Rolling weights shoved forward with their chests.
 
          They smashed against each other. On the spot,
          Each whipped around and, rolling the weight back,
30       Yelled, "Why do you hoard?" or "Why do you splurge?"
 
          With that they wheeled about the dismal circle
          On either arc to the opposing point,
          Screaming over again their scornful verses.
 
          When they had reached the end of one half-circle,
35       Each turned around to face the following joust.
          And I — my heart all but pierced by the sight —
 
          Spoke up, "My master, now instruct me here.
          Who are these people? Were they all clergy,
          The tonsured ones there on the left-hand side?"
 
40       And he replied, "All these were so squint-eyed
          Mentally, in the first life, that they
          Were never even-handed in their spending:
 
          "Their voices bark this truth out clearly
          When they come to the two points of the circle
45       Where contrary guilts set them against each other.
 
          "These were the clergy who have no crown of hair
          On their heads, both popes and cardinals,
          Within whom avarice runs to its extreme."
 
          And I: "Master, among the likes of these
50       Surely I should recognize some souls
          Who were befouled by these same misdeeds."
 
          And he told me, "You entertain vain thoughts.
          The imperceptive lives that dirtied them
          Now blacken them beyond all perception.
 
55       "Forever they will come to double butt:
          These men shall rise up from the sepulcher
          With tight fists and those men, with shaven heads.
 
          "Ill-giving and ill-keeping stole from them
          The lovely world and put them to this strife.
60       I will not lose fair words describing it.
 
          "Now you can see, my son, the brief foolery
          Of the wealth which Fortune holds in trust —
          For this the race of men rebuff each other.
 
          "All the gold that lies beneath the moon
65       And all the gold of old can bring no rest
          To a single one of all these wearied spirits."
 
          "Master," I said to him, "now tell me more.
          This Fortune whom you touch on with me here,
          Who is she with the world’s wealth in her grip?"
 
70       And he replied, "O foolhardy creatures,
          What immense ignorance trips you up!
          Now I want you to absorb my teaching.
 
          "The One whose wisdom transcends everything
          Fashioned the heavens and to them gave his guides,
75       So that one pole shines out to the other,
 
          "Apportioning, in equal measure, light.
          In like manner, for splendors of the world,
          He ordained a general minister and guide
 
          "To shift around at times the empty wealth,
80       From country to country and from house to house,
          Beyond the watchfulness of human judgment.
 
          "And so one country rules, one languishes,
          In obedience to the verdict that she gives,
          Which is hidden like a snake in the grass.
 
85       "Your wisdom is unable to withstand her:
          She ever foresees, judges, and purveys
          Her kingdom as the other gods do theirs.
 
          "Her changes never settle for a truce.
          Necessity is that which makes her swift,
90       So rapidly men come to take their turns.
 
          "She is the one so often crucified
          Even by those who ought to sing her praises,
          But with wrong, wicked voices they cast blame.
 
          "She is blessed, however, and hears nothing.
95       Rejoicing with the other primal creatures,
          She rolls her sphere and revels in her bliss.
 
          "Now let us pass below to deeper pathos.
          Already all the stars set that ascended
          When I began; we can no longer tarry."
 
100     We crossed the circle to the further bank
          Above a source that boils up and spills over
          Into a gully cut out from its stream.
 
          The water was far darker than black dye;
          And we, escorted by the murky waves,
105     Started down on this strange passageway.
 
          Into the marshland that is called the Styx
          Flows this sad stream after running downward
          To the base of these ruinous gray slopes.
 
          And I, standing there to stare intently,
110     Saw in that morass people smeared with mud,
          All naked, their faces lined with rage.
 
          They beat each other not just with their hands
          But even with their heads and chest and feet
          And with their teeth ripped each other to pieces.
 
115      My own good master said, "Son, now you see
          The souls of those whom anger overpowered.
          I also want you to accept for certain
 
          "That under the water there are people sighing
          Who make the surface of the water bubble,
120     As your eye tells you whichever way it turns."
 
          Mired in slime, they moan, "We were morose
          In the sweet air made cheerful by the sun;
          We bore within ourselves the torpid vapors:
 
          "Now morbid we are made in this black mud."
125     This canticle they gurgle in their gullets
          Since they can’t sound it with full syllables.
 
          So we walked around the wide curving rim
          Of that foul pool, between dry bank and bog,
          With our eyes turned to those who swallow slime.
 
130     We arrived at last at the base of a tower.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Canto VIII

 

          Moving on, I say that long before
          We came to the base of that high tower
          Our eyes were drawn up to its pinnacle
 
          By two flares which we saw positioned there
5        While still a third responded to the signal
          From so far off the eye could scarcely see it.
 
          And I turned to that sea of all perception;
          I asked, "What does this mean? What answer
          Does the other make? And who is doing this?"
 
10       And he told me, "Above the filthy waves
          Already you can sight what waits for us,
          Unless the swamp’s thick vapors hide it from you."
 
          Bowspring never fired off an arrow
          That streamed through the air with such speed
15       As did the tiny dinghy that I spotted
 
          Riding that moment toward us on the water,
          A single boatman holding it on course.
          He screamed, "Now you are caught, wicked soul!"
 
          "Phlegyas, Phlegyas, you shout futilely,"
20       My lord replied; "this time your hold on us
          Will last no longer than crossing on the mire."
 
          And just as one who learns some huge deception
          Has been played on him, grows to resent it,
          So Phlegyas reacted, restraining his anger.
 
25       My guide then stepped down into the boat,
          And next he made me enter after him:
          Only when I was in did it seem weighted.
 
          As soon as my guide and I embarked,
          The ancient prow pushed off, ploughing down
30       Water more deeply than it does with others.
 
          While we rode over the dead channel
          Before me rose a figure smeared with mud
          Who asked, "Who are you come before your time?"
 
          And I told him, "I come, but do not stay.
35       But who are you who are made so ugly?"
          He answered, "You see that I am one who weeps."
 
          And I told him, "In weeping and in mourning,
          Accursed spirit, there may you remain,
          For, filthy as you are, I recognize you."
 
40       Then he stretched both his hands out to the boat.
          At that my ready master shoved him off,
          Saying, "Get away, with the other dogs!"
 
          My guide then put his arms around my neck,
          Kissed me, and said, "Soul of indignation,
45       Blessed is the woman who gave you birth!
 
          "In the world he was a man of arrogance;
          Nothing good bedecks his memory:
          For that, his shade down here is furious.
 
          "How many up there now think themselves kings
50       Who here shall wallow in the mud like pigs,
          Bequeathing only loathsome disrepute."
 
          And I said, "Master, eagerly would I like
          To see that spirit soused within this soup
          Before we take our leave of this morass."
 
55       And he told me, "Before the future shore
          Comes into view, you shall be satisfied,
          For it is right that your wish be fulfilled."
 
          Shortly afterward I saw such a tearing
          Of that shade by the slimy people there
60       That still I praise and thank God for it.
 
          All shouted, "Get Filippo Argenti!"
          And then the frenzied Florentine spirit
          Turned on himself his own biting teeth.
 
          We left him there; I tell no more about him.
65       But wailing, then, so pounded on my ear
          That I intently strained my eyes ahead.
 
          The kindly master said, "Now, my dear son,
          The city known as Dis approaches near
          With its grave citizens and mighty hosts."
 
70       And I: "Master, already I see clearly
          There in the valley its mosques glowing
          Bright red as if just lifted from the fire."
 
          And he said to me, "The eternal flame,
          Burning within, shows them rosy-red,
75       As you discern, here in this lower hell."
 
          We arrived at last inside the deep ditch
          Which moated round that melancholy city,
          The walls appearing to me like cast iron.
 
          After we had first made a great circuit,
80       We came to a spot where the boatman loudly
          Cried, "Get out — this is the entry way!"
 
          I saw above the gates more than a thousand
          Of those poured out from heaven; they wrathfully
          Called, "Who is this one who without dying
 
85       "Passes through the kingdom of the dead?"
          Then my thoughtful master gave a signal
          Of his wish to speak to them in confidence.
 
          At that they barely checked their high disdain
          And said, "You come along — let that one go
90       Who so boldly enters through this realm.
 
          "Let him return alone on his fool’s path —
          Try, if he can! For you are staying here
          Who guided him into so dark a country."
 
          Reflect, reader, how I lost my courage
95       When I heard them speak the awful curse,
          For I did not think I ever would go back.
 
          "O my dear guide who more than seven times
          Brought me back to safety and who drew me
          From the deep peril that stood in my way,
 
100     "Don’t let me be forsaken so!" I cried,
          "And if we are denied to pass on further,
          Quickly let us retrace our steps together."
 
          And that lord who had led me to this spot
          Said to me, "Have no fear; our passage here
105     No one can take from us: such is the Donor.
 
          "But wait for me there, your weary spirit
          Comforted and nourished with strong hope,
          Since I won’t leave you in the lower world."
 
          So he goes off and here abandons me,
110     My tender father; and I am kept in doubt
          While yes and no battle in my brain.
 
          I couldn’t hear what he proposed to them,
          But he did not remain with them for long
          When they all scrimmaged to get back inside.
 
115     These enemies of ours slammed the gate
          In my lord’s face; he stood there left outside
          And then turned back to me with slow slack steps.
 
          Eyes fastened on the ground and brows shorn bare
          Of any boldness, he murmured between sighs,
120     "Who has forbidden me the house of pain?"
 
          But he informed me, "You — because I’m vexed —
          Should not lose heart — I will win this contest
          No matter what defense they try within.
 
          "This arrogance of theirs is nothing new,
125      For once they showed it at a less secret gate
          Which still is standing, in full view, unlocked.
 
          "Above that gate you read the deadly writing,
          And already, from this side and down the slope,
          Passing through the circles without escort,
 
130     "Comes one by whom the city will be opened."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Canto IX

 

          That color cowardice painted on my face,
          When I had seen my leader turned around,
          More quickly caused him to repress his pallor.
 
          Attentive he halted, like a man listening,
5        Because his eyes could not lead him on farther
          Through the blackening air and thickening fog.
 
          "Yet we must overcome and win this fight —"
          He began, "if not — so much offered us —
          How long it seems before somebody comes!"
 
10       I saw quite clearly how he covered up
          What he began to say with what then followed:
          His last words were so different from his first.
 
          Nevertheless, his speech made me afraid
          Because I drew out from his broken phrases
15       A meaning worse perhaps than what they had.
 
          "Down to the bottom of this sorry pit
          Do any ever climb from the first level
          Where the only punishment is severed hope?"
 
          This question I put to him; he replied,
20      "Rarely it happens that any one of us
          Makes the journey I am making now.
 
          "True, once before I was here below,
          Conjured by that heartless Erichtho
          Who summoned shades back to their own bodies.
 
          "Shortly after I’d been stripped of flesh
25       She made me enter inside that same wall
          To draw a soul back from the zone of Judas.
 
          "That place is the lowest and the darkest
          And the farthest from all-encircling heaven.
30       I know the pathway well, so rest assured.
 
          "The marshland that breathes out a monstrous stench
          Girdles all about the tear-racked city
          Where now we cannot enter without wrath."
 
          And more he said, but it escapes my mind
35       For my eye had completely drawn me upward
          To the high tower with the flame-tipped top
 
          Where at one spot there straightaway stood up
          Three infernal Furies stained with blood,
          Their bodies and behavior that of women.
 
40       Their waists were cinctured with green hydras;
          For hair they had horned snakes and poison adders
          With which their savage temples were enwreathed.
 
          And clearly recognizing the handmaidens
          Of the Queen of unending mournfulness,
45       He said to me, "Look at the fierce Erinyes:
 
          "That one there on the left is Megaera,
          And on the right is Alecto, wailing;
          Tisiphone is in the middle." He ceased.
 
          With her nails each one tore at her own breasts,
50       Thrashed with her hands, and shouted out so loud
          That in dread I drew closer to the poet.
 
          "Bring on Medusa! We’ll turn him to stone!"
          They all screeched out together, staring down;
          "We ill revenged the raid of Theseus!"
 
55       "Turn your back now and keep your eyes shut tight,
          For should the Gorgon come and you see her
          You would not return to the world above."
 
          So spoke my master. He himself turned me
          Around and, not relying on my hands,
60       Covered my face as well with his own palms.
 
          O you possessing sound intelligence,
          Study well the doctrine which lies hidden
          Under the veil of my unusual verse!
 
          For now there came upon the muddy waves
65       A blasting sound, a fear-inspiring roar,
          Causing both sides of the shore to tremble:
 
          Not unlike the blast made by the wind,
          Turbulent from changing temperatures,
          Which strikes the forest and without check
 
70       Breaks and knocks down boughs, blows them away,
          Sweeping on proudly with a cloud of dust
          And chasing off shepherds and wild animals.
 
          He freed my eyes and told me, "Now direct
          Your eyesight straight into that ancient scum,
75       Right there to where the fog is hanging thickest."
 
          Just as the frogs before their enemy
          The snake all disappear into the water
          Until each one squats down upon the bottom,
 
          I saw more than a thousand wasted souls
80       Fleeing from the path of one who strode
          Dry-shod above the waters of the Styx.
 
          Often he brushed the foul air from his face,
          Rhythmically moving his left hand out in front,
          And only with that bother appeared weary.
 
85       Easily I knew that he was sent from heaven,
          And I turned to my master, but he signaled
          That I stay still and bow down there to him.
 
          Ah how full of deep disdain he seemed to me!
          He then approached the gate, and with a wand
90       He opened it without the least resistance.
 
          "O outcasts from heaven, detested race,"
          He now began upon the horrid threshold,
          "Why is this insolence so settled in you?
 
          "Why are you opponents to that Will
95       Which cannot be dissevered from its end
          And which has often swelled your sufferings?
 
          "What good is it to butt against the Fates?
          Your Cerberus, as you should well recall,
          For just that had his chin and gullet peeled!"
 
100     Then he turned back along the filthy road
          Without a word to us, but with the look
          Of someone pressed and spurred by other cares
 
          Than those that lie right there in front of him.
105     And we walked on, straight forward to the city,
          Through the safe-conduct of his sacred words.
 
          Without a fight we went directly in,
          And I, filled with a longing to find out
          The state of those shut up within that fortress,
 
          Once I was inside, cast my eyes around
110     And saw, on every side, a vast landscape
          Rife with distress and wretched punishment.
 
          Just as at Arles, where the Rhone is stagnant,
          Just as at Pola, near Quarnero’s gulf
          That closes Italy and bathes her borders,
 
115     The sarcophagi make all the ground uneven,
          So did they here, lying every whichway,
          Except that their condition was far worse.
 
          For there among the tombs were scattered flames
          That made them glow all over with more heat
120     Than any craftsman requires for his iron.
 
          All of their open lids were lifted up,
          And from inside such harsh laments escaped
          As would come from the wretched and the injured.
 
          And I: "Master, who are these people that,
125     Entombed within these chests of solid stone,
          Make themselves felt by their distressful sighs?"
 
          And he told me, "Here lie the arch-heretics
          With their disciples, from all sects, and more
          Than you’ll believe are loaded in these tombs.
 
130     "Like soul lies buried here encased with like;
          Some monuments are hotter and some less."
          And then he made a turn to the right hand:
 
          We passed between the torments and high walls.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Canto X

 

          Now, by a hidden passageway that wound
          Between the rack and ramparts of the city,
          My master travels and I after him.
 
          "O highest virtue who through these arrant rings
5         Lead me around as you please," I began,
          "Speak to me and satisfy my yearnings:
 
          "The people here who lie within the tombs,
          Can they be seen? Already all the lids
          Are raised off and no one is standing guard,"
 
10         And he responded, "They shall all be sealed
          When they come back here from Jehosaphat
          With the bodies that they have left up there.
 
          "In this section is found the cemetery
          Of Epicurus and his followers,
15       All those who claim the soul dies with the body.
 
          "So the question that you have put to me
          Soon shall be satisfied while we are here,
          As shall the wish that you have kept from me."
 
          And I: "Good guide, I do not hide my heart:
20       I only want now to have less to say
          As more than once before you prompted me."
 
          "O Tuscan, passing through the fiery city
          Alive and speaking with such frank decorum,
          Be kind enough to pause now in this place.
 
25       "Your way of talking makes it clear you come
          Of the stock born of that same noble city
          To which I was perhaps too troublesome."
 
          So suddenly had this sound issued from
          One of the coffins there that I trembled
30       And drew a little closer to my guide.
 
          "Turn around," he said. "What are you doing?
          Look here at Farinata straightening up!
          From waist high you will see the whole of him."
 
          I had already fixed my eyes on his
35       While he emerged with his forehead and chest,
          Looking as though he held hell in contempt.
 
          The quick, assuring hands of my leader
          Pushed me toward him between the sepulchers —
          He said, "Suit your words to the occasion."
 
40       When I had come up nearer to his tomb,
          He stared a moment and then, disdainfully,
          Questioned me, "Who were your ancestors?"
 
          I who was anxious to be dutiful
          Kept nothing back but told him everything.
45       At this he raised his brows ever so slightly,
 
          Then said, "They were so fiercely inimical
          To me and to my forebears and my party
          That twice I had to send them scampering."
 
          "Though they were driven out, yet from all sides
50       At both times they came back," I said to him;
          "But your men never really learned that art."
 
          At that there rose before my sight a shade
          Beside him — visible down to his chin —
          I guess he raised himself up on his knees.
 
55       He gazed all around me, as though intent
          To see if I were there with someone else,
          But when his hope had been completely dashed,
 
          Tearfully he said, "If you journey through
          This blind prison by reason of high genius,
60       Where is my son? Why is he not with you?"
 
          I answered, "I do not journey on my own:
          He who awaits there leads me through this place —
          Perhaps your Guido had felt scorn for him."
 
          His question and his form of punishment
65       Allowed me already to read his name;
          On that account, my answer was so full.
          Suddenly he stood and cried out, "How?
          You said ‘had felt’? Is he not still alive?
          Does not the lovely light still strike his eyes?"
 
70       And when he had observed my hesitation
          Before I answered him, he shrank back down
          And would not show his face to me again.
 
          That noble-hearted shade at whose request
          I’d halted my steps did not change his look
75       Or bow his head or bend his body down,
 
          But, picking up once more our first exchange,
          He said, "If they have poorly learned that art,
          That fact torments me far more than this bed.
 
          "Not fifty times, however, shall the face
80       Of the lady reigning here rekindle light
          Before you know how heavy that art weighs.
 
          "And, so may you return to the sweet world,
          Tell me why those people are so unjust
          In all the laws they pass against my kindred?"
 
85       Then I replied, "The rout and massacre
          Which stained the stream of the Arbia red
          Inspires such petitions in our temple."
 
          At that he sighed, shook his head, and said,
          "In that harsh action I was not alone:
90       Surely with cause I joined in with the others;
 
          "But there I was alone where all concurred
          To topple Florence to the ground, the only
          One to stand up for her openly."
 
          "Ah, as you wish your seed to find true peace,"
95       I answered, "help me to unravel the knot
          That has so tangled up my thinking here.
 
          "It seems, if I am right, that you can see
          Beforehand what time bears along with it,
          But what the present holds you cannot grasp."
 
100     "We see, like someone suffering poor vision,
          Those things," he said, "that are far off from us:
          Such light the Sovereign Lord still proffers us.
 
          "When things approach or happen, our intellect
          Is useless; unless others inform us here
105     We would know nothing of your human state.
 
          "So you can comprehend how wholly dead
          Shall be our knowledge at that moment when
          The door of the future has slammed shut."
 
          Then, as though in sorrow for my failure,
110     I said, "Now will you tell that fallen man
          That his son is still there among the living.
 
          "And if, before, I remained silent
          To his response, inform him I was thinking
          About the problem you have just cleared up."
 
115     Already my master was calling me back,
          And so I begged that spirit with fresh haste
          To tell me who were with him in the tombs.
 
          "Here lie with me more than a thousand,"
          He said; "Here is Frederick the Second,
120     And the Cardinal. . ., but I name no more."
 
          With that he vanished, and I turned my steps
          Toward the ancient poet while I pondered
          Those words that seemed so threatening to me.
 
          He moved along, and then as we two walked,
125     He questioned me, "Why are you so perturbed?"
          And I satisfied him with my answer.
 
          "Store in your mind what you have heard set forth
          Against yourself," that sage commanded me.
          "Now pay attention," and he raised a finger:
 
130     "When you shall stand before the gentle beams
          Of her whose beautiful eyes see everything,
          From her you’ll learn the journey of your life."
 
          With that he turned his steps off to the left.
          We quit the wall and headed toward the center
135     Along a path that strikes down to a valley
 
          Which, even there, sickened us with its stench.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Canto XI

 

          On the ridgetop of a high embankment
          Shaped in a circle by huge broken rockfalls,
          We came above an even crueler fold:
 
          And here, because of the overwhelming stench
5        Which that bottomless abyss throws up,
          We recoiled — back behind the covering lid
 
          Of a large tomb where I saw inscribed
          These words: "I hold Pope Anastasius
          Whom Photinus lured from the straight path."
 
10       "We must delay our downward journey here
          So that our sense may gradually grow used
          To the foul gas-fumes; then we will not mind it."
 
          This my master said, and I replied,
          "Offset it somehow, so we may not lose
15       Our time." And he: "That is my thought exactly."
 
          "My son, within the boundary of these boulders,"
          He then began, — "are three smaller circles,
          From tier to tier, like those you leave behind.
 
          "All are crammed full of ill-stricken spirits —
20       But, that sheer sight later may suffice you,
          Listen to how and why they are held bound.
 
          "The aim of all malicious acts that merit
          Hatred in heaven is injustice: all such actions,
          By violence or by fraud, harm someone else.
 
25       "Since fraud, however, is man’s peculiar vice,
          It gives God more displeasure; the fraudulent, then,
          Lie lower down and more pain harries them.
 
          "The whole first circle is for the violent;
          But, as force is turned against three persons,
30       This first is fashioned in three separate rings.
 
          "On God, on self, and on one’s neighbor force
          Can turn: I mean, on them and on their goods,
          As you shall now hear logically set forth.
 
          "By violence come death and painful wounds
35       To one’s neighbor; and to his possessions
          Come hurtful wrecking, arson, and extortion.
 
          "So murderers, robbers, plunderers,
          And all who wrongly do bodily injury
          The first ring tortures in assorted ranks.
 
40       "A man may lay violent hands on himself
          And on his property: so in the second
          Ring each one must fruitlessly repent
 
          "Who wills to rob himself of your bright world,
          Gambles away or wastes his own belongings,
45       And grieves up there where he should rejoice.
 
          "Violence may be done against the Godhead
          By denial in the heart and blasphemy
          And by despising nature and her bounty.
 
          "And so the smallest ring has set its seal
50       On both Sodom and Cahors and all those
          Whose words betray their hearts’ contempt of God.
 
          "Fraud, that chews away at every conscience,
          A man may practice on one who trusts him
          Or on one who has no confidence in him.
 
55       "For those who trust not, only the link of love
          Which nature forges appears to be cut;
          Therefore, in the second circle nest
 
          "Hypocrites, flatterers, and sorcerers,
          Falsifiers, thieves, and simoniacs,
60       Panders, graft-takers, and all that trash.
 
          "For those who trust, both the love nature
          Forges is forgotten and the love
          Added to it that creates a special bond.
 
          "So, in the smallest circle, at the center
65       Of the universe and the seat of Dis,
          All traitors are eternally consumed."
 
          And I: "Master, the logic of your words
          Is crystal clear and well delineates
          The chasm and the people it contains.
 
70       "But tell me, those mired in the slimy marsh,
          Those the wind blasts and those the rain beats on
          And those that clash with such savage tongues,
 
          "Why aren’t they punished in the red-hot city
          If God holds them as well in his great wrath?
75       And if he does not, why are they in torment?"
 
          He said to me, "Why does your mind drift off
          So distantly from its accustomed pathway?
          Or do your thoughts now turn to other things?
 
80       "Do you not remember those passages
          In which your Ethics treats in full detail
          The three perversities opposed by heaven:
 
          "Incontinence, maliciousness, and raving
          Bestiality — and how incontinence,
          Offending God the least, incurs least blame?
 
85       "If you will study this teaching carefully
          And call to mind the people up above
          Who outside the city endure penances,
 
          "You’ll plainly see why they are set apart
          From these felons and why divine vengeance
90       Hammers at them there with lesser anger."
 
          "O sun that clears up every troubled vision,
          You so content me when you solve my doubts
          That doubting pleases me no less than knowing.
 
          "Once more go back a little to the point,"
95       I said, "where you state usury offends
          The divine goodness, and untie the knot."
 
          "Philosophy, to one who understands,
          Points out — and on more than one occasion —
          How nature gathers her entire course
 
100     "From divine intellect and divine art.
          And if you pore over your Physics closely,
          You’ll find, not many pages from the start,
 
          "That, when possible, your art follows nature
          As a pupil does his master; in effect,
105      Your art is like the grandchild of our God.
 
          "From art and nature, if you will recall
          The opening of Genesis, man is meant
          To earn his way and further humankind.
 
          "But still the usurer takes another way:
110      He scorns nature and her follower, art,
          Because he puts his hope in something else.
 
          "But follow me now since I want to go:
          For the Fish shimmer low on the horizon
          And all the Wain stretches over Caurus,
 
115     "And there, beyond, the road runs off the cliff."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Canto XII

 

          The place where we had come to clamber down
          The bank was mountainous, and what was there
          So grim all eyes would turn away from it.
 
          Just like that rockslide on this side of Trent
5        That struck the flank of the Adige River —
          Either by an earthquake or erosion —
 
          Where, from the mountaintop it started down
          To the plain below, the boulders shattered so,
          For anyone above they formed a path,
 
10       Such was the downward course of that ravine;
          And at the brink over the broken chasm
          There lay outspread the infamy of Crete
 
          That was conceived within the bogus cow;
          And when he saw us, he bit into himself,
15       Like someone whom wrath tears up from inside.
 
          My clever guide cried out to him, "Perhaps
          You believe that this is the Duke of Athens
          Who in the upper world contrived your death?
 
          "Go off, you beast! this man does not approach
20       Instructed by your sister but comes here
          In order to observe your punishments."
 
          Just as the bull breaks loose right at that moment
          When he has been dealt the fatal blow
          And cannot run but jumps this way and that,
 
25       So I saw the Minotaur react —
          And my quick guide called out, "Run for the pass!
          While he's raging is our chance to get down!"
 
          And so we made our way down through the pile
          Of rocks which often slid beneath my feet
30       Because they were not used to holding weight.
 
          I pushed on, thinking, and he said, "You wonder,
          Perhaps, about that wreckage which is guarded
          By that bestial rage I just now quelled.
 
          "Now you should know that the other time
35       I journeyed here below to lower hell,
          These boulders as yet had not tumbled down:
 
          "But for certain, if I recall correctly,
          It was shortly before He came who took
          From Dis the great spoils of the topmost circle
 
40       "That this deep loathsome valley on all sides
          Trembled so, I thought the universe
          Felt love, because of which, as some believe,
 
          "The world has often been turned back to chaos.
          And at that instant this ancient rock split up,
45       Scattering like this, here and elsewhere.
 
          "But fasten your eyes below — down to the plain
          Where we approach a river of blood boiling
          Those who harm their neighbors by violence."
 
          O blind cupidity and rabid anger
50       Which so spur us ahead in our short life
          Only to steep us forever in such pain!
 
          I saw a broad ditch bent into a bow,
          As though holding the whole plain in its embrace,
          Just as my guide had explained it to me.
 
55       Between the ditch and the foot of the bank
          Centaurs came running single-file, armed
          With arrows as they hunted in the world.
 
          Seeing us descend, they all pulled up,
          And from their ranks three of them moved forward
60       With bows and with their newly selected shafts.
 
          And from afar one shouted, "To what tortures
          Do you approach as you climb down the slope?
          Answer from there, or else I draw my bow."
 
          My master said, "We will make our response
65       To Chiron there who hovers at your side —
          To your own harm, your will was always rash."
 
          Then he nudged me, and said, "That is Nessus,
          Who died for the lovely Dejanira
          By taking his own revenge upon himself;
 
70       "And in the middle, staring at his chest,
          Is mighty Chiron, who tutored Achilles;
          The last is Pholus, who was so full of frenzy."
 
          Thousands on thousands march around the ditch,
          Shooting at any soul that rises up
75       Above the blood more than its guilt allows.
 
          When we drew near to these fleet-footed beasts,
          Chiron took an arrow and with its notch
          Parted his shaggy beard back from his jaws,
 
          And when he had uncovered his huge mouth,
80       Said to his companions, "Have you noticed
          How that one there behind stirs what he touches?
 
          "A dead man's feet would not cause that to happen!"
          And my good guide, now standing at the chest
          Where the two natures fuse together, answered,
 
85       "He is indeed alive, and so alone
          That I must show him all the somber valley.
          Necessity not pleasure brings him here.
 
          "A spirit came from singing alleluia
          To commission me with this new office:
90       He is no robber nor I a thieving soul.
 
          "But by the power by which I move my steps
          Along this roadway through the wilderness,
          Lend us one of your band to keep by us
 
          "To lead us where we two can ford across
95       And there to carry this man on his back,
          For he is not a spirit who flies through air."
 
          Chiron pivoted around on his right breast,
          Saying to Nessus, "Go back and guide them — if
          Another troop challenges, drive them away!"
 
100     So with this trusted escort we moved on
          Along the bank of the bubbling crimson river
          Where boiling souls raised their piercing cries.
 
          There I saw people buried to their eyebrows,
          And the strong centaur said, "These are tyrants
105     Who wallowed in bloodshed and plundering.
 
          "Here they bewail their heartless crimes: here lie
          Both Alexander and fierce Dionysius
          Who brought long years of woe to Sicily;
 
          "And there with his head of jet-black hair
110      Is Azzolino; and that other blond one
          Is Opizzo d'Este, who in the world
 
          "Actually was slain by his own stepson."
          With that I turned to the poet, who said,
          "Now let him be your first guide, I your second."
 
115     A little farther on, the centaur halted
          Above some people who appeared to rise
          Out of the boiling stream up to their throats.
 
          He pointed to one shade off by himself,
          And said, "In God's own bosom, this one stabbed
120     The heart that still drips blood upon the Thames."
 
          Then I saw others too who held their heads
          And even their whole chests out of the stream,
          And many of them there I recognized.
 
          So the blood eventually thinned out
125     Until it scalded only their feet in it;
          And here we found a place to ford the ditch.
 
          "Just as you see, this side, the boiling brook
          Grow gradually shallower," the centaur said,
          "So I would also have you understand
 
130     "That on the other side the riverbed
          Slopes deeper down from here until it reaches
          Again the spot where tyranny must grieve.
 
          "Heavenly justice there strikes with its goads
          That Attila who was a scourge on earth
135     And Pyrrhus and Sextus, and forever milks
 
          "The tears, released by boiling blood from both
          Rinier of Corneto and Rinier Pazzo
          Who waged such open warfare on the highways."
 
          Then he turned back and once more crossed the ford.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Canto XIII

 

          Nessus had not yet reached the other bank
          When we on this side moved into a wood
          That was not marked at all by any path:
 
          No leaves of green but of a blackish color,
5        No branches smooth but gnarled and tangled up,
          No fruits were growing, only thorns of poison.
 
          No wild beasts, shunning the furrowed farmlands
          Between Cecina and Corneto, burrow
          Underbrush that is so thick and barbed.
 
10       Inside here nest the repugnant Harpies
          Who chased the Trojans from the Strophades
          With foul prophecies of coming losses.
 
          They have wide wings, human necks and faces,
          Feet with claws, and big feathered bellies;
15       They shriek laments from up in the strange trees.
 
          "Before you enter farther," my kind master
          Began saying to me, "know you are here
          Within the second circle and will remain
 
          "Until you come out to the dreadful sand.
20       Look carefully, then, and you shall witness things
          That would destroy your faith in words of mine."
 
          I heard deep wailings rising from all sides,
          Without discerning anyone who made them,
          So that, completely baffled, I stopped short.
 
25       I think he thought that I was thinking that
          All of the voices from among the trunks
          Rose up from people who were hiding from us.
 
          My master said to me, "If you tear off
          A tiny twig from one of the growths here,
30       Your thoughts will also be nipped in the bud."
 
          Then reaching out my hand a bit ahead,
          I snapped a shoot off from a massive thornbush,
          And the trunk of it cried, "Why do you break me?"
 
          And after it had darkened with its blood,
35       It started up again, "Why do you rip me?
          Do you possess no pity in your soul?
 
          "Men we were and now we are mere stumps.
          Surely your hand ought to have been kinder
          Even if we had been the souls of serpents."
 
40       Just as a green log blazing at one end
          Oozes sap out of the other, all the while
          Hissing with the air that it blows out,
 
          So from that broken bough issued together
          Words and blood: at that I let the tip
45       Fall, standing like a man stricken with fear.
 
          To him my sage responded, "Wounded spirit,
          Had he been able to believe before
          What he had witnessed only in my verses,
 
          "He would not have raised his hand against you.
50       But so incredible a thing caused me
          To urge him to an act I now regret.
 
          "But tell him who you were, to make amends
          By refreshing your fame in the world above
          To which he is permitted to return."
 
55       And the trunk: "Your sweet words so attract me
          I cannot remain still, and be not loath
          If I become caught up in conversation.
 
          "I am the one who held both of the keys
          To Frederick's heart, and I turned them so,
60       Locking and unlocking, with such smoothness
 
          "That I kept his secrets almost from all men.
          I stayed so faithful to my glorious office
          That for its sake I lost both sleep and strength.
 
          "The jealous whore who never turns away
65       Her sluttish eyes from Caesar's palaces,
          The deadly plague and common vice of courts,
 
          "Inflamed the minds of all the rest against me,
          And those inflamed then so inflamed Augustus,
          That happy honors turned to tristful woes.
 
70      "My mind, because of its disdainful bent
          Believing it would flee disdain by dying,
          Made me unjust against my own just self.
 
          "By the fresh roots of this tree here I swear
          To you that never once did I break faith
75       With my lord who was worthy of such honor.
 
          "And should one of you return to the world,
          Bolster up my memory which still lies
          Flattened by the blow that envy gave it."
 
          Waiting a while, the poet next said to me,
80       "Since he is silent, do not lose the chance,
          But speak and ask him if you would hear more."
 
          To this I answered, "Do you ask him further
          Whatever you believe will satisfy me,
          For I cannot, such pity rends my heart."
 
85       So he began again, "That this man should
          Gladly perform what you request of him,
          Imprisoned spirit, may it yet please you
 
          "To tell us how the spirit is so bound
          Into these knots; and tell us if you can,
90       Are any ever freed from limbs like these?"
 
          At that the trunk puffed hard and afterward
          That breath was transformed to this speaking voice:
          "The answer I give you shall be concise.
 
          "Whenever the violent soul forsakes the flesh
95       From which it tore itself by its own roots,
          Minos assigns it to the seventh pit.
 
          "It plummets to the wood — no place is picked —
          But wherever fortune happens to have hurled it,
          There it sprouts up like a grain of spelt;
 
100     "It springs into a sapling and wild tree;
          The harpies, feeding on its foliage,
          Cause pain and then an outlet for the pain.
 
          "Like others we shall go to our shed bodies,
          But not to dress ourselves in them once more,
105     For it is wrong to own what you tossed off.
 
          "Here shall we haul them, and throughout the sad
          Wood forevermore shall our bodies hang,
          Each from the thornbush of its tortured shade."
 
          We both continued listening for the trunk,
110     Thinking it still might want to tell us more,
          When a loud uproar caught us by surprise,
 
          Just as a hunter is suddenly alarmed
          By the wild boar and chase — right at his post —
          Hearing the dogs bark and the branches crack.
.
115     And look! there on the left-hand side two wraiths,
          Naked and scratched, fleeing so frantically
          That they smashed all the bushes in the wood.
 
          The front one: "Now come quick, come quick, death!"
          The other, knowing himself out of the race,
120     Shouted, "Lano, your legs were not so nimble
 
          "When you jousted at the battle of Toppo!"
          And then, perhaps, from shortness of his breath,
          He crouched into a knot inside a thicket.
 
          In back of them the wood at once ran wild
125     With black bitches, ravenous and swift,
          Like greyhounds let loose from the leash.
 
          On the crouching shade they gripped their teeth
          And piece by piece they ripped him open-wide
          And then they carried off his wretched limbs.
 
130      Immediately my escort took my hand
          And led me forward to the bush that wept
          In vain laments through its bloody cuts:
 
          "O Jacopo da Sant' Andrea," it said,
          "What have you gained by making me your covert?
135     What blame have I for your own sinful life?"
 
          After my master had drawn up beside it,
          He asked, "Who were you who through many wounds
          Now breathe in blood your mournful speech to us?"
 
          And he told us, "O souls that have arrived
140      In time to see the dishonorable mangling
          Which here has torn my leaves away from me,
 
          "Gather them up at the foot of this sad bush.
          I was of the city that exchanged the Baptist
          For its first patron, Mars, for which reason
 
145     "He'll always make her regret it, with his art,
          And were it not that at the Arno's crossing
          There still remains some vestige of his statue,
 
          "Those citizens who later rebuilt the city
          Upon the ashes Attila left behind
150     Would have performed their labors without profit.
 
          "Of my own house I made myself a gallows."

 

 

 

 

 

 

Canto XIV

 

          Love of our native city touched my heart:
          I bent and gathered up the scattered sprigs
          And gave them back to him whose voice grew faint.
 
          From there we reached the border that divided
5        The second from the third ring — and there
          I witnessed the horrendous art of justice.
 
          To make these unfamiliar sights quite clear,
          I say that we had come out on a plain
          Which banishes all verdure from its bed.
 
10       The grief-stricken wood enwreathed it all
          Around, as the sad ditch surrounds the wood.
          Here, right at the edge, we checked our steps.
 
          Dry and dense sand covered the ground’s surface,
          A sand no different in its texture from
15       That the feet of Cato once trampled on.
 
          O vengeance of God, how much you ought to be
          Held in fear by everyone who reads
          The things that were revealed before my eyes!
 
          I saw myriad flocks of naked souls,
20       All weeping wretchedly, and it appeared
          That separate sentences were meted to them.
 
          Flat on their backs, some spread out on the ground;
          Some squatted down, all hunched up in a crouch;
          And others walked about interminably.
 
25       More numerous were those who roamed around;
          Fewer were those stretched out for the torture,
          But looser were their tongues to tell their hurt.
 
          Over all the sand, large flakes of flame,
          Falling slowly, came floating down, wafted
30       Like snow without a wind up in the mountains.
 
          Just like the flames which Alexander saw
          In the torrid regions of India
          Swarming to the ground upon his legions,
 
          So that he had his troops tramp down the soil,
35       The better to put out the flaming flakes
          And to prevent them spreading other fires,
 
          So descended the everlasting blaze
          By which the sand enkindled, just like tinder
          Under sparks from flint — doubling the pain.
 
40       Restlessly the dance of wretched hands
          Went on and on, on this side and on that,
          Beating off the freshly falling flames.
 
          I began, "Master, you can win out over
          Everything — except the arrogant demons
45       That sortied against us at the entrance gate —
 
          "Who is that giant who appears to ignore
          The fire, lying so scornful and scowling
          That the rain seems not to make him soften?"
 
          And that same wraith, when he observed how I
50       Questioned my guide about him, shouted out,
          "What I was alive, I am the same dead!
 
          "Though Jupiter wear out the smith from whom
          He seized in wrath the sharpened thunderbolt
          Which on my last day was to strike me down,
 
55       "Though he wear out the others, one by one,
          Serving at Mongibello’s soot-black forge —
          As he bellows, ‘Good Vulcan, help me! help me!’
 
          "The way he did on the battlefield at Phlegra —
          Though with his whole force he flash out at me,
60       Yet he will never have his fond revenge."
 
          My guide shot back at him so strongly that
          I had not heard him use such force before,
          "O Capaneus, since your insolent pride
 
          "Is still unquenched, you are chastised the more:
65       No torture other than your own mad ravings
          Can punish you enough for your grim rage."
 
          Then with a gentler look he turned to me,
          Saying, "That was one of the seven kings
          Who laid siege to Thebes; he held and seems
 
70       "To hold God in disdain and prize him little;
          But, as I told you, these affronts of his
          Are the right decorations for his chest.
 
          "Now follow me and watch you do not ever
          Set your feet upon the scorching sand,
75       But always keep them back close to the trees."
 
          In silence we next reached a spot where gushed
          Out of the wood a small and narrow brook
          Whose redness makes me still shudder with fear.
 
          As from the Bulicame flows a stream
80       Which prostitutes then share for their own use,
          So too these waters coursed across the sand.
 
          Its bed and both its banks were made of stone,
          As were the borders all along its sides,
          So that I saw our passage lay that way.
 
85       "Of all the things that I have shown to you
          From the time we entered through the gate
          Whose threshold is prohibited to none,
 
          "Nothing your eyes have looked on up to now
          Is so worthy of note as the stream before you
90       That quenches all the flames above its path."
 
          These were the words my guide addressed to me.
          At this I begged him to give me the food